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Stefan's Florilegium


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Ren-paint-art - 5/12/95

"Methods and Techniques of Painting in Early 15th Century Italy"
by Tristan Clair de Lune.

NOTE: See also the files: painting-msg, pigments-msg, plaster-msg, dyeing-msg,
glues-msg, wood-finishes-msg, enameling-msg.


This file is a collection of various messages having a common theme that
I have collected from my reading of the various computer networks. Some
messages date back to 1989, some may be as recent as yesterday.

This file is part of a collection of files called Stefan's Florilegium.
These files are available on the Internet at: http://www.florilegium.org

I have done a limited amount of editing. Messages having to do with
seperate topics were sometimes split into different files and sometimes
extraneous information was removed. For instance, the message IDs were
removed to save space and remove clutter.

The comments made in these messages are not necessarily my viewpoints. I
make no claims as to the accuracy of the information given by the
individual authors.

Please respect the time and efforts of those who have written these
messages. The copyright status of these messages is unclear at this
time. If information is published from these messages, please give
credit to the orignator(s).

Thank you,
Mark S. Harris AKA: Lord Stefan li Rous
mark.s.harris@motorola.com stefan@florilegium.org

From: v081lu33@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu (TRISTAN CLAIR DE LUNE/KEN MONDSCHEIN)
Newsgroups: rec.org.sca
Date: 1 May 1995 06:51:33 GMT
Organization: University at Buffalo

Methods and Techniques
Early 15th Century Italy

I: Introduction

Though much scholarly attention has been paid to the
composition, subject matter, and rhetoric of the masterworks of
the early Quintociento in Florence, particularly as to how these
works and their philosophy foreshadowed the developments of the
High Renaissance, there has been comparatively little written on
how the works were physically created-- the techniques and
materials used, the methods of work, and even the sources of

Such a study would be significant and worthwhile for a
multitude of reasons. Besides being interesting in its own right,
on the most practical level, it would aid in the conservation of
such works, thus helping to preserve them for posterity. However,
it would also help to add to our understanding of the works, for
it places us in the position of the master who painted them and
allows us to see their meaning from his point of view. In other
words, it shows the work in the light of a far wider social,
economic, and artistic perspective-- not only the what of the
philosophy behind the art, but also the why. For instance, we
know that the Virgin Mary's mantle is traditionally blue, but how
was this deep shade of azure achieved, and what is its

In the process of learning this, the developing thought of
the world of the Italian Renaissance is illustrated, not only as
reflected in the art of the time, but in the mind of the painter
and his world. The idea is parallel to what Edwin Panofsky
referred to in a broad humanistic manner as "mental habits" in
his essay Gothic Architecture and Scholasticism in reference to
the connection between the architecture of the Gothic cathedral
and the Scholastic philosophical tradition. By exposing the
underlying techniques used by the artists, the methods that
underpinned the visual development of the works themselves, and
the artist's world, we witness physical testimony to the trends
in thought. It is the intention of this paper to provide an
expository introduction to this, and, in this context, shed light
upon the interlinked artistic and mundane worlds of the Italian

For the sake of brevity, we will focus on the three major
forms of work in early fifteenth century Florence, Mainly, the
concern will be with panel painting, though we will of necessity
touch upon the miniatures of illuminated manuscripts and the
fresco. The reason for discussing these three is self-evident, as
a master who worked on one of these was likely to also produce
two or three of the forms. Notably, the artist known to us as Fra
Angelico provides an excellent illustration of this. Though we
can only briefly touch on his significance (a task of volumes
itself), Fra Angelico and his work will hopefully serve as an
exempla for some of the techniques discussed herein.

II: Fra Angelico and Panel Painting

Before the popularity of oil and canvas paintings, panel
painting was an art form of prime importance in early Renaissance
Italy. From the Byzantines, the Italians had inherited the custom
of decorating their churches with icons of saints and the Holy
Family. These icons, placed over the altarpiece, were objects of
veneration and supplication, carried on processions and used, in
many ways, as a focus of civic pride and identification. Many
were also executed for private individuals as objects of
veneration or meditation.

