Table Of ContentRenaissance and BaRoque aRt
Essays by LEo stEinbErg
Edited by Sheila Schwartz
Renaissance
and Baroque Art
s E L E c t E d E s s ay s
Leo steinBeRg
EditEd by Sheila Schwartz
thE UnivErsity of chicago PrEss | Chicago and London
The University of Chicago Press, Chicago 60637
The University of Chicago Press, Ltd., London
© 2020 by Sheila Schwartz
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced
in any manner whatsoever without written permission,
except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews.
For more information, contact the University of Chicago Press,
1427 E. 60th St., Chicago, IL 60637.
Published 2020
Printed in Italy
29 28 27 26 25 24 23 22 21 20 1 2 3 4 5
isbn- 13: 978- 0- 226- 66872- 7 (cloth)
isbn- 13: 978- 0- 226- 66886- 4 (e- book)
doi: https://doi.org/10.7208/chicago/9780226668864.001.0001
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Steinberg, Leo, 1920–2011, author. | Schwartz, Sheila, editor. | Steinberg, Leo, 1920–2011.
Essays. Selections. 2018.
Title: Renaissance and baroque art : selected essays / Leo Steinberg ; edited by Sheila Schwartz.
Description: Chicago : University of Chicago Press, 2020. | Series: Essays by Leo Steinberg | Includes
bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: Lccn 2019042778 | isbn 9780226668727 (cloth) | isbn 9780226668864 (ebook)
Subjects: Lcsh: Painting, Renaissance. | Painting, Renaissance—Italy. | Painting, Baroque—Italy.
Classification: Lcc nd170 .s84 2020 | ddc 759.03/0945—dc23
Lc record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019042778
∞ This paper meets the requirements of ansi/niso Z39.48- 1992 (Permanence of Paper).
contents
Preface and Acknowledgments, Sheila Schwartz vii
Introduction, Stephen J. Campbell xi
1. Words That Prevent Perception 1
2. Mantegna: Did He Paint by the Book? 34
3. “How Shall This Be?” Reflections on Filippo Lippi’s Annunciation in London 70
4. Mantegna’s Dead Christ: Passion and Pattern 87
5. Pontormo’s Capponi Chapel 97
6. Pontormo’s Alessandro de’ Medici; or, I Only Have Eyes for You 114
7. Salviati’s Beheading of St. John the Baptist 122
8. An El Greco Entombment Eyed Awry 125
9. Observations in the Cerasi Chapel 130
10. Guercino’s Saint Petronilla 144
11. Steen’s Female Gaze and Other Ironies 162
12. Deciphering Velázquez’s Old Woman Cooking Eggs 180
13. The Water Carrier of Velázquez 186
14. Velázquez’s Pablo de Valladolid 189
15. Velázquez’s Las Meninas 195
16. The Glorious Company 209
Notes 237
Leo Steinberg: Chronology 281
Leo Steinberg: Publications (1947– 2010) 285
Photography Credits 291
Index 293
PReface and
acknowLedgments
Leo Steinberg greeted the turn of the millennium don from Berlin in May 1933, not quite thirteen years
with a new venture in mind: the republication of old, fluent in German, able to mimic half a dozen dia-
about a dozen of his most important Old Master es- lects, but without a word of English. He quickly came
says in a single volume, a companion to Other Criteria, to resent English as the “instrument of my impotence”
his 1972 compendium on modern art. But, as he passed and “humiliation.”3 At age seventeen, however, he de-
eighty, the burden of age began to weigh upon him and cided that English would be his language and began
he opened files on unpublished matter, eager to work to school himself in its literature—S hakespeare, Mil-
up what had not yet been scripted and engage in fresh ton, Thomas Browne, Jonathan Swift, Laurence Sterne,
writing tasks. In the two years before his death in 2011, Dickens. English, he soon realized, was as noble a lan-
however, another, larger project evolved: the posthu- guage as German. He memorized Shakespeare son-
mous publication of essays in all fields written during nets, pages from Paradise Lost, and long prose passages
his sixty- year career, along with some unpublished lec- from other favorite authors, “reciting them to myself
tures.1 His hope was that I would bring off what he had in order to internalize the rhythms of English prose
neither the time nor the inclination to do. The present and verse.”4 A friend gave him a copy of Joyce’s Ulysses,
volume is the third in a planned series that will extend which became his cicerone to English. “I had the na-
into modern and contemporary art. ive notion that any word or turn of phrase in Ulysses
that was unfamiliar to me was unfamiliar because I
I leave to Stephen J. Campbell an explication de texte, ad- was a bloody foreigner, and of course any native En-
dressing instead the biographical origins of Steinberg’s glish speaker would know words like ‘tholsel’ or ‘inkle.’ I
art- historical method. would look every one of them up.”5 Late in life, he still
Steinberg had a well- earned reputation as a writer knew pages of Ulysses by heart.
