Exhibition "Vasari and Rome" - Capitoline Museums

Museo: Mostra "Vasari e Roma" - Musei Capitolini

0. Welcome to the exhibition "Vasari and Rome"

Welcome to this exhibition dedicated to Giorgio Vasari, a central figure of the Renaissance who embodied the ideal of the universal artist. Born in Arezzo in 1511 and died in Florence in 1574, Vasari found in Rome not only the epicentre of his elevated artistic training, but also the fertile ground for the birth of his most celebrated work: The Lives of the Most Excellent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects. This exhibition aims to illustrate how his Roman experiences between 1532 and 1553 shaped his pictorial and architectural language, leading him to become the foremost interpreter of the decorative enterprises of the so-called "Modern Manner." Through a journey divided into four chronological sections, we will explore the profound bond between the artist and the great patrons of the era, from Cardinals Ippolito de' Medici and Alessandro Farnese to the pontiffs Julius III, Pius V, and Gregory XIII. Rome represented for him a continuous challenge, a place of tireless study of the Antique and of the works of Raphael and Michelangelo, but also the space in which to consolidate friendships with men of letters and scholars such as Paolo Giovio and Annibal Caro. Following in Vasari's footsteps through monumental building sites and theoretical reflections, you will discover how his vision defined the history of art for centuries to come, uniting architecture, painting, and sculpture in an inseparable bond. We now invite you to immerse yourself in this artistic journey, allowing yourselves to be guided by the works that bear witness to the greatness of a multifaceted genius.

I - Vasari in Rome in 1532 and 1538: the study of antiquity and of Raphael

In this first room, we focus on Vasari's Roman sojourns of 1532 and 1538, crucial periods in the definition of his early style. Upon his arrival in Rome, barely twenty years old, in the retinue of Cardinal Ippolito de' Medici, the artist found a city that was laboriously recovering from the devastation of the Sack of 1527. Together with his faithful friend Francesco Salviati, Vasari devoted himself to a compulsive exercise in drawing, portraying every "notable thing" in the city, from the Vatican statues such as the Apollo Belvedere and the Laocoön to the Raphael Rooms and the Sistine Chapel. This thorough study was not limited to painting alone, but extended to ancient and modern architecture, forming that repertoire of models that Vasari would draw upon throughout his entire life. For Ippolito de' Medici, he initially painted secular works that are today lost, or not identified with certainty, but it was his return to Florence and the subsequent commissions that allowed him to apply the lessons learned in the Eternal City. His artistic research moved between the rigour of Tuscan draughtsmanship, influenced by masters such as Rosso Fiorentino, and the desire to emulate the soft glazes and mystical luminosity of Raphael, especially after his second return from Rome in 1538. This section documents precisely this delicate balance between the legacy of the Florentine tradition and the new, formidable career prospects that the Roman panorama offered to an artist eager to make his mark in the most prestigious courts of the era.

1.1 Giorgio Vasari, Christ Carried to the Tomb (1532)

The painting entitled *Christ Carried to the Sepulchre*, created in 1532, represents one of the most significant milestones in the stylistic evolution of the young Vasari. Although the work was perhaps conceived during his stay in Rome under the protection of Ippolito de' Medici, it was ultimately delivered to Ottaviano de' Medici in Florence towards the end of that same year. In this panel, the artist's attempt to reconcile various influences is clearly evident: on one hand, his debt to the Tuscan culture of Rosso Fiorentino, and on the other, the classical atmosphere he had absorbed in Rome. The iconography of the transportation of Christ's body is in fact directly inspired by a celebrated ancient model, the Roman sarcophagus of the *Transport of the Body of Meleager*, now preserved in the Capitoline Museums. This same model had previously been used by Raphael for his famous Baglioni Altarpiece, painted for the church of San Francesco al Prato in Perugia (today in the Borghese Gallery), and Vasari, studying the works of the Urbino master, decided to engage with this compositional challenge. The result is a work of great dramatic power, in which the physicality of the dead Christ and the exertion of those carrying him reflect a meticulous attention to anatomy and the dynamic tension so characteristic of the Maniera.

1.2 Giorgio Vasari, Nativity (1538)

The Nativity of Camaldoli, painted in June 1538, is a masterpiece of luministic experimentation that marks Vasari's full recovery of Raphaelesque stylistic elements. In this work, the artist sought to capture an "illuminated night," where the primary source of light is not natural, but divine: the radiance emanating from the newborn Child. In his Lives, he himself describes how he attempted to imitate with colours the spiritual rays, portraying each figure from life in order to make it as "lifelike as possible." For the shadowed areas of the stable, where the Child's light could not reach, Vasari envisioned a second glow coming from the angels singing in glory in the sky. This sophisticated interplay of backlighting and mystical glows is an explicit homage to works by Raphael such as the Liberation of Saint Peter and the Madonna of the Veil. The work was met with great success, and it was at Camaldoli that Vasari met the banker Bindo Altoviti, who was so impressed by his talent that he commissioned him to paint the family altarpiece in the church of Santi Apostoli in Florence and invited him to join him soon in Rome for further collaborations.

