Told with consummate skill by the writer of the bestselling, award-winning A Civil Action, The Lost Painting is a remarkable synthesis of history and detective story.
An Italian village on a hilltop near the Adriatic coast, a decaying palazzo facing the sea, and in the basement, cobwebbed and dusty, lit by a single bulb, an archive unknown to scholars. Here, a young graduate student from Rome, Francesca Cappelletti, makes a discovery that inspires a search for a work of art of incalculable value, a painting lost for almost two centuries.
The artist was Caravaggio, a master of the Italian Baroque. He was a genius, a revolutionary painter, and a man beset by personal demons. Four hundred years ago, he drank and brawled in the taverns and streets of Rome, moving from one rooming house to another, constantly in and out of jail, all the while painting works of transcendent emotional and visual power. He rose from obscurity to fame and wealth, but success didn’t alter his violent temperament. His rage finally led him to commit murder, forcing him to flee Rome a hunted man. He died young, alone, and under strange circumstances.
Caravaggio scholars estimate that between sixty and eighty of his works are in existence today. Many others–no one knows the precise number–have been lost to time. Somewhere, surely, a masterpiece lies forgotten in a storeroom, or in a small parish church, or hanging above a fireplace, mistaken for a mere copy.
Prizewinning author Jonathan Harr embarks on an spellbinding journey to discover the long-lost painting known as The Taking of Christ–its mysterious fate and the circumstances of its disappearance have captivated Caravaggio devotees for years. After Francesca Cappelletti stumbles across a clue in that dusty archive, she tracks the painting across a continent and hundreds of years of history. But it is not until she meets Sergio Benedetti, an art restorer working in Ireland, that she finally manages to assemble all the pieces of the puzzle.
Praise for The Lost Painting
“Jonathan Harr has gone to the trouble of writing what will probably be a bestseller . . . rich and wonderful. . . . In truth, the book reads better than a thriller. . . . If you're a sucker for Rome, and for dusk . . . [you'll] enjoy Harr's more clearly reported details about life in the city.”—The New York Times Book Review
“Jonathan Harr has taken the story of the lost painting, and woven from it a deeply moving narrative about history, art and taste—and about the greed, envy, covetousness and professional jealousy of people who fall prey to obsession. It is as perfect a work of narrative nonfiction as you could ever hope to read.”—The Economist
|Publisher:||Random House Publishing Group|
|Edition description:||Reprinted Edition|
|Product dimensions:||5.18(w) x 7.99(h) x 0.69(d)|
About the Author
Jonathan Harr is the author of the national bestseller A Civil Action, winner of the National Book Critics Circle Award for Nonfiction. He is a former staff writer at the New England Monthly and has written for The New Yorker and The New York Times Magazine. He lives and works in Northampton, Massachusetts, where he has taught nonfiction writing at Smith College.
To schedule a speaking engagement, please contact American Program Bureau at www.apbspeakers.com
Read an Excerpt
Part 1 THE ENGLISHMAN The Englishman moves in a slow but deliberate shuffle, knees slightly bent and feet splayed, as he crosses the piazza, heading in the direction of a restaurant named Da Fortunato. The year is 2001. The Englishman is ninety-one years old. He carries a cane, the old-fashioned kind, wooden with a hooked handle, although he does not always use it. The dome of his head, smooth as an eggshell, gleams pale in the bright midday Roman sun. He is dressed in his customary manner-a dark blue double-breasted suit, hand tailored on Savile Row more than thirty years ago, and a freshly starched white shirt with gold cuff links and a gold collar pin. His hearing is still sharp, his eyes clear and unclouded. He wears glasses, but then he has worn glasses ever since he was a child. The current pair are tortoiseshell and sit cockeyed on his face, the left earpiece broken at the joint. He has fashioned a temporary repair with tape. The lenses are smudged with his fingerprints. Da Fortunato is located on a small street, in the shadow of the Pantheon. There are tables outside, shaded by a canopy of umbrellas, but the Englishman prefers to eat inside. The owner hurries to greet him and addresses him as Sir Denis, using his English honorific. The waiters all call him Signore Mahon. He speaks to them in Italian with easy fluency, although with a distinct Etonian accent. Sir Denis takes a single glass of red wine with lunch. A waiter recommends that he try the grilled porcini mushrooms with Tuscan olive oil and sea salt, and he agrees, smiling and clapping his hands together. "It's the season!" he says in a high, bright voice to the others at his table, his guests. "They are ever so good now!" When in Rome he always eats at Da Fortunato, if not constrained by invitations to dine elsewhere. He is a man of regular habits. On his many visits to the city, he has always stayed at the Albergo del Senato, in the same corner room on the third floor, with a window that looks out over the great smoke-grayed marble portico of the Pantheon. Back home in London, he