of fine prose, which won him both praise and blame This internalized vocabulary— and syntax, styles,
from fellow art historians. He often recalled Walter and structures— of great English literature became a
Friedlaender’s judgment at a faculty conference during vast linguistic resource. And writing, he taught me in
his graduate studies at the Institute of Fine Arts: “I the more than four decades we worked together, was
don’t trust Leo Steinberg, he writes too well.”2 Any- thinking. Ideas and narrative structures evolve and are
one concerned with style could not be concerned with refined— or forsaken— in the search for the most pre-
scholarship; if it doesn’t sound like art history, it isn’t. cise and expressive locution. Put into the service of
Steinberg’s dedication to English style was that of a art history, his prose illuminated the subject, revealing
foreigner who had to learn what native speakers took what a more pedestrian style would keep hidden. Rich-
for granted. English was his fourth language, preceded ard Shiff put it well: “Leo’s writing has the freshness
by Russian, Hebrew, and German. He arrived in Lon- of speech, even though he fussed over choice of word,
Preface and acknowledgments
[viii] syntax, and meter, just as a painter might fuss over cism, visual corrections of perceived flaws that serve to
nuances of color and the rhythms of strokes, without reveal the intentionality of the original.
detriment to the overall picture. His models included Comprehending an artwork extended beyond two-
Shakespeare and Joyce, writers who took delight in dimensional replication. Steinberg often said that he
sound without losing the deeper reaches of sense. . . . didn’t trust art historians who’d never drawn and never
Such sonorous writing risks striking its reader as self- danced.9 He didn’t mean those who’d never waltzed,
indulgent, too finely orchestrated, leaving the impres- but rather those who never tried to translate looking
sion that the rhetoric is the message. . . . [But] his de- into physical equivalencies, to animate static art with
scriptive terms and analytical concepts bore an organic gestural simulations. He taught his students that mere
relationship to whichever art objects he brought under looking was never enough. They had to hold the figure’s
investigation. He set eye and mind to the immediate pose “till the strains of it become an inward intuition.”
task, as opposed to administering a fixed vocabulary, a “At stake is the identity of an action, its feel and import.
fashionable method, or a hierarchy of values.”6 It has to be danced to be known.”10
The roots of Steinberg’s art history lie equally in his Drawing, writing, dancing painted and sculpted
training as an artist. He enrolled in the Slade School of figures— all this built the foundation for Steinberg’s
Fine Art, London, age sixteen. At graduation four years art history. We see it in the indefatigable conjunction
later, a skilled draftsman with prizes in hand for draw- of form and content. Nearly everything Steinberg wrote
ing and sculpture, he “had the good sense to know” that includes passages of old-f ashioned formal analysis. “The
a career as a professional artist was not for him.7 But he very distinction of form and symbol, insofar as it sug-
continued to draw from the model and sculpt portraits gests different things, appears as an imposition, a pro-
of friends. In 1948, looking for a way to support himself jection from habits of language.”11 Looking long and
in New York, he got a job teaching life drawing at Par- hard, reaching into his verbal storehouse, he describes
sons School of Design, adding art history lectures to what is seen— and drawn and danced. But in Stein-
his course load in 1951. He taught at Parsons through berg’s work, such description becomes the basis for in-
the 1950s, drawing along with the students, even while terpretative erudition. However learned his footnotes
studying art history at the Institute of Fine Arts, writ- or discussions of difficult theological and critical is-
ing contemporary exhibition reviews for Arts Magazine, sues, these textual reinforcements always followed vi-
and becoming renowned for his lectures at the 92nd sual analysis. He went to the museum before he went
Street Y and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Long to the library.