1.3 Giorgio Vasari, Portrait of a Gentleman (circa 1540-1550)

The Portrait of a Gentleman, datable between 1540 and 1550, has traditionally been attributed to Jacopo Pontormo, the undisputed master of Florentine portraiture, a testament to the high quality of its execution. It was not until 1920 that the scholar Herman Voss recognised the hand of Vasari, tracing the work back to his catalogue. The confirmation of this attribution derives from a close stylistic comparison with the effigies of the Medici that the Aretine painter produced during those same years for Ottaviano de' Medici, such as the portraits of Lorenzo the Magnificent and Duke Alessandro, today preserved in the Uffizi Galleries. In this painting, the young gentleman is presented with a sobriety and elegance that reflect the social status and culture of the time. The meticulous rendering of the garments, the composed posture, and the direct gaze convey a sense of dignity and intellect that Vasari knew how to bestow upon his subjects.

II. At the court of Cardinal Alessandro Farnese: the Hall of the Hundred Days and the "foreign" artists (1542-1546)

In the second room, we enter the heart of Vasari's Roman success, a period dominated by his association with the powerful Cardinal Alessandro Farnese between 1542 and 1546. Thanks to the intermediation of the banker Bindo Altoviti and the scholar Paolo Giovio, Vasari managed to make his way into the exclusive Farnese circle, an international and cultured environment where he collaborated with artists defined as "foreigners" such as Gaspar Becerra and Giorgio Giulio Clovio. It was precisely in this context that Giorgio Vasari received his first major monumental commission: the decoration of the Sala dei Cento Giorni (Hall of the Hundred Days) in the Palazzo della Cancelleria. This monumental work, completed in record time in 1546, was conceived as an apologia for the policies of Pope Paul III Farnese, celebrated as a mediator of peace and patron of the arts. In order to manage building projects of such scope, the artist developed a working method based on rigorous graphic preparation and collaboration with specialised craftsmen, an approach that anticipated his future undertakings for the Medici in Florence. The Farnese court was not only a place of artistic production, but also the centre of erudite discussions that would lead to the birth of the Lives of the Artists. During these years, Vasari established himself as the painter capable of translating into images the complex philosophical and political allegories suggested by the Cardinal's men of letters, consolidating his reputation as a master of the "Modern Manner" (Maniera Moderna), able to unite the prestige of Michelangelo's draughtsmanship with the elegance of the Vatican's architectural decorative schemes.

