The Greatest Painter Who Ever Lived

Tomorrow, September 29, is the birthday of Michelangelo Merisi, AKA Caravaggio, the man who, in my opinion, is the greatest painter who ever lived. Born in 1571, Caravaggio died in 1610. His life was brief, intense and violent.

There is no argument that the historical Caravaggio was a badass. He was the greatest artist of his age, and also an outlaw—equally comfortable with a paintbrush as with a sword. The fact that, over 400 years after his death, he is still the subject of countless books, comics, art exhibitions, novels, and academic treaties, testifies to the mark he has left on popular consciousness. But the historical Caravaggio is also a mystery. What we know is that he was a larger than life individual, and that he was the living blueprint for the ‘tortured artist’ archetype. Yet, very few quotes exist that can be attributed to him. And next to nothing is known for sure about what motivated him, why he regularly clashed with the powers that be, and what he was really like in day-to-day life.

His explosive temperament displayed itself in various ways. It definitely was at the core of his art, which was often raw and bloody. Take a look at this Medusa, for example.

Even when tackling the kinds of sacred subjects he was commissioned to represent, Caravaggio painted them in the most intense way possible. In his version, the martyrdoms of saints were brutal street murders:

Even when the violence was toned down, Caravaggio still found a way to shock his audience. Take his Death of the Virgin, for example. It had been customary for any painter portraying the death of Mary to show her ascending to Heaven among angels. Caravaggio instead approached the traditional motif and revolutionized it. He painted her undeniably dead, with her belly distended and in full rigor mortis. No angels in his version, no resurrection, no ascending to heaven, no suggestion that she is not really dead but simply transitioning to a higher form of existence—just terrible grief for the death of a human being. Worse yet, his Mary sported bare feet and a courtesan’s red dress. The priests at the church that commissioned it were horrified. They didn’t see any poetry in this—all they saw was a poor, dirty prostitute with bare feet

Almost unfailingly, Caravaggio asked his favorite courtesans to model as the Virgin Mary. And just as unfailingly, Church authorities reacted with outrage. If this wasn’t scandalous enough, through his art Caravaggio showed Jesus and the Apostles looking more like beggars than like cardinals. Whereas Jesus preached against accumulation of wealth and invited his followers to spend whatever money they had to take care of the poor, the Church in Caravaggio’s times had become a money-making business. In not-so-subtle terms, each of Caravaggio’s paintings was a finger pointed toward the hypocrisy of having created a cult of wealth in Jesus’ name. As an artist, Caravaggio depended on the Church for commissions. As a man, he couldn’t seem to help but use his voice to challenge them in the public arena. Despite all this, Church authorities often turned to him for new commissions, since his talent was simply undeniable.

His relationship with the art establishment wasn’t any better. The fashion of the times was for art to present an idealized version of reality—clean, pretty, and non-controversial. But Caravaggio found this Disneyfied approach insulting to the brutal reality he had to deal with time and time again. Art—to him—should address the very fiber of life; not peddle some fairy tale that brings no comfort nor inspiration to anyone living in a world of flesh and blood. Caravaggio was allergic to bullshit, and couldn’t stomach the vacuous conventions of the art establishment.

Nietzsche once wrote, “Of all that is written, I only love what a man has written with his blood.” Nietzsche might as well have been speaking of Caravaggio, since he craved nothing but intensity—in his art and in his life. And so, each of his painting was an act of war against the academic bosses of the art world. Caravaggio assaulted their lies through brutally graphic realism. And they returned his hostility at every step of the way. The bureaucrats ruling the art establishment fumed with jealousy seeing crowds of people much more excited about Caravaggio’s work than about what they considered good art. As the French painter Poussin declared, “He came into the world to destroy painting.” Or as the art critic Gian Pietro Bellori stated, “Caravaggio has been most harmful and wrought havoc with every ornament and good tradition of painting.” But the more the elite hated him, the more the common people adored him. No painter of his day—and probably ever—was able to have such a magnetic effect on masses of people.

Caravaggio’s personal life was even wilder than his art. He was part of a gang equally dedicated to art and crime. Their common passions included painting, drinking in taverns, gambling, playing street tennis, enjoying the company of the ladies of the night, fighting, and defying the Papal police through a variety of criminal activities. In many ways, we can think of them as the late Renaissance equivalent of hip-hop crews. Tupac and Biggie would have been right at home in Caravaggio’s company. As Giles Lambert wrote about Caravaggio and his friends, “They provoked the Papal police, hung around with the many Roman women of easy virtue, drank excessively and frightened the bourgeoisie.”

His extracurricular activities eventually graduated to murder when, during a duel, Caravaggio killed a rival pimp named Ranuccio Tomassoni. With a price on his head, Caravaggio fled, managed to become a Knight of Malta, was again arrested for fighting, was expelled by the Knights of Malta, escaped from prison, and was at the center of so many other adventures that you’d be justified thinking they were fictional.

Speaking of fiction, I have finished the first of two historical fiction novels about Caravaggio’s life. I am beyond thrilled with how the first one came out. I’m less thrilled that the historical fiction market is currently not exactly receptive to this kind of work. A bunch of agents have been telling me they love my writing style and the story, but they have also told me these days historical fiction is more or less entirely dominated by romance novels set in the past. So, I’ll be weighing my options as I try to figure out a path forward. Caravaggio’s story is simply too wild not to explore.

In the meantime, if you are interested, please check out episodes 11 and 12 of History on Fire wherever you listen to podcasts. They are all about his life.