
The Sermon on the Mount
Painted on the wall of a friar's cell at San Marco, stripped of gold and ornament so that it settles the mind rather than dazzles.

Painted on the wall of a friar's cell at San Marco, stripped of gold and ornament so that it settles the mind rather than dazzles.

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 stands to place the host on each tongue exactly as a priest does at Mass, in a bare cell-like room with stools.

The head arrives on a platter inside a serene sunlit loggia full of well-dressed Florentines, many of them the family who paid.

Late Botticelli, with the early lightness gone tense. He had fallen under Savonarola's spell and his religious pictures never relaxed again.

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.

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.

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.

Serene, elegant nudes about to ruin everything. It faces Masaccio's Expulsion across the same chapel, calm before the Fall against anguish after.

Painted on a refectory wall so the monks dined at the end of the same table. Leonardo would blow the arrangement apart a few years later.

Gabriel kneels at the right and points across at a Virgin drawing back in surprise, with a stretch of classical ruin between them.

Joseph reaches up to pull down dates from a palm while Saint Francis kneels at the side, added for the chapel that ordered it.

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.

A corridor of opened graves runs down the middle, the saved dancing into a garden on the left, the damned driven into fire on the right.

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 shepherd twists onto his back and throws up a hand against the glare. One of the first real night scenes in Western art.

The sea-monster is part fish and part beast and thoroughly invented, and some of the onlookers on the shore have started playing music.