The Other Sistine Chapel (Part II)

 

The Other Sistine Chapel (Cont’d)

Following last month’s lead-in, I pick up here with some examples of the messaging claimed to have been secretly embedded by Michelangelo into the plaster of the Sistine Chapel as an expression of his beliefs and anger.

Beyond the paints and technique, the deeper meaning of his message was born from this education and from his contempt for clerical corruption (ex: the sale of indulgences and priestly positions) and at its highest level, the Vatican’s “do as I say, not as I do” morality. More than simply a contracted job, the Sistine Chapel would provide an avenue for him to covertly express his disgust with the hypocrisy, corruption, opulence, self-indulgence, and daily abuse he observed in Vatican dealings.^[10] In addition, his brushstrokes would soothe his ego that yearned for recognition in an era when artists held the lowly status of laborers, even forbidden from signing their work. Along with these driving forces, adorning the Sistine Chapel ceiling might serve as a lasting testament to his artistic abilities and bring honor to his family.

Before undertaking the commission, one he did not want, Michelangelo fought for a free hand in the pictorial content. As a result, the final product was significantly different from what the Pope anticipated — Jesus and Mary at the two ends of the ceiling, surrounded by the twelve apostles positioned in spandrels among the geometric designs throughout the 6,000 square foot barrel-vaulted ceiling. There was also to have been a focus on Pope Julius II. Along the upper sides of the ceiling, he indeed painted twelve figures. Unfortunately, these were not the ones Pope Julius and Vatican officials originally had in mind. Given the chance, Michelangelo selected Hebraic themes along with mythological images rather than Christian iconography. On close inspection, it is clear that not one of the figures is New Testament Christian. In their place, images from Old Testament Judaic teachings are presented. Throughout, it focuses exclusively on the Old Testament, to underline the role of the Judaic religion as the precursor to Christianity. He had twelve figures all right, but instead of Christ’s apostles, he painted seven hardly known Old Testament Hebrew prophets accompanied by five pagan Greco-Roman female oracles, called Sibyls, who foretold events. When completed, ninety-five percent of the Chapel was adorned with heroes and heroines of the Jewish Bible, known as the Tahakh (24 books to include the Torah). Pagan sibyls and naked boys comprised the remainder. The result was absent Christian imagery: no Jesus nor his disciples and no flattering images of the Pope in any of the 33 panels teaming with 343 characters. Down the center of the ceiling, he painted important scenes from the Old Testament book of Genesis. There as fresco themes, his choices extend across the ceiling from the creation of the universe, the creation of Adam and Eve including the travails of their expulsion from the garden, to surprisingly conclude with scenes from the life of Noah, before and after the flood including reference to him drunk (legend has him the inventor of wine).

He’d clearly subverted the Pope’s plan to instead portray his deepest personal beliefs and promote harmony and reconciliation between the Bible-Torah, Jews-Christians, as well as respect for pagan Greek and Roman traditions. In his compilation of plaster and pigment images, he intermixed religion although not exclusively the religion of Rome. His motivation, part of the philosophical revolution then underway, also marked the burgeoning discovery of past knowledge lost since the fall of the Roman Empire. It also coincided with the “protest for reform” (“protestant”) then underway, that

The Fig “Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil?”

would grow to the Protestant Reformation. Deeply religious as he was, he’d broken from the belief that every aspect of day-to-day life, to include a monopoly on the pathway to salvation, was exclusively governed by the Church. For that day and age, this was outright heresy.

   On numerous occasions, using symbols and illusions, he targeted Pope Julius II, at times using vulgar gestures. They took the form, here and there, of subtle finger positions as well as in the poses his characters took resembling Hebrew letters with special numerical and spiritual meanings that only those trained in Jewish tradition might detect. Case in point, he included the name of the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet alef and the actual symbol

The Cumean Sibyl’s
“Giving the Fig” Putti 

 for the letter ayin on a scroll below and to the left of the prophet Jeremiah. [Implication] … “a priest who cannot distinguish between alef and ayin, according to the Talmud, is not fit to serve in the temple.” ^[4] In his Adam and Eve “Temptation” ceiling panel, he substituted a fig for the established forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, an apple. Even the tree’s leaves are fig leaves. This was a significant departure from established dogma but in keeping with Judaic interpretation. Realizing this, it makes sense that Adam and Eve later covered their newfound nakedness with fig leaves, easily at hand. [Note: Apples originated in today’s Kazakhstan. While the Greeks, Etruscans, and Romans cultivated apples, apple seeds did not appear in Europe until 1500 BC. As late as the 17th century, the word "apple" was used as a generic term for all (foreign) fruit other than berries but including nuts.^[13]

There are also instances when he conveniently employed small angelic cherubs called putti to make the most obscene gesture of the Middle Ages, equivalent to giving “the finger” today. It was called "giving the fig" — making a loose fist and wedging the thumb between the middle and index fingers. Their presence again spoke to his feelings toward Pope Julius. This gesture is subtly incorporated in his painting of the Cumean Sibyl and again in the Prophet Zechariah in which one angel has a hand extended to form the gesture. “Not only could the inclusion of such a rude symbol in a holy artwork already be considered disgusting or blasphemous, but Michelangelo situated this painting directly above the Pope’s seat in order to make it perfectly clear who his ire was directed towards.” ^[5]

In his later Sistine masterpiece, The Last Judgement, he continued to incorporate Jewish themes

Michelangelo’s The Last Judgement

when he returned years later. And to think he would be so bold as to depict Jews in the Last Judgement (and throughout the chapel ceiling) when the Church taught that Jews had no possibility of salvation and lacked any hope of a heavenly reward. After all, the Church preached that as payback for rejecting Jesus, Jews were obviously rejected by God. However, in his Last Judgement among those saved in Paradise, Michelangelo included Jews. The idea of Jews going to heaven was anathema and again heretic, yet:

