Lives of the Most Eminent Painters Sculptors and Architects, Vol. 01 (of 10): Cimabue to Agnolo Gaddi

The Story

The narrative begins with a long, deliberate reclamation. After the grandeur of the ancient world faded, the craft of painting and sculpture in Italy fell into a state of "barbarous" decline, defined by uncouth, puppet-like figures and a total loss of design. The opening movement of the book tracks the first stirrings of a revival. It centers on the transition from the stiff, stylized "Greek manner" to a burgeoning naturalism. Cimabue serves as the initial bridge; his work on the panel for S. Maria Novella, though still tethered to old habits, causes such a stir in Florence that the public carries it in procession, marking a cultural awakening that defines the city’s identity.

Following this, the focus shifts to the structural foundations of the era. Arnolfo di Lapo takes on the role of the great builder, engineering the massive Church of S. Croce and reorganizing the urban landscape of Florence. The narrative expands to include the Pisan masters, Niccola and Giovanni, who begin to look back at ancient sarcophagi and Roman remnants to inform their own work. They bring a new weight and gravity to their statues, effectively re-learning the "language" of three-dimensional form. This period is marked by a restless energy: artists move between cities—Rome, Pisa, Arezzo, and Florence—driven by the commissions of popes and local lords, turning the Italian landscape into a site of constant construction and refinement.

The middle section of the work reaches its center of gravity with the arrival of Giotto. He is portrayed not merely as a talented individual, but as the one who finally breaks the cycle of regression. By focusing on the "living and natural model" and applying scientific rigor to fresco technique—such as his specialized preparation of walls in the Campo Santo to combat the saline moisture—he elevates the painter from a mere craftsman to a master of narrative and perspective. His fame spreads through the praise of luminaries like Dante and Petrarch, establishing the artist as a man of intellectual standing. The narrative follows him from Florence to Padua and Milan, capturing a life defined by consistent excellence and a rejection of the superficial.

As the account moves toward the mid-fourteenth century, it examines the work of successors like the Gaddi family, Andrea Pisano, and the ill-fated Buffalmacco. The story becomes one of institutionalization; artistic schools emerge, and the technical vocabulary grows. Yet, it is also a story of struggle against material decay. We see the tragic, premature death of the melancholic Giottino, who cares for glory over gold, and the technical missteps of Buffalmacco, whose innovative use of purple ground eventually rots his own work, serving as a cautionary tale to future generations about the permanence of materials.

The volume concludes with the career of Agnolo Gaddi, tracking the maturation of the Florentine style. By this point, the "Greek manner" is a distant memory, replaced by a sophisticated, self-conscious practice. The arc of the volume is completed: from the primitive "puppets" of the opening to the expressive, anatomically aware figures of the late fourteenth century. The narrative does not leave the reader with a sense of finished perfection, but rather with a record of a continuous, living lineage of master-pupil relationships, where the standard of "design" is passed from hand to hand, ensuring that the hard-won lessons of the previous century are never entirely lost.

The People

• Cimabue: The pioneer who initiates the revival. He stands at the threshold of the modern, slowly shedding the rigid "Greek manner" in favor of greater design and emotional resonance, earning him the devotion of the Florentine public.
• Arnolfo di Lapo: The visionary architect who shapes the physical reality of Florence. He is characterized by his technical ingenuity, solving the structural puzzles of massive stone vaults and urban planning, and ultimately becoming a citizen of the city he helps define.
• Giotto: The central figure of the revival. He desires to move beyond the rote mimicry of the past, using scientific observation and a deep understanding of human movement to create works that his contemporaries view as nothing short of miraculous.
• Andrea Pisano: A master of bronze and marble who represents the recovery of the sculptural arts. He benefits from the study of ancient antiquities recovered by the Pisans, using them to bridge the gap between "uncouth" medieval forms and the grace of the classical tradition.
• Buonamico Buffalmacco: A brilliant but impulsive talent whose story provides a lesson in the dangers of artistic experimentation. His desire for superior color leads him to use unstable materials, ultimately illustrating that the artist’s legacy depends as much on chemistry and patience as it does on inspiration.

