Every Day in Tuscany (25 page)

Not all of Luca enchants. In front of the
Virgin and Child with Saints Louis of Toulouse, Bonaventure, and Anthony of Padua
, I feel unmoved. The figures are static. I’m puzzled how my rock-and-roll Luca painted such a dull group. The saints around the Virgin seem to have stepped forward for their photo ops.

Also in the Museo Diocesano, you’ll see
Presentation in the Temple
, which I like to imagine in its original (vanished) oratory right on Piazza Repubblica, and the poetic
Immaculate Conception with Six Prophets
. Two angels shower the Virgin with flowers while God looks on. Frida Kahlo would have liked this impregnating floral cascade. Executed mostly by Luca’s nephew Francesco Signorelli from his uncle’s design,
¹
this painting probably was done when Luca was eighty-one. Increasingly in his late years, he let his workshop assistants carry out his designs. The museum is so rich; you’ll find Luca’s
Adoration of the Shepherds, Scenes from the Life of Saint Benedict
(much more on Benedetto later at Abbadia Monte Oliveto Maggiore),
Nativity
, and
Assumption of the Virgin
.

A joy forever is Fra Angelico’s
Annunciation
. The angel’s hair glows popsicle-orange; the Virgin looks very
uh oh, not me
. The divine painting remains from Fra Angelico’s thirteen years of work in Cortona. He left another painting behind in this museum, a polyptych,
Virgin with Child and Four Saints
, and a dim, almost unknown demi-lune over the main doors of Chiesa di San Domenico.

Before leaving the museum, don’t forget to go downstairs to the weirdly placed Chiesa del Buon Gesù, Church of the Good Jesus, below the museum. Access is down a steep stone staircase. Once upon a time you entered from the lower street but now the secret church seems as though it’s in the basement. Way below, you enter a mysterious and intimate holy space.

I
’VE LOOKED THROUGH
reproductions of all of Luca’s paintings hoping to find an image of his hometown or local landscape. Here it is in the Etruscan Museum on Piazza Signorelli. Because Luca’s
tondo
, round painting,
Virgin and Child with Saints Michael, Vincent of Saragozza, Margaret of Cortona, and Mark
, arises directly from Cortona, it seems precious to us who live here. There’s the venerated local Santa Margherita in gray habit, and St. Mark, our patron saint, holding a still-recognizable model of the city. The
tondo
’s bottom third shows Mary’s feet resting on heads of putti and below them a scramble of snakes, devil, and lizard. Mary, quite objectively, looks down at the balance scale held by St. Michael, from which one tiny man tumbles toward the devil’s creatures. The other homunculus turns toward her. Judgment Day in Cortona!

Since wise people began collecting for this museum in 1727, quite a stash has accumulated. The Etruscan artifacts should be lingered over down in the old prison basement. Having benefited from a major intervention, the astonishing collection shines in the new cases and displays. In upper galleries, our Luca has several moments. His
Adoration of the Shepherds
is a disquieting painting. In the upper left, the Annunciation angel is on final approach. Baby Jesus lies in the foreground behind some peculiar silhouetted black plants. If you wander enough, you’ll come across wooden panels of putti with coat of arms and inscriptions. There must have been lots of such work around town when Luca was called on for every little
festa
and every rich man’s need to immortalize himself.

I
LOVE UPPER
Cortona’s secret terraces overlooking the broad Val di Chiana, the neighborhood shrines with faded paintings, fortress-like convents, and the old joined houses facing a neglected park. I often stop at San Niccolò, set back among cypresses. I ring for the caretaker, then feel privileged to enter this mysterious and private sanctuary. Front and center, Signorelli’s
Lamentation of Saints Nicholas, Francis, Dominic, Michele, and Jerome over the Dead Christ
lends a somber air to the charmed space. Christ, propped on top of his tomb, slumps to the side. An angel, who appears to support his weight, holds him up. He is truly dead at this moment. The resurrection, which they may believe will happen, has not yet happened. The stone tomb juts into the sight line of the viewer. In a conventional composition, it would be placed horizontally or vertically, but Signorelli’s decision to cant the stone gives the painting a jolt of tension.

To see the flip side of the Signorelli standard, the caretaker must press the button that reverses the painting. This is done with a great deal of seriousness. The reward, a sweetly colored
Madonna and Child with Saints Peter and Paul
. She looks melancholy; the Child is more adorable than Luca’s usual babes.

There’s also a fresco in San Niccolò that may or may not be Luca’s. My book says no. The man who opened the doors says yes, and he seems old enough to have known Signorelli. I vote yes, at least for partial authorship. Maybe it’s the lavender and saffron robes. Or the Baby Jesus leaning away from St. Christopher and holding the world in the shape of an orange. And the strong and delicate Sebastian. These just look like Luca’s hand.

Because it’s on my daily route, San Domenico is the church I visit most often. I light my votives at a side altar when I am worried for someone. The lofty ceiling and austere atmosphere calm me. I visit with Luca, too, his
Virgin and Child with Saints Dominic and Blaise, Two Angels and Giovanni Sernini
. The latter commissioned the painting and thereby earned his own spot. I always pause to look closely at the unidentified fragments of frescoes near the entrance, which could be in Fra Angelico’s hand, since he lived at the San Domenico monastery. But they have a della Francesca look to them.
Luca, are you here?