“… at the top center, Jesus Christ greets the righteous as they ascend to paradise. Slightly above and to the right of Jesus, Michelangelo painted two Jews, identified by their hats, one double-pointed [being spawned of the devil they had horns] and the other yellow, which Jews were forced to wear. While Church theology did not allow for the salvation of Jews, in Michelangelo’s vision of the end of the world Jews inhabit paradise.” ^[4]

This theme is carried further in one of the lunettes on the Sistine Chapel ceiling depicting the ancestral family of Jesus. One of Jesus’ ancestors, Aminadab, is depicted with the signum, a yellow circle sewn on his clothing, sort of like an Egyptian cartouche but here meant to mark him as a Jew per the Fourth Lateran Council and Inquisition.^[6]

“A bright yellow circle is sewn on the upper sleeve of his cloak, a historically accurate detail that became visible during a late-20th-century cleaning and restoration that brightened the frescoes’ colors and clarified their messages.” ^[4]

  The “I am a Jew"
signum Insignia on
Aminadab's Shoulder

Since this form of “Jewish branding” did not exist in his day, Aminadab would not have known of it or had to bear the designation, yet surprisingly Michelangelo included it on Aminadab’s left shoulder. As the Nazis would later mimic in the Holocaust with yellow Stars of David, this identifying symbol was one of segregation, discrimination, humiliation, and hatred. Jews were clearly distinguishable from the rest of the population through dress codes. Yellow and red clothing was mandatory. Additionally, along with a red overskirt, hoop earrings were required for all Jewish women over ten years of age.^[11] These colors along with earrings are conspicuously and repeatedly present in the costume of every ancestor of Jesus in the Chapel’s ceiling. This long-standing anti-Judaism and anti-Semitism would come to an end in 1965 with Italian Pope John XXIII (and his successor Pope Paul VI) via a Vatican II decree.^[12] While the world still lagged far behind, all discrimination practices by the Church were officially ended. To add further insult, this surrogate for Jesus is subtly making "devil's horns" with his fingers. While depressed-looking Aminadab is positioned prominently right above the Papal throne, there are other elusive, subtle messages too intricate for my words to explain.

You can imagine the thrashing and gnashing when the ceiling was completed in 1512. At the unveiling, there was great uproar especially over the degree of nudity portrayed, a Michelangelo specialty. However, it wasn’t until the emergence of an art reform movement that Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel artwork was seriously threatened. While Michelangelo lay near death, the Council of Trent (1545-1563) moved to police and reform religious art.^[7] A council decree set in motion a movement to “sanitize” the imagery of the Sistine Chapel. The extent of shameful nudity on the Chapel vault, the muscular style of the bodies which Michelangelo loved to portray, the extent of pagan mythology depicted, and his extensively ‘nudified’ (my word) Last Judgement with male couples kissing, were just some of the areas of contention that made it, as some claimed, more “a work for the public baths and taverns than for the sacred spaces” of the Pope’s chapel.^[8] When the dictate filtered down to Rome, authorities there ordered that:

"The pictures in the Apostolic Chapel should be covered over, and those in other churches should be destroyed, if they display anything that is obscene or clearly false." ^[9] 

Only due to a compromise, involving the covering-up of the offending genitalia that took place soon after Michelangelo’s death and referred to as the “Fig-Leaf Campaign,” did The Last Judgement survive. This middle-ground approach avoided the mortal indignity proposed by Pope Paul IV of being completely torn down or, in cadence with an equally fatal assault, becoming a repurposed canvas following a complete wash-over of white paint. In the end, the offending parts of about forty figures were deemed sufficiently draped with petticoat and loincloth cover-ups to appease the offended. To remove any question that close “Kama Sutra” positioning might insinuate sexual misbehavior occurring right above the Pope’s altar, the too-close figures of Saint Catherine and Saint Basil were completely redone.^[7] The Chapel’s ceiling with its share of nudity would remain untouched by fig leaves and thus unclothed for the simple reason that the modesty police couldn’t get to it. Michelangelo, though dead, had essentially saved his ceiling masterpiece himself, because amazingly, no one could figure out how to reconstruct the scaffold he’d created to reach it. In effect, his genius had saved his brilliant biblical masterwork. When he completed the ceiling, Michelangelo destroyed his flying bridge and burned his notebooks and related sketches. Exactly why is unclear but it may have revealed his closely held intent. He had been concerned with security, even spying, during his Sistine Chapel years. At one point he suspected after hour snooping in the Chapel by the likes of Donato Bramante, the Pope’s architect, and Raphael, a popular papal artist, both eager to uncover Michelangelo’s revolutionary approach at crafting lifelike frescos. Either could have brought what they discovered to the public market first and later claimed that Michelangelo had copied them. None of this was new to him. He’d been a victim of political infighting as treacherous as it is today, not for dominance of the news cycle but for the ear of the Pope, the only elector who counted. This and the struggle for position and stature within Rome’s and Florence’s contingents of artists, with wannabes and pretenders who felt wronged along with their quests for revenge - all of it had played havoc with Michelangelo his entire life.