Podcast no.1: The Hall of the Hundred Days

Let us begin with the first prestigious commission I obtained in Rome. Not far from Campo dei Fiori there is a place where, as I was saying, my ingenuity had to race faster than time itself. Today it is known as "The Hall of the Hundred Days" and it is located in the Palazzo della Cancelleria (an engraving of which is featured in the exhibition), a building that remains to this day the property of the Holy See. Allow me now to tell you a story: I had just finished painting a large panel depicting an allegory of Justice, commissioned by the powerful Cardinal Alessandro Farnese — whom you see portrayed here — who was none other than the favourite nephew of Pope Paul III, whose likeness is on display in the exhibition. The Cardinal was so pleased with my work and with what he described as my ability to move beyond "ordinary inventions," as he wrote in the letter displayed here, that he asked me to design the decoration for the great hall of his sumptuous residence, which you can still admire today as you stroll along Corso Vittorio Emanuele. Flattered by that request, I prepared many drawings on the advice of my friend Paolo Giovio, a renowned historian and collector of my time. Then, on the 29th of March 1546, the Cardinal issued me a challenge that would have made anyone's brush tremble: "Messer Giorgio, you have one hundred days to fresco the great hall of my house. Not one day more." One hundred days for such an undertaking! It would have required at least twice as many! Imagine standing before an abyss of bare walls: twenty-four metres in length, twelve in width, and as many in height. A vast void that I had to fill with stories, figures, coats of arms, and allegories celebrating the pontiff. Just over one hundred days to transform that silence into a theatre of wonders. It seemed impossible, yet I knew that "fresco painting is the most daring of all": it permits no errors, demands a resolute hand and a speed of execution that has no equal. And so I organised myself with assistants and apprentices, and we painted without pause, day and night, for nearly one hundred days. Yet haste has its price. I still remember when I showed the finished hall to my divine master Michelangelo. I said to him with pride: "Master, look what I have done in just one hundred days!" And he, with his sharp wit, replied: "It shows!" He was right — speed often steals perfection — but I sought that "grace and a certain ease, so that things do not appear laboured." You should know, however, that this story is a legend recounted by historians of the 19th century… What I created was a groundbreaking work without precedent: a true anticipation of what you today call augmented reality! I created the illusion that the walls opened onto perspectival vistas through which figures and allegorical characters move. But let us not dwell only on the figures — consider also the architectural framework I constructed through painting. You will notice a tall base running all around the hall: it serves to elevate you, to draw you into the story of Pope Paul III Farnese. Pause for a moment before those painted steps — the true secret lies in the staircases. I painted them concave and convex so that they would invite you to "ascend" ideally into the narrative of the life of Pope Paul III, to whom the hall is dedicated. It is a Mannerist perspectival trick that requires great precision in draughtsmanship, so that the eye does not detect the deception but is instead captivated by it. "Do not believe, however, that a work of such scope springs from the painter's inspiration alone. If my hand traced the marks, it was the minds of great men of letters who frequented the court of Alessandro Farnese that nourished my thinking. Some of them I portrayed in the scene depicting Paul III distributing rewards to virtuous men. Among the columns I portrayed, among others, Michelangelo and Monsignor Paolo Giovio dressed in white. Do you recall the medal bearing his portrait displayed here in the exhibition? He was the man who first ignited in me the spark for the Lives. It was he who suggested that I publish the memoirs of the artists, which I was already writing, and so I did in 1550, when I brought out the first edition, known as the "Torrentiniana," to distinguish it from the second, more extensive edition, which I published in 1568 with the publisher Giunti. But to Giovio I also owe the suggestions regarding the narratives, the choice of allegories and inscriptions that speak to the learned and enchant the uninitiated. On the wall depicting "The Peace of Nice" — that is, the peace between Emperor Charles V and King Francis I of France — the allegory of Hilarity is portrayed: the original drawing of which you can see here in the exhibition, discovered by the very curator of this exhibition in Arezzo. I now invite you to seek out a surprising detail in the fresco depicting "The Homage of the Nations to Paul III": the giraffe. Yes, indeed. Amidst elephants, camels, monkeys, and parrots, this exotic animal is not there by chance. I painted it with the celebrated giraffe in mind — the one the Sultan of Egypt gave to Lorenzo the Magnificent as a token of recognition of his international prestige. This is why the giraffe evokes a distant land, and here it alludes to the expansion of the Christian faith and the authority of the Church of Rome to the very limits of the then-known world. If you now lower your gaze to the steps, you will notice an elderly man reclining on the stairs, crowned with laurel, with a cornucopia beside him and, at his feet, a she-wolf. That figure is there to evoke the myth of the founding of Rome together with the She-Wolf who suckled Romulus and Remus, and thus to symbolise the River Tiber. In this way, the figure becomes a visual bridge between the ancient greatness of the Eternal City and the power of the papacy, which presents itself as the rightful heir to that glorious history. If instead we raise our eyes, we recognise the face of Julius Caesar. For his portrait, my friend Paolo Giovio chose this Latin inscription: "Expedito vigore animi cuncta pervicit," which translates as: with the ready vigour of his spirit, he conquered all things. It is not merely a celebration of the great Roman general, but a model of political virtue, energy, and universal dominion. Foto n.1: Giovanni Stradano (attrib.), Ritratto di Giorgio Vasari, ca. 1568-72, © Gabinetto Fotografico delle Gallerie degli Uffizi; Foto n.2: Artista Aretino (secolo XVIII-XIX), Busto di Giorgio Vasari, © Arezzo, Fraternita dei Laici. Foto: Alessandro Schinco; Foto n.3: Giorgio Vasari, Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, scultori e architettori, Firenze, Giunti, 1568, Wikimedia Commons; Foto n.4: Giorgio Vasari, Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, scultori e architettii, 1568 v. 1, ritratto p (16) Wikimedia Commons; Foto n.5: Giorgio Vasari Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, scultori e architettori, (Edizione Torrentiniana).1550, © Fondazione Casa Buonarroti, Firenze. Foto n.6 Ritratto di Paolo III Farnese, ca. 1543, © Collezioni d’Arte Fondazione Cariparma; Foto n.7: Sala dei cento giorni, Palazzo della Cancelleria (C) Amministrazione del Patrimonio della Sede Apostolica Tutti i diritti riservati; Foto n.8: La sala dei 100 Giorni, Creative Commons CC BY-SA 3.0, Wikimedia Commons; Foto n.9: Palazzo della Cancelleria, (esterno); Foto: DiscoverPlaces.travel; Foto n.10: Cortile Palazzo della cancelleria CC BY-SA 3.0 , Wikimedia Commons; Foto n.11: Pietro Ferrerio Il Palazzo della Cancelleria 1542-1546; Roma, Museo di Roma, Archivio Iconografico”, © Roma, Sovrintendenza Capitolina ai Beni Culturali”. Foto n.12: Giorgio Vasari, Studio della testa di Hilaritas 1546 circa; (per la Sala dei Cento Giorni Cancelleria); Fraternita dei Laici, Collezione Bartolini, © Arezzo, Fraternita dei Laici; Foto n.13: Francesco da San Gallo, Medaglia con ritratto di Paolo Giovio 1522; CC BY-SA 3.0 Wikimedia Commons; Foto n.14: Giorgio Vasari Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, scultori e architettori, (Edizione Torrentiniana).1550, © Fondazione Casa Buonarroti, Firenze.