after he was an established art historian, he would now The primacy of the visual is a credo of Steinberg’s
and then join artist friends for drawing sessions with thinking about art. He titled the series of six Norton
a live model.8 Lectures he delivered at Harvard in 1995– 96 “The Mute
Steinberg brought his artist’s eye to the study of art Image and the Meddling Text,” pleading against what
history. To understand a painted composition, sculpted he elsewhere called the “tyranny of the written word.”
figure, or building, to follow the creator’s thought, he His writings are punctuated with such statements as
drew it, in whole and in part, over and again. He re- “let thinking take off from what comes in at the eye.” Or
spected every inch of a work as the product of an artist’s “the primary problem is simply our educated reluctance
decision. Nothing, even if unsuccessful, was accidental to take seeing seriously; for it is easier to read and rely
or casual. Thus too the alterations made to great works on one’s reading than to keep vision alerted and trust
of art by copyists— in this volume, for example, en- appearances. Reading discursive prose we feel confident
graved copies of Guercino’s St. Petronilla: he saw these that the vehicles of signification are guaranteed, that
alterations not as incompetence, but as negative criti- meaning is promoted . . . by dint of words. . . . In parsing
Preface and acknowledgments
a painting one stoops to inferior orders of certainty, and he did manage to publish; but more often, his speaking [ix]
it is understandable that folks who seek surety while schedule as well as teaching obligations kept important
looking at art reach for collateral reading.”12 Finally, at lecture material from reaching the printed page.
the end of The Sexuality of Christ in Renaissance Art Steinberg poured as much effort into lectures as he
and in Modern Oblivion, he explains one of the reasons did into published books and essays, though such ef-
why he risked hypothetical interpretations: “to remind fort took time away from writing. But he felt a sense of
the literate among us that there are moments, even in responsibility to his listeners, a conviction that they de-
a wordy culture like ours, when images start from no served his very best. Even when a lecture was repeated
preformed program to become primary texts. Treated over the years, he revised it for each venue, updating and
as illustrations of what is already scripted, they with- improving it. Moreover, he treated the spoken word dif-
hold their secrets.” ferently from the written: “I try to write the lecture not
as publishable prose, but as speech to a living audience.
Peppering the critical objections to Steinberg’s art his- It’s written the way a playwright might write dialogue,
tory is the accusation of overinterpretation, of claiming to sound spontaneous.”14 Small wonder that he usually
more than the artist could have intended. Let Steinberg played to packed houses. Lecture texts originally took
again speak for himself: “A word needs to be said about the form of typed notes on small cards, with much ad-
the limits and license of interpretation. I am aware of libbed. But around 1980, with his reputation as a lec-
the position that frowns on excessively free speculation turer secure, he began to write out his lectures in full,
at the expense of the masters. But there are, after all, two every word, every impromptu aside, with notations for
ways to inflict injustice on a great work of art: by over- emphasis and pace— all so as not to disappoint the au-
interpreting it, or by under- estimating its meaning. If dience’s expectations, no less than to avoid the clichés
unverifiable interpretations are rightly regarded as dan- born of improvisation.15 It is these lectures that he au-
gerous, there is as much danger of misrepresentation thorized me to include in the present series.
in restrictive assertions that feel safe only because they
say little. . . . [T]he probity of resisting interpretation is The literature cited or discussed by Steinberg reflects
not the virtue to which I aspired. . . . [N]othing would what was relevant to him at the time of publication. If
seem to me more foolhardy than to project upon [an his postpublication notes contained comments on or
artist’s] symbolic structures a personal preference for references to later literature, they have been included.
simplicity.”13 The attentive reader will observe that some literature
which Steinberg must have known goes unmentioned.