    As the first subtle glow of dawn would grow to wash away a false illusion of grime on my bedside shade, so a decade-long cleanup of the Sistine Chapel revealed a different side of Michelangelo. While this man of stone was a genius of mind and hand, he shared these qualities with a passionate

  Just a Shell Game? Which Contains The David? – this is an Italian Archive Photo of
 Michelangelo’s David and the Unfinished Slaves (intended for Pope Julius II’s Tomb) 
Encased in Brick for Protection During WWII  

personality, was blunt and abrupt to a fault, easily bristled at criticism, and to say he was drained of social graces would be a falsehood, for truth be told, he never had any. His single-mindedness to sculpt lacked relief to the point he was reclusive with few friends. But while he developed a crusty, caustic disposition along with a fissionable temper, Michelangelo is viewed as the greatest, most accomplished sculptor of all time. That much is clear. Just maybe, total devotion to his work was the price he’d happily paid for his redemption. What’s new are the sometimes subliminal messages evidently secreted throughout the Sistine Chapel. But experience has taught us that dice can be loaded, the cards stacked, and a confidence game like Three-card Monte rigged. There is also sleight of hand when it comes to statistics. Not so much the numbers themselves, but how they can be cherry-picked to prove just about anything. Why not also Michelangelo’s motives? Is this all much ado about nothing? Was his really a form of subversive art? With today’s penchant to revise history to align with modern norms, could Michelangelo have been upset enough to rebel when in fact he might have been alright with his world just as it was? Had Michelangelo taken the long view measured in centuries to make his point? Would he go so far with some of his images as to impugn a pope, to secretly focus attention on how the Church ignored and condemned its true origins? Is it possible by the positioning of fingers, the configuration of a hat, an arm patch, the colors employed, or a figure’s positioning to delicately communicate a particular letter of the Hebrew alphabet … could any of this really convey subversive messaging? Is it all a bit of a stretch, a burgeoning fantasy, the fodder for new books? The shadows of time are like those of my bedroom. As a gentle breeze can move the leaves outside one way then the next to splash a chaos of shadows of early morning light, can’t the vagaries of time likewise conceal the truth? 

    Life is full of partings, so lest there be a Part III to my tale, I will end and encourage you to visit the Sistine Chapel where Michelangelo’s wondrous work endures. Herded by anxious chapel wranglers to move along, we spend mere minutes looking up at the ceiling’s wonders when Michelangelo invested years to compose its theme and more years to complete. Regretfully, this is far too short a time to coherently appreciate something so masterful that has been waiting centuries for us. It’s there waiting still. Given the time, it speaks volumes even today to a world saturated with photos, videos, and graphic art, so alien to its earliest observers when first publicly unveiled in November 1512. Surprisingly, looking closely suggests new insights and newfound depth to its meaning as it continues to evolve. Go ahead, strain your neck as he once did to see his creation all around you, then decide, for as art is in the eye of the beholder, so lies its interpretation. 

From That Rogue Tourist
Paolo

 

4. “A Jewish Art Paradise at the Vatican,”
https://forward.com/culture/308648/in-the-vatican-a-jewish-paradise/

5. “Subversive Messages in the Sistine Chapel,”
https://artcrimearchive.net/2021/02/22/subversive-messages-in-the-sistine-chapel/

6. “The Treatment of Jews in Renaissance Rome and on the Sistine Chapel Ceiling,” https://zeteojournal.com/2016/05/12/michelangelos-jews-sistine-chapel-rome-sulkow/

7. “The Council of Trent and the Call to Reform Art,”
https://smarthistory.org/the-council-of-trent-and-the-call-to-reform-art/

8. “Michelangelo Gallery, The Last Judgment”
https://www.michelangelo-gallery.com/the-last-judgment.aspx

9. “Learning the Intriguing (and Sometimes Controversial) History Behind Michelangelo’s Last Judgement,” https://mymodernmet.com/last-judgment-michelangelo-sistine-chapel/

10. “The Protestant Reformation and Michelangelo's Last Judgment,”
https://art109textbook.wordpress.com/new-online-textbook-2-2/chapter-5-mannerism-venetian-painting-and-16th-century-painting-in-germany/michelangelos-last-judgment/

11. Chantal Sulkow, “Michelangelo’s Jews - The Treatment of Jews in Renaissance Rome and on the Sistine Chapel Ceiling,” https://zeteojournal.com/2016/05/12/michelangelos-jews-sistine-chapel-rome-sulkow/.

12. “Pope John XXIII and Judaism,” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pope_John_XXIII_and_Judaism

13. "Apple", Online Etymology Dictionary,
https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=apple&ref=searchbar_searchhint

The Other Sistine Chapel (Part I)

 

On Ischia Island - a Corner Wrapped in Terra-cotta
Relief Sculpture

The Other Sistine Chapel (Part I)

It may be an unconventional way to begin my story but it’s how a recent day began. It was 7 a.m. in the bruised low light of what appeared to be the beginning of a cloudy day. I was in bed. Maria Elena lay beside me, rhythmically breathing — baritone rumbles on the intake, wheezes with each exhale. When I’d opened my eyes, though only one worked for the other was still sunk in my pillow, I was taken by the lamp on my bedside table cornered by angled walls. Its muted classically shaped shade extended from a tall support rod into a hazily lit corner. The 

First Light Lamp

shade had a tapered elongated grace, especially from my one-eyed view angled upward from my pillow. Its base had somewhat of a squared bell shape that rose to a reduced version of itself supported by stiffening wire ribs sheathed in the shade’s fabric. In the dim shards of light cast by windows across the room, this linen-like jacket appeared white, yet my glimpse into its exposed underside, revealed a darkened dirty-white interior. Streaks of dawn rendered an artful scene of quiet shadows from the gradations in the dappled wash of what little light there was. Still early, the corner lacked light’s shimmer reserved for later in the day. For the moment, it had created the sensation of a dirty shadow when nothing was sullied at all. Instead, its glimmer fashioned eerie shadows that gently blurred. Depending on the light, even our sometimes butterscotch sometimes sepia-colored walls seemed to shift colors. As the daylight grew, infinite variations would unfold, but not yet. It seemed a perfect way to exit the languid dreamscape of slumber into the sharpness of everyday reality. As hard as it is to describe, for a moment just imagine an old master, adept with the depiction of light, capturing something like I was experiencing. The ability to depict such imagery is the DNA of sheer artistic genius.

