Leonardo's Incessant Last Supper. (Reviews).

Leo Steinberg. Leonardo's Incessant Last Supper 

New York: Zone Books, 2001. 318 pp. $43. ISBN: 1-890951-18-8.

Leo Steinberg's new book, Leonardo's Incessant Last Supper, is a revised version of a lengthy and important article that originally appeared in The Art Journal in 1973. Now, after close co thirty years, Steinberg takes the opportunity to refine and to expand his original argument, taking into account a good deal of recent scholarship and criticism. Starting from apparent ambiguities in Leonardo's work, ambiguities which have given rise to divergent interpretations over the years, the author brings out the complexity of the painting, and its multiple meanings.

A significant part of Steinberg's argument has to do with the narrative subject, with which part or parts of the story are actually represented and how. In the past, Leonardo's painting was commonly regarded as a unified and instantaneous view. While there have been many different ideas about exactly which moment was shown, there has been little question that Leonardo represented a single, carefully-orchestrated instant. Steinberg's vital intuition was to recognize that the difficulty in pinpointing the instant arises from the fact that the painting includes not one moment, but several. Leonardo shows not just Christ announcing that one of those present shall betray him, but a whole series of closely-connected phases in the drama, culminating in the identification of the traitor, and Judas' response. In other words, Leonardo's interpretation is not so much about temporal unity as about duration.

Steinberg goes on to consider what else is represented besides the "psychodrama" itself, i.e., what more besides the announcement of the betrayal and the apostles' response. For Steinberg, there is a sacramental component, a devotional aspect; Leonardo's painting also incorporates the Institution of the Eucharist. Steinberg points in particular to a version of the Last Supper originating with Rubens: whereas many copyists concentrated on the psychodrama alone (eliminating potential distractions), Rubens did just the opposite and transformed Leonardo's composition into a sacramental pronouncement. As Steinberg explains it, for two so contrary readings to derive from the same painting suggests that Leonardo's Last Supper represents more than is generally supposed, that it shows not only the announcement of betrayal and its aftermath, but also the Institution of the Eucharist. With Steinberg's interpretation, all the gestures and expressions -- those of Christ as well as of the apostles -- are appropriate for bo th dramas.

Such an assertion is noteworthy in several respects. First of all, it emphasizes the religious dimension. Leonardo's painting is not just a scientific exploration of a particular dramatic situation, but also an image rich with mystical meanings superimposed on closely-observed human behavior. This is an idea that some critics, those who see Leonardo as more of a scientist than a theologian, have been reluctant to accept, but Steinberg's explanation is quite compelling.

Moreover, Steinberg's interpretation calls into question long-standing notions of time in Renaissance art. Although partly devotional, the Eucharistic component is not conceived of here merely as an oblique reference or as a hidden symbol (as some have suggested), but rather as a vital part of the scene, and therefore, in effect, an extension of the narrative. Both aspects of the subject are braided together, commingled and coexistent. We see the announcement of betrayal in all its phases and also the Institution of the Eucharist, including Christ's pronouncements and the appropriate responses. Clearly, we are dealing with much more than a single instantaneous view.

Steinberg acknowledges that his analysis is at odds with traditional notions of temporal unity in Renaissance art, and when first proposed, this notion must have been rather startling; yet surprisingly, he does not press the point, and he is at pains nor to distance himself too much from Dagobert Frey's once famous distinction between Gothic and Renaissance. For Frey, Medieval narrative was episodic, whereas Renaissance narrative, following the introduction of one-point perspective, attained a new unity. Steinberg seems not to question this basic distinction, and considers the Last Supper to be an exceptional case in which the temporal gradations are so closely connected that the image at first appears instantaneous, even if it is nor, and as a result, Leonardo is absolved of any serious charge of archaism. Indeed Steinberg seems almost to back away from the implications of his own astute analysis. Nevertheless Steinberg's reading has opened things up considerably, not only with respect to the Last Supper its elf, but also with respect to the treatment of time in Renaissance painting more generally; his assessment of Leonardo's painting allows us to consider the possibility that instantaneity is not a defining condition of Renaissance art or a necessary concomitant of one-point perspective. This is one of the most significant implications of Steinberg's original argument, and one which remains relevant and useful.

Steinberg also devotes a good deal of attention to the spatial construction of the Last Supper, which he considers from several angles. While pointing out the apparent ambiguities of the construction -- especially at the margins -- he concludes, following Francis Naumann, that the setting is entirely rational, a rectangular box slightly wider than the actual refectory and spacious enough to accommodate all the apostles. Naumann's scheme is indeed ingenious and appealing, yet there remain contradictions that are difficult to explain away. The thorniest problem concerns the placement of the tapestries, which, as Steinberg himself acknowledges, cannot be easily reconciled with the geometry of the ceiling. So too, the side doors -- now clarified somewhat as a result of the recent restoration -- require careful study and need to be factored in more fully. And the restoration raises additional questions; perhaps it would be advisable to await further analysis of the latest findings before offering any kind of judgm ent.

But of course, there is more, and just as the narrative can be read in more than one way, so too can the space. As Steinberg explains, while the space clearly represents a rectangular box, it is also experienced as a trapezoid, the sides of which diverge in much the same way as the arms of Christ. As a result, at least on one level, the space appears to emanate from Christ himself: the perspective not only draws us in, but reaches out, or radiates, into the actual space. At the same time, the apparent trapezoid, with its splayed sides, calls to mind the polygonal apses of many late-Gothic churches (including the Cathedral of Florence) and so imparts a distinctly sacred flavor to the setting. I have summarized an elegant argument in rather bald terms, but here again Steinberg finds religious meaning in what many consider an exercise in geometry and naturalism, or even secularism. And not surprisingly, this part of his argument has found little support. After all, it is, as he himself freely admits, beyond proo f.

On many levels, Steinberg's book is an object lesson in how to interrogate a painting, and one which opens up many new interpretative possibilities: a painting often thought of as clear and direct becomes rich and multivalent. Even if we don't agree with all of Steinberg's assertions and hypotheses, we can only marvel at his ability to question and to consider, to look and to see. Steinberg's study of Leonardo's famously famous painting must be judged, now as before, as one of the classics of art-historical scholarship.