lives in the house in which he was born, a large redbrick Victorian townhouse in the quiet, orderly confines of Cadogan Square, in Belgravia. He was an only child. He has never married, and he has no direct heirs. His lovers-on this subject he is forever discreet-have long since died. Around the table, the topic of conversation is an artist who lived four hundred years ago, named Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio. Sir Denis has studied, nose to the canvas, magnifying glass in hand, every known work by the artist. Since the death of his rival and nemesis, the great Italian art scholar Roberto Longhi, Sir Denis has been regarded as the world's foremost authority on Caravaggio. Nowadays, younger scholars who claim the painter as their domain will challenge him on this point or that, as he himself had challenged Longhi many years ago. Even so, he is still paid handsome sums by collectors to render his opinion on the authenticity of disputed works. His verdict can mean a gain or loss of a small fortune for his clients. To his great regret, Sir Denis tells his luncheon companions, he's never had the chance to own a painting by Caravaggio. For one thing, fewer than eighty authentic Caravaggios-some would argue no more than sixty-are known to exist. Several were destroyed during World War II, and others have simply vanished over the centuries. A genuine Caravaggio rarely comes on the market. Sir Denis began buying the works of Baroque artists in the 1930s, when the ornate frames commanded higher prices at auction than the paintings themselves. Over the years he has amassed a virtual museum of seicento art in his house at Cadogan Square, seventy-nine masterpieces, works by Guercino, Guido Reni, the Carracci brothers, and Domenichino. He bought his last painting in 1964. By then, prices had begun to rise dramatically. After two centuries of disdain and neglect, the great tide of style had shifted, and before Sir Denis's eyes, the Italian Baroque had come back into fashion. And no artist of that era has become more fashionable than Caravaggio. Any painting by him, even a small one, would be worth today many times the price of Sir Denis's finest Guercino. "A Caravaggio? Perhaps now as much as forty, fifty million English pounds," he says with a small shrug. "No one can say for certain." He orders a bowl of wild strawberries for dessert. One of his guests asks about the day, many years ago, when he went in search of a missing Caravaggio. Sir Denis smiles. The episode began, he recalls, with a disagreement with Roberto Longhi, who in 1951 had mounted the first exhibition in Milan of all known works by Caravaggio. Sir Denis, then forty-one years old and already known for his eye, spent several days at the exhibition studying the paintings. Among them was a picture of St. John the Baptist as a young boy, from the Roman collection of the Doria Pamphili family. No one had ever questioned its authenticity. But the more Sir Denis looked at the painting, the more doubtful he became. Later, in the files of the Archivio di Stato in Rome, he came across the trail of another version, one he thought more likely to be the original. He went looking for it one day in the winter of 1952. Most likely it was morning, although he does not recall this with certainty. He walked from his hotel at a brisk pace-he used to walk briskly, he says-through the narrow, cobbled streets still in morning shadow, past ancient buildings with their umber-colored walls, stained and mottled by centuries of smoke and city grime, the shuttered windows flung open to catch the early sun. He would have worn a woolen overcoat against the damp Roman chill, and a hat, a felt fedora, he believes. He dressed back then as he dresses now-a starched white shirt with a high, old-fashioned collar, a tie, a double-breasted suit-although in those days he carried an umbrella instead of the cane. His path took him through a maze of streets, many of which, in the years just after the war, still lacked street signs. He had no trouble finding his way. Even then he knew the streets of central Rome as well as he knew London's. At the Capitoline Hill, he climbed the long stairway up to the piazza designed by Michelangelo. A friend named Carlo Pietrangeli, the director of the Capitoline Gallery, was waiting for him. They greeted each other in the English way, with handshakes. Sir Denis does not like being embraced, and throughout his many sojourns in Italy he has largely managed to avoid the customary greeting of a clasp and a kiss on both cheeks. Pietrangeli told Sir Denis that he had finally managed to locate the object of his search in, of all places, the office of the mayor of Rome. Before that, the painting had hung for many years in the office of the inspector general of belle arti, in a medieval building on the Via del Portico d'Ottavia, in the Ghetto district of the city. The inspector general had regarded the painting merely as a decorative piece with a nice frame, of no particular value. The original, after all, was at the Doria Pamphili. After the war-Pietrangeli did not know the precise details-someone had moved it to the Palazzo Senatorio, and finally to the mayor's office. Pietrangeli and Sir Denis crossed the piazza to the Palazzo Senatorio. The mayor's office lay at the end of a series of dark hallways and antechambers, a spacious room with