This article is about a short book written by a Renaissance art theorist and architect called Leon Battista Alberti (1404 -72): Della Pittura, or Trattato della Pittura (About Painting or Treatise on Painting) 1, published first in Italian in 1436 and later in Latin. To begin with, the book is remarkable for the simple fact of having been initially published in the Italian language, as most learned writing was at the time first, or only, published in Latin, the language of the educated classes. Alberti's didactic text is aimed primarily at other artists, at painters specifically, a class whose general lack of familiarity with Latin would have made such a text, had it been published in that language, virtually useless. At the beginning of the book - and at various points during the narrative - Alberti states that he wants what he has to say to be taken as the viewpoint, the understanding, of a painter and not, presumably, since he mentions them several times, as that of a mathematician or scientist (although he himself was both!). He says that he is a painter talking to other painters, and his explication of his material is pragmatic and materialistic rather than, say, mathematically theoretical.
The book was and is important because, amongst other things, it was the first, since the classical period, to deal with a rational theory of perspective 2. Until the first quarter of the 1400s, the more or less coherent perspective system used in ancient Roman painting had been lost and, in fact, had become redundant as its original illusionistic function was no longer of any use to the subsequent development of Christian art. But for reasons which are still unclear - apart from the growing desire of artists to render actual physical space, as opposed to spiritual space, more accurately - in Florence in the first decades of the 15th century, artists such as Filippo Brunelleschi, Masaccio, Donatello, Luca della Robbia and Uccello came-up with the theory and practice of what we now refer to as mathematical or linear perspective. It would further appear that it was the sculptor-architect Brunelleschi who made the first practical demonstration of a systematic theory of perspective, in about 1416.
The artists just mentioned knew each other and were coincidentally all living and working in Florence; Alberti, actually born in Genoa due to his family's exile from the city on the Arno, returned only in 1434 (see Note 8). Alberti decided to put pen to paper - as he often did - and attempted to explain this new 'science' of perspective to the artists of Florence and Tuscany. Although he claims several times in his treatise to be himself a painter, and indeed to quote from his own painting experience, as far as I am aware, no trace of any painting by him has been found. Notwithstanding this, his work in other fields, notably architecture and theoretical writings (also on architecture), are very well known and documented and we have him to thank for such beautiful buildings as the Tempio Malatestiano in Rimini, the façade of the church of Santa Maria Novella and the Palazzo Rucellai, both in Florence, amongst other structures.
Like other artists of his generation and those mentioned above, Alberti was responsible for the development and diffusion of the revival of 'classical' knowledge, especially in the three arts of painting, sculpture and architecture (particularly architecture), a revival which began before the Renaissance proper, not only in the arts but also in literature; the 'discovery' of ancient texts (of history, literature, poetry and science), both Greek and Latin, often thanks to Arab copies, sparked and encouraged a 'new' way of seeing the world, a way with the human being as its centre as opposed to the Christian, God-centred paradigm of previous times. In the case of Alberti's book, this new rationalism led to the logical mathematical solution to a particular artistic problem - that of convincingly representing three-dimensional objects on a flat, two-dimensional surface.
Alberti, after opening with a dedication to "Filippo de Ser Brunellesco" in which he mentions not only his (Alberti's) family's exile but also "nostro amicissimo Donato sculptore", "et Nencio et Luca et Masaccio" 3, divides his short book into three parts: the first 'book' (libro primo) is dedicated to explaining how to use perspective itself; the second (libro secondo) deals with the importance and primacy of painting per se and various technical matters pertaining to it; while the third book (libro terzo ed ultimo) deals with the role and nobility of painting. Typically of much literature of the period, many references to classical models and dicta are scattered throughout the three libri, a means of lending authoritative, high-level support to whatever a given writer was trying to say. Della Pittura is in fact shot through with references to classical Greek and Roman artists, both painters and sculptors - as well as authors - whom Alberti quotes or uses as examples of the way things should be done, or the attitudes artists should have to their profession. He several times stresses that the aim of painters should be to bring beauty and grace into the world and thereby make a name for themselves; it should not be to make a lot of money!
