One of the interesting physical facts of Piero della Francesca's Baptism panel, now in London's National Gallery, is its shape and, specifically, the semi-circular arch shape at its top. In itself this shape is not particularly unusual for a Renaissance picture but, it becomes unusual, or at least, problematic, when the image to which it belongs is originally situated, as it nearly always is in art criticism, in a large Gothic-style polyptych, painted as is obvious, by another artist altogether (thought to be Matteo di Giovanni). There is no question that the side panels - pictures - said to be part of the original collocation of the Baptism have nothing whatsoever to do with that central image and, in fact, argue against it in every way. Art historians have long sought to explain the Baptism's presence in that Gothic environment, however, as I have attempted to show in another article, such a collocation is, at best, highly improbable. I stress the word 'original' as there is some evidence that when the painting was bought in 1859 from the cathedral in Sansepolcro, Piero's birthplace, it was in, or had been fitted into, that Gothic frame; that fact does not mean that the Baptism had been painted with that frame in mind.1
This photo of the Baptism by Piero della Francesca (London, National Gallery), taken by the author, unfortunately does not show the very top of the arch, however, the general shape is clear.
Given that brief introduction, one of the parts of the puzzle, so to speak, which simply did not fit, was in fact that rounded arch-shaped top of Piero's panel. If we look closely at the Gothic frame of the large altar-piece (above), with its irrelevantly over-sized Saints Peter and Paul, it is immediately obvious that the tops of the frames enclosing those saints are ovoid and not semi-circular, as is Piero's; why then we might ask, did Piero go to so much trouble to paint a (substantial) part of his picture, knowing that quite a bit of it was eventually to be covered by an ovoid frame? The answer as far as I can see is that he didn't! In fact, although many photos of the Baptism have been trimmed to show only the painted area, some do show the entire panel: in these photos can be seen the unpainted edge around the inside of the semi-circular area at the top, left unpainted by the artist precisely because he was aware of the shape of the frame (round, not pointed) in which his work would be installed.
A detail of Piero della Francesca's Baptism showing the unpainted area around the inside edge of the semi-circular top of the panel. Note the cloud on the right which exceeds the limit of the painted image but which, incidentally, is only half visible when framed.
Although many of Piero della Francesca's paintings are rectangular in shape, a few of his pictures, both panel paintings (that is, painted on wood) and frescos, also have a semi-circular top; these include his Misericordia Polyptych (containing five rounded-arch panels in the main register), the Magdalen fresco in Arezzo and, most notably, his Sant'Agostino Polyptych (pre-1469; the known major panels of which are in London, Milan, New York and Lisbon). Some images do indeed have an ovoid shape at the top, particularly the two highest frescos in his Legend of the True Cross cycle at Arezzo, and another altarpiece known as the Sant'Antonio Polyptych in Perugia. This last-mentioned is interesting because, in terms of the present discussion, the panels on which Piero has painted conform to a Gothic sensibility not only in the ovoid shape of their tops, but also in the pronounced use of a gold background, something which as I understand it, Piero was obliged to agree to - his aesthetic being already a Renaissance one and therefore quite at odds with such anachronisms (anachronistic because the Renaissance, inspired as it was by Humanism, did away with the 'ethereal' gold backgrounds and asserted the natural world as the setting for Biblical events). It has been suggested (Paolucci, 1990) that the frame and its gilding were done prior to Piero's intervention and that this explains a number of curious circumstances concerning this work, not relevant however to the present discussion.
To the Baptism - whose original collocation is it seems, still unknown - the Sant'Agostino panels appear to have more than a passing connection. In the first place, each of the four panels has a semi-circular top, that is, a rounded-arch shape; each has a pale blue sky as the background (as does the Baptism); and the general style of the figures, with some reservations concerning the so-called San Nicola da Tolentino panel2 (in Milan), is similar in formal qualities to the Baptism. That noted, two of the panels (San Michele [London] and San Giovanni Evangelista [Frick Collection, NY]) from the Sant'Agostino Polyptych have, in their lower medial corners the remains of an apparent overlap from the missing central panel, thought as is most likely, to have been a Madonna and Child. These elements, and their evidence in the actual panels, argue strongly in favour of an image of the Madonna as the central panel of the San Agostino altarpiece (and against the possibility that the Baptism was once the central image3). As usual, historians disagree on the dates but it would seem that this work was completed - probably, as with many of Piero's commissions - over a period of several years (helping to explain some differences in style between the four panels incidentally), but certainly after the Baptism (if, as is the opinion of many, the Baptism is a work of his early maturity). In addition, the continuous balustrade running behind the four saints of the San Agostino would seem to have no relevance to the image of the Baptism (just as Matteo di Giovanni's entire machine also has no relevance!).
In this photo - not the best I'm afraid - we can see the entire image of San Michele (London, National Gallery) in its 'modern' frame; nevertheless, the rounded arch at the top is clearly visible. (Photo: the author)
This photo is a detail of the medial lower corner of the San Michele above: in this image, we can see what is possibly the corner of a kind of dais on which the throne of the supposed Madonna would have been - in the lost central panel - together with, draped across that, one part of perhaps a garment, and, a little higher, the blue of her cloak. (Photo: the author)
To my mind, the question of the original destination of Piero's Baptism is very much an open one (see also Lavin, op. cit., in the Historical Context chapter). It clearly has nothing to do with where it apparently ended up, that is, as the central panel in the polyptych painted by Matteo di Giovanni. A 19th century romantic narrative painting by Angiolo Tricca (1817-84) - a native of Sansepolcro who had seen the Baptism prior to its sale in 1859 - showing Piero in old age, at home with the Baptism (with different side panels) hanging on the wall behind him, has been used to deduce that the real painting had been framed quite differently, with two side panels much more sympathetic to Piero's style, that is, not in the Gothic frame and style of Matteo di Giovanni. The Baptism was sold by the Bishop and chapter of the Cathedral of Sansepolcro where it apparently had been for some time. The story of this hapless painting in fact, is still a mystery but, given what we do know, it is patently obvious that the side panels and the entire frame produced by Matteo di Giovanni are at best, expedients, adopted either to find a place for Piero's painting, or to fill a void left by the possible removal of Matteo's own central panel. It rather seems that the Baptism, incomplete in the sense that its surrounding panels were (seemingly) never painted by Piero, somehow found its way into the cathedral, perhaps due to the deconsecration of its purported (by some) original destination: the church of San Giovanni Battista in Val d'Afra (the church of Saint John the Baptist, just outside the city walls at that time [c.1440s]).