One such master, who preferred stone over pigment, was M. Simoni. We know him simply as Michelangelo (Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni). Search his name online and he is

Michelangelo di Lodovico
Buonarroti Simoni

described as a sculptor which he certainly was until forced to paint. It’s safe to say he is best known for sculpting a youthful David (called Il Gigante) and the Vatican’s Pieta, possibly followed by his renderings of Moses, who also carved his message in stone, and a drunken, sensual pagan deity, Bacchus.

To an extent, he mimicked that infamous Dominican Friar Girolamo Savonarola, who in his sermons (Michelangelo attended some) had challenged a corrupt Pope and through his Bonfire of the Vanities harnessed the people of Florence, whether through coercive fear or not, into action. Instead, Michelangelo would work to silently present his message of spiritual harmony, unwilling to risk being similarly hung, then burned, in Florence’s Piazza della Signoria or barring that, being beheaded by the Pope. To this day, few realize that Michelangelo visually preached through his art. Lacking a Last Supper or a Mona Lisa, his greatest artistic depiction in the medium of paint, the Sistine Chapel, provided him exactly that opportunity.

The Vatican’s Sistine Chapel was originally designed to duplicate the Temple of Jerusalem that had been leveled in 70 A.D. It would serve as the 

Pope Sixtus IV (1471-1484)

“New Temple,” a symbol that the Roman Catholic Church had replaced Judaism. There were two versions of this chapel: an earlier one designed to the actual specifications of the Temple of Jerusalem, and years later, its renovation by Michelangelo on orders of Pope Julius II. Initially, its walls had been adorned with frescoes when Pope Sixtus IV (born Francesco della Rovere) commissioned the original chapel in 1473. Although I’m not sure how, it is from “Sixtus” that we acquired the name “Sistine.” The chapel, originally adorned with a series of frescos depicting the life of Christ and that of Moses, offset by papal portraits linking this vain pope to Christ, was intended as a monument to the della Rovere family. If I were to attempt to be diplomatic in describing his term in office, I would politely say that Pope Sixtus IV subordinated his duties as the church’s spiritual head to instead enrich his family as well as the Papal States. Absent diplomatic credentials, I’d posit him far more the Tony Soprano, hedge fund manager, commander in chief, sexual liberator Hugh Hefner type, and real estate developer all rolled into one than the sort of popes we are accustomed to these days.

The Latin and Italian word nepote has a range of meanings. It casts a broad net to include grandson, nephew, granddaughter, grandchild, even niece. Drawing from this word, the system of

Pope Julius II (1503-1513)
The Warrior Pope

absolute power and corruption became known as nepotismo. From it, we’ve derived today’s English word for favoritism based on kinship, “nepotism.” In the art of nepotism, Sixtus IV was a consummate master.¹ He advanced family members in Church officialdom and enriched other family members through lucrative appointments wherever he could exert influence which was practically everywhere. It was his nepote, a nephew (Giuliano della Rovere), whom he had groomed with favor from priest to egotistical cardinal by age 28, who through bribery and vote-rigging had himself elected Pope Julius II.² It was Pope Julius, who commanded that Michelangelo come to Rome to renovate the Sistine Chapel, by then over twenty years old.

Lacking autokinetic abilities to reach his ceiling “canvas” of damp plaster, Michelangelo needed some sort of scaffolding. At first, papal architect Donato Bramante was charged with the design. He initially proposed a system of ropes suspended through holes in the ceiling. Michelangelo vehemently objected to this approach because the numerous holes would interfere with his planned frescos. Bramante’s second attempt took a different tact and approached the problem from the opposite direction. It featured support legs extending from the floor. There were many of these legs,

Sketch by Michelangelo 
of Him Standing While
Painting God on the Ceiling
 

so many that the Chapel would be unusable during its anticipated years of restoration. Fortunately, even before this substitute high rise platform could be used, it collapsed. At this point, Michelangelo took over. Rather than build the structure from the floor up, he constructed a “flying bridge” based on the Roman bowed arch. With his design, the scaffold’s weight was distributed through small support holes in the sidewalls. It could also be moved. As he completed a fresco, the scaffold could be repositioned beneath the chapel ceiling to paint the next section. One misconception, likely invented history from Hollywood movies, is that Michelangelo painted the damp plaster while lying on his back atop this scaffold. In fact, Michelangelo customarily stood. His head tilted upward, his neck strained, his body contorted in vertical effort throughout the annual extremes of heat and numbing cold, his eyes continually violated by particles of oozing plaster and droplets of paint, … all took their toll over the years. Driven to complete the project, he also ate little and barely slept in the hovel he called his home. The injuries he sustained to complete the task resulted in impaired eyesight for the rest of his life along with his overall physical deterioration that at times approached emaciation.

Throughout this ordeal, while committed to creating a biblical panorama across a Vatican ceiling, he was furious for being forced to put down his chisel for a paintbrush and for being removed from the sight of Florence’s Duomo for Rome, a city he detested. The dominance of the Church and a tyrannical Pontiff forestalled any chance of refusal. There was nowhere he could go to escape the pontiff’s reach.

 Ceiling Design Layout of the Sistine Chapel

Fearing repercussions if he refused the Pope, even Florence’s ruling council, Il Signoria, demanded that he comply. Realizing he had no choice, that his career would essentially be on hold to paint frescoes, he eventually acquiesced to the Pope’s demands. Twenty-two years later, he’d encore with an enormous depiction of the Last Judgement on the wall behind the chapel’s altar. All along, his only desire was to probe blocks of marble to liberate the forms he sensed were trapped inside the encasing stone, craving release. His was no ordinary love for his art totally occupied him, not to the extent that he was fanatical but clearly driven. If he were to describe it, he would have likely uttered words of affection only someone deeply in love could voice, “I love … marble.” While his contemporaries may have considered sculpting a 9-to-5 job, he relentlessly immersed himself in thoughts of sculpting. He never stopped. As he saw it, while a painter uses perspective to adjust two-dimensional images for distance, a sculptor could build life-size in three dimensions and let its size adjust naturally to a viewer’s position. Accurate presentation from every angle, not simply front-on as in a portrait, was essential. No wall would prevent an observer from orbiting his artwork. This difference meant everything to Michelangelo. He would live a monastic existence, alone with his blocks of marble, surrounded by the chipped crystalline debris of his vision. While that rival genius Leonardo da Vinci would argue that sculpting was an inferior artform, Michelangelo vehemently countered. He professed that sculpture was the closest in true form to God’s creations. As God had created man in three dimensions from dirt, a sculptor worked to fashion man in 3D from marble. God, after all, in creating man and woman, had been the very first sculptor.