2.1 Francesco Salviati, Base for an altar service intended for Pope Paul III Farnese (c. 1543)

This precious and extremely rare drawing by Francesco Salviati, characterized by its unusually large dimensions, offers us a testament to the level of refinement achieved in the applied arts at the court of Pope Paul III Farnese. The work served as a preparatory study for a sumptuous altar service in silver and carved stones, comprising two candlesticks and a cross, intended for the Basilica of Saint Peter's. Although the design had been initiated in the 1540s, the actual execution in precious metal was carried out by the goldsmith Manno Sbarri only in 1561 and definitively completed by Antonio Gentili twenty years later. Salviati, a childhood friend of Vasari with whom he shared his training and Farnese patronage, demonstrates here an extraordinary inventiveness in merging architectural, figurative, and ornamental elements. This sheet recalls the celebrated "Cassetta Farnese," another masterpiece of goldsmithing for which Salviati provided the designs for the metal parts.

2.2 Anonymous (after Titian), Portrait of Pope Paul III Farnese (Second half of the 16th century)

The portrait of Pope Paul III Farnese displayed in this room is a magnificent late derivation of the celebrated prototype painted by Titian (Tiziano Vecellio) in 1543. The original was created when the pontiff travelled to Ferrara to meet Emperor Charles V, a historically momentous event that Titian immortalised with his unmistakable mastery in capturing the soul and power of his subjects. Although the author of this specific version is an anonymous artist working in the Lombard-Venetian tradition of the late century, the quality of execution remains exceptionally high, with a brilliant and enamel-like palette that conveys the full authority of the Pope. Paul III was the pontiff who, more than any other, shaped Vasari's rise in Rome, fostering a climate of political peace that allowed the artist to work on major decorative commissions. The image of the pontiff, seated with a resolute yet reflective bearing, perfectly embodies the role of enlightened mediator and sovereign that Farnese propaganda sought to promote.

2.3 Giorgio Vasari, Resurrection of Christ (1550)

The Resurrection of Christ from Siena, painted in 1550, is a work that marks Vasari's connection with the powerful Florentine banker Filippo di Averardo Salviati. Executed in Florence during a brief interval from his Roman work, the panel bears on its reverse the name of the patron and the date, confirming its destination as a high-ranking private commission. Although produced in Tuscany, the work breathes fully the atmosphere of the projects Vasari was developing in Rome during those years. Many of the figures present, such as the sleeping soldier in the foreground who reacts with astonishment to the miraculous event, find precise iconographic counterparts in the figures of the Del Monte Chapel in San Pietro in Montorio. Vasari was at that very moment designing the family tombs for the new pope, Julius III Del Monte, and this work serves almost as an experimental laboratory for the compositional solutions he would later apply in the Vatican.

