Is the $450 million picture a Leonardo, or not?
The most expensive art work at auction, Leonardo da Vinci’s Salvator Mundi, which on November 15 was sold at Christie’s for $450 million, has also become one of the most controversial art works in recent memory. Reason: many art critics and art historians believe it is not a “real” Leonardo. For decades, this painting was believed to be a work (or a copy of a Leonardo original) by Leonardo’s pupil and associate, Boltraffio. That is why it was sold for less than $100 back in 1958. So how did we get from $100 to $450 million? What’s going on here? Is this a Leonardo, or not?
Few people realize that the problem with that question is that it is the wrong question to ask. What is shows is that these critics and experts are bringing a 21st century mindset to a 16th century problem. The reason is that our modern age glorifies the individual artist, the maverick-genius, who single-handedly creates a work of art. But in the Renaissance, and certainly in Leonardo’s studio, those rules did not apply. The boundaries between master and assistant were always ambiguous. Very often, Leonardo would create the principal under-drawing — or the “cartoon” — and then rely on his most talented pupils to do most of the painting, after which Leonardo would provide the finishing touch. That is why it is sometimes very difficult to determine where Leonardo’s hand ended and that of his pupils began.
The second problem is that very often, Leonardo did not complete his paintings because his attention was drawn to other pursuits, such as the dissection of corpses for his anatomical studies, or the study of birds and flight. It would then be left for others — his pupils, or later artists — to finish what the master had started. And finally, excessive varnishing and poor attempts at restoration can further obscure what Leonardo’s original vision may have been. That is why, for example, some 80% of the Last Supper fresco in Milan is no longer visible.
So is the Salvator Mundi an autograph work? The real answer is yes, and no. Certainly, the treatment of the face harks back to Christ of the Last Supper, while the delicate curls and highlights of the hair, and the intertwined motif on the border of Jesus’ vestments, are reminiscent of the Mona Lisa. It is also conceivable that this portrait of “Christ as Savior of the World” was painted in response to Isabelle d’Este’s request for “a portrait of Jesus as a young man,” although Isabella was talking about the scene of Jesus disputing with the scholars in the Temple. If that is true, then the most probable date of this work is between 1501 and 1504, just before Leonardo was commissioned to paint the Mona Lisa.
But there are problems with the Salvator Mundi. The expression of Christ is unusually flat, while the eyes are dull and devoid of any “motions of the mind,” the psychological depth that Leonardo so successfully explored in his previous portraits from the Milan period — including the marvelous portrayal of the Apostles in their moment of shock and dismay in the Last Supper. The frontal pose of Christ is unusual as well; we would expect to see Leonardo’s penchant for placing his figures in contrapposto: the turning of the head, chest and limbs in opposite directions from its central axis, so as to suggest movement. It is true that this frontal posture was a common motif in Italian medieval art, inspired by the centuries-old Byzantine tradition of Christ Pantokrator. The pose of the Salvator Mundi by Antonello da Messina of 1465, for example, is almost identical. But if there is one thing we know about Leonardo, is that he usually eschews such traditional motifs, in search of something new and innovative.
So in the end, the Salvator Mundi remains a question mark. That it is certainly a product of Leonardo’s studio is attested by a copy of this work by Leonardo’s close companion and pupil, Salaì. Here, Christ’s gaze is clear and penetrating, just as the sfumato of the face is rendered with great skill. The only major difference with the original Salvator Mundi is the absence of the right hand, raised in blessing, and the left hand holding a glass orb. Salaì may have omitted these details in order to concentrate more closely on the beauty of the face itself, thus enhancing its devotional quality.
Perhaps, then, the Salvator Mundi sold at Christie’s could be the victim of excessive overpainting in later centuries? That would certainly be one explanation — though it would not explain why anyone would want to pay nearly half a billion for what is clearly a very damaged Leonardo. Skillful marketing by Christie’s perhaps? Or is this the product of our ongoing fascination with Leonardo’s unfathomable mystique?
That is the subject of our next book, Leonardo’s Legacy, coming out next year. So stay tuned!