These omissions were intentional, for they often in-
Notes to the Texts
volved text-b ased interpretations completely at odds
The chapters follow the works’ chronology of creation with his image- based principles. No point, he felt, in
and incorporate notes and revisions Steinberg made in arguing apples and oranges. He would dismiss such lit-
the years subsequent to each publication. In the case erature in the spirit of Dante, guarda e passa.
of lectures, I have added endnotes from material in his
files.
Acknowledgments
A word about these previously unpublished lectures,
of which there are three in this volume. From the early Ever since Steinberg published “Acknowledgments for
1950s on, Steinberg was a sought- after lecturer in muse- a Book Not Yet Begun” (1980)—“ a mischievous satire”
ums and institutions here and abroad. He used the oc- to divert those who have been “struck by a certain self-
casion of a lecture to work out and test new ideas, in the addressed puffery amidst the ostentation of thanks”—
expectation of eventually publishing them. Sometimes I’ve been aware of how easily the form can slip into
Preface and acknowledgments
[x] inadvertent parody, though the acknowledgments he Toftness, assistant editor at the University of Chicago
wrote for his own books raise the prefatory convention Press, whom I enlisted to oversee the messy business of
to a literary level. No matter the challenge, these vol- securing images and permissions; Christine Schwab’s
umes would not have seen print without the pragmatic sharp eye ensured editorial consistency in a disparate
and affective support of those who follow. volume. Susan Bielstein, executive editor at the press,
Steinberg’s dear friends Paula and Herbert Molner arrived there in 1996, just as the revised edition of The
and Kate Ganz cheered me on as I made the transition Sexuality of Christ in Renaissance Art and in Modern
from working with Leo to working without him. Olivia Oblivion was going into production. She saw the book
Powell, while a student at Columbia, was Steinberg’s to completion with patient skill and soon became Leo’s
last research assistant, always ready to lend an investi- supportive confidante in the publishing world. It is with
gative hand and a genial presence. Her PhD completed, great pleasure that I put this project in her proficient
she then became my own indispensable researcher, hands.
whose quick trips to the library kept the production Others have made key contributions to this endeavor
of these volumes on a steady course. Equally essential with timely responses to questions or with references,
have been her responsive and intelligent comments on photos, and translations. I list them here in alphabetical
parts of this manuscript. order, but with unsequenced gratitude: Jonathan Bober,
Christine Smith, professor of architectural history Keith Christiansen, Nelda Damiano, Jérémie Koering,
at Harvard, and my good friend for decades, answered Leatrice Mendelsohn, Otto Naumann, Margaret Poser,
pesky questions on architectural affairs with patience Jennifer Thompson, and Dale Tucker.
and expertise. Another old friend, Charlotte Daudon- My largest debt is to Prudence Crowther, a staunch
Lacaze in Paris, stepped in to help investigate illumi- and devoted friend to Leo in his last decade. She has
nated manuscripts and arrange contacts in French mu- been a constant companion in this publication venture,
seums. Renaissance man John Cunnally was Leo’s stu- offering both encouragement and wise editorial feed-
dent and assistant at the University of Pennsylvania in back. But my debt to her began at Leo’s death. The job
the 1980s. A longtime professor at Iowa State Univer- of closing his apartment was a melancholy one. His
sity, he came through with insights into numismatic presence, and his absence, abided in every pile of pa-
forgeries as well as difficult Greek and Latin transla- pers, every book, in his scattered jars of pencil stubs
tions. Alexander Nagel’s astute counsel informs several and the dust layers on long- abandoned projects. For
of these chapters. My meetings and email exchanges fifteen months, Prudence worked closely with me in the
with Daniele Di Cola, whose PhD thesis for the Sapi- excavation of a man’s life, helping to sort, organize, or
enza, University of Rome, concerned the foundations recycle thousands of documents and sustaining me with
and intellectual context of Steinberg’s art history, have sound advice, welcome humor, and shared emotions. It
added immeasurably to these volumes.16 would have been an impossibly lonely job without her.
I was fortunate to have the aid of James Whitman
Sheila Schwartz
nEw york, 2019