III. Vasari and Michelangelo and the works for Pope Julius III Ciocchi Del Monte (1550-1555)

The third section takes us to the heart of Vasari's literary project and his service under Pope Julius III Del Monte between 1550 and 1555. It was during the evenings spent at the court of Cardinal Farnese, in discussion with men of letters such as Paolo Giovio and Annibal Caro, that the idea of writing a treatise on illustrious artists was born. Vasari, embracing the Cardinal's suggestion to provide an "orderly account" of artists from Cimabue to his own time, set to work on the Lives, first published in 1550. This monumental book was founded on the primacy of Disegno — the concept of drawing as the fundamental principle underlying all the visual arts — and celebrated Michelangelo as the unsurpassable model who embodied all three of the major arts. At the same time, the election of Julius III, his former patron, offered Vasari the opportunity to undertake great architectural enterprises. Despite certain disappointments, such as his partial exclusion from the final project of Villa Giulia in favour of Michelangelo and Vignola, Vasari remained a key figure at the papal court. He worked tirelessly on the Del Monte Chapel in San Pietro in Montorio, decorating it with stuccoes and paintings, and continued to serve the Florentine community in Rome through his long and sometimes difficult relationship with Bindo Altoviti. This section thus illustrates a moment of extraordinary creative intensity, in which theoretical reflection on art interweaves with the daily practice of building sites, consolidating Vasari's role as architect, painter, and the first true historian of modern art.

Podcast No. 2: Remains of the Frescoes of Palazzo Altoviti

Now I wish to tell you about a friendship, and about how my "ingenuity" sought to immortalise the dream of an extraordinary man. One of the encounters that changed my life was that with Bindo Altoviti. I met him for the first time at Camaldoli in the summer of 1540; on that very occasion, captivated by my work, he commissioned from me the altarpiece for his chapel in the church of the Santi Apostoli, in which I depicted the Immaculate Conception. Bindo Altoviti was no ordinary man. He was the banker of Pope Paul III Farnese. He was a Florentine of ancient lineage who had made Rome the theatre of his glories, yet never forgot the sweet call of the Arno — an opponent of the Medici and a great collector. When he received me, some years later, in his palace in Rome, I immediately felt the weight of his authority: a man austere in bearing, yet with a gaze that could read the value of a drawing "before colour had even touched the plaster." Bindo was seeking someone who could unite Florentine grace with Roman grandeur — the kind I had absorbed during my stays in Rome, studying the antique, the works of Raphael, and those of Michelangelo. In 1553, he asked me to fresco a loggia of his Roman palace — a loggia that looked out over the Tiber. The work immediately became an ambitious project. The position of the palace was extraordinary: it stood directly opposite Castel Sant'Angelo, in the Rione Ponte. Bindo wanted his loggia to be the gathering place of Roman cultural life. He asked me to celebrate not only his family, but also to depict the harmonious relationship between man and nature. To this end, together with my friend Annibal Caro — the celebrated poet and playwright from the Marche — we planned to fresco the central loggia of the palace with the myth of Ceres, the Roman goddess who nourishes all things and who teaches agriculture to the young Triptolemus, flanked by the allegorical figures of the Seasons. During the work, Bindo would often climb the scaffolding — not to oversee accounts and expenses, but to discuss my "manner," the contrapposto of the figures, the light that the river cast upon the vaulted ceilings. "Working for him was a relief after the labours of the papal court." Bindo appreciated that I painted with speed, yet he also demanded that every smallest detail have its reason for being. It was in that palace that I truly came to understand what it meant to decorate for the nobility of the soul. There I was not merely a painter in service; I was the house artist of one of the most cultured and wealthy men in Italy. With my young collaborators, I therefore took up the brushes to decorate those rooms overlooking the Tiber. We painted stories, allegories, and grotesques — those light and fanciful paintings typical of Renaissance aristocratic residences, inspired by the decorations discovered in the Domus Aurea of Rome. But fate is often cruel. That untamed Tiber, whose reflections kissed my frescoes, continued to lash the city with its floods. In 1888, to protect Rome, the new rulers decided to raise the great embankment walls. And despite the outcries of protest from the citizens, the demolition of my friend Bindo's home was decreed. Fortunately, however, one year before the demolition of the palace, a decision was made to save the frescoes, which were "detached" — that is, removed from the ceiling — by a renowned restorer of the time, Pietro Cecconi Principi. The paintings were then mounted on canvas and subsequently reinstalled in a room of the Museo di Palazzo Venezia, where today one can observe the reconstruction of the loggia. But not all the frescoes were transferred to Palazzo Venezia: the Municipality chose to distinguish between: The works of my brush — that is, the parts judged to be certainly by my hand — which found a home between 1919 and 1929 in the rooms of Palazzo Venezia; and the grotesques of the workshop circle: those decorations that adorned the lunettes and vaulted ceilings of the palace's studiolo, executed by my skilled assistants, which were at the time deemed of "lesser artistic value," but which today you may admire at the Scuola Arti e Mestieri in Rome. At Palazzo Venezia, in addition to the myth of Ceres, one can also see the reconstruction of the Signs of the Zodiac and the personifications of the Months and the Seasons. When I created them, I wanted Bindo, dining with his guests, to feel the rhythm of time flowing amid deep blues and luminous yellows. The decorations also include the allegories of Florence and Rome, underscoring the bond between the two cities. The work reflects what historians call my "mature manner," with elegant figures, complex compositions, and a refined use of perspective, characteristic of those years. And now, a small secret: in the central panel, in that priest wearing a saffron-yellow mantle who offers an amphora to the Goddess, critics would come to recognise none other than my lord Bindo Altoviti. And if you then look at the man beside him — that face carved by marble and by genius — yes, it is indeed my master, the divine Michelangelo. I wished that the two greatest souls I had known in Rome should be immortalised together in this temple of art. The grotesques too were detached and remounted on new supports, then handed over to the Municipality of Rome, to be brought to the Scuola delle Arti Ornamentali in Via di San Giacomo. After all, if they could no longer adorn the dwelling of a prince, let them at least serve as models for students. May the young learn upon those plasters the art of interweaving monsters, leaves, and figures, capable of enriching architecture — just as I myself did when studying the Domus Aurea of Nero, where such fantasies had their origin. If even a single young artist, pausing before these plasters, should learn the art and grace preserved within them, then my spirit and that of my lord Bindo Altoviti will continue to live on within the walls of Rome… Foto n.1. Ettore Roesler Franz, Il palazzo di Bindo Altoviti presso il Ponte Sant’Angelo, 1882, , Archivio iconografico Museo di Roma; “© Roma, Sovrintendenza Capitolina ai Beni Culturali”. Foto n.2. Robert MacPherson, Palazzo Altoviti sul Tevere, 1851. Fonte: Wikimedia Commons, pubblico dominio; Foto n.3. Raffaello Sanzio, Ritratto di Bindo Altoviti, ca. 1515. Fonte: Wikimedia Commons, pubblico dominio; Foto n.4. Affreschi Palazzo Altoviti, © 2026 Associazione Metamorfosi. Foto: Antonio Idini; Su concessione del Comune di Roma Capitale / Scuola Arti Ornamentali; Foto n.5. Affreschi Altoviti, (Ricostruzione) presso Palazzo Venezia, (C) VIVE - Vittoriano e Palazzo Venezia; Foto n.6. Benvenuto Cellini, Medaglia con il ritratto di Bindo Altoviti 1540 circa, archivio Museo nazionale del Bargello; © Gabinetto Fotografico delle Gallerie degli Uffizi; Foto n.7. Jacopino del Conte (attr), Ritratto di Michelangelo Buonarroti, sec. XVI; Roma, Musei Capitolini - Archivio Fotografico dei Musei Capitolini”. © Roma, Sovrintendenza Capitolina ai Beni Culturali" Foto n.8. Jacopo Zucchi (attrib) Ritratto di Annibale Caro 1566, Wikimedia Commons,pubblico dominio.

