Fresco Painting — Story, Setting & Ideas

Giotto's Symmetrical Compositions

Ward devotes sustained attention to Giotto's frescoes in the Bardi Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence, focusing on a recurring compositional pattern. He notes that Giotto places quiescent, observant figures at either side of the picture, with the chief actors in the centre—a structure Ward calls “symmetrical” and “choragic.” This arrangement appears in the “Death of St. Francis,” where the saint lies calmly in the centre, surrounded by grieving brethren, while stately figures flank the scene. Ward observes the same design in “St. Francis fleeing from his Father’s House” and the “Ordeal of Fire.” He suggests that later Italian artists adopted this balanced approach, though he does not name them. The observation is precise: Ward identifies the central action zone and the framing side figures as a deliberate decorative principle, not merely a narrative convenience.

Colour and Condition in the Bardi Chapel

Ward's technical eye extends to the physical state of the frescoes. In the “Death of St. Francis,” he notes that the painting is “not much more than a coloured outline” and has been “much repainted.” The figures are almost in grisaille except for the deep red cloak of the kneeling podestà. The sky, repainted in dark blue, contrasts with the central figure of the saint in a halo, surrounded by angels on clouds, which Ward judges to be “evidently the untouched work of Giotto’s hand” in beautiful golden tints. The background architecture uses broken tints of yellowish stone-colour. Ward distinguishes original passages from later interventions, a method he applies throughout the book. He also remarks that this fresco is the only one in the chapel mentioned by Vasari, though he does not elaborate on Vasari's account.

The Figure of St. Louis as a Case Study

Among the life-size figures flanking the Bardi Chapel window, Ward singles out the “St. Louis of France” as the most interesting and finest. He describes the saint standing under a painted niche of Campanile-Gothic architecture, holding sceptre and whip, in a firm, easy pose he calls “Osiris-like.” Despite considerable repainting, Ward identifies untouched areas, especially in the head and hexagonal pointed crown. The description is specific: the figure is “dignified and serious,” and Ward links its pose and attributes to kingly authority. This passage exemplifies how Ward combines formal analysis with material assessment. He does not claim the figure is entirely original, but carefully separates what remains of Giotto's hand from later additions. The observation reinforces his broader argument that careful examination can recover the artist's original intent even in damaged works.

Movement Between Practical and Historical Chapters

The book's structure alternates between technical instruction and art-historical survey. The first five chapters cover materials, wall preparation, and the buon-fresco and spirit-fresco processes. Chapters six through nine then examine Italian frescoes by Giotto, Gozzoli, Perugino, Pinturicchio, Ghirlandajo, Andrea del Sarto, Luini, Ferrari, Raphael, and Michelangelo. Ward does not present these as a continuous history but as a series of technical notes on composition, colour, and present state. The transition from workshop to gallery is deliberate: Ward uses the Italian examples to illustrate principles he has laid out, such as the importance of understanding lime's chemical action. His preface states that he does not claim definite knowledge of the stereochrome process, having no practical experience with it—a limitation he openly acknowledges. This honesty about the boundaries of his expertise gives the book a focused, practical authority.

Ward's treatise is best read as a practitioner's handbook that happens to include art criticism. Readers interested in technique will find detailed recipes for plaster, pigment mixing, and application; those drawn to the Italian frescoes will encounter careful descriptions of condition and composition. The two halves support each other: the technical chapters explain why some frescos endure while others flake, and the historical chapters show how theory translates into practice. Ward's voice is direct, occasionally combative, but always grounded in what he has seen and done.

James Ward’s careful talk of Giotto’s weathered plaster always makes me wonder what the colors once felt like, fresh and certain. There’s a quieter companion to that thought, a book that lingers on how light and pigment hold a wall together — Colour Decoration of Architecture — Inside the Classic. I keep them side by side, two old friends on aging shelves, each remembering a brightness fading just slowly enough.