Italy’s vibrant frescoes require good neck muscles

Stepping into the Scrovegni Chapel, my eyes immediately turned upward to the deep blue ceiling, scattered with gold stars, then travelled along the still-vibrant frescoed walls telling the Bible stories that Giotto had painted in the early 1300s.

The Scrovegni frescoes are, simply, stunning. A visual banquet of dynamic colours and emotional scenes.

I soon developed a crick in my neck. Frescoes in northern Italy all seem to be high on ceilings and walls, inside and out. But it’s worth strengthening your neck muscles for Giotto’s masterpiece – not only is the Scrovegni Chapel beautiful, but it also marked a turning point in art history. Giotto’s innovative frescoes signalled the end of stilted medieval styles and the start of the expressive Italian Renaissance.

Fresco means ‘fresh’ in Italian, and I knew that frescoes involved painting on fresh, still-wet plaster. But even though I had admired Michelangelo’s frescoed ceiling in the Sistine Chapel years before, I hadn’t learned much more about frescoes until we explored northern Italy. Padua’s Scrovegni Chapel – a UNESCO World Heritage Site – was indisputably the highlight. However, our fresco education didn’t start there. We began in the often-overlooked fresco museum in Verona (the city where we stayed for two weeks, doing day trips by train).

Fresco museum in Verona

The museum exhibited frescoes from medieval times to the 16^th century.

The Giovanni Battista Cavalcaselle Museum of Frescoes is housed in an old Franciscan monastery in Verona, just outside the historic core but well worth the short walk. Many museum visitors are likely more attracted by Juliet’s (fictional) tomb, also housed within the monastery, but the museum offers a (non-fictional) education in how frescoes are made.

We learned that frescoes once decorated most of Verona’s buildings, earning it the nickname of “the painted city.” Foreign travellers were struck by the richly decorated facades that ranged from simple sacred images to entire buildings covered in frescoes. The city would have looked quite different in the 14^th to 19^th centuries, before many of the frescoes were removed for preservation.

However, this foreign traveller (me!) was still impressed by the number of frescoes we saw on the outsides of buildings as we wandered around Verona.

The museum exhibited frescoes from medieval times to the 16^th century that had been detached from palaces, churches and other buildings in the 19^th and 20^th centuries to save and preserve them.

And it also explained the details of how frescoes are created.

Not just for walls: in 1364, Verona’s ruling Scaligeri family commissioned a series of frescoes (now in the fresco museum) to spiff up their mansion. In a long hall, the artist Alitchiero painted the undersides of arches with patterns and busts of various Roman emperors.   

Before the plaster or paints were mixed, the artist would sketch the scene on paper. Then he (let’s face it, most artists back then were male) would take a needle and create tiny holes along the main lines of the drawing, creating a way to transfer the image onto the plaster.

Then, the fresco creation began – a veritable lesson in chemistry and home renovations.

For a wall mural, at least two layers of plaster were required – each smoothed as much as possible. Picture modern drywall installations – mudding the seams between sheets of drywall takes a similar skill.

For frescoes, you first apply a rough underlayer of hydrated (aka slaked) lime and river sand. (If you want details on how to make hydrated lime, the museum supplied those too.) Then came the top layer, made of hydrated lime and very fine river sand, sometimes with powdered marble mixed in for an extra-smooth surface. (Two centuries after Giotto, Michelangelo mixed volcanic ash into his top layer.)

Before the fresh plaster dried, the artist got to work. First step was to transfer the preliminary sketch onto the wet plaster. He laid the paper on the plaster, then dabbed at the holes with a soft mesh bag of powdered charcoal. After peeling off the paper, voilà, there was a charcoal outline on the still-wet plaster.

Frescoes from a house in Verona showed the procession of Charles V and Clement VII on horseback in Bologna.

The artist began painting, using pigments made from minerals. As the plaster dried, a chemical reaction called calcium carbonatation happened, essentially meaning the paint became an integral part of the plaster. (This video gives an in-depth explanation of the chemical process.)

