Peter Clossick LG and Corinna Lotz on the must-see exhibition celebrating the National Gallery’s Bicentenary
It offers a once-in-a lifetime opportunity to view works that took the curators eight to ten years to compile, all displayed atmospherically. Upon entering this extensive exhibition, my first impression was the small size of some works; many are intimate, while others are monumental.
The dawn of the Renaissance, which defined Western painting for the next 500 years, began in the early 14th century. Drawing from outstanding collections and private loans, the exhibition features more than 100 works, including sculpture, metalwork, textiles, and paintings—primarily egg tempera on panel. Many of these panels have been reunited after centuries apart.
During this period, new painting techniques emerged, capturing drama, emotion, grief, anger, joy, and intimate gestures, all within the two-dimensional surface of the artwork. These pieces served as the picture books of their time, created for those who could neither read nor write.
They are adorned with dazzling gold and iconic imagery, produced before the advent of photography. Early techniques of perspective, light, and shadow engage viewers with emotional narratives. The detail in the metalwork framing these pieces is exceptional. The motifs used are typical of the time, as the Church was the leading patron of the arts, reflecting the strength of Catholicism and the intensity of religious devotion present in the imagery.
Be sure to visit the Siena exhibition, which runs until June 22nd, 2025, to gain insight into the cultural foundations of the Western world. It promises to be an uplifting experience.
Peter Clossick PPLG, 2025 (All images taken on my iPhone)
A sense of wonder from Siena
by Corinna Lotz
Perhaps it seems strange that we can still be moved by images and objects crafted more than 700 years ago. And how this magnificent display shines! Its bright colours and golden glow touch us not only visually, but deep in the heart.
The religious devotion they intended to inspire through stories of the Virgin Mary and the crucifixion of her son by artists of 14th century Siena may not seem relevant to many today. And it’s not only the subject matter that can make these works seem distant, but also the way that art historians and critics in the past relegated the city of Siena in the hierarchy of late medieval-early Renaissance art, seeing it as inferior to Florence’s celebrated artists such as Cimabue and Giotto.
The altarpieces and devotional objects on display at the National Gallery were made over some 50 years of artistic endeavour when the city of Siena saw 60 years of political and economic stability under the rule of the Council of the Nine, “the Nove”. “Il Buon Governo” (the good government), as it was called, was selected every two months from a group of Siena’s male citizens, many from noble houses, banking families and merchants. It was an unusual form of rule that encouraged artistic innovation, as well as looking after Siena’s infrastructure, including construction, water supplies and the city walls. Its wealth largely came from banking and trade.
“The morally righteous, well-governed state was reflected back in the private buildings that surrounded its headquarters,” Caroline Campbell writes in the exhibition book. Its headquarters was the imposing Palazzo Pubblico, whose belfry rises above Siena’s central square, the unforgettable fan-shaped Campo, famous for its annual horse races. That flourishing period came to an abrupt end in May 1348 when the catastrophic Black Death plague hit the city, killing around 60% of its citizens.
Curators from London’s National Gallery and New York’s Metropolitan Museum have teamed up for a decade to bring us painted panels, accompanied by sculptural gems, which can be seen together for the first time since they were ceremonially mounted in Siena’s places of worship in the early 14th century.
Displayed in a series of velvety dark spaces the lapis lazuli blues, reds and yellows, applied onto wood panels with egg tempera, draw you into their psychological, mystical worlds.Beautifully lit, we can go close up to them, to see every detail. Not only the front sides of panels but sometimes also the backs. They are not windows to look through, but sculptural objects, sharing qualities with Byzantine icons while transitioning from flat decoration to three-dimensional space.
And so, suddenly it seems, work of Duccio di Buoninsegna, Simone Martini, Pietro and Ambrogio Lorenzetti, artists who we have perhaps taken for granted and walked past, arouse a whole range of emotions, ranging from a sense of wonder to shared grief. It all feels fresh and immediate.
How is this even possible, one may ask? The curators have explained how Sienese art fell out of favour in the late 18th and 19th centuries, viewed by some as childish and naïve. French-British art critic Vernon Lee, for example considered that the Sienese school was rooted in “childishness”. But as Jackson Arn, writing in The New Yorker, has remarked: “childishness, with its total indifference to either-or choices, might be the most sophisticated thing about it”.
“Childishness” may not be quite the right word, but there is a staggering simplicity and directness that strikes deep. In the Annunciation panel of Duccio’s Maestà, for example, there is no doubt about the story we are being told. The angel points at a Mary, who shrinks back in dismay, seeming to ask “Why me?” On backgrounds of precious gold leaf, such biblical scenes acquire a pared down timelessness and calm simplicity as the characters in each story relate to each other with eloquent gestures and facial expressions.
The Maestà was once part of a huge, seven-foot-high multi-part, double-sided altarpiece, commissioned by the city of Siena for its cathedral and installed in 1311 after a procession around the town. It was sawn apart in 1771. Much of it remains in the cathedral but other parts are now divided between museums in New York, Washington, Madrid, Fort Worth and London.
It seems incredible that the Maestà could be dismembered in this way and that so many other altarpieces from Siena Cathedral “have left their intended locations”, as the exhibition book explains. It’s not by chance that the word “dismember” appears some 17 times in the exhibition book. In its final chapter, “Sienese paintings, dismembered, revalued, collected”, a fascinating essay by Imogen Tedbury documents how Sienese paintings became hostages subject to the vagaries of not only aesthetic taste, but major historic convulsions.
Duccio’s Maestà was first removed and put into storage in 1506. In later years, Italy’s Napoleonic occupation meant that religious orders had to give up some of their works. Duccio’s Crucifixion diptych ended up in Prince Albert’s Royal collection. By the early 19th century wealthy collectors and dealers could pick up “bargains” which circulated on the British art market. Anglican clergymen like Walter Davenport-Bromley were particularly keen to surround themselves with altarpiece fragments.
In 1857 the largest-ever art exhibition in Britain included 15 from the Siena school. Held in Manchester, it was enjoyed by 1.3 million visitors. By the early 20th century, dealing in Sienese art had become a lucrative business. As American collectors entered the market, prices rose astronomically. In 2004, New York’s Metropolitan Museum acquired Duccio’s Stocklet Madonna for $45 million.
To be enveloped in the near-miraculous productions of Siena’s great artists and sculptors, is a form of time travel, possible only thanks to the dedication of curators, art historians, and the institution of the National Gallery itself, which celebrates its 200th anniversary this year.
Corinna Lotz, 2025
Siena: The Rise of Painting, 1300 ‒1350
Until 22 June 2025
The National Gallery
Trafalgar Square, London, WC2N 5DN
Ticket prices
Standard admission From £20
Free for Members
both articles also appear in realdemocracymovement.org
