Carlo Crivelli and the "Queen of Heaven"

 

Madonna with Saints Francis and Sebastian - 1491, Carlo Crivelli. Geometry: 2022, DS.

 

" Pacioli wrote Divina Proportione which is his name for the golden ratio...There is little new in Pacioli's book which merely restates (usually without proof) results which had been published by other authors. Of course the title is interesting and Pacioli writes:
'... it seems to me that the proper title for this treatise must be Divine Proportion. This is because there are very many similar attributes which I find in our proportion - all befitting God himself - which is the subject of our very useful discourse...

... just like God cannot be properly defined, nor can be understood through words, likewise this proportion of ours cannot ever be designated through intelligible numbers, nor can it be expressed through any rational quantity, but always remains occult and secret, and is called irrational by the mathematicians.''

- Via this Golden Ratio page from St. Andrew's University in Scotland. Luca Pacioli (1445-1517) was an Italian mathematician who was contemporary with a number of key artists... up to, and including Carlo Crivelli and Sandro Botticelli (whose Annunciation was created in the same year as Crivelli's Madonna, above). As it was, Pacioli chose his friend, Leonardo da Vinci, to illustrate Divina Proportione... (But, if you're thinking "da Vinci Code" - which, I confess, I've never read and only saw portions of the film - the actual pentagonal "code" in art and architecture  predated Christianity by, at least, several hundred years.) (And nobody had to die to keep it secret.)

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The Golden Harp

Thus far, it seems we have two different time periods and two different countries in which a handful of artists were using the golden ratio - and predominately the pentagonal expression - in their work. There were the Dutch artists from the Baroque period (17th century) and the Italian artists from the (earlier) High Renaissance period (15th century). Of all the artists presented on this blog, however, Carlos Crivelli took pentagonal geometry to new heights with his Madonna with Saints Francis and Sebastian in that, he didn't merely use the geometry for structure in his design, he used it to encrypt information. He wasn't alone in this, but he was, perhaps, the most thorough and concise, as we shall see. But, we might not know any of this, if he didn't supply us with one important clue... a clue which other like-minded painters might also eventually use: the snail... which crawls enigmatically beneath St. Francis, and which has been the subject of debate over the years (detail, inset left).

We will begin our analysis with a large golden triangle... and immediately we see the "point" of Crivelli's exercise... and, by this, I mean literally: she is positioned - with her son - at the apex of the triangle; a triangle which intercepts our lowly snail. When we begin connecting the dots of the painting to the triangle, however - that is, finding  correspondences between the vertical and horizontal elements of the design - we discover a device I refer to as a "harp" (see here).

Is my harp perfect? No, it is not. If you look closely, the correspondences I made could've been tightened a tad. Then again, it's important to realize that while digital geometry is adequate, it can never be as spot-on as one might wish; circles and diagonals are not accurately supported by square pixels. On the other hand, without the advantage of digital tools I would never have discovered the pentagonal relationships presented here. So it goes.

That being said, note the basic correspondences between points on the harp and key elements of the overall image. It's as if the golden ratio - specifically based on the golden triangle - translates into visual art as elegantly - almost mystically - as it can in musical composition or architectural plans. Moreover, it gives the artist the benefit of encryption. For example, if one designates the harp as representing a musical scale, one might even encrypt sound into a visual image. How cool is that?

But, let's move on to Crivelli's next pentagonal manipulation - the harp is merely one of three - and I'm saving the best till last...

 

"The etymologization of the name of Mary as "star of the sea" was widespread by the early medieval period. It is referenced in Isidore's Etymologiae (7th century). The plainsong hymn "Ave Maris Stella" ("Hail, Star of the Sea") dates from about the 8th century. Paschasius Radbertus in the 9th century has an allegorical explanation of the name, writing that Mary is the "Star of the Sea" to be followed on the way to Christ, "lest we capsize amid the storm-tossed waves of the sea." In the medieval period, stella maris came to be used as a name of Polaris in its role as lodestar (guiding star, north star); it may have been used as such since Late Antiquity, as it is referred to as ἀειφανής "always visible" by Stobaeus in the 5th century, even though it was still some eight degrees removed from the celestial pole at that time."

- Via  the Wiki entry for Our Lady, Star of the Sea.

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The Golden Spiral & The Star

Behold Crivelli's golden spiral! The triangle here was placed a fraction off-center because, otherwise, the spiral (and triangle) would have to be a fraction larger, and there isn't enough image area. In other words, as we saw in Lachtropius's painting, there seems to be a lack of image area (and, by this, I mean fractions of an inch) to accommodate the geometry. Now, I know what you may be thinking... that my calculations are wrong. But, why I really suspect image area is missing is this: no artist would ever render such a beautiful body as Sebastian's... and then neglect to finish his arm... nor the lace-trimmed corner of his loincloth. No, no... and no! And, it's equally unlikely that the painting ended as abruptly as it does lengthwise, on either edge. For confirmation of this, we'd need a museum curator.