3.1 Michelangelo Buonarroti, Letter from Michelangelo to Vasari "The Fables of the World" (c. 1555)

In this section, we encounter a sonnet written by the master Michelangelo Buonarroti around 1555, a text imbued with deep spirituality and existential reflection. Michelangelo, now in his advanced years, composed these verses perhaps in memory of the poetess Vittoria Colonna, whom the great artist had met and with whom he had maintained a correspondence between 1538 and 1547, when she moved from the monastery of Sant'Anna de' Funari to the house of Giuliano Cesarini shortly before her death. Michelangelo sent a draft of this sonnet to Vasari himself in May 1555, including it as the opening of a letter that bears witness to the esteem and affection that bound the two artists together. The theme of the lyric is that of the renunciation of all worldly vanity and honours in favour of the love of God.

3.2 Giorgio Vasari, The Calling of saint Peter (1551)

The Calling of saint Peter, begun in May 1551, is a monumental work painted for Pope Julius III Del Monte. The panel depicts the evangelical moment in which Jesus calls the brothers Peter and Andrew to him while they are fishing on the Sea of Galilee. Vasari describes the work as generically intended for a "palace of the Pope," but unfortunately the painting was never paid for by the pontiff, despite Vasari's complaints and the letters he wrote on multiple occasions seeking recompense. Only in 1561, thanks to the intervention of Pope Pius IV, did Vasari finally obtain the return of the painting. He then decided to transport it to Arezzo, his hometown, making it the central element of the grand altar dedicated to his family in the Pieve di Santa Maria, an altar that was partly rebuilt in the 19th century in the church of Saints Flora and Lucilla.