One of the dicta he quotes is that 'man is the measure of all things' (p 35), which he gives mistakenly to Pythagoras (actually Protagoras, d. about 420 BC); in his first book (libro primo) Alberti himself uses the height of an average man, divided by three, as the unit for his demonstration of perspective (p 36). The height of a given human figure in a painting is critical for the position of two important elements in a perspective drawing (or construction): the position of the 'vanishing point' - which he calls the punto centrico - and the position of the 'horizon line'. Both of these are at the same height as his hypothetical standing figure; and he also divides the base line of his perspective construction into units equal to one third (one braccio) the height of his given figure. In this way, Alberti's figure (man) is the measure of all things in a manner actually quite different from that intended in Protagoras' statement (ανθρωποσ μετρον) that the truth or not of things depends on how one sees them. Coincidentally, Protagoras claimed that he could not pronounce on the gods as they could not be observed and, in reference to painting, Alberti said that the painter dealt only with the visible. 4
In the first book, Alberti sets about explaining how to construct a perspective drawing (the first such attempt since ancient times), and he begins at the very beginning (p 16) by defining a point 5, then a line, then the types of lines, then planes, and so on. Ironically, he sets off at this quite abstract level after having said that, although mathematicians may work in this abstract way, he on the other hand wants to describe these elements in a more down-to-earth language, one that is accessible to painters; on the same page indeed, he says that his words (nostri detti) are to be understood by [are written only for] painters (da solo pictore interpretati). Nevertheless, I feel that beginning in this way is a worthwhile exercise because it is doubtful that many of us have given much thought, if any, to what exactly is the nature of these very basic elements.
On page 24 he begins his discussion of what he refers to as lumi - basically, lights - and the way light and colour influence the way we perceive superficie, or surfaces. Incidentally, it is in this description that Alberti again asserts his status as a painter: "Parliamo come Pictore." ('Let's talk as painters.'). He then goes on to talk about the mixing of colours; in this discussion he points out the critical role of white and black and their power to influence other colours. He then follows with the nature of reflected lights and how they work. At this point he shifts back to more discussion of the elements of perspective construction and specifically mentions the fundamental idea of there being an imaginary pane of glass between the object seen by the painter and the rays of light coming from that object into the painter's eye. This imaginary pane of glass, in practical terms, when painting, is the canvas on which the artist is painting his or her picture. This concept is later (p 36) reframed (pardon the pun) as the famous analogy of the canvas as a window which the painter, so to say, opens onto the world (created in the painting). Again, by the way, just before this last similitude, Alberti says " ... diro quello fo io, quando dipingo.' (' ... I will tell what I do, when I paint.'); once agin he refers to himself as a painter - and how he goes about things! Book One finishes the initial explanation of the basics of the perspective system and Alberti concludes by begging the pardon of his readers for his lack of 'eloquence', saying that being clear and understood are more important than having an ornate style; he encourages the student painter to be diligent in understanding those principles just outlined.
At the beginning of Libro Secondo our author leads into his subject with a discussion of why painting is a worthwhile field of study, and the power of pictures: he claims that pictures have within them a 'divine force' such as to make absent people present, and those long-dead seem almost alive (in historical painting for example). History painting, or istoria, is, according to Alberti (and others), the highest and noblest form of art ("... la istoria è summa opera del pictore, ..." page 94) because of the elevated subject matter (Biblical and historical events, mythology, and so on) and because it requires, normally, so many figures and so many attitudes or poses (to which he devotes quite a bit of time), animals, arms and many other things. But he continues with the 'divine' theme by saying on page 45 that painters can hear their works adorate, adored, and themselves described as another god! (" ... vedra le sue opere essere adorate et sentira sè giudicato un altro iddio."). Painting according to our author was, after all, the font of all the other arts.
