The Miracle of the Child Attacked and Rescued by Augustine Novello 1328

Editor: We're looking at "The Miracle of the Child Attacked and Rescued by Augustine Novello," a tempera and gold on panel work created around 1328 by Simone Martini. The first thing that strikes me is the chaotic violence on one side balanced by the calm supplication on the other, all playing out in front of an almost stage-set city. What's your take on this dramatic composition? Curator: Ah, yes, Martini packs quite a narrative punch, doesn’t he? I find myself drawn to the contrast, as you pointed out. The sharp angularity of the attempted infanticide contrasted with the flowing lines of the figures praying for intervention. It almost feels theatrical, doesn't it? As if we're witnessing a miracle unfolding in real-time, a scene captured in a divine spotlight. Do you notice how the looming architecture dwarfs the human figures, a way of amplifying the insignificance of earthly conflict against a larger spiritual backdrop, perhaps? Editor: Definitely! It makes the miracle feel even grander. Is that St. Augustine up there in the corner? He looks like he’s bursting out of the building. Curator: Precisely! And isn't his abrupt appearance almost humorous? Breaking the picture plane like that is daring, a bold reminder of the power of divine intervention to shatter our expectations. Think about it – the piece seems to ask: What kind of faith would it take to truly believe in such dramatic reversals? It also seems to hint at the inherent goodness of dogs... Have you ever noticed how frequently they make an apperance as 'God's own security"? Editor: It’s a powerful point. Seeing the painting this way makes it feel less like a historical document and more like an invitation to consider what "miracle" even means. Curator: Indeed. The drama in this panel allows it transcend from historical work into something intensely and timelessly personal, in many ways the measure of great art. I'll never look at a cute puppy the same way again!