IV. Vasari in the Vatican: the chapels for Pius V and the Sala Regia (1570-1572)

The final section of the exhibition celebrates the apex of Vasari's career as court artist to the pontiffs Pius V and Gregory XIII between 1570 and 1572. After years spent in Florence in the service of Cosimo de' Medici, for whom he carried out the renovation of Palazzo Vecchio and the construction of the Uffizi, Vasari returned to Rome with a well-established international reputation. Under the austere patronage of Pius V, he was commissioned to decorate the three chapels of the Torre Pia in the Vatican, a work so highly regarded that the Pope bestowed upon him the prestigious honour of the "Golden Spur". But his greatest challenge was the decoration of the Sala Regia, a symbolic seat of ecclesiastical power, where Vasari was called upon to depict crucial historical events, such as the massacre of the Huguenots and the victory of the Holy League against the Turks. Here the artist demonstrated an extraordinary ability to handle complex and contemporary subjects, documenting the chronicles of the time with precision, but also with inventive variety and allegorical representations. This final phase of his life sees him acting both as painter and architect, and as coordinator of a large team of collaborators, including Lorenzo Sabatini and Jacopo Zucchi, who were capable of translating his drawings into monumental frescoes that still adorn the heart of Vatican power to this day. The section closes by celebrating Vasari the "Knight", a man who had succeeded in uniting excellence in art with the glory of the highest social ranks.

4.1 Giorgio Vasari, The Battle of Lepanto (c. 1572)

The drawing for the Battle of Lepanto, preserved in the Uffizi, is a preparatory study of exceptional importance for one of the most significant frescoes in the Sala Regia in the Vatican. Executed between 1572 and 1573, the drawing depicts the crucial moment of the naval clash between the Christian fleet and the Ottoman fleet. Vasari approached the subject with a strong documentary intent and naturalistic rawness. In the sheet, which appears squared off to facilitate the transfer of the composition onto the wall, the artist portrays the violent clash between the galleys of the Venetian Agostino Barbarigo and those of Mehemet Sciauruk. Compared to the final painted version, the drawing features an even denser concentration of vessels, possibly including the ships of Andrea Doria that were later excluded for reasons of space. For the subject matter, Vasari likely drew upon the contemporary chronicle by Giovanni Pietro Contarini in his Historia delle cose successe dal principio della guerra mossa da Selim ottomano a' Veneziani […] in order to render the scene accurate down to the finest details.

Podcast No. 3: The Battle of Lepanto (Sala Regia, Vatican)