From the art historian's point of view, many of these panel
commissions still survive, and are excellent examples of the
trends in art of the time. One of the most famous artists of the
period to work in this medium was Guido di Pietro, who changed
his name to Fra Giovanni upon becoming a friar of the Observant
branch of the Dominican order, but who is best known as Fra

Born in about 1400 (probably before), Angelico was
recognized in his own time as one of the finest painters of his
generation. He was, by all accounts, a man of great faith and
piety. This spirituality is reflected in the ephemeral quality of
the figures in his paintings. Even before entering the monastery
at Fiesole in about 1420, Angelico had been a member of a
religious confraternity, probably that of St. Luke, who was the
patron saint of doctors and painters and whose members were
largely drawn from the guild of the Medici e Speciali, to which
painters and illuminators belonged.

The notion of a monk holding a secular job or taking
commissions from outside the walls of the monastery may seem
strange to the modern reader, but such an occurrence was nothing
unusual in early fifteenth century Italy. The brothers of the
various orders around Florence often participated in the outside
world, especially as painters and illuminators, with all profits
going to the monastery. This was symptomatic of, and perhaps even
helped to build, the developing idea of the "active life" as not
inferior to the "contemplative life." A strong work ethic has
been with the monastic tradition ever since St. Benedict wrote
that a monk ought to engage in gainful toil. The notion that this
might have germinated or given support to Salutati and Brunei's
writings on the vita activa is a very logical and intriguing one.

Angelico was greatly influenced in his work by Masaccio, as
is especially shown by his use of perspective and placement of
figures in a realistic space.1 Another great influence was
Lorenzo Monaco, in whose workshop it is speculated that Angelico
trained.2 As Strehlke points out in his essay in Painting and
Illumination in Early Renaissance Florence, Angelico's Penitent
St. Jerome also shows many compositional similarities to the
reliefs on Ghiberti's Porta Paradisi, notably in the humanistic
rendering of the saint set against the flat background against
which he is placed.3 Angelico no doubt would have been familiar
with his contemporary's work, which was displayed on the doors of
the Baptistery, close by the cathedral that was the spiritual and
psychological center of Florence.

The art of panel painting itself is preserved by il Libro
dell'arte, written in Padua by the Tuscan painter Cennino Cennini
in about 1400. Il Libro dell'arte is the only manual of painting
known to exist from this era, and, short of taking apart an
actual tempera painting, is our best primary source. It also
shows the beginnings of the methodological and practical manual
as a literary form, one that would later be echoed by Machiavelli
in his The Prince. As such, it is an example of the humanistic
Renaissance literary tradition.

The first step, naturally, was to obtain the panels upon
which the painting would be executed. This was the job of a
carpenter or cabinet maker. The woods favored for the job were
poplar, linden, or willow, which was finely mortised and sanded
smooth.4 This provided the basic framework on which the painter
spread gesso as a base for the pigments. Gesso is an
extraordinarily sticky and messy mixture of glue (made from
boiling down the hooves and bones of animals) and finely ground
plaster. It dries hard and can be given a smooth polish. Multiple
layers were sometimes used, sometimes with linen cloth added as
an underpinning to give additional structure and support. Cennini
states that this gesso was usually obtained from apothecaries,
though he also gives instructions on how to prepare it oneself.5
Again, we see the dependence of the painter upon other
specialized professions, reflecting the urban world in which he,
by necessity, dwelt and which could not help but to influence his

The next stage was to trace the basic elements of the
paintings onto the gessoed panel. These were usually done using
preliminary sketches as a guide. Like artists today, Florentine
painters had various sorts of sketches, from rough compositions
to detailed figures studies. Due to their relative lack of
importance to everyone save art historians, as well as the wear
and tear that they were put through, few of these survive.
Frederick Hart speculates in the section on tempera painting in
his History of Italian Renaissance Art that such standard objects
as crucifixes were drawn directly to the panel, while detailed
figure studies were sketched or studied in detail.6 Another
likely possibility is that painters worked from pattern books, as
medieval illuminators did (such as the sketchbook of Villard de

Sketches were transferred to the panel either visually, or,
by the mid-fifteenth century, by a technique called spolvero, or
"dusting." A full-scale drawing of details or complex figures was
made, with the outlines pricked out with a stylus. The back was
then brushed with charcoal dust, and the raised outlines
transferred by patting the front side down with a sponge. Though
no spolvero remains today, we can sometimes make out the dotted
outlines on period works.7 This technique was later replaced by
the cartoon, a full-scale representation of the finished work
which was transferred by means of tracing with a stylus.