a high ceiling and a small balcony that looked out over the ancient ruins of the Imperial Forum. There was no one in the office. Sir Denis spotted the painting hanging high on a wall. He remembers standing beneath it, his head canted back, gazing intently up and comparing it in his mind with the one he had seen at Longhi's exhibition, the Doria Pamphili version. From his vantage point, several feet below the painting, it appeared almost identical in size and composition. It depicted a naked boy, perhaps twelve years old, partly reclined, his body in profile, but his face turned to the viewer, a coy smile crossing his mouth. Most art historians thought Caravaggio had stolen the pose from Michelangelo, from a nude in the Sistine Chapel, and had made a ribald, irreverent parody of it. From where he stood, Sir Denis could not make out the finer details. The surface of the canvas was dark, the image of the boy obscured by layers of dust and grime and yellowed varnish. But he could tell that the quality was superb. Then again, so was the quality of the Doria Pamphili painting. He turned to Pietrangeli and exclaimed, "For goodness sake, Carlo, we must get a closer look! We must get a ladder." Waiting for the ladder to arrive, he paced impatiently in front of the painting, never taking his eyes off it. He thought he could discern some subtle differences between it and the Doria version. Here the boy's gaze caught the viewer directly, mockingly, whereas the eyes of the Doria boy seemed slightly averted, the smile distinctly less open. When a workman finally arrived with a ladder, Sir Denis clambered up and studied the canvas with his magnifying glass. The paint surface had the characteristic craquelure, the web of fine capillary-like cracks produced by the drying of the oil that contained the paint pigments. He saw some abrasion in the paint surface, particularly along the borders, where the canvas and the wooden stretcher behind it came into contact. In some areas, the ground, or preparatory layer, had become visible. He noted that the ground was dark reddish brown in color and roughly textured, as if sand had been mixed into it. This was precisely the type of ground that Caravaggio had often used. He studied the face of the boy again, the eyes and mouth, areas difficult even for a great painter. This face, he concluded, was much livelier than the Doria version. Indeed, the entire work felt fresher and lighter in both color and execution. He detected the spark of invention and creativity in this painting, something a copyist could never achieve. By the time he climbed down the ladder he felt convinced that Caravaggio's hand had created this painting. As for the Doria version, it was possible, as some maintained, that Caravaggio himself had copied his own work, perhaps at the insistence of a wealthy patron. But Sir Denis was skeptical. He doubted that Caravaggio had ever known about the Doria painting. At Da Fortunato, Sir Denis pauses after telling this story, and then he smiles. Longhi died years ago, and he'd never accepted the Capitoline version as the original. Longhi was not one to admit a mistake, says Sir Denis. That was the beginning-Sir Denis chuckles-of many disagreements and a long, contentious, and very satisfying feud. The Englishman has had a hand in the search for several other lost paintings by Caravaggio. He mentions one in particular-it was called The Taking of Christ-that had been the object of both his and Longhi's desire. It had vanished without a trace more than two centuries ago. Like the St. John, many copies had turned up, all suggesting a masterpiece, but none worthy of attribution to Caravaggio. Longhi, near the end of his life, had come up with an important clue in the mystery of the painting's disappearance. It had been a clever deduction on Longhi's part, Sir Denis tells his guests. But, poor fellow, he hadn't lived to solve the mystery. The past held many secrets, and gave them up grudgingly. Sir Denis believed that a painting was like a window back into time, that with meticulous study he could peer into a work by Caravaggio and observe that moment, four hundred years ago, when the artist was in his studio, studying the model before him, mixing colors on his palette, putting brush to canvas. Sir Denis believed that by studying the work of an artist he could penetrate the depths of that man's mind. In the case of Caravaggio, it was the mind of a genius. A murderer and a madman, perhaps, but certainly a genius. And no copy, however good, could possibly reveal those depths. That would be like glimpsing a man's shadow and thinking you could know the man. Part 2 THE ROMAN GIRL A late afternoon in February, the sun slanting low across the rooftops of Rome. The year was 1989. From the door of the Bibliotheca Hertziana on Via Gregoriana came Francesca Cappelletti, carrying a canvas bag full of books, files, and notebooks in one hand, and a large purse in the other. She was a graduate student at the University of Rome, twenty-four years old, five feet six inches tall, eyes dark brown, cheekbones high and prominent. Her hair, thick and dark, fell to her shoulders. It had a strange hue, the result of a recent visit to a beauty salon near the Piazza Navona, where a hairdresser convinced her that red highlights would make it look warmer. In fact, the highlights made it look metallic, like