Art History Alive

arthisto March 26th, 2009

Having recently read and reviewed Robert Clark’s, Dark Water, and happily moved on to my next book, I found that I could not shake the images and anxiety he had described in his pages? Images of Florence’s art floating in filthy water or stuck in a tar like mud, while distinguished curators and librarians openly wept. Why now, forty-three years later, was I feeling such angst over these events? Empathy? Grieving? I went back to the book, and focusing on the fate of just one piece of art, Cimabue’s Crocifisso c. 1288, I began rereading.

Then I thought that it might be challenging and fun for you to wrangle with this conundrum a bit, to weigh the options and try to determine what you would have done. But remember, the devastating flood of 1966 created a dilemma for the ages, and the art historians and restorers were acutely aware that whatever they decided to do, or not do, with the drowned cross, would impact what future generations saw, and perhaps even felt, when viewing this piece of art. What would Cimabue have them do? But there is no time to ponder this enormous responsibility. For us this is a brainteaser that we could ponder for days. But in November 1966, when the decisions were made on how, or if, Florence’s art could be saved, they were made in a race against time. Every hour of every day that the Florentines considered what to do, fast growing mold and mildew were taking hold of these priceless antiquities.

The Background:

Florence, Italy – Firenze, Italia

In 1566, a fourteen foot tall wooden crucifix, built and painted by Cimabue, c. 1288, is removed from above the high alter, where it has been suspended high above the floor of the Basilica of Santa Croce since its creation. The gigantic crucifix is carefully moved to the refectory of the Basilica, where it is hung low on a wall, and where it remained for the next 400 years.

The neighborhood around the Basilica and the church are the lowest areas of Florence and were therefore hardest hit by the great flood of 1966. The water and mud levels reached well over 20 feet.

Rescue workers found Cimabue’s crucifix immersed in the water surrounded by tiny floating flecks of paint. Using tea strainers they were able to collect about 100 of these, none larger than 1/16 of an inch in size, in hopes of one day reapplying them to the cross. Sadly, that was never accomplished.

The Dilemma:

What was left of the crucifix, when the waters receded, was the original cross, that had been constructed by the artist, swollen to four times its normal size and waterlogged to about 1,000 pounds. Two thirds of the Christ painted on the cross had washed away in the flood waters.

• Should the art restorers attempt to repaint and fill in the areas destroyed by the water? Should they try to bring Christ’s image back to Cimabue’s original creation? If so, does it remain an original Cimabue? No matter how meticulously brush stokes are copied and colors matched, isn’t it still an imitation? Should a disclaimer follow it for the rest of its existence?
• Should they slowly and carefully dry the crucifix and leave it as they found it, the way an archeologist digs up an ancient vase and displays it as is, an “authentic remnant”? But what does this have to do with art? “Isn’t it the beauty and transcendent value in these works that are supposed to make them worth looking at in the first place”? Or, should we look at it in the same way a body receives a wound that leaves a scar? Isn’t it all part of the life span of the piece of art?
• Is the crucifix in such terrible repair that it should simply be removed and put away? Almost immediately the mold and mildew became visible in the widened damp cracks in the wood. Perhaps it should be let go like a person that is dying? Perhaps this was simply the death of this piece of art?
• And what about the cross itself? Some see the art applied to the cross, while others give reverence to the cross itself, decorated or not. For many believers, since 1288, Cimabue’s crucifix, not the painting on it, has been a tangible symbol of a deep commitment of faith. With Cimabue in particular, art historians knew that the rationale for his art was not aesthetic, but devotional. Further, because he created the cross himself, isn’t it art in and of itself?

The situation begs the question, “What would Cimabue have us do”? There was no easy answer.

Each of these possibilities were considered carefully and hotly debated. Art is very, very personal and therefore such decisions can become extremely emotional. The only thing that the historians and restorers had in common was the heart sick feeling that they carried with them everyday following the flood. As the water slowly receded and the tons of mud were hauled away, something had to be done. But what?

Which road would you have chosen? Repaint, display as is, or let it go? And why would you have chosen that alternative? You can write your comments and thoughts at the bottom of this post. Finally, a resolution was decided on and carried out. I think it was brilliant, however, it remains controversial to this very day. In an upcoming post, I will include a description of the resolution, respond to your comments and post a recent photo of the Crocifisso. If you find this incident as fascinating as I do, I recommend that you pick up a copy of Dark Water, by Robert Clark. Since reading this book, I can’t wait to be in Florence again! Art History Alive will be traveling to Rome and Florence on June 11 – 19, 2009. Why don’t you join me as we see Florence in the new light of this knowledge and with heightened appreciation of her art? Recently added to this itinerary, for obvious reasons, will be a visit to the Cimabue’s Cocifisso!!

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