After a long digression on the history of painting and how certain important historical figures thought it not unworthy to learn that art, he then introduces the prickly subject of the precedence of painting over sculpture, a debate later known as the Paragone (comparison), a dispute dear to the hearts of later artists such as Michelangelo (for sculpture) and Leonardo da Vinci (for painting). At this point, Alberti claims that nature itself appears to delight in painting, but the important thing really is the repeated reference to nature as the model of all things; another instance of this same idea, ubiquitous in this work, occurs on page 59 where he says that painters should look to nature to see how it composes its forms so that they have grace and beauty: "ad quale imitarla si conviene molto avervi continovo pensieri et cura ..." (' ... in which to imitate her [nature] it is most beneficial to be thinking continuously and carefully [about nature] ... '); he also in this passage describes nature as a "maravigliosa artefice", that is, a marvellous artisan or artist.
At this point, our writer reminds his readers to make use of his velo (veil); this item is explained more fully on pages 52 and 53 (and elsewhere) as one of the tools he uses in his own painting. It involved the adoption of an apparently squared (that is, with a grid) piece of transparent cloth or fabric: this was set-up between the painter and the subject or object he or she was painting, the grid squares on the 'veil' acting as a guide to the accurate positioning of viewed objects into a like grid on the canvas or surface to be painted. A similar device can be seen in a very famous woodcut of 1525 by Albrecht Dürer, the Draughtsman Drawing a Reclining Woman. Incidentally, on page 50 of the Trattato, in yet another reference to his own work, Alberti describes how, on occasion, after concentrating on his painting, he is surprised to find that three or four hours had passed: " ... con tanta voluptà ...", that is, with so much pleasure! 6
Another extremely important definition is offered in these same pages and that is of the three 'phases', let's say, of making a painting; the first is circonscriptione (on the same page, also spelt circumscriptione!), which means drawing the outlines of objects (" ... disegniamento del orlo, ..."); the second is compositione, composition; and the third is receptione di lumi, that is the application of colours and, essentially, their modulation so as to represent the effects of light. Throughout these pages, Alberti continues to expound on the use of perspective, and as well, his veil. Here he talks again about istoria, history painting, and interestingly, although he seems to encourage painters to fill this sort of picture with numerous details, he also warns against overdoing it, especially when it amounts to a kind of showing-off: on page 65, "Biasimo io quelli pictori quali, dove vogliono parere copiosi, nulla lassando vacuo, ivi non compositione ma dissoluta confusione disseminano;" ('I criticise those painters who, wanting to appear so inventive, leaving no empty space, spread not composition but great and negligent confusion'). In this regard, it is noteworthy the later development, in 16th century Mannerism, of just this very quality, that is, a form of horror vacui! The work of Vasari himself can be seen in this light.
On the next page (and later) Alberti introduces yet another fundamental of Renaissance humanistic philosophy, the idea that a person's physical movements reveal the 'movements' of his or her soul (movimento d'animo); as this applies to painting, that the gestures, poses, positions, facial expressions and so on, painted in a picture should also 'reveal' the souls - presumably, the character and spirit and emotions (page 69) - of the actors in the drama. It's worth repeating that, as elsewhere, the author continues to support his thesis with references to classical Greek and Roman writers and especially artists, retelling stories, true or invented, of almost-superhuman painters and sculptors of the classical past.
On page 68 the concept of the 'interlocutor' is dealt with: by this our author means that somewhere within the istoria there is a figure which acts as a kind of guide to the viewer; whose job it is to direct our attention, either by looks or gestures, to the main part of the action, to the subject proper of the image. In fact, this is taken quite literally on occasions, with, in a religious picture for example, a standing saint actually pointing at the Madonna! A little later, the idea of 'contrapposto' is introduced, especially as a consequence of the weight of the head: according to Alberti, the head is one of the heaviest parts of the body and its movements or positions necessitate a corresponding complementary balancing movement of other parts of the body (see the article on 'Contrapposto and Michelangelo' in this blog).