Apart from artistic abilities, fresco painting had two main challenges:

1. Artists had to paint quickly, before the plaster dried in 10 to 12 hours. They usually began after an hour and worked until two hours before the plaster dried, giving them seven to nine hours of working time. The quality of frescoes improved in the 14^th century after artists began plastering just the area they expected to paint in a day, such as a single figure.
2. Artists couldn’t correct mistakes. Unlike painting on canvas or a dry wall, you can’t paint over a fresco to correct a mistake. Once the plaster was dry, artists could touch up mistakes or add colours whose pigments didn’t work well with fresh plaster, such as deep blue. However, that so-called “dry fresco” technique did not last nearly as long.  

Like a good marriage, the paint and wet plaster become one, so frescoes last a long, long time, even outside. However, floods, renovations and building demolition have taken their toll, hence the need to perfect the art of fresco removal.

After the devastating flood of 1882 in Verona, the Palazzo Fiorio della Seta along the Adige River was demolished to make way for tall embankments to prevent future flooding. Beforehand, though, the 16^th-century frescoes were detached and protected in the Civic Art Gallery. Models in the fresco museum show what the building had looked like in its heyday.

You wouldn’t think it’d be easy to remove a fresco – not when the paint has fused with the plaster. But various techniques have been used over the centuries. The museum outlined three:

• The most basic technique was to chisel off a chunk of wall with the fresco atop.
• A 19^th-century technique involved removing just the paint and plaster layers. Using two layers of cloth, the fresco was transferred to a piece of wood or aluminum.
• A similar technique involved removing just the paint layer. It’s more complicated and bears more risk of losing the fresco. However, that technique allows people to see the charcoal drawing underneath, which interests those who are curious about an artist’s methods and initial vision.

This background information made our day trip from Verona to Padua, to see the Scrovegni Chapel, even more illuminating.

Scrovegni Chapel in Padua

The Scrovegni Chapel has fairly plain brick on the outside, but oh, how splendid inside.

The Scrovegni Chapel – my favourite fresco experience – was much more intimate than the Vatican’s Sistine Chapel, where noisy crowds jostled everyone, guards had to constantly shush people, and the lack of respect for a religious place annoyed me. 

Scrovegni visits are short, intense, and strictly timed, not just to get as many people through as possible, but also to control the chapel’s temperature and humidity. Condensation and damp, along with air pollution and salt bloom, threaten fresco longevity.

Right on the stroke of our timed-entry ticket, 10:30 a.m., we entered a small new room beside the chapel to watch a video about its history. The room also functioned as an airlock – letting the temperature and humidity settle down before we were ushered inside the chapel.

The eager group quieted as we stepped inside, tilted our heads back, and beheld the richness, the wonder, the almost overwhelming artistry of Giotto di Bondone.

We pointed and whispered to each other. “Look at this… Look at that…”

From 1303 to 1305, Giotto and 40 helpers created the 38 panels that tell the stories of Mary’s and Jesus’ lives, from birth to death, and gave us a glimpse of what happens in Hell if you don’t behave.

Enrico Scrovegni commissioned Giotto to fresco the chapel in memory of his father, Reginaldo, who was accused of usury and would thus not go to heaven. Penitent Enrico was trying to prevent that same end for himself.     

Giotto’s work marked a turning point in art history, with changes in depth perception, inclusion of nature, and emotions shown. The kiss between Joachim and Anne (Mary’s parents) was the first depicted in Western art, as was the tenderness on Mary’s face as she gazed upon her new baby. Angels show anguish as Jesus’ followers take him down from the cross.  

The Scrovegni frescoes show scenes from Mary’s and Jesus’ life, including his crucifixion, Judas’ kiss, removal from the cross, slaughter of the innocents, and adoration of the magi. Enrico Scrovegni is entombed in the chapel (behind the three statues).

The trees aren’t terribly realistic but the fact that they’re included was unique for the 1300s; likewise for the animals. It’s hard for us to wrap our minds, now, around how much that was a revolutionary step. For example, the scene with Joachim and the shepherds shows several trees, a flock of sheep and a dog playfully jumping at him. Other scenes show goats, more sheep, two donkeys, a pig and camels.

Giotto also included real-life, rather than holy, background details: boys climbing olive trees, a pot-bellied partyer guzzling wine, crowd members covering their noses at the smell of Lazarus’ previously dead body, and a sheep licking her lamb. When the magi present their gifts to Jesus, a comet streaks by overhead, standing in for the Star of Bethlehem. Giotto had probably seen Halley’s Comet in 1301.   