In his book, Cennini instructs that the underdrawing should
be executed by means of a piece of charcoal tied to a reed or
stick, so as to gain a greater vantage upon the whole work while
composing. Again, we see a practical, step-by-step guide to the
creation of a work of art, a technique which had traditionally
been passed down by apprenticeship. The charcoal sketch could
then be erased by means of a feather, which allowed the artist to
modify his design if elements did not please him. Finally, the
underdrawing was completed by going over the charcoal with a
brush made from the hair of a minever (squirrel) dipped in an
ink-and-water wash. The charcoal was erased, the drapery folds
were shaded in, and so was some of the shading. What was left was
the basic form of the painting.8


Primary Sources:

Alberti, Leon Battista. On Painting (Della Pittura, trans.
John Spencer). Yale University Press: New Haven. 1966.

Cennini, Cennino D'Andrea. The Craftsman's Handbook ((Il
Libro dell'Arte, trans. Daniel V. Thompson). Yale University
Press: New York. 1933.

Tertiary Sources:

Alexander, Jonathan J.G. Medieval Illuminators and their
Methods of Work. Yale University Press: New Haven. 1992.

Hart, Frederick. Italian Renaissance Art. Prentice Hall,Inc: New York. 1987

Painting and Illumination In Early Renaissance Florence. The Metropolitan
Museum of Art: New York. 1994.

1 Painting and Illumination in Early Renaissance Florence, 26
2 Painting and Illumination in Early Renaissance Florence, 31
3 Painting and Illumination in Early Renaissance Florence, 27
4 Cennini, The Craftsman's Handbook 71
5 Cennini, 73
6 Hart, History of Italian Renaissance Art, 35
7 Hart, 35
8 Cennini, 75

Following the underdrawing, the next stage was to add the
gilding. Many early Renaissance paintings feature gold
backgrounds for a number of reasons, though this style was
beginning to change in the period under consideration. Gold was
aesthetically pleasing to the eye, a symbol of the wealth of the
patron, and alchemically considered the highest of metals, being
associated with the sun. It also represented an undifferentiated
infinitude for the background of religious paintings, thus
suggesting heaven. The growing trend in such works, though, was
to replace the gold background with backgrounds that placed the
figures in realistic space and perspective. This had a tendency
of bringing them down to a human level, and is exemplified by
Masaccio's Trinity fresco in Sta. Maria Novella. It is also
evident in the vast majority of Fra Angelico's work, notably the
San Marco altarpiece, which was itself completed by Angelico's
fellow artist Lorenzo Monaco and was influenced by Alberti's
treatise on perspective.1

The gold leaf was pounded flat into thin sheets, probably by
a goldsmith, and applied with a red glue called bole. In his
manual Cennini goes into depth on the fine and meticulous art of
applying delicate gold leaf to a panel, even specifying the best
sort of weather to perform such work in.2

The actual painting was begun with what Hart calls the
underpainting, which was executed in terra verde (green paint
made from colored earth). The colors themselves were carried by a
medium of egg tempera, which is the white of eggs (albumen)
beaten until it is smooth. Egg tempera dries rapidly into a
protein polymer, and is very permanent. Another medium was
linseed oil, which was prepared by boiling and letting it stand.
Cennini speaks of it in reference to fresco paintings as well as
in panel paintings. Oil paints came to be of prime importance in
the later fifteenth century, as canvas began to replace wood as
the medium of choice for artists and patrons. The oil paints were
also used on wall paintings, according to Cennini's manual, but
Hart specifies that a water medium was used on frescos.3

The pigments were made of ground minerals found naturally,
such as hematite (which gives a red color) or the terra verde, or
materials prepared by an alchemist, such as the verdigis for
green. Cennini goes into great detail on the ration of the
paints, which takes up an entire section of his manual.4 The
painter's grinding of his own pigments is quite possibly reason
why they were members of the guild of the Medici e Speciali, as
doctors and alchemists, too, ground their minerals and medicines.

One particularly important pigment which merits especial
mention is the ultramarine blue, the production of which took a
long, involved alchemical process that lasted days. The raw
material was lapis lazuli stone, which was imported all the way
from Afghanistan. Cennini speaks of an ounce of high-quality
ultramarine blue as being worth eight ducats5, which makes it
precious indeed. It is this blue which was used for the Virgin's
robe and which astounds even modern viewers with its beautiful
depth of color. It was also this blue which designated Mary as
the Queen of Heaven and which attested to the wealth of the
person who could afford such expensive materials. In the
symbolism of the painting, then, the pigments could carry a great
deal of significance, both because of their spiritual meaning and
their material cost.