Some final points: that the subject of Piero's picture, that is, the Baptism of Christ, is an appropriate one for the area of a church where baptisms are performed, or for a separate building for that purpose, known in Italian as a 'battistero'; could it be that the original collocation of this painting was in fact near a baptismal font and not on a high altar? Most unusually, in this context, and precisely at Sansepolcro, we now have three works, all of them originally large polyptych altarpieces, which are missing substantial parts: first, the Baptism, missing its lateral (and other) parts; the altarpiece painted by Matteo di Giovanni, missing its central image; and thirdly, the San Agostino altarpiece, also missing - amongst other things - its central image. An intrigue therefore, of unfinished works, works moved about from one place to another, large multi-element works dismembered and missing critical parts, and works lost, stolen or sold at various points in their history!
1 In Marilyn Aronberg Lavin's thorough analysis of the Baptism (Piero della Francesca's Baptism of Christ, 1981, Yale University) she quotes on page 114, Note 4 a comment written by the purchaser, Sir Charles Robinson, in 1860, which states: "In its [i.e. the Baptism's] original locality it formed the center [sic] division of a large altarpiece in three compartments; the original side divisions, however, and predella, had disappeared and had been replaced by similar portions of another altarpiece by a later and far inferior hand; these latter therefore, were not removed [i.e. bought ]". From this quotation it is plain that, right from the beginning of the Baptism's life outside Sansepolcro, in fact, from its purchase, the frame in which it was then mounted (in 1859) was considered to be a completely alien addition.
More generally, it was apparently a perfectly normal condition in the Renaissance and earlier in particular, that often enough, the frame and its picture panels were already made prior to the commission of the painting work itself; in other words, quite the opposite of the way things work today. Matteo di Giovanni's frame, or carpentry, later supposedly to house in its centre the Baptism, was actually made long before Piero was given the commission to paint it, and for that matter, before Matteo (apparently) was commissioned to paint his parts, which came post-Piero's involvement. According to the website of the Museo Civico at Sansepolcro which houses the polyptych painted by Matteo, the frame was originally commissioned in 1433; in the early 1440s a commission was given to Piero della Francesca to paint the panels, the pictures, in the frame: as we understand it, he painted only the Baptism panel; subsequently, in 1455, Matteo di Giovanni was commissioned to complete the parts of the polyptych left unfinished by Piero. The point here is that, while it may be possible that Piero was indeed commissioned to paint the panels in the frame constructed in 1433, and therefore would have been working within the constraints imposed ante litteram by the frame itself, his Baptism panel, in shape and in style, has nothing to do with the carpentry of the frame as it would originally have existed. This suggests strongly that in fact, Piero was painting his Baptism for another situation altogether, despite the commission which we know about.
Piero's Misericordia Polyptych is interesting in that the frame (that is, the actual framing elements and the wooden panels on which the painting was done), in addition to the paintings themselves, was entrusted to Piero. His commission in this case dates to 1445 but, typically, the work was not finished (judging from the date of the final payment) until 1462. The fact that Piero was able to organize the frame himself may explain why the principal panels all have rounded-arch tops, even if he was obliged to use the old-fashioned gold backgrounds for the paintings (see James R. Banker's Piero della Francesca. Artist and Man. 2014, Oxford University Press, pp 68-78).
2 The figure of San Nicola da Tolentino is interesting on several counts. First, compared with the 'normal' faces of Piero, based on 'types' developed by him, San Nicola seems much more like a portrait of a real person (various names have been suggested for the subject); secondly, the somewhat corpulent body of the saint is also unusual as a type in Piero's work; and finally, the habit worn by San Nicola as well seems based on a study from life, especially when compared with the way in which the clothing of the other three saints has been done. Although there exist still today some exquisite Renaissance studies of drapery clearly done from life (several by Leonardo for instance), it was not uncommon for artists, once they had mastered the fall of different fabrics, the light on them and so on, to develop a personal repertoire of more or less standard depictions; Piero della Francesca was one such, as can be seen in the clothing of various angels and saints. In fact, one of this group of four, the San Giovanni Evangelista in the Frick Collection in New York, is a typical example, the heavy folds of his red cloak being very similar to those in other images by Piero, such as the San Giovanni Battista in the Misericordia Polyptych.
3 Banker (op. cit.), on page 133, in discussing this altarpiece, says that: "However, while every other piece of the main tier and predella came to be mentioned in seventeenth-century records of Sansepolcro, the elusive center (sic) panel seems inexplicably to have disappeared without trace". Banker does not say that there definitely was a centre Madonna and Child ("It was most likely an enthroned Madonna and Child") and the absence of any mention of such a centre panel could suggest at least two things: that it had been lost, or perhaps sold, at a time when the altarpiece is known to have been moved (in 1555) from its original church to another.
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