Appropriately, Santa Maria del Calcinaio marks the end of the Cortona trail. Luca had a hand in hiring Francesco di Giorgio Martini, the architect for this monumental beauty that has anchored the view below the town walls since the church’s completion in 1513. Driving up from the valley, rounding the bend, suddenly the grand dome appears. I feel exhilarated, as though I’ve been given a big
ciao, bella
from the Renaissance. The name, St. Mary of the Lime Pit, comes from the area where shoemakers tanned their hides with local lime. The exact story of construction is lost but involved an ox who genuflected before an image of the Virgin in a niche. Miracles ensued, and the mighty church was built on the spot. The precious image is now on the altar. Here, Luca left us his
Immaculate Conception with Six Prophets and Two Donors
. Below God and the Virgin, six prophets hold open their books and scrolls, all inscribed with Latin scripture about the immaculate conception. I was glad I had my binoculars with me because the light is dim and the painting not in good condition. A pity.

This work is dated 1523–1524 in
Luca Signorelli
. Since Luca died in 1523, were the last touches put on by his nephew? I am shocked that the painting is not identified in the church. There is a lurid old postcard for sale that assigns it to “school of Signorelli.” Kanter and Henry’s book asserts that this was Signorelli’s last painting.

When I learned that, I had to give up believing the local lore about his death. From Vasari, everyone around Cortona knows the story of Luca dying two weeks after a fall while painting at Il Palazzone, the Passerini villa just up the hill. My friend Lyndall, widow of the last Passerini owner, lives in the tower. The family figures in Italian history since the twelfth century, so a Signorelli can be taken for granted in such a palazzo. She flicked on lights and we passed through several rooms painted by local Signorelli pupil Tommaso Bernabei (known as Il Papacello). His grotesque-style frescoes depict episodes from Roman history, including defeat at the hands of Hannibal at Lake Trasimeno. This fascinates especially because he gives us a Renaissance view of Cortona. Then we came to the dim little altar with the Signorellis, his
Baptism of Christ
and the Sibyl with Latin inscriptions. No one ever bothered to strip the side walls even though Faith, Hope, and Charity are said to wait below the whitewash. “He fell right here, toppled off the scaffolding,” Lyndall said as she pointed. And that was the closest I’d ever felt to his physical presence.

But the super-sleuths date his Palazzone work to 1522 and 1523, a year before the Calcinaio
Immaculate Conception
. Did he fall, maybe twist his ankle? Isn’t there usually a drop of truth in a legend? I’ll guess he limped back into town in early evening, probably had a jug of wine and played a few hands of
briscola
with neighbors in the piazza.

T
O CONTINUE THE
Signorelli Trail, allow two days for this loop. Cross the Val di Chiana to Foiano and Lucignano, recross the valley to Castiglion Fiorentino. Proceed to Arezzo, then to Sansepolcro, Città di Castello, Umbertide, and Perugia.

This is prime roaming land. Take the unpaved turns toward a bell tower, or a tiny town with one bar where you are sure to meet someone as indigenous as a summer wheatfield, or—great luck—you may find, as I did, a ruined rectory (cutlery still in a drawer) and collapsed church with fresco remnants and stones with iron rings you can lift to look down onto heaps of mildewed holy bones. The wreck may be for sale and you can sink in your life savings and years of your life. Such unexpected turns tempt fate.

Foiano
, a market town in the fertile Val di Chiana, is known for
bistecca
, the enormous steaks from the really enormous white
chianina
, cows. The town should be better known for its piazzas, friendly citizens, the oldest
carnevale
festival in Italy, a trove of della Robbias, and, in the Chiesa della Collegiata, a great Signorelli. I don’t think he left anyone out of his
Incoronazione della Vergine, con i santi Giuseppe, Maria Maddalena, Martino, Leonardo, Antonio da Padova, Benedetto, Girolamo, Giovanni Evangelista e Michele, quattro angeli e un committente; Coronation of the Virgin with Saints Joseph, Mary Magdalene, Martin, Leonard, Anthony of Padua, Benedict, Jerome, John the Baptist and Michael, Four Angels and a Donor
. The saints, foregrounded and turned away from the celestial vision, kneel in prayer. San Martino looks resplendent in the embroidered mantle that he halved with a beggar, and he sits in high contrast to San Benedetto, who’s semi-nude with his rock of penance before him. These are memorable faces, the smallest of which, the donor, is supposed to be a self-portrait of Signorelli in old age. The cultural director of Foiano told me unequivocably that this is Signorelli’s last painting. Henry and Kanter disagree, placing it at March 1522 to June 1523. I wonder if, during that last period of his life, Luca might have been working on three paintings at once. Who knows where he brushed his last stroke.

Lucignano
has one of the most enchanting town plans of any hill town, an elliptical form with concentric radiating streets. Because of the winding narrow passageways, it’s easy to imagine life there centuries ago. I am fond of the striped facade of San Francesco, with its ashen blue door. Inside, I like to visit Sant’Agatha who is holding her two breasts like cupcakes on a plate in one hand and the pincers that removed them in the other. Here also is a painting of death on horseback, riding hell-for-leather, full tilt, his white hair blown back, his bow drawn with the arrow aimed at an unsuspecting couple.