In Its Own Voice

When describing the transformation of artistic talent during the transition from the old ways to the new, the author captures the sudden shift in public perception:

Wherefore this work caused so great marvel to the people of that age, by reason of there not having been seen up to then anything better, that it was borne in most solemn procession from the house of Cimabue to the church, with much rejoicing and with trumpets, and he was thereby much rewarded and honoured.

Discussing the technical foresight of Giotto during his work in Pisa, the author highlights the practical, analytical mind required of the master:

And because he judiciously reflected that the marbles of that part of the building where he had to work were turned towards the sea, and that, all being saline marbles, they are ever damp by reason of the south-east winds and throw out a certain salt moisture, even as the bricks of Pisa do for the most part, and that therefore the colours and the paintings fade and corrode, he caused to be made over the whole surface where he wished to work in fresco... a coating, or in truth an intonaco.

Finally, the author reflects on the profound, almost transcendent nature of Giottino’s work, emphasizing that great art requires a soul that prizes legacy over wealth:

Wherefore this work is consummately worthy of praise, not so much by reason of the subject and of the invention, as because in it the craftsman has shown, in some heads that are weeping, that although the lineaments of those that are weeping are distorted in the brows, in the eyes, in the nose, and in the mouth, this, however, neither spoils nor alters a certain beauty which is wont to suffer much in weeping when the painters do not know well how to avail themselves of the good methods of art.

What It's Really About

At its core, this work is a history of the "recovery" of civilization through the lens of design. It operates on the premise that art is not a static quality but a faculty that can atrophy through neglect or flourish through the application of human reason. The text is obsessed with the concept of "design"—the disegno—which the author treats as the fundamental intellectual framework that governs all visual and structural creation, from the carving of a statue to the engineering of a cathedral roof.

There is a central argument running through these pages: that the decline of the arts was not a cultural choice but a technical and intellectual failure caused by the loss of the "living model." When the artists lost their connection to the natural world and the physical reality of the human form, they fell into the trap of repeating empty, formulaic patterns. The book asks a fundamental question: how does a culture rebuild its own memory after a period of ruin? The answer provided is a focus on biography. By documenting the specific innovations, technical breakthroughs, and even the character flaws of these individuals, the author posits that the progress of art is a cumulative, intergenerational effort.

The text also engages in a running debate about the relative nobility of the arts. The painters and sculptors are often pitted against one another in a contest of prestige, with the painters arguing that their art is the "mother" of all others because it requires the synthesis of history, perspective, and architecture. This is not mere academic posturing; it reflects the deep stakes of the professional identity being formed at the time. To be an artist in these pages is to be a public figure, someone who solves civic problems—like the flooding of the Po or the construction of city walls—as much as someone who paints a Madonna. The book is ultimately about the transformation of the artist from a nameless laborer into a named, celebrated, and morally significant member of the social order. It is a defense of the idea that an artist’s inner life and technical integrity are the primary drivers of cultural history.

Why Read It Today

Reading this volume is an exercise in seeing the world through the eyes of a chronicler who is intimately familiar with the textures of his subject. For the modern reader, the experience is akin to walking through the ruins of a great city with an expert guide who knows every brick and every crack. You will appreciate it if you have a love for historical foundations—the sense of how things were built, both literally and figuratively. The prose has a rhythmic, declarative quality that feels rooted in the period, and while its length and sometimes rigid structure demand patience, the reward is an unparalleled view of the birth of the Renaissance.

The greatest hurdle for a contemporary reader is the author’s period attitudes—his unquestioning loyalty to his own artistic tradition and his occasional dismissiveness toward the "Greek" or "barbarous" styles that preceded the revival. He writes with a distinct, confident bias that prizes technical naturalism above all else. You must be prepared to accept his subjective hierarchy of style; he does not attempt to be a neutral observer, but rather a partisan for the progress of Italian art.

However, the vividness of the character portraits stays with you long after you put the book down. You learn, for instance, of a painter who dies from consumption because he works too hard for too little pay, or the specific way a master manages a damp wall to save a fresco from salt. These are not merely dusty biographies; they are deeply human accounts of ambition, professional jealousy, and the desperate, noble desire to leave something permanent in a world that is constantly eroding. If you value the history of human craft and want to understand the lineage of the art you see in museums today, this volume offers a foundational, if demanding, entry point. It is not an easy read, but it is a profoundly grounding one.