Lotto Result: National Gallery Hits the Jackpot

Lorenzo Lotto: With a name like that he should have been one of life's winners. But no -- "Art did not earn me what I spent," he wrote in his will. There was no justice, then, in Renaissance Italy, because Lorenzo Lotto Portraits at London's National Gallery shows him to have been an insightful, inventive and hugely skilled painter. This is a smallish but excellent exhibition, and what's more, there's no admission charge.

Lotto's not a big name, so let's start off with a little potted biography. Born in Venice in about 1480, he travelled widely and worked in various parts of Italy, notably in Treviso and Bergamo, in the first quarter of the 16th century before returning to his home city. He concentrated on portraits and religious works and finally retired in 1552 to become a lay brother in Loreto in the Marche, dying a few years later. His work was neglected for several hundred years before starting to be reappreciated at the end of the 19th century.

Writing in 1895, the art historian Bernard Berenson described Lotto as the first modern portraitist, because he was interested in reflecting his sitters' state of mind. And what we see in his work throughout this exhibition are real people, with whom the artist appears to have a lot of empathy. Despite the distance in time, they still step out beyond the frame.

We start off, though, with an early work that appears a little more stylised. This Portrait of a Young Man from about 1500 fits in with contemporary ideals of youthful beauty. There's a combination of precision and otherworldly distance in this portrayal. But is that just dreaminess or a certain arrogance in the young man's eyes?

Five years or so later and it's realism all the way for Lotto, in his depiction of Bishop Bernardo de' Rossi of Treviso. This really is the original warts-and-all portrait, isn't it, with the artist unafraid to reproduce every blemish on the prelate's face and neck? Don't miss the interesting portrait cover alongside, a rare survival that's carefully described and defined.

There's a whole room devoted to Lotto's time in Bergamo, where we see him portraying not so much members of the elite as people from the upper middle class. There's much use of symbolism, as in this Portrait of a Married Couple. The squirrel asleep on the table, to which the husband points, stands for constancy, the lapdog for fidelity. The piece of paper with a Latin inscription in the husband's other hand emphasises the message, while outside the window a harsh wind lashes the trees.

There's another married, or in-the-process-of-being-married, couple in the shape of Messer Marsilio Cassotti and his Wife Faustina. Marsilio is marrying up into a posher family, and Cupid is bringing the couple together with a rather cheeky smile towards the groom. Faustina's gold pendant is a butterfly chrysalis, symbolising the physical perfection of their future offspring.

Back in Venice, Lotto continued to make use of the horizontal format he'd employed for such double portraits, though his work became just a bit more serious, perhaps a bit less exuberant. In the Portrait of a Woman Inspired by Lucretia, he paints a woman dressed gorgeously in orange and green, holding a drawing of the Roman heroine Lucretia, who killed herself after being raped. An empty chair beside her suggests her husband is absent. The sitter, Lotto suggests, is, like Lucretia, in control of her own destiny.

Meanwhile, Lotto portrays the wealthy Venetian official Andrea Odoni surrounded by the classical works of art he loved to collect. Odoni holds a antique statuette out to us, but at the same time, he fingers the cross he's wearing around his neck, maybe reassuring his contemporaries that, even amid all these pagan gods, he retains his Christian faith.

Lotto's later work became more intense, the colours more restrained. But it remained just as insightful. The Portrait of a Man with a Felt Hat shows an individual who's perhaps a step down socially from Lotto's usual clientele, though he's probably wearing his best clothes here. His hair slightly tousled, he seems to be a little shy, or a little ill at ease at having his portrait taken.

Lotto seems to have been constantly short of money. He painted his landlord in Venice, Giovanni della Volta with his Wife and Children, in part payment of the rent. Mrs della Volta may have worn the trousers: She's sitting where the man would normally be, on the left. In Ancona in 1550, Lotto staged a public lottery of his paintings and drawings. Only seven out of 46 sold. He seems, not surprisingly, to have suffered from depression.

A really wonderful show, this, enlivened by objects including jewellery, a carpet and a red dress like those depicted by Lotto in his paintings. And it's free! 

Practicalities

Lorenzo Lotto Portraits continues at the National Gallery in central London until February 10. It's open daily from 1000 to 1800, with lates on Fridays to 2100. There's no admission charge (we may have mentioned that already). The gallery is on the north side of Trafalgar Square, just a couple of minutes from Charing Cross or Leicester Square stations on the rail and Underground networks.

Images

Lorenzo Lotto, Portrait of a Young Man, about 1500, Accademia Carrara, Bergamo. © Fondazione Accademia Carrara, Bergamo
Lorenzo Lotto, Bishop Bernardo de' Rossi, 1505, Museo e Bosco Reale di Capodimonte, Naples. © Ministero per i Beni e le attività culturali e del turismo/Fototeca del Polo Museale della Campania
Lorenzo Lotto, Portrait of a Married Couple, 1523-24, State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg. © The State Hermitage Museum, 2017/Photo: Vladimir Terebenin
Lorenzo Lotto, Messer Marsilio Cassotti and his Wife Faustina, 1523, Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid. © Museo Nacional del Prado
Lorenzo Lotto, Portrait of Andrea Odoni, 1527, Lent by Her Majesty the Queen, Royal Collection Trust. © Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2018
Lorenzo Lotto, Portrait of a Man with a Felt Hat, about 1541, National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa. © 2018 National Gallery of Canada