Yet anger and bitterness, while strong emotions are short-lived. They usually live and die with a person. To openly seek vengeance for his injuries, both physical and professional, fell into the realm of unachievable fantasy. Anything he might attempt would fall far short of destroying a standing pope, however flawed. Beyond these bitter motivations, it is now believed he expressed his feelings in messages woven into his images, something he hoped would endure beyond his demise, even well past what time might try to erase. He chose to portray a tolerance of all faiths, yearned for the Church’s reform, and a need for revolutionary change in Christianity's relationship to Judaism.³ Scaffolding eventually in place, what he did up there, alone, has only recently been revealed following a decade of cleaning. As a result, it is now believed that Michelangelo concealed a myriad of messages that he dared not openly express due to the harsh ecclesiastic consequences sure to follow if their true nature were revealed. His messages, concealed in the code of Jewish tradition at great risk, were ingeniously embedded within this artistic masterpiece. The 68-foot-high chapel ceiling helped, for its distant, neck-straining location aided to conceal their presence. Here away from probing eyes, the patina of lost centuries aided in their coverup through the addition of dirt, soot, and the stains of pollution. Limited access to the chapel also concealed his progress even the nature of the images he created. Eventually, all those who may have known or suspected their presence were long dead, their implications lost. Now, the obscuring tarps of time have been pulled away. These revelations did not involve “the how” of his technique or some recently found cartoon sketch. Almost five centuries later, what he painted and “the why” of what motivated him are beginning to be understood. Contrary to the norms of his day, he had a statement to make concerning Jewish identity as well as vengeance to take for his years of servitude to complete the chapel ceiling (four and a half years) and later even more to complete The Last Judgement (six years). Fortunately for him, few if any grasped his illusions to Jewish theology. History would record that his justice would not be loud, violent, or swift but graphic and from its presence to this day, enduring. The impetus to undertake this appeal for reform and respect for Judaism began when he was a teenager.

As a young man of fourteen in 1489, Michelangelo’s world changed when he was taken into the household of Lorenzo de’ Medici (il Magnifico), the de facto ruler of Florence. In this nascent Camelot, essentially the ark of the Renaissance, he was treated as one of Lorenzo’s sons. It was here that he found himself surrounded by the best and brightest — poets, freethinkers, businessmen, philosophers, and intellectuals. Through his influential teachers,

Ceiling of the Vatican's
Sistine Chapel

he immersed himself in the study of the classic works of the ancients only then following the demise of the Roman Empire being revived, along with languages, philosophy, as well as spiritual subjects. One of Michelangelo’s teachers was the renowned Renaissance philosopher Marsilio Ficino, a Catholic priest comfortable with Hebrew. Ficino attempted to raise the importance of liberal arts, among them the visual arts. Additionally, he tried to harmonize Platonism with monotheism, which to him meant Judaism as well as Christianity with a touch of Greek paganism. From Marsilio we get, call it “friends without privileges,” platonic love. Also near at hand was a private library of Judaic literature thought to have been the largest gentile-owned collection in existence. We have little appreciation for just how revolutionary a period this was, a time of intellectual ferment, where mankind’s concern significantly grew in importance beyond those of simply a focus on the afterlife or what Irving Stone in his historical novel The Agony and the Ecstasy would describe as: “… little creatures living only for salvation in the next life.” During this turbulent period, his newfound humanism impinged on his Christianity to eventually merge to express a need for ecclesiastic reform, secular justice, and respect for Christianity’s inheritance from Judaism. This resurgence of interest in ancient philosophies had a name, it was known as Neo-Platonism. Mingling within this circle of Medici tutors, Michelangelo learned to appreciate Platonism along with the humanist movement. Over his years in the Medici household, he developed a positive view toward Judaism through an appreciation for the Torah, the sayings of the Talmud, Kabbalist thought, Midrash commentary, and the Judaic roots of Catholicism.⁴ Among these many disciplines, his teachers impressed on him the nature of this Judaic “mother religion,” even then being persecuted by its own offspring, the Catholic Church. He would grow to deplore the Church's failure to acknowledge its debt to its Jewish origins and its shameful treatment of Jews, from among whom Jesus, himself a Jew, was born. He’d remind the Church of this fact and that its roots were grounded in the Torah given by God to the Jewish people. In evidence of this is the fact that everything he painted on the Sistine’s ceiling, contrary to the Pope’s direction, was extracted from the Old Testament, code for the edited Jewish bible. He envisioned a society based on universal tolerance and classical humanism. He also fell in love with Greek and Roman art, then thought pagan and unaccepted beyond the walls of the Medici palace. Taken together, the daring ideas of his formazione (education) provided him with plenty of conceptual material, engendered life-long respect for the Jewish people, shaped him into who he would become, and influenced his life’s work, especially in how he would express these concepts.

Yet too much to tell takes too many words. To this point, I have attempted to describe the motives for Michelangelo’s actions in the Sistine Chapel. In the next installment, I will delve into what his messages were.

To Be Continued …… 

From that Rogue Tourist
Paolo

1. “The Papacy During the Renaissance,”

https://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/pape/hd_pape.htm

2. “Pope Julius II: The Warrior Pope,”

https://historyofyesterday.com/pope-julius-ii-the-warrior-pope-4d9a09c20455

3. Benjamin Blech and Roy Doliner, “The Sistine Secret: Michelangelo’s Forbidden Messages in the Heart of the Vatican,” Harper One, 2008.

