Infrared reflectography: intersecting art and science to reveal secrets of the Renaissance
Words by Evie Brett
Within the canon of art history, the aura that the great masters of the Renaissance emanate is undeniable. That edge of intangible talent and renown, that verges on mystery, is a quality that drives a certain distance between the human viewer and the almost hagiographic reputations of artists like Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo and Raphael, to name a few. But what happens when that veil is stripped, and the mortal parading as mythic genius is revealed for all to see?
In recent years, technology has borne witness to the emergence of infrared reflectography, a technique that makes use of infrared radiation to penetrate below the surface of paintings and render visible their compositional layers and preparatory sketches, meaning that as each layer of the artwork is revealed, we too are able to peel away the layers that formulate the construction of the artist as an auratic and mythic genius. This intersection of art and science, therefore, allows one to reach a level of intimacy with the artist that until now has never been possible. By interrogating the making process of so-called masterpieces of realism, the perfectionism of each artist can be called into question. Yet rather than being an avenue for pessimism and the degradation of well-loved artistic individuals, infrared reflectography instead provides an opportunity whereby the figure of the artist can be treated with more humility, being seen as a person capable of mistakes, whose craft marks an evolutionary progression, requiring modifications and adjustments along the way, rather than just a brand that creates a perfect and formulaic representation every time and is enshrined within the status of celebrity. Thus, the emergence of this scientific technology bridges the gap between the viewer and the painter, allowing for the venerated idea of the artist to be translated into more relatable, humanistic terms. Whereby layer by layer, the true selfhood of the artist can be revealed, and one is able to gain a deeper understanding of what truly, in both a physical and emotional sense, goes into creating such works.
With this in mind then, there seems no better place to start than at the heart of the painting itself: the underdrawing. In the world of art conservation, the use of radiation in order to inspect the pentimenti of works (the layers of paint created by the artist to cover over preliminary sketches and to modify previously painted sections), has been employed since the 1960s. J.R.J van Asperen de Boer first proposed the technique, using the near-infrared range of 0.7 to 2.5 nm to render both the paint’s pigments and underlayment visible.
During the Renaissance, many artists of the time used the technique of ‘spolvero’ in order to construct a preliminary sketch. Here, an initial design would be drawn on paper, the lines of which were then pricked with a series of pin holes until the entire sheet was held up to a canvas and pressed with a mixture of ground, powdered black chalk in order to leave a faint, dotted outline of the image underneath. Evidence for this technique is clearly seen via infrared technology, whereby the black carbon of the chalk absorbs the rays after they pass through the pigments and are reflected back by the ground layer of white gesso (Figures 1-2). Not only can the pounced underdrawing be seen via this technique, but so can the pentimenti, which often functions as proof of authenticity, for an imitator doesn’t seek to change the composition, whereas an artist has the creative licence to change as many details as they wish.
Specifically, Leonardo da Vinci’s ‘Virgin of the Rocks’ (1483-1485) provides an excellent demonstration of infrared radiation’s ability to reveal the personhood imbued within the legend of the artist as a mythic, auratic genius. Specifically, Leonardo da Vinci’s ‘Virgin of the Rocks’ (1483-1485) provides an excellent demonstration of infrared radiation’s ability to reveal the personhood imbued within the legend of the artist as a mythic, auratic genius. Only through the use of an infrared radiation detector can the preliminary line drawing of a hand be seen to rest below the mouth of the Virgin, hidden beneath numerous pentimenti. Hence, the very human qualities of Leonardo are revealed, seemingly meaning that we can recognise artists of the Renaissance to be ‘just like us’, they too were humans who made mistakes, changed their minds and were self-critical. Being able to see these alterations in literal black and white terms, confronts the idea that these individuals were perfect prodigies. Indeed, of course, their talent is immeasurable and still very much possesses qualities of mystic and transcendentalism. Yet seeing the evolutionary, and indeed very human, process of such renown and accoladed work does make strides to remind us all that these people were in fact just that, real figures who did not magic masterpieces out of thin air but persisted through trial and error to achieve their desired result. Thus, modern innovations can and do indeed help us to make sense of antiquity, adding much-needed nuance to the discussion around the ‘great masters’ and the concept of the artist as genius.