I got a crick in my neck from looking up high, especially at the deep blue ceiling. Azurite blue couldn’t be used on wet plaster because it turned green when mixed with water. So, it was painted on once the plaster dried. That’s why the sky and Mary’s blue robes look blotchy in many scenes. However, overall, the frescoes are in remarkably good shape.     

It’s hard to overstate the impact Giotto had on Italian painting. Born about the year 1267, his innovations in the late 1200s and early 1300s ensured he was the most famous painter in Italy by the time he arrived in Padua. And two hundred years later, Michelangelo studied Giotto’s work.

I loved it all. Fifteen minutes in the chapel was just barely long enough. I’d see it again.

Other frescoes in Padua

In Padua’s Basilica of St. Anthony, the walls and ceiling in the Chapel of the Blessed Luke are covered with frescoes by Giusto de Menabuoi, a 14^th-century painter from Florence.

After the Scrovegni Chapel, we explored Padua and found more frescoes, especially in the mighty Basilica of St. Anthony. Giotto painted frescoes there and in several other Padua buildings (all UNESCO World Heritage Sites), but sadly, most of them are lost.

However, Giotto’s work was so sensational that other artists followed in his footsteps, learning his methods and painting frescoes in his style. Although fresco painting had been around since antiquity, the technique blossomed in the late medieval and Renaissance periods, especially in Italy. Not only were frescoes decorative, but also they were educational – telling Bible stories and conveying images of heaven and hell to the illiterate masses so they could behave accordingly. That’s why they were especially used in churches.

In the Basilica, we admired 13^th– and 14^th-century frescoes in several side chapels, craning our necks to take in the paintings between ribs of the pointed arches. (But I must admit, our attention was drawn more by St. Anthony’s eerie relics – his blessed tongue, jaw, and vocal cords, as well as his habit and coffin.)

Frescoes in the curving staircase of honour were painted in 1941.

Fresco painting declined as oil painting became more popular in the 16^th century. In modern times, frescoists are thin on the ground. In 1920, Mexican painter Diego Rivera travelled to Italy and learned the technique, later painting huge, frescoed murals in Mexico and the United States. Like Giotto, he innovated, creating frescoes that were moveable.

We stumbled quite by accident upon modern frescoes in Padua University. We had not booked a university tour (a mistake) but discovered we could wander freely in some areas. Past some enormous bronze doors, we found ourselves in the Heroes Entrance to the Palazzo del Bo. We came to a standstill at the frescoed staircase of honour called the Scala del Sapere [Ladder of Knowledge].

Gio Ponti painted the frescoes in 1941 to celebrate knowledge. An information panel told us the frescoes “represent the birth of humanity and knowledge and the development of the sciences through which the student ascends under the teacher’s guidance.” Students gain knowledge as they ascend the stairs.  

(We must return to Padua University for a full tour. Galileo taught there for 18 years (1592 to 1610) and there’s a marvellous anatomy theatre. We did find the statue of Elena Lucrezia Cornaro Piscopia, the first woman in the world to graduate from university; she received her degree in philosophy in 1678.)

Frescoes in Verona

Verona’s buildings have many frescoes up high, under the eaves of medieval buildings. The frescoes on the right illustrate a butcher’s business.

After experiencing the Scrovegni Chapel and the museum of frescoes, we cruised Verona’s streets spotting frescoes everywhere. Of course, many are up high, causing us cricked necks again. Under the eaves of buildings that surely dated to the 13^th century, we found saints and goddesses and flowers overflowing from urns. Often, frescoes illustrated the business that took place in that building. A butcher, for examples, had a series of scenes about slaughtering animals.

The Castelvecchio museum exhibited some frescoes, including one of armoured knights and horses attacking a castle.

The Castelvecchio museum had several frescoes that had been removed from their original walls for safekeeping.

Churches, however, overflowed with the paint-and-plaster scenes. My favourite was the Church of San Fermo, especially the calm, quiet and cool lower church. Its forest of columns (which support the upper church) is decorated with about 70 frescoes painted by anonymous artists who trained on site. Based on their painting styles, several of the artists are known as Maestro del Redentore, First Maestro of San Zeno and Second Maestro of San Zeno.  