4. “A Jewish Art Paradise at the Vatican,”

https://forward.com/culture/308648/in-the-vatican-a-jewish-paradise/

 

Searching for Italy (Part II)

Smith Street Restaurant Row, Brooklyn

Searching for Italy (Part II)

                   This is a continuation of last month’s story entitled “Searching for Italy (Part I)”

Even if bread were to contain lard, it is said that “Man shall not live by bread alone…”  Indeed, we needed more than simply bread.  We needed some Italian nourishment, and fast.  That evening, about two blocks east of Henry Street lies the bustling thoroughfare, Smith Street.  Like most of the Carroll Garden streets, it is senso unico (one way).  These are important words to know especially in Italy, not only for your safety but to avoid getting a traffic ticket sometimes years after being caught on those ubiquitous Italian traffic cams.  I ought to know as I speak as an expert on this subject.  We could have chosen from the many ethnic places on hand, but as you might expect, thankfully, Italian restaurants dominated.  Many had extended their seating onto the street, some taking up spaces formerly reserved for parking.  With this, their “business’ vaccine” for survival, they had adjusted to the pandemic. 

    One of our Smith Street stops was at Mama Capri.  Its name amused me.  Apparently, it seeks to

The Colors of Mama Capri Put Us By the Sea

bring the Gulf of Naples to the docks of Brooklyn by featuring Amalfitana dishes with a special emphasis on the cuisine of Capri.  That is pretty ambitious.  With little separating Naples from Capri, I was curious if there could be any difference.  It’s all great.  After all, southern Italian Pasta a la Mare is Pasta a la Mare.  And of course, the “mama” is an illusion to those Italian matrons of the cucina, who when you enter their lair insist you eat something and never go away, God forbid, hungry. 

The ambiance was an Italian version of an upscale seaside escape.  It was bright, colorful, and airy.  Like many of the area restaurants, its configuration was trailer-like — small and narrow front to back. They had made good use of limited space, 

Mama Capri's Clean
Crisp Interior

wisely crafting a stunning decor.  Its light, bright colors gave off a cheerful beachy air.  Memory perfect, its yellow was reminiscent of those huge Positano lemons, while the turquoise evoked gazing off toward Capri over the cliff edges along Via Positanesi D’America into a transparent sea. 

    Also of note was their super friendly staff.  We met the owner-chef when he came by to chat.  He was from the Naples area, while our waitress majored in hospitality at the area’s community college.  She was of local Italian heritage, and in a couple of weeks, COVID be damned, she would be off on her first adventure to Italy.  She was delightfully engaging, which we enjoy, not some zombie-like “I’ll be your server” drone.  She couldn’t do enough for us.  Together, the two

Where We Sat at Mama Capri, 
You Could Imagine We
Were Seaside

 of them ran the operation that evening.  How, I’m not sure, but with us the only party inside and two other parties streetside, they managed just fine.

   I must say, our meals were delicious.  We started with imported burrata mozzarella cheese with basil pesto and cherry tomatoes, a Zuppa di Cozze (mussel soup) served with croutons, and a bottle of chilled, hard-to-find Falanghina wine, a Campania favorite of ours.  Why not, when you’re missing Italy and considering all we saved on airfare.  In addition to the wine, burrata cheese is special for us.  Where we come from in the States, like the Falanghina, it is a rare find.  Piercing its white outer casing it released its liquid treasure of leftover mozzarella scraps and cream as expected.  This was soon overtaken by additional Amalfi Coast flavors and aromas when we tucked into Spaghetti alle Vongole trimmed with parsley and Pasta alla Bolognese featuring beef ragù dusted with Parmigiano Reggiano cheese.  They were generous

Maria Elena"s
Spaghetti alle Vongole

with the Manila clams and Mare reported that her homemade pasta was first-rate.  Meat eater me devoured the Bolognese.  I usually have it with tagliatelle or fettuccine pasta.  When it was served featuring ridged rigatoni pasta, it was a surprise.  Possibly a Capri variant?  In any case, “When in Rome Capri do as … .”  It did not put me off in the least.  The meat sauce was tender, tasty, just right.  For added authenticity, our dishes were presented on colorful ceramic plates from Deruta, the dish capital of Italy we’d once visited, located in the region of Umbria.

Paolo's Pasta alla
Bolognese

   Another privileged position along Henry Street harbored another great find, Panzerotti Bites.  We came upon it quite by chance as we continued to explore this newfound pleasure garden called Smith Street.  The next day, when it got toward lunchtime, much like the experience in a supermarket’s cereal aisle, we were overloaded with choices.  With so many appealing venues to choose from, we honestly couldn’t decide on just one.  How about a few?  Just in time that phobic aversion to overly plump Americans kicked in and shooed away the fattened devil at my ear.  We were about to revert to that old standby and highly scientific, eeny, meeny, miny, moe selection method when we noticed Apulian Food written over the door front of Panzerotti Bites.  Was it possible they just might be Italian?  Cute place too.  It seemed like something different, worth investigating, so we ventured in.  It is not a fancy evening eatery with candlelight and service on Deruta

Panzerotti Bites Inviting Storefront

dinnerware.  No, Panzerotti Bites is more a drop-in bistro specializing in one particular type of street food.  And by type of food, I don’t mean the broad category of say food typically filling pages of an Italian restaurant’s menu or one restricted to the range of cuisine of, in this case, olive strewn Puglia.  It proved much narrower than that.  I’m talking about a single food item like a pizzeria that serves only pizza.  Here they prepared something to quickly satisfy any hunger pang with a Pugliese treat called a panzerotto.  And I was thinking Panzerotto was likely the name of the proprietor.  Of course, I was wrong, way off in fact.  A panzerotto was new to me.  I’d not heard the name before.  But then there was a time I didn’t know a sfogliatelle from a stuzzichini.  I’d only be guessing since I’m not a linguist, but I immediately wondered whether panzerotti, like many Italian words, might stem from a combination of other words.  The Professor Henry Higgins in me could, however, see that panza means belly, rotti is Italian for broken while otto means small.  I wondered.  A “little belly” or when opened a “broken belly” just

Meet a Hot Oozing Panzerotti

might describe how a panzerotti looks at different phases of its short existence on your plate (see photo). 