Still in libro secondo, Alberti now (page 77) posits the use of the mirror, a recommendation also, later, from Leonardo da Vinci: the use of the mirror is as a sort of 'automatic corrector', so to speak: this involves the painter looking at his or her painting as reflected in a mirror because any 'defect' will be instantly obvious (a similar effect may be had by turning one's picture upside down: again, errors, if that they be, become painfully clear)! With this suggestion, our author now moves on to warn against the use of white in representing the highlights on a given surface: he points out that pure white is the brightest and 'whitest' colour a painter has at his or her disposal and that, consequently, painters need to be careful when painting the lightest parts in their pictures. This is a common problem for student painters who often have, as it were, 'nowhere to go' after they have mistakenly used pure white for an area which later turned out not to be the brightest one in their painting.
Finally, in the second book, we come to another famous piece of advice from Alberti. This concerns his disapproval of the use of actual gold - gold leaf - in painting, a custom with a long history, particularly in late-medieval Italian altar-pieces. Alberti's opinion is that the skilful master should be able to imitate the appearance of gold as, in fact, we are dealing with a painted reality and actual gold is a physically real metal; in effect, it is almost a contradiction to introduce into a painted illusion, something which is actually a part of day-to-day physical reality (a point of view not shared by many artists working in the mid-twentieth century!).
We have now arrived at the third and final libro at which point Alberti describes the job of a painter and the aim of painting: "Dico l'uficio del pictore essere così: ...", followed by: "La fine della pictura: ...". The job of the painter is described rather prosaically as the maker of pictures as most people would understand them to be; the function of painting is to represent grace, and (bring) well-being and praise (lode) to the artisan, which are much more important than riches. Here we meet again Alberti's philosophical position, that while it is appropriate and even necessary for the painter to seek praise and a comfortable life from his or her work, wanting to be rich, as a priority, is not appropriate. It is not clear to me exactly why he takes this position but I assume it is because he sees the activity of the painter as a 'noble' one, one that should be pursued, yes, for fame, but not for money per se. The acquisition of fame and praise however is, it seems, a given for Alberti.
In the following pages, Alberti discusses another of his well-known points of view, the notion that painters should become the friends and intimates of erudite scholars and poets 7. As these are educated people and familiar with the ancient Greek and Roman poets and philosophers, painters can benefit not only from their knowledge, but also from their advice in composing their pictures, their istorie. This leads to the opinion that often, educated rich people will support artists of good character (modesto et buono) rather than those who may actually be somewhat better painters but not of such good character (the experience of the present writer happens unfortunately not to coincide with this happy observation!). But the more serious point is that Alberti, like Vasari writing more than a hundred years later, sees the social position of the artist improving from that of a (mere) artisan to one who is on the same level as those who practise the liberal arts (l'arti liberali): poets, historians, philosophers. To describe these people he uses the word 'docto', a Latin word - like many in his Italian version of this book - (modern Italian dotto), meaning 'highly educated' as well as 'teacher'. Alberti in other words, wants the painter, the artist, to move up the social scale, to be seen as someone who works at least as much with his or her mind as with their hands. As usual, at this point, various examples from antiquity are brought forward to enhance and prove his position.
In the next pages, Alberti discusses three more important ideas: the importance of beauty over accuracy, which concept involves the second idea, that of choosing the best parts from nature, and finally prestezza, another concept of great import for Vasari. The first idea is, in my opinion, as significant today as it was when published in 1436; many aspiring painters, even today, believe that the most minute and painstaking accuracy in their representations is the desired object, and the mark of a highly successful work of art (see also page 96). At the same time that Alberti was warning painters about this pitfall, one of the fellow-artists he mentions in his dedication, the sculptor Donatello, was claiming that the 'unfinished', especially in works to be seen from a distance, was far preferable to the highly-finished, highly-polished work of his contemporaries. In the 19th and 20th centuries of course, the unfinished, the roughly-done of certain styles became not only acceptable but positively desirable!