Cennini then goes on to give various practical instructions
for the painting of human figures, of clothing and drapery, and
of various natural things such as mountains and water. To create
drapery, he advises cutting the paint with white, thus producing
lighter and darker shades to represent the play of light upon the
folds. Conspicuously absent are any instructions on the painting
of architecture, which poses an intriguing mystery. Either
Cennini thought this so obvious that he thought it redundant to
write about, or else he thought it to be not as important as the
other items.

Equally intriguing are his instructions on the proper bodily
proportions of a well-formed man.6 This seems to be early
documentation of the Renaissance concern for human perfection and
the dignity and perfectibility of man. It shows great concern for
naturalism and the ideals of beauty in this world. In this way,
Cennini shows himself to truly be speaking from the point of view
of the new school of thought. He does not advise exaggerating
figures to show supernatural qualities, rather, he gives steps
towards creating an idea of earthly human beauty. This worldly
concern is also shown by his giving an enormous amount of
instruction on ways to represent various materials and garments.

The final step in the creation of a panel is the varnishing.
Cennini advises the painter to ideally wait a year or more before
performing this task, as the varnish can dim the brilliant colors
of the other temperas. One way to immediately give a painting the
appearance of varnishing is to do it once over with clear egg
tempera.7 However, if the painting is properly varnished, the
effect is striking, for Cennini speaks of the colors of being
fixed permanently and their brilliance magnified.8

The veracity of Cennini's description of the process of
creating a panel painting is borne out by the restoration process
described by Hart in his History of Italian Renaissance Art.9 In
this case, the wood that a Madonna and Child Enthroned with
Saints done by Fra Angelico had been painted upon was rotted, and
the painting had to be transferred to a new panel. Layers of
cheesecloth with a plastic adhesive were layered over the front
of the panel, and the wood and gesso then picked and scraped out.
When this was completed, the only thing remaining of the original
painting was the pigment clinging to the cheesecloth. The ink
underdrawing, terra verde underpainting, and the broad areas of
color under the drapery were revealed, as were the peaks in the
paint where it had filled in the punched patterns caused by the
spolvero technique. The paint veneer was then attached to a new
surface, the adhesive dissolved, and the cheesecloth removed,
resulting in a fully restored painting.

III: Manuscript Illumination

In the world before the printing press, books were
hand-copied and illuminated. This practice continued to a degree
after Gutenberg's innovation, reaching its last hurrah in the
sixteenth century. Producing a work of this sort was an expensive
proposition, then, both in terms of materials and for the labor
of the skilled artisan who painted the miniatures. Books, be they
psalters, songbooks, or copies of the Aeneid, were often made on
commission for wealthy patrons. Often, such a contract included
room and board for the illuminator.10 These patrons also often
specified what miniatures they wished painted into their books.
Purchasing a book was not only an investment in the world to
come, but a sign of status.

Fra Angelico was not himself primarily an illuminator.
However, despite a widely held belief to the contrary,
perpetrated since the nineteenth century, he did illuminate
manuscripts. The misconception that Angelico was never an
illuminator probably stems from the Victorian attitude that such
an advanced, enlightened painter would never have engaged in such
a "medieval" art form. To the contrary, not only did Angelico
likely work for some time in his monastery's scriptorium (though
we have no concrete proof of this), the man who was his sponsor
for the Confraternity of St. Luke, Battista di Biagio Sanguigni,
was a professional illuminator. Despite all this, Fra Angelico is
always listed in records as having been a painter, not an

1 Spencer, On Painting, 30
2 Cennini, 78-88
3 Hart, 38
4 Cennini, 20-39
5 Cennini, 38
6 Cennini, 48
7 Cennini, 99
8 Cenators and the
9 Spencer, On Painting, 30
10 Cennini, 78-88
11 Painting and Illumination in Early Renaissance Florence, 26

Some of Fra Angelico's miniatures are reproduced in Painting
and Illumination in Early Renaissance Florence.1 The examples
shown therein show a kaleidoscopic and sweeping quality to his
work, as if "impatient within the confines"2 of miniatures. His
illumination displays the same radiant colors and placement of
figures in real space that his painting does.