Right off, this particular specialty appeared to be a cross between an American hot pocket turnover and that fast-food creation from Naples, a turnover on the order of an oven-baked folded pizza called a calzone.  It proved superior to either of them; I’d return tomorrow for more.  Panzerotto, like the Spaghetti all'Assassina I recently wrote about, come straight from Bari, the major seaport along the Adriatic coastline of Puglia.  You might think of it as Italy’s east coast version of the west coast calzone, although while they may ooze similar fillings, their thinner crusts make them lighter for the fatphobic.  Far less doughy and moister, I immediately preferred them over a calzone.

Baked or deep-fried, these half-moon turnovers can be stuffed with an assortment of fillings.  If you like, you can hesitate at their open kitchen, visible through the glass partition, to follow the preparation of your panzerotti on your way to a cozy backyard space.  While salads, beer, wine, and espresso/coffee were also available, their fare is exclusively panzerotti.  These crescent-shaped pies come stuffed with ingredients including choices like mozzarella, tuna, crudo di Parma, artichokes, salami, and more.  The various combinations have names like the Barese (after Bari back home), combining mozzarella, tomato sauce, ham, black olives, anchovies. and capers.  Interestingly, especially

Vittoria and Pasquale of Panzerotti
Bites
(Photo courtesy of Vincenzo Paparella)

for sweet-toothed little ones, there was the Nutella featuring ricotta cheese and you guessed it, that chocolate and hazelnut spread, Nutella.  Then there was the Porcini that caught Maria Elena’s eye and which she made short work of, filled with mozzarella, porcini mushrooms, and black truffle.  As I surveyed the menu, the range of selections confined to a solitary choice triggered an interlude approaching another eeny, meeny, miny, moe predicament.  I wanted to get it right, get something I knew I’d like, but even before that first bite, they all appealed to me.  Should I try a couple?  Is that why the place was named Panzerotti BITES — you can’t eat just one?  It was the Crudo di Parma featuring mozzarella, sliced tomato, prosciutto crudo di Parma and baby arugula that most appealed to me along with a chaser of marinara dipping sauce.  It was all I’d imagined.  Forget the time of day, any excuse will do to enjoy this delicious treat that with each bite transports you to far off Puglia.  They are quite light, miraculously greaseless, and when taken home to enjoy later, they come back to life within minutes in the oven.  Just imagine you’re home, you just reheated a few panzerotti, poured yourself a glass of full-bodied Primitivo wine or a crisp Fiano di Avellino for added perfection,

A Trencher of Goodies

while on TV, live, Naples is playing round ball with Rome.  “What hath God wrought?” although Pasquale and Vittoria most certainly would have been involved.

   Panzerotti Bites is a dream come true, owned and operated by Pasquale De Ruvo and Vittoria Lattanzio a young enterprising Italian couple who like panzerotto are from Puglia.  Vittoria hales from Bitonto, nicknamed the "City of Olives," while Pasquale, as his surname intimates, is from Ruvo di Puglia, known for its vineyards as well as its ancient olive groves.  Both towns neighbor big city Bari, just to their east.  Like struggling artists making a start, here I’d come upon an enterprising couple who reminded me of Elena and Nick Gagliardi, another enterprising Italian couple from Gusto in Center Harbor, New Hampshire, who I recently wrote about.  Vittoria graduated from the University of Foreign Languages in Bari where she studied German, French, and English.  Afterward, she attended a master’s degree program on Export Management, also in Bari.  Little did she realize she would soon export herself and would put her English to good use.  Pasquale was experienced in the restaurant field and had been the co-owner of a well-known coffee shop in Ruvo di Puglia.  They made a perfect team, each complimenting the other: Vittoria was more than proficient in English and had mastered the art of

Step up and Order Your 
Panzerotto Here

dough making.  I may be giving too much away here but their dough is made from semolina flour imported from Puglia, extra virgin olive oil, iodized salt, water, and yeast.  She also possesses that essential spark of creativity and is open-minded.  Pasquale knew how to run a business, manage operations and employees, place orders, and transform customers into “regulars” with his Italian panache and contagious smile.  With them, one plus one was more than two.

Like many before them, it started as a dream.  Pasquale recounted that while they were happy in Italy, they were not fully satisfied.  They had their friends, family, good food, and weather, but knew that together they had something special to achieve in their lives but just not in Italy, not even in Europe.  “We loved preparing dinners for friends and family, and everybody told us we were such great hosts and cooked so well that we should open our own restaurant.  That’s how all began.”   Little did those who encouraged them to take the leap realize their dream would cross the Atlantic. 

