This past year I was in Florence, the birthplace of the Renaissance. There I stood rapt before Michelangelo’s David, Botticelli’s Primavera, Fra Angelico’s Annunciation and Brunelleschi’s dome crowning Santa Maria del Fiore. I was surrounded by much of the greatest art and architecture ever conceived by the human mind and made by human hands—most of it done at the behest of rich, ruthless and proud patrons seeking to aggrandize themselves and extend their power.
The Florentine ruling families of the Renaissance, the Medici and Strozzi along with the Cardinals and Popes of the Roman church, used the greatest artists and architects of their time to enhance their image and assert their authority. This art and architecture, however, was not the free expression of its makers. It was not done to further artistic ideals and exploration. It was done as a service to those who could demand and pay for it. It was commercial art.
Nonetheless, what I saw in Florence filled me with an awe albeit tinged with sadness. So much skill, sweat and talent had been expended on furthering the aims of the wealthy and powerful.
Now we as tourists come to admire these frescos, paintings, sculptures and architecture that were commissioned by rapacious, amoral patrons 500 to 800 hundred years ago—works depicting scenes of battle, beheadings, poisonings, rape, and murder—mostly done to adorn the halls of the rulers and the walls of churches ostensibly dedicated to Christ’s teachings of love and compassion.
Five centuries from now will people travel the world to admire the art and architecture commissioned by Stalin, Hitler, Mao and Mussolini? Can something done to further the regime of a tyrant or to glorify the pain and suffering of war truly be a beautiful thing—can it be genuine Art? If so we must concede that certain machine guns are exquisite in their function and form and therefore deserve to be appreciated as art and their creators as artists. Mikhail Timofeyevich Kalashnikov, the inventor of the AK47, would then be the artistic equal of Leonardo Da Vinci.
© 2017 Michael Maurer Smith