brass. She wore no makeup, no earrings, and only a single pearl ring on her left hand. Her chin had a slight cleft, most noticeable in repose, although at the moment she was decidedly not in repose. She was late for an appointment. She had a long, rueful history of being late. As a consequence she'd perfected the art of theatrical apology. The traffic of Rome was her most common excuse, but she'd also invented stuck elevators, missing keys, broken heels, emotional crises, and illnesses in her family. Her apologies had a breathless, stricken sincerity, wide-eyed and imploring, which had rendered them acceptable time and again to friends and lovers. This appointment was with a man named Giampaolo Correale. He had hired Francesca and several other art history students, friends of hers, to do research on some paintings at the Capitoline Gallery. Every few weeks, he would convene a meeting at his apartment to discuss their progress. Francesca wasn't always late for these meetings. And on those occasions when she had been, Correale had usually forgiven her with a wave of his hand. She had proven herself to be one of his more productive workers. All the same, he had a temperament that alarmed Francesca, capable of expansive good humor one moment and sudden fits of anger the next. She rode her motorino, an old rust-stained blue Piaggio model, past the church of Trinità dei Monte and the Villa Medici, down the winding road to the Piazza del Popolo. She was a cautious but inexpert driver, despite eight years of experience. Her destination, Correale's apartment, was on Via Fracassini, a residential area of nineteenth-century buildings, small shops, and restaurants, a mile or so north of the city center. She calculated she would be about fifteen minutes late and began considering possible excuses. The truth-that she simply lost track of time while reading an essay on iconography-seemed somehow insufficient.
Reading Group Guide
1. Caravaggio is widely regarded by art historians as a revolutionary painter. Discuss how his work differed from his contemporaries,
and how his work was received by the Church.
2. Caravaggio’s reputation went into eclipse for almost three hundred years, and yet today, along with Michelangelo, Raphael,
and Leonardo, he has become one of the best known of the Italian
Old Masters. What is it about his work that speaks to modern tastes?
3. Discuss how and why tastes in art can change so dramatically from one era to the next.
4. One of the recurring problems among Caravaggio scholars is identifying Caravaggio’s original works from among many copies. Do you believe that a high-quality copy can create the same aesthetic and emotional experience as the original for a viewer? If so, what is it about the original that makes it so important?
5. At the suggestion of their professor, Francesca and Laura published what they had discovered in the Recanati archive without informing their boss, Giampaolo Correale. How does this affect your view of the two young women? Was Correale justified in his anger?
6. This is a work of nonfiction in which the author depicts the lives and actions of real people without changing their names or concealing their identities. Discuss how you feel about their treatment. Did you feel the author was objective and fair in his depictions?
7. The world of art scholars, as described in this book, was riven with jealousies and feuds. Discuss why this was so, and whether you think other disciplines are afflicted with the same sort of atmosphere.
8. The opinion of Sir Denis Mahon was highly esteemed in the art world. Why do you think this was so? Is it reasonable to place such weight on the judgments of one man?
9. Francesca refers several times to the “Caravaggio disease,” and fears at one point that she might get infected by it. What does she mean by it?
10. Benedetti left Rome and went to work in Ireland. What was it about Italy that made it so difficult for him to work there?
11. Even though Benedetti managed to repair the damage that he’d caused during the restoration of the painting, he denied that anything had gone amiss. Do you think he was justified in doing so?
An Interview with Jonathan Harr
Barnes & Noble.com: Your last book, A Civil Action, was a courtroom drama that dealt with environmental issues. How did you go from that subject to writing about 17th-century Italian art?
Jonathan Harr: I was tempted to do another book about lawyers, maybe a criminal case, especially since I’d learned so much about the law, at great cost, during the seven years it took me to write A Civil Action. But at the same time I felt reluctant to repeat myself. I happened upon the story of the lost painting by Caravaggio quite by accident, by reading a short article in The New York Times, and I was immediately curious. The more I looked into it, the more interesting it became. Of course, it also had the additional attraction of going to Italy for research. My knowledge of art history was not profound, but part of the fun of my job is learning new things. That also included learning Italian, since most of the characters in the first part of the book didn’t speak English.
B&N.com: In spite of the obvious differences, these books are more alike than I would have thought -- particularly in the pacing and the investigative angle. Do you agree? Did you find other similarities in the two stories?