A scene of Christ’s baptism and another of Mary breastfeeding her son are amongst the oldest, probably by the same artist who lived in the mid-12^th century. Other frescoes helped those without Bibles (or the ability to read them) learn about St. Jerome, St. Christopher, St. Peter, the Archangel Gabriel, and, of course, St. Fermo.

In the upper church, I was intrigued by the frescoed ceiling that showed a winged bull with a book. You don’t often see bovines depicted in religious art. But a bit of Google activity revealed that the winged ox symbolizes St. Luke. The other three evangelists’ symbols – also on the ceiling – are the winged lion (St. Mark), rising eagle (St. John), and divine man (St. Matthew). Maestro del Redentore painted the symbols from 1314 to 1320.

The columns in San Fermo’s lower church are painted with 70 frescoes.

In San Fermo’s upper church, the unusual, winged bovine drew my attention.

The most famous fresco in the Basilica of Santa Anastasia, depicting St. George and the Princess, was painted about 1433 to 1438 by Antonio Pisano, aka Pisanello. Just before charging off to slay the dragon, St. George takes a break to chat with the princess, with one foot in his stirrup. The fresco is finely detailed – at least that’s what the description said. The fresco itself was so high up that I could barely see it, never mind get a good photo of it.  

Across Verona, at the Basilica of San Zeno, we found a frescoed St. George again, this time in the midst of slaying the dragon at a height more easily conducive to photography without a drone. The Second Master of San Zeno painted George astride his dappled horse, thrusting his spear straight into the dragon’s mouth while the princess watches, not even stepping aside in case the dragon thrashes about during death throes. She’s brave.

The Basilica of San Zeno is lined with frescoes from the 12^th to the 14^th century by often-unknown artists, many in the style of Giotto.

Just below George and the unnamed princess, the hermits Benigno and Caro transport St. Zeno’s remains. The most interesting parts of this fresco were the numerous words carved right into the Second Master’s artwork. This medieval graffiti – apparently done by monks and travellers – marked local events, including wars, earthquakes, floods and plagues. Several were dated 1390.    

The basilica walls were lined with mural-sized frescoes, some showing the layers of previous frescoes beneath. To paint over an existing fresco, the artist must first rough it up, so the new layer of plaster sticks better. Apparently, some artists had never read that tip on Wikipedia, like I did, because their new(er) frescoes had peeled away.  

Frescoes in Bologna

The Chapel of the Magi in Bologna’s Basilica of San Petronio boasts magnificent frescoes that show Giotto’s influence.

Bologna, known as the food-lovers’ city in the food-lovers’ country of Italy, also boasted some magnificent frescoes, one of which showed the devil devouring sinners. That was in the Chapel of the Magi within the Basilica of San Petronio, the largest and most important church in Bologna.

Frescoed by Giovanni da Modena in about 1410, the chapel showed scenes of heaven and hell that clearly displayed Giotto’s influence. Painted a hundred years after the Scrovegni Chapel, the ceiling was blue with gold stars and one huge wall depicted the same vision of hell: tortured humans weep and wail while the devil-monster munches on sinners and spews them out. Both scenes reminded me of the Bosch paintings, created in the 1500s, that we’d seen in the Netherlands.

The chapel’s other wall, showing the three wise men paying their respects to Jesus, illustrated Giotto’s influence with the rocks and animals, but Giovanni did not excel when it came to capturing emotional angst on the people’s faces. Giotto remained the master.     

Bologna’s historic porticos also featured frescos – another reason to look up, but at the same time watch where you’re walking!

Bologna has the most porticos of any city in Italy – 62 kilometres in total, including 42 kilometres within in the historic core. While some of the portico ceilings are plain, many featured beautiful frescoes. Bologna’s elegant porticoes became a UNESCO World Heritage Site in July 2021. Not only are they beautiful, but also they’re practical: they shield pedestrians from the hot sun and rain, and offer shelter for those sipping cappuccinos in cafés.

We spent a rainy morning in Bologna, so automatically carried our umbrellas; we needn’t have bothered. But again, my neck was strained from looking up at the pretty portico ceilings.

Certainly, there are countless other places in Italy and Europe to enjoy frescoes. But northern Italy was a beautiful place to get started.

We learned about frescoes in Verona, Padua and Bologna in May-June 2024. Find out where we are right now by visiting our ‘Where’s Kathryn?’ page.