But, this discrepancy is of no major consequence. The spiral follows the curve of Sebastian's torso quite handsomely... very much like Botticelli's spiral wound around Mary's odd posture.  And, observe the arrows which pierce his body. They pierce the spiral as well, as if they actually pinned the spiral onto his body!

Still, while I think this spiral works well enough, I was somewhat disappointed to find that it terminated somewhere inside Mary's sleeve. Then again, as it turns out, Crivelli has one more trick  up his (proverbial) sleeve, so we'll let it rest.

Meanwhile, just in case you haven't noticed, the GTS has inadvertently created one more perfect thing: a pentagram has formed over Mary and her infant. How likely is it that this was an accidental development? Also, note the roses in the background... scattered on the floor and set (in containers) upon the arms of her throne; these, too, are clues.

Lastly, there is one more clue: a bent arrow lying on the lower right side of the floor adjacent to Sebastian's foot. The angles it forms are also golden and it's proportions are those of the second golden triangle which composes the pentagram (and one I have, yet, to address). Observe the figure below.

 

The two golden triangles.

 

One might refer to this triangle (to your right, above) as the "landscape" golden triangle because it addresses images whose width exceeds their depth. But, it is also an important component of an arrangement referred to as a nested pentagon... a configuration that even the ancient Pythagoreans were (theoretically) familiar with. More importantly - see diagrams below - we find a different (linear) golden spiral, and, finally, 5 linear spirals that are generated from this nested arrangement of pentagons... and, along with them (and first in line) a pentagonal "rose."

 

A pentagonal "rose," and one of 5 identical linear spirals in a pentagonal web.

A pentagonal nest with one, continuous linear spiral... and a whirlpool of 5.

The point of this exercise is to illustrate that there are two ways of creating a GTS, and the second way, using nested pentagons allows for different variety of encryption, and, in the case of Crivelli's Madonna, an unexpected treat.

"Roses have long been connected with Mary, the red rose symbolic of love, the white rose, of purity. In the fifth century, Coelius Sedulius referred to Mary as a 'rose among thorns'. Known as the 'queen of flowers', the rose represents Mary as Queen of Heaven. Medieval writers also referenced a passage from Sirach 24:14 "like a palm tree in Engedi, like a rosebush in Jericho". Bernard of Clairvaux said, 'Eve was a thorn, wounding, bringing death to all; in Mary we see a rose, soothing everybody's hurts, giving the destiny of salvation back to all.' Mary is celebrated under the title 'Our Lady of the Rose' in Lucca, Italy on January 30."

- Via the Wiki article for Rosa Mystica,

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Rosa Mystica

Believe it or not, despite how prominent it was, I didn't immediately notice the overall pentagonal shape of Crivelli's design... and when I finally positioned my pentagon template over it, I didn't expect to find anything beyond a new set of correspondences. So. imagine my surprise when I found, instead, what appeared to be a rose on Mary's lap! Can you see it? Better yet, is it possible to miss, lying as it does, dead center?

But, once again, we have to ask ourselves, was this deliberate? Is the rose an encryption; deliberately embedded by the artist to fulfill some hidden understanding of his own and, if this was the case, what did he mean by it?

Most importantly, the rose is a deep, luxurious red. Had it been placed over Mary's chest, we might suspect he was referring to her boundless love; her "sacred heart." But, in reality, it is placed much lower... and where it is placed we'd expect the rose to be white; an indication of her purity, her chastity. She is, after all, the Virgin.

Or is she? In other words, is this actual evidence of another tribute to Mary Magdalene? Or, is it a tribute to the pagan goddess of love, Venus/Aphrodite? It could be either. All the symbolism is there, right down to the golden apples... one of which is paired (on the pentagon) with a long vegetable, considered to be a cucumber, a symbolic reference - possibly a hermetic one, possibly a humorous innuendo - Crivelli often featured in his work (see here).

Lastly, we have one element I've neglected to mention previously: the extremely tiny Catholic nun in her black habit, praying on the floor nearest Saint Francis. Does she represent the Church, and is her diminutive size an indication of where the bulk of Crivelli's actual allegiance lies?

In the last analysis, if Crivelli sent us a message, it's an ambiguous one - it is truly sub rosa - but, for all of that, it's divine!

(Note: for more information regarding the pentagram's symbolism see its section of my previous (2016) post.)