Concise, critical reviews of books, exhibitions, and projects in all areas and periods of art history and visual studies
January 2, 2014
Kristin B. Aavitsland Imagining the Human Condition in Medieval Rome: The Cistercian Fresco Cycle at Abbazia delle Tre Fontane Burlington: Ashgate, 2012. 300 pp.; 14 color ills.; 100 b/w ills. Cloth $124.95 (9781409438182)
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Kristin B. Aavitsland’s Imagining the Human Condition in Medieval Rome examines a cycle of late thirteenth-century frescoes discovered in 1965 at the Cistercian abbey of Tre Fontane outside Rome. Found on the outside of the eastern wall of a medieval dormitory, at the time used as a terrace, the cycle was in poor condition. Their discovery was a revelation, countering the prevalent idea that the iconoclastic Cistercians eschewed figural imagery. The cycle is in fact the earliest known figural monumental decoration in a Cistercian setting. During a restoration in 1970–71, the frescoes were mounted on canvas and moved, which left them barely decipherable. This unfortunate condition partly explains their scholarly neglect, and Aavitsland’s study represents the first thorough analysis of their context and iconography.

The cycle comprises nine scenes framed in ogival arches. The seemingly eclectic assemblage of scenes includes the Labors of Adam and Eve, the Man in the Tree of Life, Two Eagles, A Fisherman, the Wheel of Senses, the Ages of Man, the Harvest of Fruit in the Garden of Life, a Putto and a Birdcage, and Two Birdcages. Scholars have traditionally seen this cycle as a diverse collection of imagery allegorizing the Vita Humana, or human life, but Aavitsland argues that the cycle is best understood when read as a whole and in the context of Roman and Cistercian concepts of identity.

Aavitsland begins by establishing that context, first through analysis of the architectural setting of the frescoes, concluding (as others have previously) that the paintings originally adorned the private quarters of the abbot. She then devotes a chapter to the Roman and Cistercian intellectual climate at the end of the thirteenth century, an atmosphere highly influenced by mendicant spirituality and the idea that images could serve as mnemonic and learning devices. In this way she explains the frescoes’ existence within Cistercian spirituality, paving the way for analysis of the cycle. As is true of the entire volume, this section is meticulously researched, and will be of use to scholars interested in monastic reform more generally.

What follows is an equally detailed examination of each of the nine scenes. The iconographic analysis includes a plethora of comparative material drawn from a wide geographic and chronological spectrum of medieval art. She even occasionally cites examples of medieval Norwegian material virtually unknown to most medievalists. Aavitsland explains such an approach by the fact that many of these motifs are rare, particularly in Italian painting of the time. Her methodology is refreshing in light of the fact that studies of Italian art tend to be very narrowly focused geographically and too often ignore the wider context. Looking outward here is particularly fitting also because of the international nature of the Cistercian order.

Aavitsland’s thorough focus on each of the scenes offers scholars interested in a particular motif a handy resource. Her discussion of motifs such as the Man in the Tree of Life, for example, brings together a wide variety of visual and textual sources on the subject. What may be missing amid all of this research is a consistent and dynamic connection of such material back to Tre Fontane. Aavitsland sometimes seems to get caught up in the general discussion of a motif, some aspects of which could be footnoted in order to direct her argument back to the abbey.

What she does successfully is situate each motif in its Cistercian context. For example, she notes that the image of Adam and Eve working, the first image in the cycle, is unusual because Eve is seated on a throne and not, in fact, working at all. More often found in a religious context amid narrative scenes from Genesis, here the story celebrates the Cistercian value of manual labor. Aavitsland convincingly compares this appropriation of the story to civic painting of the period, as in the Palazzo di Priori in Perugia, where a similar image likewise heralds labor as an essential aspect of ideal government.

She views this and the other images of the cycle as rhetorical exempla, which, brought together, can be considered a visual florilegium, that is, a collection of edifying and exemplary images analogous to textual compilations of the period. The underlying theme of the cycle, as had been established in earlier scholarship, remains the Vita Humana, but Aavitsland sees it as part of Cistercian strategies for learning and memorizing key ideas relevant to the Christian life. Her idea is compelling, but she devotes only a few pages to it in her brief conclusion. One never wants to complain about too much research, but Aavitsland’s book might have benefited from some streamlining, allowing for fuller treatment of the overall function and meaning of the cycle. More attention could have been paid to the audience for such a work. Aavitsland notes here and there that these images were designed to provoke a “chain reaction” of ideas and associations in their viewers, widening the scope of their potential meaning. This is a fascinating idea that resonates with current trends in medieval art history, and could be expanded.

Overall, Aavitsland’s book is a tremendous contribution to the understudied subject of painting in medieval Rome. Ashgate is to be commended for this addition to their list of excellent recent titles exploring medieval Italy. The volume is well illustrated, with the considerable comparative material reproduced in black and white and all of the frescoes published in good quality color plates. The images of the frescoes reveal their damaged condition, making one wistfully ponder the great losses of Rome’s medieval painting tradition at Old Saint Peter’s, San Paolo Fuori le Mura, and elsewhere. But thanks to Aavitsland, the Tre Fontane cycle is now somewhat recovered via a new, deeper understanding of its imagery and meaning.

Holly Flora
Tulane University