JH: Ahh, maybe I am repeating myself after all! But I agree that, in one respect, The Lost Painting is like A Civil Action. I attribute that to the criteria I look for in selecting a story to write. I like some measure of mystery or suspense, which are great narrative engines. And I try to bring the characters to life on the page, to tell a story with the sort of contours and textures that are usually found in fiction. Since I’m writing nonfiction and I strive for accuracy, it’s important that the people I’m writing about are open and willing to share aspects of their lives with me. If they’re not, I have to set about looking for another book to write.
B&N.com: The Lost Painting unfolds from several points of view -- Francesca's, Denis Mahon's, Benedetti's.... What was your point of entry to this fascinating story?
JH: My point of entry was Caravaggio and the lost painting. I’d been fascinated with him, with his creative genius and his wild, utterly out-of-control life, even before I’d contemplated this book. But if I hadn’t liked his work so much, I doubt I would have done the book. I began my research with the restorer Sergio Benedetti and how he’d happened, by chance, to stumble across a painting that appeared to be the lost Taking of Christ. And then I quickly realized there was another part of the story, one in Rome involving Francesca Cappelletti and Laura Testa, who were actively searching for the painting. And Denis Mahon was omnipresent, and wove his way in and out of the lives of both Benedetti and Francesca. The story exists on several different levels, which I hope gives the book a texture that’s more interesting than a straight-line narrative.
B&N.com: With so few authentic works in existence, why do you think Caravaggio was underrated for so long? Was it simply because Baroque was out of style for some time, or did it have more to do with the artist's "bad boy" reputation?
JH: Tastes and fashions change over time, and artists come in and out of the limelight. Caravaggio was famous in his day, but he was a loner, without students, without a “bottega” that churned out paintings, a practice that most artists who became famous engaged in. Moreover, after his death, he was denigrated by other Baroque artists as a painter who lacked any idea of “decorum” and what was then called “bellezza” -- idealized beauty. He was accused of being too realistic, of being able to paint only what he saw before his eyes, with having “any ideas in his head,” as one of his contemporary critics put it. The result was that he was ignored for centuries. Only in the 20th century, thanks to the Italian scholar Roberto Longhi, did he reemerge from this long eclipse. And today his works resonate powerfully with modern tastes and sensibilities. He has been called by some art historians “the first modern painter.” Now that he’s been rediscovered, I doubt there’s any likelihood he’ll be forgotten again.
B&N.com: Who are some of your favorite artists?
JH: My tastes range widely. I just saw a big exhibition this summer in Venice of Lucian Freud’s work, which I find earthy, pungent, raw, and, to me at least, very appealing.
For pure, diabolical rawness, I find the frescos of Luca Signorelli in the cathedral at Orvieto fascinating, horrifying and, oddly, funny. They depict wildly inventive scenes of Inferno, of hellfire and damnation, the fate of those who are not true believers. Giorgio Vasari, in the cathedral in Florence, is equally good on that score.
I’m also drawn to the works of early Renaissance -- Giotto and Masaccio, for example, and Piero della Francesca -- when artists were beginning to depart from the traditional medieval Byzantine Madonnas and working with perspective. Their lines are clean and elegant.
The term “artist” in its broader sense should include anyone who creates -- film directors, for example. In that area, my preferences run to Jim Jarmusch, David Lynch, and Bernardo Bertolucci, to name just three. My list could occupy a couple of pages, but I’ll spare you that.
B&N.com: Few people are aware of the level of bureaucracy that exists in the art world. Do you think all the red tape really serves to protect priceless works, or is it an impediment to the public's enjoyment of great art?
JH: Red tape and bureaucracies, frustrating as they can be, are direct products of a civilized society governed by laws. And in the art world, money has entered into the mix. Paintings are commanding ever-higher prices at auctions. And when there’s money at stake, everything becomes more complicated. The thing that annoys me the most is not red tape and bureaucracy but exhibitions that aren’t well thought out, exhibitions that are done purely to attract paying visitors to museums and galleries.
B&N.com: Is The Taking of Christ still hanging in the National Gallery of Ireland? Have you seen it in person? I imagine it's quite powerful to view up close.
JH: It is still in the National Gallery of Ireland, although it has also been on loan at various times to other Caravaggio exhibitions. It hangs in a large gallery with many other paintings, but it commands your attention in a way that none of the others do -- it is positively luminous in its restored state, larger than I had imagined, and much more dramatic than any photograph or slide could possibly suggest. I looked at it every day for several weeks when I was in Ireland. I also saw it in Boston, when it was lent to Boston College for an exhibition, and in London, for another exhibition called "The Genius of Rome."
B&N.com: I have to admit, there was a moment toward the end of the book when I had visions of an Italian version of Antiques Roadshow, where all the guests were hauling out amazing masterpieces that had been in their families for centuries. Do you think there are many more "lost" paintings out there, waiting to be discovered?
