
Christ Bearing the Cross, with a Dominican Friar
Christ looks back over the cross at a tiny Dominican friar kneeling in the corner, the patron drawn into the road to Calvary.

Christ looks back over the cross at a tiny Dominican friar kneeling in the corner, the patron drawn into the road to Calvary.

The Child reaches up to grasp the edge of his mother's veil. Ugolino followed Duccio more closely than anyone else did.

No bigger than a page, and one of very few works securely given to Cimabue, whom Dante named the best painter of his day.

A steward tastes from a bowl and a portly servant tends the jars, and the miracle goes by almost without anyone noticing.

Christ's fingertips cross out of the human part of the picture and blur into light, which is the whole event in one detail.

Christ turns up dressed as a pilgrim with a staff and a traveler's pouch, and the two disciples still have no idea who he is.

Christ strides into the cave to pull Adam out by the hand, treading on a chained Satan as he goes.

Christ kneels with the basin and Peter, flustered, raises a hand to his own head. Some of the others are already loosening their sandals.

Angels dart and grieve around the cross while the Magdalene, hair loose, kneels to embrace its foot. A leaf from a travelling altarpiece.

The brothers pause with the net still trailing fish through green water, caught between the work and the man on the shore.

Christ in vivid red is hauled by a rope through the gate of a white, many-towered Jerusalem while children scamper at the edge.

Servants stoop over the great stone jars in the foreground to draw out wine that was water a moment ago.

A soldier drags Christ out through the city gate by his robe, the diagonal of the cross cutting against a bristling line of lances.

Six angels lean in along the throne with their heads tilted, which turns a rigid Byzantine formula into something nearly intimate.

The Virgin lies on the hillside and turns to lay her son in the manger, looking at his face. No gold, just a cold blue sky.

The Child lies on the ground giving off his own light across the straw and his mother's face. One of the first paintings lit from inside.

Herod gestures from a balcony while soldiers pull babies out of their mothers' arms. Giotto carries the horror on the mothers' faces alone.

The Devil offers all the kingdoms of the world, rendered as tiny gold-edged walled towns scattered down the slopes, and is refused.

One woman flings both arms over her head, others press their faces to the body. Simone drops all restraint against a sky streaked red.

The same story at miniature scale, squeezed into a predella panel, and Giotto loses none of the plainness that made it convincing.

Where Cimabue's Christ swings in an elegant curve, Giotto's hangs straight down under his own weight, belly sagging, head on his chest.

A gilded low sun hangs over the road and the orange trees are heavy with fruit, an early attempt at real morning light across a landscape.

Duccio and Giotto painted this same entry within a year of each other. Duccio's is the crowded one, full of towers, incident and color.

A white Gothic city, a horse shown daringly from behind, and two hanged men on a gallows in the corner of the fairy tale.

Boys climb the trees to break off palm branches while the procession moves along a stage-like ledge under deep blue. Padua, around 1305.

Two trees, a strip of ground, and a flock that stays to listen. Giotto tells the miracle as though it simply happened.

Giotto had watched Halley's Comet in 1301 and painted the Star of Bethlehem as a comet, apparently the first artist to do it.

Martin cuts his soldier's cloak in half with his sword to give a beggar the other part, dressed by Simone in courtly gold.

Golden rays come off a winged crucified figure in the sky and strike Francis in the hands, feet and side. Giotto signed this one.

This is the largest scene on the back of the Maesta, the Virgin fainting on one side and the crowd arguing on the other.

Four prophets peer from arches under the throne holding scrolls that foretell the Virgin Birth, and the throne is angled to suggest depth.

The Arno flood of 1966 stripped most of the paint off it, and the ruined cross became the emblem of the whole disaster.

Christ reaches up to push his mother's veil aside. Scorch marks on the original frame record centuries of candles set before it.

Four and a half meters tall, the largest panel painted in its century, with six angels kneeling to steady a throne that seems to float.

Six angels stack up the sides of the throne against gold. Cimabue taught Giotto, and the throne here is just beginning to recede into space.

Torches and spears bristle against the sky, and at the still center Judas wraps Christ in his yellow cloak and meets his eye.

Where Cimabue and Duccio floated their Madonnas on gold, Giotto gave his weight, a real throne, and a body that presses through the cloth.

The kings arrive with a retinue of horses, hounds and a leopard, every surface tooled in gold for one of Florence's richest families.

Gabriel's greeting runs toward Mary in raised gold letters and she twists away from it, her thumb still caught in her book.

Two mourners sit with their backs turned to pull us in, and the angels overhead double over. Giotto frescoed it in the Arena Chapel at Padua.