Theirs is a common dream of many young Pugliesi.  But theirs was a first, for nobody left everything and everyone in Bari to risk all on a roll of the dice in a single-product eatery, selling a traditional food from the south of Italy, unknown in the USA.  Long odds for sure.  Theirs would not be the addition of another typical pizzeria.  They were certainly aware that what they were attempting was a courageous undertaking.  Together, they had visited the US and fallen in love with America.  Their dream grew to embrace moving to New York City to open their one-of-a-kind eatery.  They decided to leave their jobs, say “Ciao, a presto” (Bye, see you soon) to their families and come to the City of Dreams, the city Sinatra crooned “Never Sleeps” to find the face of their dream.  On one particular trip, “It was a snowy day when we found the perfect spot for our concept in Carroll Gardens.  We were super happy and motivated when we went back home to Puglia with a lease in hand…and then we thought: ‘Ok, we are moving to the other side of the world …what about

Panzerotti Bites Front Office

getting married?’ ”  They had been together since 2009.  Pasquale worked at her hometown school.  All of 19 years old, Vittoria was what we’d call a high school senior.  One day while she was buying lunch, Pasquale caught a glimpse of her and wanted to meet her.  This was arranged through friends and soon they began dating.  “He was such a great guy.  Everybody loved Pasquale in my school”.  I didn’t hear Pasquale’s version of how they met, but by the end of that year, they were fidanzata (engaged).  Italians expect young couples to get married, especially if the couple will move to a faraway place.  It was time.  Planning for the wedding moved ahead at a prodigious pace.  To expedite matters, they were married in city hall.  They organized everything, from wedding dress and suit to a reception for 50 close friends and family in all of 15 days.  Following the joyful occasion, they left Italy each with two pieces of luggage, one-way airline tickets, and their minds full of hopes as well as uncertainty.  It hasn’t been easy since the day they watched the coastline of Italy fade in the distance as they raced toward a new horizon. 

The transatlantic move had been one thing but there was plenty still ahead.  Red tape was a nightmare.  For their Visa, it took six months for an appointment in Rome and two years to create a business plan along with the myriad of additional documents.  When approval day arrived, they were in NYC.  Excited, they immediately took a flight from NY to the doors of the US Embassy in Rome.  Unfortunately, their assigned counselor had had an accident.  Easier said than done, they were told to book a new appointment.  Now shocked, they learned that the next available appointment was four months away.  Their surprise mixed with disappointment as they urgently explained their situation in an appeal for someone else to interview them.  Sometimes you get lucky, sometimes you get upgraded to first class.  They left six hours later with their Investor Visa in hand.  Score one for the good guys!

They opened on 7 January 2018 and now, after almost four years, plus surviving COVID, they thrive on what they’ve created, happier than ever. “It has been a big challenge for us.  We changed apartments five times in four years, we had to share it with roommates, and even at one point do an Airbnb.”  “We did sacrifice a lot, working for the first year seven days a week from noon to 11 pm.  When we went home, we had to take care of the house and cook dinner.  No family to help, we did everything ourselves.”  As for family, when customers asked if they had children, they replied that the restaurant was their son.  “He demands a lot of energy from us, and we are constantly taking care of him, seeing him grow up.  We cannot leave him alone, not even a day, as every day something happens.  We are a family now, we even adopted three rescued cats a few months ago.”  

They share many interests and for them, like many Italians I know, family and respect mean everything.  “Even when we work, we want to do things perfectly, because our reputation hinges on it.  With Panzerotti Bites we brought the entire feeling and importance of our Puglia here.  We opened the store not solely to make money, but also to introduce our region to the US.  Not a lot of people care more for their reputation than money.  If you tell me: make a panzerotto with spaghetti and you'll be rich, we’ll never do that.  We want to teach Americans why a panzerotti is so special to us.”

I’ve always sensed it isn’t anywhere approaching easy to start a restaurant.  Then running one

Taking a Break at Panzerotti Bites
(Photo Courtesy of Robert di Scalfani)

demands incredible commitment.  I’ve no feel whatsoever attempting both.  Commitment to both their restaurant and nurturing their relationship was totally consuming and continually demanding.  It is one business that strains the very best, that demands the very best.  Contrary to what Sherlock Holmes might say, “Elementary, my dear Watson,” it is not a trouble-free, hands-off task for the faint of heart.  You may understand how after listening to their story, I had a feeling of connectedness.  It was something I hadn’t sensed while at Mama Capri the night earlier.  Somehow, searching for Italy, I’d saved the best for last or maybe it found me.  No glitz or glitter here, just offering what they’d grown up with to the average American Joe walking along Smith Street, Brooklyn.  Yes, theirs is a big dream and a risky one.

Vittoria tells it like this:

“A lot of people thought we were crazy.  But in our hearts, we knew panzerotti were going to be loved by the American public.  And it’s because Panzerotto are rich in history and tradition, it’s delicious, perfect for every occasion.  Panzerotto mean family, staying together, preparing it together, and enjoying it together.  We both truly believed in this project and together we were ready for it.  Sometimes, we meet couples where only one of the partners is willing to move abroad, and the other one is not, and there’s nothing to be done about it.  One partner cannot force the other to change life completely.  Instead, we were super excited to create something new in New York, from scratch, together.  It was exciting that everything was ours: from the recipe to the logo, from the trade dress to the packaging, to the business plan.  It took four years to create the project of exporting panzerotti to New York.”

Pasquale continued:

“Thankfully, our relationship has strengthened since we arrived.  But how beautiful it is to be able to call to your partner in the kitchen saying: ‘Amore, can you prepare two Classics please?’  Customers love that interaction.  For Italians like us, opening an eatery means bringing a piece of our hearts and tradition to every plate you serve them, and if you are a couple that message is transmitted even easier.  Americans love stories.  If they see you are the owners and the cook of the place, they will support you.”

Though Carroll Gardens wasn’t really Italy, it was Italian with glimpses of the real thing from those we met through to the traditions they’d brought with them.  Absent Italy’s ancient architecture, the people were the same as was their humble banquet like panzerotti and lard bread, thanks to brave dreamers like Vittoria and Pasquale.  Struggle, even failures, give us strength.  Someday, when their tasks are over, it’s doubtful they will ever relinquish the memories they made together or the uncertainty they’ve endured and overcame that gave their lives its taste.  Wishful thinking — I wish I could be a regular.  But I can wish them the best and welcome them to America, land of the free, and like you, home of the brave.

From That Rogue Tourist,

Paolo