A Girl Reading: Simone Martini’s Annunciation

Nearly 800 years ago, in the 13th century, the Italian city state of Siena was under threat of attack by its powerful neighbour, the city of Florence. The Florentines intended to take Siena by force, to extend their territories and wealth. Florence had an army of 35,000 men; Siena and its allies could only muster 20,000. Defeat looked inevitable. 

Out of desperation, the Mayor of Siena led a procession of the city’s people to the doors of the cathedral, penitent and barefooted. The Mayor prostrated himself in front of the high altar, before of the icon of the Virgin Mary. He approached it saying, “I, most miserable and unfaithful of sinners, give to you, the Virgin Mary, this city of Siena and all its surrounding lands. And as a sign of this, I place the keys of the city on this altar”.

When he had done that, he begged the Virgin to protect and guard Siena, and all its people, from the “evil dogs,” the Florentines.

The next day, on 4th September 1260, at the battle of Montaperti, the Sienese unexpectedly crushed Florence’s army, killing 10,000 of them. This victory was so was great, it is still remembered in modern day Siena, and the Virgin Mary is still venerated as the city’s principle protector.

So it is hardly surprising that Siena dedicated some of its most exquisite works of art to their patron, the Virgin. One of these was the Annunciation, painted right at the beginning of the Renaissance, by Simone Martini. It was commissioned by the cathedral for a new altarpiece.

In the painting you have, on the left, the angel Gabriel appearing in ethereal light, depicted in gold leaf, before the young maiden, Mary – who seems to withdraw from him, out of surprise, out of fear of the news he is bringing, out of the disorienting brightness in the room. This is the moment she is told that through the Holy Spirit, she will conceive, and be the mother of Jesus Christ.

It’s an Annunciation. So what? We have seen hundreds of Annunciations, thousands of them. There are in fact so many, that our 21st century eyes simply cannot appreciate what is special about this painting. And believe me, it is very special. 

This painting is Star Wars. It’s not even Star Wars – it’s moving pictures with sound. It’s the Beatles. It’s Hamlet. It’s Mozart. This painting is nothing short genius and it changed everything which came afterwards.

Why is this? Well, part of it is, I think, its deceptive simplicity, its restraint which was way ahead of its time. If you look at other mediaeval panels and frescos in comparison, they tend to be crammed with details; you have saints and angels jostling for space and lots of showy embellishments. These artworks are impressive, but they do much too much, they overwhelm the viewer with their complexity. Compare them with Simone’s elegant composition, which is simplicity itself. Two figures, the Angel and the Virgin occupy the main space. It couldn’t be clearer that these are the stars of the show.

And of these two people, who is the most important? Who do you look at? Intuitively, we don’t look at the angel too closely, because we don’t really want to.  The angel is in gold and therefore too similar to the gold background. Our eye is drawn irresistibly, magnetically, to the person who is different, the person who stands out, by virtue of the deep rich dark blue mantle she is wearing; it’s the blue of a night sky, against a backdrop of shimmering, glowing, yellow. She would have looked amazing when elevated on a cathedral altar, bathed in candlelight.

And Mary has a real face, at a time when mediaeval artists didn’t really make what we call portraits. Observing nature and conveying a likeness of a specific face were not skills they really had back in those days. But Simone’s Mary is clearly a person, with the individual and distinctive features of a person. She’s pretty, in a natural and believable way.

But what makes this painting so remarkable is what Mary is doing in it. She is physically reacting to the news. She is showing her emotions on hearing it. Other Marys, in other Annunciations before this (and even after it), do not react the way she does. Other Marys gaze idiotically into the middle distance, looking pious. They acquiesce obediently, gratefully. Like a rock star’s groupie, the Marys in other portraits are pleased to be chosen.

Not so with Simone’s Mary.

She is recoiling. She shields herself from the vision and the message. Her expression is one dismay – or worse – she is actively scowling towards the angel. In the modern world, we would say she has hostile body language. This is a picture of a young woman whose life is about to change in ways she can’t possibly image. She is totally unprepared and in a state of shock.

And yet you also have a very touching additional detail: she has been interrupted during her reading and so she has marked the page of her book with her thumb, presumably so she can pick up where she left off, after the angel has disappeared. Perhaps this is the real reason for her displeasure? Perhaps what she’s really thinking is, “Get lost you frigging angel, can’t you see I’m busy?”

What would the citizens of mediaeval Siena have made of it? We can only guess.

This painting was visionary in its composition, had graphic boldness way ahead of its time, and narrative realism. It doesn’t just illustrate the story of the annunciation; it tells a full, nuanced, dramatic version of it.
It’s a beautiful painting. It still exists. And if you are able to, I urge you to go and see it one day. It’s hanging right now in the Uffizi gallery which is in – Florence. This jewel of Siena hangs in the city of their sworn enemies. The people of mediaeval Siena would not have been impressed.