JH: There are certainly other lost paintings awaiting discovery, paintings by Caravaggio as well as many other artists. Several famous Caravaggios are still missing. The possibility exists, of course, that many of those have been destroyed over the centuries, but one hopes that isn’t true. For example, Caravaggio painted a St. Sebastian for Asdrubale Mattei, the brother of Ciriaco, for whom he painted The Taking of Christ. That painting was last seen in 1680, when it was reported to be in France. Benedetti expressed interest in looking for it after he’d found the Taking.
The National Gallery of Ireland did experience a variation of Antiques Roadshow after the discovery of The Taking of Christ. People were hauling old paintings for months, hoping they had something valuable. Apparently nothing much turned up, but as Benedetti once said to me, “You always look, because you never know what you might find.”
B&N.com: What will you write about next?
JH: Good question. I’d love to know the answer myself. I’ve got a few ideas, but I haven’t had time to explore them yet. After spending several years on one project, it feels liberating consider all the possibilities. But I do expect to settle on something early next year. Meanwhile, I’m trying my hand at writing a few short stories -- fictional, by the way, something different from my usual work.
1. Caravaggio is widely regarded by art historians as a revolutionary
painter. Discuss how his work differed from his contemporaries,
and how his work was received by the Church.
2. Caravaggio’s reputation went into eclipse for almost three
hundred years, and yet today, along with Michelangelo, Raphael,
and Leonardo, he has become one of the best known of the Italian
Old Masters. What is it about his work that speaks to modern
3. Discuss how and why tastes in art can change so dramatically
from one era to the next.
4. One of the recurring problems among Caravaggio scholars is
identifying Caravaggio’s original works from among many
copies. Do you believe that a high-quality copy can create the
same aesthetic and emotional experience as the original for a
viewer? If so, what is it about the original that makes it so important?
5. At the suggestion of their professor, Francesca and Laura published
what they had discovered in the Recanati archive without
informing their boss, Giampaolo Correale. How does this affect
your view of the two young women? Was Correale justified in
6. This is a work of nonfiction in which the author depicts the
lives and actions of real people without changing their names or
concealing their identities. Discuss how you feel about their
treatment. Did you feel the author was objective and fair in his
7. The world of art scholars, as described in this book, was riven
with jealousies and feuds. Discuss why this was so, and whether
you think other disciplines are afflicted with the same sort of atmosphere.
8. Theopinion of Sir Denis Mahon was highly esteemed in the
art world. Why do you think this was so? Is it reasonable to place
such weight on the judgments of one man?
9. Francesca refers several times to the “Caravaggio disease,” and
fears at one point that she might get infected by it. What does
she mean by it?
10. Benedetti left Rome and went to work in Ireland. What was
it about Italy that made it so difficult for him to work there?
11. Even though Benedetti managed to repair the damage that
he’d caused during the restoration of the painting, he denied
that anything had gone amiss. Do you think he was justified in
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
I picked up The Lost Painting on the basis of preview reviews and the fact that A Civil Action was so well written. This title, nonfiction as well, does not disappoint. The reader gets a clear view of art history, Caravaggio, and art restoration. I found myself staying up much longer than I should and am glad I found a book that I was completely immersed in.
Nonfiction, art history. Primary source research and blind luck lead to finding a Caravaggio masterpiece missing for 400 years. Thoroughly researched by author as to politics in the art world and the individuals involved in the discovery, plus a lot of technical info on art restoration and an unfolding puzzle of documentation. I enjoyed the sheer perseverance and meticulous work involved.
Unable to put it down.
I don't know what some of these reviewers were reading but this was really disappointing. At points it read like a teen fiction novel with the pointless tidbits about Luciano... More facts and less about Francesca and Luciano... I mean please. Had you told me it was from the same author of A Civil Action I wouldn't believe you. 2.5 stars rounded up to 3.
I had to keep reminding myself that this was not a fictional thriller, but a true adventure through the art world and it's many social layers and incredible characters. Jonathan Harr is a great writer and I can't wait for the next little corner of the world he chooses to expose.
I have studied some painting reservation classes for fun during my years as an architecture student. This book brings to life many fascinating details and lovely characters. If you love art history, pick this book up for an easy read:) I had a lot of fun reading it. Not quite a 5 stars book, but it is well deserved of 4.5 stars (if I can give a half of a star more).
Fun and interesting. Non-fiction about the search for the real Taking of Christ by Caravaggio. The book introduces us to all the people involved with the find and their adventures. I've become interested in Caravaggio's work and hope to see one in person soon.
