Saint Matthew 1545 - 1555

Curator: There’s a real stillness to this enamel portrait of Saint Matthew by Jean III Penicaud, created sometime between 1545 and 1555. I find the stark contrast of the white figure against that deep black background utterly compelling, don’t you think? Editor: It certainly has presence, a rather serious one. I can’t help but read that almost total lack of color as a commentary on the ascetic ideals of the time, that sense of a stripping away to get to the core of faith. The round form adds a kind of austerity too, a sort of halo-esque feel? Curator: Ah, "austere halo," I like that! It's a curious thing with Penicaud, this miniature master, to see the weight of religious representation distilled into something so intimately scaled. He manages to give Saint Matthew this sage-like, almost contemplative expression, as if pondering the weight of the Gospel. Editor: Absolutely, and speaking of scale, let’s consider the implications of turning this religious icon into a small, easily portable object. Suddenly, we are thrust into considering issues of accessibility, dissemination, and, of course, class. How might this enamel miniature be viewed versus, say, a large scale church altarpiece? Curator: Intriguing question! It does bring to mind that age-old tension: the monumental versus the personal, the public versus the private. I think owning something like this gives you a chance to have the Gospel, like, practically on your person. Makes one consider the Renaissance era obsession with miniature…entire miniature worlds that the privileged could collect. Editor: Yes, a collector’s piece for a private devotion—connecting it to larger socioeconomic factors. But going back to Saint Matthew, the artist's focus is striking. It's this face and those intricate lines—wrinkles, hair, beard… a very knowing face. I wonder what a Renaissance viewer, deeply immersed in religious doctrine, would make of this highly personal rendition? Curator: I’m sure many found great inspiration from the artwork! Looking at this though I mostly feel…moved. He's a saint, sure, but also, unmistakably, a man etched by experience. Editor: Perhaps that very human element allowed for a more relatable form of reverence. Thanks for lending me your own fresh perspective today! Curator: My pleasure! Always happy to chat.