The second idea, that of choosing the best parts of nature, might seem to contradict what he had been saying up to now, namely, that painters should look to nature as their guide and model, a point he reiterated several times. At the end of his book, he now more specifically counsels artists still to look to nature, but also to be selective. Alberti quotes the example of Zeuxis, a Greek painter of the 5th century BC, who, having to paint a picture which was to be placed in a temple, and realising that no one woman could have all the most desirable qualities ("... pensava, non potere in un solo corpo trovare quante bellezze elli ricercava, ..."), selected the five most beautiful women and from each of them took one or more features as the models for his painting. We should keep in mind that Alberti is not talking about portraits for instance, but rather those history stories (istorie) which he regards so highly; painters use models (nature) of course but, for the principal figures in a large history painting, the painter should be careful to, in effect, combine the best features from those available and not simply use whatever is presented.
The third idea, prestezza, signifies speed; painters, as admonished also by Vasari and famously practised by him, should be able to work at a reasonable speed, by which I understand both Alberti and Vasari to mean that artists should not be lazy about getting their work done, but should be diligent in completing their commissions in a timely manner. Alberti then moves on to an argument which would still have pertinence today, and that is the relative value of copying the work of other painters; Alberti disapproves of this in principle but says that if he had to copy something, he would rather copy a mediocre sculpture than a good painting. He says this is because, from a good painting you learn simply to copy, or imitate, what's already there, whereas, from a sculpture, at least you have to study the lumi, the lights: that is, to model the forms in light and shade, something which has already been done for you if you copy a painting. He then seems to say that sculpture has the advantage of dealing directly with the physical modelling of (human) forms whereas, on the other hand, for the painter, this modelling of forms is a more difficult thing to achieve.
From here, Alberti makes what is to my mind, an extremely important and insightful observation about making any art, but about painting in particular: that the artist must have in his or her mind a very clear idea of what they want to do prior to beginning the work. This is of utmost importance partly because, as he says: "chè certo più sarà sicuro emendare li errori colla mente, che raderli dalla pictura." ('Because it will definitely be safer [easier] to correct the errors with the mind, than remove them from the painting'). He then remarks that the less confident artisan (artefice) - actually he says lazy (pigro) - will be even less confident if he hasn't made everything clear in his mind before he starts his work. Again, this is still a problem for many young and amateur painters, especially when their training is not up to the task to begin with. Alberti however, doesn't neglect to mention that each artist has his or her own natural gifts and that these should be cultivated with continual diligence; it is not therefore necessary that we all paint istorie: "et diede la natura ad ciascuno igegnio sue proprie dote, ..." (page 95). Finally, he warns that we should nevertheless continue to push ourselves ever forward, and not be content with those particular gifts, whatever they may be.
Our generous author brings his work to conclusion with a discussion of the merits of listening to, indeed seeking, the opinions of others, first of all friends and other artisans, but also the unschooled; all opinions should be heard but "... creda ai più periti." ('believe the most expert.'). On the second last page, Alberti asks his supposed readers - that is to say, other painters - that, if they have enjoyed his work, his book, they should show their appreciation by including his portrait in one of their own paintings: an extraordinary request but, at the same time, a charming and pertinent one: " ... solo questo domando in premio delle mie fatiche, che nelle sue istorie dipingano il viso mio ...". 8
What is the value of this famous and, in terms of art history, momentous work? First of all, Alberti's, as they say nowadays, 'ground-breaking' dissemination of the new science of perspective construction, and importantly, this in a form and style which could be understood by his main audience, that is, his fellow painters. It is noteworthy that in an age when personal (and community) ego was alive and well, Alberti is at pains to claim for himself the generally accepted lower status of artisan, or simple painter, and further to admit that this is no eloquent treatise such as others might write, even if, in fact, he was an erudite scholar, and an accomplished writer of Latin! Almost equal with this enormous contribution is his introduction of several concepts which were important and influential during his own historical period, the Renaissance, and some of which, in addition, are still important to both artists and art historians today.