I became interested in this book when it was discussed on one of the threads on LT. I requested it from my library system and when it came I received the audio version rather than the print version. I don¿t know if I accidentally requested the wrong version or if they made the mistake but it was serendipitous because hubby and I were taking a mini vacation and we both listened to it on the trip. It was unabridged and well read by Campbell Scott and thoroughly enjoyable¿even riveting.This is the fascinating story of the finding of the lost painting ¿The Taking of Christ¿ by the revolutionary painter Caravagio, a master of the Italian Baroque. Although the story is true it reads like an exciting novel and has a large cast of characters. Along the way we meet two graduate students who are trying to track down what happened to the painting, an important Caravagio expert from London who is responsible for authenticating (or not) many of Carvagio¿s existing paintings including two copies of ¿The Taking of Christ¿, and many others involved in the art world. We learn much about tracking the provenance of a painting, authenticating paintings, restoring paintings, art seminars and exhibitions, and about Caravagio, his life and his works. Highly recommended¿especially if you are interested in art and art museums. 4 stars.
The Lost Painting referred to in the title is Caravaggio's Taking of Christ, one of three Caravaggio paintings commissioned by wealthy Roman Ciriaco Mattei. The painting wasn't lost in the sense of having been misplaced. Although it never left the possession of the Mattei family during its first 200 years, by the time it was sold in 1802, its identity as a Caravaggio had been lost to the passage of time and memories that weren't passed on to subsequent generations. Harr tells the story of the painting's rediscovery in the late 1990s through the research of two Italian students of art history and the educated eye of an art restorer.I particularly enjoyed the first half of the book describing the research of Francesca Cappelletti and Laura Testa, two graduate students in art history. Because of her friendship with a Mattei relative, Francesca was able to gain access to the Mattei family archives, where the women examined Ciriaco Mattei's account books and the periodic inventories of the family's possessions over the centuries. They also used government archives and conducted a thorough literature search, examining exhibition and auction catalogs and following footnote trails from the journal literature. I have used the same kinds of documents for family history research, and the thrill I felt when Francesca and Laura made their discoveries was similar to the thrill of discovering a link to another generation on my family tree.The audio recording included a bonus interview with the author, in which the author revealed that he learned Italian in order to conduct the interviews that form the basis for the book. Because the book is so reliant on the personal stories of the art experts and researchers involved in the rediscovery of the painting, Harr didn't want to conduct his interviews through an interpreter. The time he spent in language study was well spent. Harr's account is as thorough as an eye witness's. Enthusiastically recommended for anyone with an interest in art history or archival research.
Non-fiction that reads like a thriller.
This much-acclaimed book is a narrative nonfiction journey through the search for Caravaggio¿s lost Baroque masterpiece: The Taking of Christ. Harr skillfully reveals the tale through the experiences of several real-life participants: the art critic, the graduate-student researchers and the restorer. Harr, who has definitely done his homework here, provides background on the artist and the lost painting, but weaves that in and out of the ongoing search, so that the story¿s tension is never lost. He maintains just enough distance for journalistic objectivity, while using his interviews with the characters to layer in personal feelings and experiences, ultimately providing all the excitement of a contemporary art mystery. Although this work does not have the depth (or length) of one of Erik Larssen¿s better narrative nonfiction works (Isaac¿s Storm, The Devil in the White City), many readers will find it a thoroughly fascinating read. I did.
For years, the 1602 Caravaggio painting The Taking of Christ was lost to art historians. Harr, in this tale, recounts how a group of European scholars (and even a few amateurs), come together to track down and identify the once-missing masterpiece. At times filled with interesting scholar-gossip, and at others rife with poignant vignettes of Caravaggio's life, the author treads the fine line between scholarship and sensational journalism. While the book limps to a finish, it was definitely a quick and interesting read.
I usually rate my books high, because I simply can't afford to buy books I'm not reasonably sure I'll like.But this is one of the few exceptions. It's very boring- for a mystery, there doesn't seem to be an actual villain. It's a bit like "The Da Vinci Code" with everything exciting taken out. The fun of stories about art thefts and art controversies is not usually all about an accurate and realistic portrayal of actual academic methods of searching/validating art. Because that's boring. He doesn't even give the characters interesting personal lives. I disliked his heroine too.