The first step in the production of an illuminated
manuscript, naturally, is to procure the book that is to be
illuminated. In this case, illuminators throughout the Middle
Ages and the Renaissance (and even today) favored vellum, which
is tough, cream-colored parchment made from the scraped and
tanned hides of a calf, kid, or sheep. Vellum has an advantage in
that it is tough and durable and in that it takes pigments well.
The vellum was prepared beforehand by the parchment-maker, and
then purchased by the illuminator or his patron.

The first marks an illuminator made on the parchment was to
rule out the lines of where the text was going to be and where
the miniatures would be drawn. Once this was done, the basic
design would be traced in, using a stylus of metal or bone, or
else a pencil. In this stage, the preliminary underdrawing, was
very much like that employed in panel painting. The layout helped
to define the illustration's relation to the text.3

In the next step, the illuminator would begin the fine work
of coloring the miniatures by means of a color wash, though this
technique is only documented for earlier times and places than
fifteenth century Florence.4 Fra Angelico might very well have
colored the parts to his miniatures almost using the same method
he painted with. The final step was to do the fine details and
outlines of figures and drapery would be added with a miniature
brush and add the gold leaf.

The word "miniature," used as an appellation for the
illustrations on such manuscripts, derives from the minium, or
lead sulfide, that was used to make pigments.5 Minium gives a
brilliant red color. However, like many of the colors Cennini
gives recipes for, it is poisonous. The modern illuminator must
take care with these ancient recipes.

The most interesting thing about miniature painting, though,
is not the actual methods with which the manuscripts were worked
upon. Rather, it is the almost precocious quality that the
composition of the illustrations exhibit. One would expect that
sacred art that, by and large, was executed behind monastery
walls or for wealthy patrons would have a conservative quality to
it. Rather, though, illumination dating as far back as the early
fourteenth century displays figures occupying real space and the
beginnings of the concern for some sort of activity and awareness
of the figures themselves, echoing the quality that was captured
in fresco on the walls of San Francesco in Assisi by the Master
of the St. Cecilia cycle. The best example of this is found in
the Florentine illuminator known as the Master of the Codex of
St. George, which was in fact actually once ascribed to Giotto.6

The Master of St. George is known to have painted his Codex
no later than 1313, though it has been suggested that he was
active as early as 1290.7 The actual form and motion of the
figures are quite naturalistic. One of the most interesting
figures is that found on page 90 of Painting and Illumination in
Early Renaissance Florence, showing Cardinal Stefaneschi writing
at his desk. The desk, given an architectural form, is displayed
in a remarkably well-executed three-quarters perspective, whilst
the Cardinal himself is sitting upright before his writing board,
concentrating intently as he pauses in working on manuscript that
he is writing while rubbing out a mistake with the speculum in
his left. His ink pot is at his side, and built into the back of
his desk are shelves displaying his own impressive collection of
books. We get the impression of the Cardinal as a real person,
someone we might know, engaged in an everyday task, rather than
as an obscure authority figure raising one hand in benediction
while staring off into space.

A diptych attributed to the Master of St. George displays a
similar concern for activity. The left panel, displaying a Virgin
and child, has Mary looking frankly out at the viewer. Her throne
is placed in a sort of architectural perspective that reflects
the influence of Giotto.8 On the right, Mary and Magdalene gaze
up at the crucified Christ with expressions of intense worry and
concern on their faces. Below, a small figure (the representation
of one of the donors) seems about to touch the blood dripping
from Christ's wounds. Christ himself lolls on the cross, not
wide-eyed as in earlier works, prefiguring his Resurrection, but
quite evidently having died, showing his mortal nature. There is
a truly active quality and psychological interaction between the
figures, prefigured by the earlier works, but also perhaps
bridging the gap to later works.

These details would argue, it seems, for a transmission of
new ideas flowing from illuminators to painters (though such an
idea is appealing), or at the least that the illuminators were up
to date with their contemporaries, rather than the laggards who
practiced an outdated "medieval" art. Interestingly enough, the
Church and the monastic life themselves-- the contemplative
life-- might have fostered notions of the usefulness of the
active life. The greater freedom that might have been allowed
manuscript illuminators, or else the patronage of the wealthy,
might have given them leave to experiment. Another factor might
have been the relative portability of an illuminated manuscript
as opposed to a fresco or panel painting, which might have more
likely been encountered only after a long journey or pilgrimage
in an age when travel was uncertain at best. This matter
certainly bears greater investigation, but is out of the scope of
this paper.
IV: Techniques of Fresco Painting

A fresco is, simply, a work done in plaster upon a wall.
Because of this, a fresco can by its very nature be made a work
intended for public consumption, as is shown by the famous
examples at San Francesco in Assisi and the allegorical images of
Good and Bad Government in the Palazzo Publico in Siena. It is
also ideally suited for expounding ideas for private meditation,
as its position on the wall draws the eye to itself and almost
commands the viewer's attention. Walls done in fresco give a very
ornate, layered feel to a room.

