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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.