Milan: opposite to the Last Supper

During my one-day transit in Milan, I marked two spots on the map: the Milan Cathedral and the Chiesa di Santa Maria delle Grazie (Church of Holy Mary of Grace), a chapel housing the painting by Leonardo da Vinci: the Last Supper . The former is as fabulous as it was supposed to be and the latter, belittled when judged from the exterior. Situated in the northeastern neighborhood of Milan, Santa Maria delle Grazie is more of a hermit with its plain facade built of red and white bricks. Without the Last Supper, the Church would be just as plain as any other Roman Catholic Church dotting the streets of Milan, offering a place of prayers for the faithful, free from steps of the lay people.

I was among one of the lay people that was attracted to the site by the name of Leonardo da Vinci, a polymath who epitomized the Renaissance humanist ideal. The Last Supper was the mural I got to know before I learnt the stories of the Bible. Time after time, the painting registers itself in various printed media with the story of betrayal, the fresco painting technique, the linear perspective, the expressions of 12 disciples etc. I've seen numerous copies on art books and on the Chapel of Magdalene College at Oxford. Finally, I was able to see the original.

Not being able to reserve a ticket online, I tried my luck at the entrance and bought a ticket with a slightly higher price and waited for my slot of 15 minutes in the refectory of the convent, where the mural was. The visit was strictly guided in groups to protect the vulnerable painting. Its survival has already been made a legend with numerous alterations in ups and downs of history through roughly 500 years since its completion in 1498. Leonardo probably initiated a challenging task himself by using his newly invented technique of painting directly on the dry wall instead of a wet plaster, the traditional way of fresco painting. He laid his work on an exterior wall, leaving the painting to extreme change of temperature and humidity, which resulted in its fast deterioration right after the mural was completed. In 1652, the unrecognized painting was cut through to open a door right underneath the last supper table. Jesus lost his feet on the mural. By then, the disciples might already lost their clear boundaries of faces and no one saw the value of preserving a decayed painting and forgoing the convenience of a door leading directly from the kitchen to the cafeteria.

Faced with the fading of the mural of a genius, there were hurried efforts to restore the painting, some of which produced more ruins than restorations. Layer after layer, it is not clear how much of Leonardo's touch has left on the Last Supper as is shown today. Michelangelo Bellotti, attempted the first restoration in 1726, after which an unknown artist called Giuseppe Mazza had his touch on the painting after stripping off Bellotti's work in 1770. Further cleaning of the painting was conducted by Luigi Cavenaghi (1901-1908), by Oreste Silvestri in 1924, and by Mauro Pelliccioli (1951 - 1954). All restoration, cleaning and stabilization left marks on the painting and seeped in the thin wall holding the Last Supper.

It was not only artistes who had their hands on the Last Supper. In 1796, French revolutionary troops converted the refectory into an armory, later as a prison. In 1821, Stefano Barezzi, an expert in removing frescoes from their walls intact, tried to move it to a safer location, but ended up badly damaging the mural before realizing that it was not a fresco. In 1943, the Allied bombed the refectory and reduced the surrounding buildings into ruin except the wall protected by sand bags.

Through twists and turns, a major restoration was conducted from 1978 to 1999 by Pinin Brambilla Barcilon to bring the damaged and deteriorated painting back to life. After 21 years' of endeavor, the Last Supper unveiled itself again as it is when I stand in front of the painting in the dim refectory. The refectory was completely controlled in humidity and temperature, further stabilized by reducing all the windows to keep off sunlight. It was a strange experience standing in front of something you've known for a long time, but seen for real for the first time. The time limit was 15 minutes, not even enough to study in detail one person at the table. The mural has a blurring effect with its flaking surface and fading colors on the wall. I opened my eyes as wide as I could, trying to discern what lied in the details, but I strained my eyes so much that I couldn't help but blink.

That was the moment when Jesus stated calmly that one of the disciples around the table had betrayed him, with his right hands lying flat up and left hand reaching out as if he was trying to grasp something. Everyone on the table was shocked, in various ways, with their own added emotions, with anger, eagerness, pity, sorrow, surprise. All emotions were manifested by their facial expressions, postures and gestures. It was a psychological painting, crystalizing the dynamic moment with static brushes of paints.

15 minutes passed really quickly as I studied each of the disciples and examined every cracks on the wall. By the time we need to exit, I turned to the exit, and my eyesight swept quickly across another cluster of colors and figures, right opposite the Last Supper. The tour guide, after announcing the end of our visit, mentioned the painting on the other side as "the Crucification". Thereafter, we exited the room.

What is "the Crucification" about? Who painted it? What are its connections with the Last Supper? Did the painter know Leonardo as a friend? Have they worked together on the paintings and crossed their ways in the refectory? I left with loads of question marks in my head. I didn't notice there was another painting opposite the Last Supper for 15 minutes until the last minute. To an unobservant eye, the painting is as complex and as glorious as the Last Supper, but I failed to spare time to admire it.

I had been completely obsessed with the Last Supper, as obsessed as any one else in my same group. Non one cared about some unknown painter when there was a big name brand in the refectory. Back home, I search for this unknown painter and found him: Giovanni Donato da Montorfano (c. 1460–1502/1503), "an Italian painter of the Renaissance who was born, lived, and worked in Milan". He is described, in various sources, as known for his fresco the Crucificaion, "opposite Leonardo da Vinci's Last Supper". Not much is known about him except that his father was also a painter who worked in the Milan Cathedral.

Giovanni Donato da Montorfano is best known as the "man of a painting opposite the Last Supper". Maybe he should owe his fame to Leonardo? Or we, as audience, owe him a justified judgement when we tend to undervalue a "secondary figure" shadowed by the primary man of fame? Isn't this like sunshine that only touches tall trees in the jungle, leaving no room for the siblings covered underneath to grow?

#Europe #Travel #Italy #Milan