To begin with, the fresco painter might or might not create
preparatory drawings for the approval of the patron.9 In later
works, of the fifteenth century and beyond, the use of a guide
drawing or cartoon seems to have been standard practice, but
improvisation could also lend fresco painting a spontaneous,
dynamic quality. According to Cennini, "this is the most
agreeable and impressive kind of work."10 The fresco might easily
be seen give a more organic, less calculated, artistic

An excellent example of this is Fra Angelico's Annunciation,
commissioned by Cosimo de'Medici and done in a monk's cell in the
monastery of San Marco. The fresco catches the eye, despite its
simple, unostentatious composition, with its elegant simplicity
and colors reflecting the stark lines of the monk's cell itself.
The architectural elements are light and airy, and the figures of
Gabriel and Mary have an ethereal quality to them. Gabriel's
wings are a sunburst of color that bespeak sanctified glory, as
if he were made to soar amongst the heavenly counterparts to the
triple arches that frame and unify the two main figures.

To create a fresco, first a scaffolding was erected, and
upon the rough plaster or arricio wall, the painter would then
divide up the work of the fresco and draw a preliminary
underpainting in weak earth tones. This division was necessary,
for in an era with expensive artificial lighting, an artisan
could only work for so many hours a day. Speed was essential, for
the nature of a fresco is that it has to be done in fresh
plaster. Thus, the frescos were planned with each day's work in
mind so that there would not be a jarring transition at the
boundaries between the sections painted on different days, though
often the light failed and we can clearly see where one day's
work ended and another began.

The next stage was to draw in the figures and draperies with
charcoal and then a reddish paint called sinopia, derived from
earth tones. The sinopia was covered over by plaster, the
intonaco, which was smoothed out and upon which the actual
painting would be done. It was also at this phase that the artist
or patron could make a final change in the composition of the

Each section painted was called a giornata. The artist
worked from the top of the fresco down so as to avoid dripping
paint on unfinished sections. Because of this, and also the fact
that it is easier to lower a scaffolding then to move it
diagonally, the work was often done in horizontal strips. This
was a detriment in later years when painters strove for a
complete integrity of painting. This was resolved by the planning
of frescos using the cartoon and spolvero technique.

V: Conclusions

Hopefully, this has proven an informative and interesting
dissertation on the methods used by artists in the early
Quintociento. By analysis of primary sources and an examination
of some representative works, we have seen how the world the
artist lived in and the media used in expression could have
influenced their work. The artistic aspects of the Italian
Renaissance did not come out of a vacuum, and several avenues of
influence-- the interplay of painting and manuscript
illumination, the urban world of the painter, and the possibility
of the monastery influencing the outside world-- have been raised
in the course of the discussion. Naturally, in the short length
allowed here, only so much can be expounded upon, and these
questions certainly merit further study.


Primary Sources:

Alberti, Leon Battista. On Painting (Della Pittura, trans.
John Spencer). Yale University Press: New Haven. 1966.

Cennini, Cennino D'Andrea. The Craftsman's Handbook ((Il
Libro dell'Arte, trans. Daniel V. Thompson). Yale University
Press: New York. 1933.

Tertiary Sources:

Alexander, Jonathan J.G. Medieval Illuminators and their
Methods of Work. Yale University Press: New Haven. 1992.

Hart, Frederick. Italian Renaissance Art. Prentice Hall,
Inc: New York. 1987

Painting and Illumination In Early Renaissance Florence. The
Metropolitan Museum of Art: New York. 1994.

1 Painting and Illumination in Early Renaissance Florence, 332-336
2 Painting and Illumination in Early Renaissance Florence, 337
3 Alexander, 40
4 Alexander, 41
5 Alexander, 40
6 Painting and Illumination in Early Renaissance Florence, 90
7 Painting and Illumination in Early Renaissance Florence, 84
8 Painting and Illumination in Early Renaissance Florence, 86
9 Hart, 37
10 Cennini, 42

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