Welcome to the heart of the Apostolic Palace of the Vatican, a place of absolute majesty. I can only imagine your astonishment as you cross, even if only in spirit, this threshold. We are in the Sala Regia, the hall reserved for public ceremonies in which the Popes receive kings and ambassadors from every corner of the earth. From here, one can access both the Pauline Chapel and the Sistine Chapel, where the great Michelangelo painted, not far from the Raphael Rooms, including the Room of the Segnatura, which may be called 'the most honoured room of painting in all of Rome.' Following the pontifical victory at Lepanto, which took place on 7 October 1571, I had been summoned to Rome by Pope Pius V to create the frescoes for this hall, which were to celebrate that miraculous event, as you can see in the engravings displayed in the exhibition. I arrived in the city in February 1572, and before the Pope died on 1 May 1572, I managed to complete only the one depicting the Battle, the drawing of which you can see in the exhibition. I myself wrote in my Lives that art must be an imitation of nature, but also an ornament and a glory of great things! And what could be greater than a victory that seemed a gift of Providence? I found myself faced with the task of recounting the battle, not merely as a historical event, but as a celebration of the faith that moves all things. Every element of the fresco had to serve a precise purpose, every movement had to tell a story: I understood then that the narrative could unfold across different visual planes, like overlapping layers of action, depth, and meaning. If you enlarge the work on your device, you will notice the foreground, where the sea seems almost within reach. The galleys of the Holy League are pressed close together, a tangle of prows and sterns, tension and rhythm. The chained oarsmen strain their arms, their faces contorted with effort. Some fall into the water, others brandish weapons that reflect the sunlight. The young commander Don John of Austria emerges through smoke and banners, leading, at just 24 years of age, the Christian coalition in the Gulf of Patras, halting the Turkish expansion in the Mediterranean. Every sail, every oar, every glint of metal is deliberate: nothing is left to chance. Flames lick the ships, the waters ripple, reflecting reds and greens, as if animated by a divine spirit. The middle plane reveals the vastness of the conflict: the more distant galleys multiply, the sailors become flecks of light among the sails, and the confusion acquires rhythm and harmony. The diagonals of the ships guide the eye, the sea opens up spaces and depths, and the viewer perceives at once the immensity of the battle and the precision of the strategy. Here the tumult finds order, transforming itself into visual narrative: every wave, every movement, every detail has its own logic. Above the smoke and the churning waters, the scene opens upward into light. The clouds receive celestial figures: Christ hurls lightning bolts, Peter and Paul look on, the patron saints of the allied nations accompany the victory. They are not passive symbols: they take part in the story, they transcend it. In the lower left, Faith, represented by a female allegorical figure, dominates the scene, treading with her right foot upon the enemy's turban, reminding us that without divine guidance even human strength would be in vain. Light filters through the clouds and illuminates the sea, the oarsmen, the sails. Sky and sea are in dialogue, and one perceives the tension between earth and the divine, between human toil and Providence. Each level embodies a moral and virtuous meaning: the foreground speaks of courage, pain, and toil; the middle plane of the strategy of battle; the upper plane of Providence and transcendence. And yet, all is united: the movement of the galleys, the trembling of the waters, the light on the armour, the clouds parting toward celestial glory. Through this fresco, I wished to draw the viewer into the heart of the battle, to make them feel the roar of the cannons, the crackling of the flames, the struggle of the oarsmen, and the courage shown by Don John of Austria. This was my challenge: to transform a historical event into a living experience, where the chronicle rises to become an eternal symbol and art becomes the very breath of history itself. Allow me, finally, to confess my greatest pride: "prestezza" — swiftness of execution. Many painters lose themselves in minute detail and labour for years; I did not. 'I command the drawing with such sureness that my hand runs as fast as thought itself.' This vast expanse of frescoes, this tangle of armour and waves, was accomplished in a time that made people cry out in wonder at the miracle! And now tell me: Does it seem to you that these figures breathe? Does it seem to you that you are among those galleys? Foto n.1. Giorgio Vasari, (Disegno) La Battaglia di Lepanto 1572 ca., © Gabinetto Fotografico delle Gallerie degli Uffizi; Foto n.2. Giorgio Vasari, La battaglia di Lepanto, Wikimedia Commons; Foto n.3. Sailko, La Battaglia di Lepanto, CCBY 3.0, Wikimedia Commons; Foto n.4. Sailko, La battaglia di Lepanto CC BY 3.0 , via Wikimedia Commons; Foto n.5. Franceco Panini, La Sala Regia in Vaticano, Roma, Museo di Roma, Archivio Iconografico”, © Roma, Sovrintendenza Capitolina ai Beni Culturali”; Foto n.6. Giorgio Vasari, La battaglia di Lepanto per la sala regia in Vaticano, © Governatorato SCV – Direzione dei Musei Tutti i diritti riservati. If your heart beats faster, then I have not laboured in vain!

4.2 Anonymous artist from the circle of Guglielmo Della Porta, Bust of Pope Pius V Ghislieri (c. 1570)

This imposing bronze bust, created by an artist from the circle of Guglielmo Della Porta, portrays with great expressive power Pope Pius V Ghislieri, who ascended to the pontifical throne in 1566. It was this pontiff who crowned Cosimo de' Medici as "First Grand Duke of Tuscany" in 1569, as a reward for his services in the resumption of the Council of Trent, consolidating the political alliance between Florence and Rome. Before completing the Sala Regia, Giorgio Vasari received from Pius V the important commission to decorate the altars of the church of Santa Croce in Bosco (today Bosco Marengo, in the province of Alessandria, but at the time under the Duchy of Milan). Here, between 1567 and 1569, he created, with the predominant assistance of Jacopo Zucchi, the Nativity with the Magi and the great altar "machine" featuring the Last Judgement. Subsequently recommended by Cosimo himself, Vasari also obtained the commission to decorate the three chapels of the Torre Pia and the Sala Regia, for which he was honoured by the Pope with the Order of the Golden Spur.

4.3 Giovanni Stradano, Portrait of Giorgio Vasari (1571-1574)

The work, long considered a self-portrait of Giorgio Vasari, actually depicts the Aretine artist wearing around his neck the prestigious honour of the "Golden Spur" (*Speron d'Oro*), conferred upon him together with the Knighthood of Saint Peter by Pope Pius V in 1571, in recognition of the completion of the Vatican chapels. On the table, an architectural project is visible, most likely alluding to this very commission, which was subsequently extended to include the decoration of the Sala Regia as well. Attributed to the circle of Jacopo Zucchi by Alessandro Cecchi, the work is today generally ascribed to Giovanni Stradano (Jan van der Straet), a Flemish master and principal collaborator of Vasari on the building site of Palazzo Vecchio in Florence between 1554 and 1571. We conclude our journey here. Thank you for joining us on this voyage through Vasari's Rome. Goodbye.