This is a truly fascinating story about the discovery of a once-lost masterpiece by Caravaggio, The Taking of Christ. More than that, the book is about how the discipline of art history works - how research and scholarship and restoration go hand in hand and how important continued scholarship can be. Harr's writing is very quick-paced and easy to read, making a story that could be dense with names and dates and facts move along easily.As an archivist- and art librarian-in-training, I found this book tremendously helpful. I had never really understood why so many art libraries devote precious space to auction catalogs, but this story proved their usefulness to me. I will definitely be suggesting it to my friends in my program.However, for a book about art, there was a distinct lack of illustrations. A small photo of The Taking of Christ on the back cover helped in understanding composition and, to a degree, color and light, but it was too dark and too small to be truly helpful. The book also could have used an appendix that concisely traced the provenance of the painting or maps showing where the painting had gone in its travels.
Great non-fiction. Caravaggio was known as a thug and thought to be a murderer in his own time. The book highlights some parts of Caravaggio's amazing life of artistic success, troubles, betrayals - at the same time that it chronicles the efforts of a young Roman art history student in the 1990s to find the lost Caravaggio masterpiece of the betrayal of Christ by Judas.
Entertaining and suspenseful book about the discovery of a "lost" Caravaggio painting. Fast-paced and well-written.
I was sorry that this book ended so quickly. A wonderful real life mystery told by an excellent writer.
This book was selected as one of the 2006 best books by the NYT and I love Caravaggio paintings thought I would be entralled with book. It was somewhat of a disappointment.
The Lost Painting is a fast-paced romp through Rome, Dublin, London and Edinburgh in the search of a lost painting by Caravaggio. The artist and art history are short-changed, but if you are interested in the competitive world of art historians, restorers and academics, this is an excellent peek at how reputations are made and lost.Caravaggio was a paranoid nutbag who was forced to flee Rome when he killed a guy. Being a fugitive changed his personality only for the worse, but the guy could paint. Most of his paintings have been lost or destroyed over time and so the discovery of a new Caravaggio was enough to send the art world into a tizzy. This book had a limited scope, which allowed Harr to write a tightly plotted and exciting book about a fairly unexplosive topic.
I read the author's A Civil Action on Mar 8, 1998, and liked it very much--not too surprising since I have a natural affinity for legal subjects and trials. But I found this book about the search for a lost painting by Caravaggio just as attention-holding as I did Harr's prior work. The story is expertly told, guaranteeing that one's interest will be maintained all the way through the book. I do not know how the story could be better presented. One stands in amazement at the fascinating detail Harr elucidates in regard to art history research and art restoration--at least for me who knows nothing about either subject.
Rule of Four meets The Coffee Trader all based on the art world. Story about a man who happens on a painting that he believes to be important, and the process by which other people begin to believe the same thing. Writing is not stellar, but the story concept is good and you don't need to be an art lover or knowledgeable at all. I think this is based on a true story; the characters seem true to life. Not a slow read and perfect for an airplane.
(#48 in the 2006 book challenge) Hey, that's two books I've read about quests in a month! Good grief. This is a journalistic account of the (relatively recent) discovery of a Caravaggio painting that had been lost nearly since it was first created. It was all nice and artsy and all that, and I think it gave a fairly decent and not too dreadfully dull explanation about provenance and restoration techniques and such. There was one line, sadly toward the beginning, that absolutely set me off. I've debated whether or not to go into it, and decided my blood pressure probably doesn't need it, but I believe it's the sort of thing where the author felt it safe to synopsize a little tangent as a small aside, but the way he edited it down for size completely missed the point, but you wouldn't know what the point was anyway unless you have been enrolled in an art history program. It's probably safe to say that it isn't impacting too many people.Grade: B+Recommended: Very good for enthusiastic museum goers. It also had a great Italian feel to it.
This was a recommendation from the always-reliable Ed Bernard, who often points me toward non-fiction treasures that I otherwise would overlook. This one is the tale of the events leading to the discovery of a long-lost painting by Caravaggio. We follow art history grad students as they wade through villas and tangle with egotistical art historians in attempting to discover the fate of The Taking of the Christ.Along the way, we glean glimpses of the tumultuous life of 16th-century Baroque painter Caravaggio, left to infer what we can on his life based on police reports and other tantalizing details.With Harr¿s unpretentious style, we move quickly through the myriad characters of the art world on the road to perhaps finding the masterpiece, somewhere. This is a good book even for those who aren¿t art aficionados, as Harr never pretends to be an expert. His fascination is with the way the protagonists sift through centuries of information in search of elusive masterpieces.
This was an interesting story, but I wish I hadn't paid full hardcover price for it. It would have been much better condensed down to a long magazine article (as it was originally supposed to be). Harr's style is too journalistic, I found, to do well in a whole book.
Exceptional non-fiction written with verve regarding the rediscovery of a lost Carravaggio painting. Fascinating story to with great style.