Apart from this book and another for which he is at least as equally well-known, De re aedificatoria or L'arte di costruire, (c. 1452, Concerning Building), his remaining structures have an almost modern, spare clarity and elegance about them. As an architect, he was obviously influenced by Roman buildings, such as at Rimini with the Tempio Malatestiano and, to take a possibly less well-known example, his Sacello del Santo Sepolcro (in the Cappella Rucellai, also by him) at the Florentine ex-church of San Pancrazio, now a museum (the entrance - very classical - to the Cappella today functions as the entrance to the museum).
* A note on the language of Alberti. Our writer was a learned man despite his protestations of being simply a painter: he was a noted scholar of Latin and certain of his other written works were published first in that language and not in Italian. Until recently, it was, I suppose, assumed that he first published our book in Latin as well, but more recent scholarship tends to the view that it was published first in Italian and only subsequently in Latin. Be that as it may, Alberti's 'Italian' is in fact, as with other contemporary writers, a kind of blend of Latin and the emerging Italian language: as already noted, the Latin word docto for the modern Italian dotto. Other examples of at least strong Latin influence are pictore and pictura for the Italian pittore and pittura; et (and) for e; extimare (aestimare) for stimare; inventione (invention) for invenzione. And we can add to this examples of the developing Italian at that time, such as his spelling of several words with an 'h' which in modern Italian are not so spelled, for example, chose (a hard 'k' sound: 'things') for the modern cose (still with the hard 'k' sound); huomini (men) for the modern uomini; hanimali for animali; angholi (angles) for angoli. Other spelling differences are the use of 'j' in place of 'i', for instance conlinearij, radij and officij. Quite often the same word will be spelled in two ways; philosofi (Greek 'ph') and filosofi, modern Italian; uficio and officio. Although these differences - which have little or no bearing on an English translation - are usually 'ironed out', so to speak, in modern Italian editions of Della Pittura, they are nevertheless extremely interesting for those interested in the development of languages. Incidentally, nowhere does the equivalent of our word 'artist' appear (in Italian, artista): the people he is speaking to are called artisans (artefici) or, most often, painter (pictori or dipintori); 'artist' came later. The translations in the present article are mine and are sometimes, because of Alberti's writing style, more the sense than transliterations; in any case, there are, even amongst Italian historians, some questions as to the exact meaning of some of his statements.
1 L. B. Alberti Il trattato della pittura e i cinque ordini architettonici, with Prefazione by G. Papini, published by R. Carabba, Lanciano 1913 (2nd edition 2011)
2 Others followed: for instance, the Libretto sui cinque solidi regolari and La prospettiva nella pittura, both by Piero della Francesca, and the Summa di aritmetica, ecc (1494) by Luca Pacioli (followed in 1509 by his La divina proporzione).
3 " ... our great friend Donato [Donatello], sculptor ...", "and Nencio [Lorenzo Ghiberti] and Luca [della Robbia] and Masaccio".
4 "Delle chose quali non possiamo vedere, niuno nega nulla apartenersene al pictore: solo studia il pictore fingiere, quello si vede." (p 16)
7 Page 86-87: "Pertanto consiglio, ciascuno pictore molto si faccia familiare ad i poeti, rhetorici et ad li altri simili dotti di lettera, sia che costoro doneranno nuove inventione o certo ajuteranno ad bello componere sua storia, per quali certo adquisteranno in sua pictura molte lode et nome." The last phrase seems to suggest that the poets, philosophers and so on will also gain praise and fame by having their ideas depicted in (your) paintings!
8 In fact, it is thought that his portrait does appear, as painted (some eight or so years earlier than the publication of Della Pittura) by the much admired Masaccio, in the Brancacci Chapel, in Florence; extremely interesting if true, as Alberti's first appearance in Florence was not until until 1434 - that is, after Masaccio had painted the putative portrait! And this return occurred more or less by chance because, as a member of the Curia, Alberti accompanied Pope Eugenio IV on his trip to Florence in that year. If indeed Masaccio has included a portrait of Alberti in a fresco painted around 1428, how and when did they meet?
