BRUNELLESCHI, FILIPPO

BRUNELLESCHI, FILIPPO. - Architect and sculptor, born in Florence in 1377 to Brunellesco di Lippo di Tura and Giovanna di Giovanni degli Spini, died on 15 April 1446. He rose to such fame among his contemporaries and in posterity that he became almost the personification in the broadest sense of the first Italian humanistic Renaissance.

From the "Life" commonly attributed to Antonio di Tuccio Manetti, which is corroborated by other independent sources, we learn that Brunelleschi, skilled in drawing, began his artistic career as a goldsmith; that is, as an artisan, following the old medieval and Florentine tradition. Indeed, on 2 July 1404 he was enrolled in the Guild of Silk, which included goldsmiths; around 1400 he executed two half-figures of prophets for the silver altarpiece of the church of S. Iacopo in Pistoia. He practiced sculpture especially in his youth: and although many of his works have been destroyed (e.g., the highly praised wooden statue representing the Magdalene, carved for the old S. Spirito and lost to a fire), the testimony of surviving works remains, among which the crucifix of S. Maria Novella (carved in competition with Donatello’s for S. Croce) and the panel with the Sacrifice of Abraham presented at the 1402 competition for the second door of the Baptistery stand out—though he was surpassed by Ghiberti in that contest. Yet in his panel one can already discern the quality of his style, entirely oriented toward plasticity and naturalistic and human expression, even under the discipline of a rigidly geometric composition; this was a declared reaction against the ornamental calligraphism and decorative elegance that still characterized the Gothicized taste of Florence, which essentially informed Ghiberti’s art.

His formation was enriched by the literary and historical culture of the humanists, with special regard to what directly pertained to art: some claim he was well acquainted with Vitruvius’s treatise; certainly, even if the accounts of his travels to Rome by biographers (most importantly the first, at the beginning of the century, in the guise of a sculptor, in the company of Donatello) are not rigorously proven, his knowledge of ancient monuments left a profound mark on his development, both in terms of architectural form and construction technique. Nevertheless, an unspecified innovation in his masonry technique, which he applied in some halls of the Palazzo dei Priori, predates the Quattrocento and is therefore a genuine product of his genius as a innovator.

Yet according to the sources, the decisive factor in shaping his personality was his mathematical culture, which he always favored, as evidenced by his friendships with the most distinguished scholars of the science, including later Paolo Dal Pozzo Toscanelli, with whom he was on familiar terms (he drew inspiration from mathematical theory for

practical applications even in the field of mechanics: and we find him, in fact, not only a prolific inventor and builder of "clocks and striking mechanisms," but also unrivaled in his time in the knowledge of all the tools and means necessary for factories, of which he made extensive and successful use in the colossal work of the dome of Santa Maria del Fiore. This mathematical culture enabled him not to invent but to render practically feasible, especially for the benefit of artists, perspective (which was monocular and central, and not strictly faithful to the Euclidean and continuous conception of space); for the application of this science he found a practical rule which he transmitted through direct instruction to Masaccio and Donatello, earning thereby great renown. This is also attested by the interest of biographers in the two paintings (soon lost) that he executed, purely as perspective exercises, depicting the Baptistery and Piazza della Signoria.

In essence, the new perspective rule made it possible to represent space with certainty, considering it as objective, through the rational application of geometric laws and empirical optical data. To the mystical infinity of medieval representations, Brunelleschi’s geometric perspective substituted the rational coordination of spatial entities around a geometric point (the so-called vanishing point), where the representation was fixed, almost materialized, despite the mathematical abstraction of infinity; that is, infinity was subjected, so to speak, to the recognition of reason and thus represented with the presumed objectivity of mathematics, the supreme fruit of man’s speculative capacities (see, for this symbolic representation of perspective and mathematics in general, De docta ignorantia by Nicholas of Cusa).

In this way, Brunelleschi embodied from the outset both the polemical aspect of humanist taste toward the Middle Ages and the positive character of the new art. So much so that it is no surprise that the Florentines turned to him for the work that most inspired them: the construction of the dome of Santa Maria del Fiore.

Already consulted since 1404 for advice on the gigantic project—which, through complex vicissitudes, had been proceeding slowly since Arnolfo di Cambio had begun it in 1296—Brunelleschi submitted a design in 1417 for constructing the dome without scaffolding.

This "invention," which seemed superhuman then and still appears supremely ingenious today, convinced the overseers of the works, who ordered the architect to create a wooden model that was as clear and definitive as possible. However, not only as a precaution but also to avoid deviating from the Florentine custom of allowing artists and the people to participate freely in the most important works and decisions, the Opera del Duomo announced a competition (19 August 1418) for a model that would propose not the form of the dome (no one up to that time had thought of deviating from the pointed sixth proposed by Arnolfo, imitating that of the Baptistery’s dome) but the means to construct the immense vault concretely. Competing with Brunelleschi was Ghiberti, who presented a model—with scaffolding. The outcome favored Brunelleschi, who refined his model with the help of Donatello and Nanni di Banco; but, at equal salary, Ghiberti was imposed upon him (along with the mathematician Battista d’Antonio) to share the title of overseer. Work began on 7 August 1420. Meanwhile, Brunelleschi had practically demonstrated the feasibility of his system of building a dome without scaffolding by executing the chapel of Schiatta Ridolfi (now destroyed) in San Iacopo sopr’Arno.

On the previous 13 July, the three overseers had established the norms for the work in a detailed report, in which, for the first time, the decision appears to adopt for the dome a curvature different from Arnolfo’s—that is, a "fifth-pointed" sixth (this due to the technical procedure of "not using scaffolding"), at least for the lower part of the vault, leaving the overall shape of the dome undecided. Only five years later was it resolved to maintain the same curvature for the upper part as well; on that occasion, Ghiberti was relegated to a secondary role relative to Brunelleschi. Thus, although recent studies have sought to restrict Brunelleschi’s role rigidly to construction techniques, assigning him the role of "engineer" and leaving Ghiberti with the artistic credit for the architecture, it must be acknowledged—even while fairly evaluating the anecdotal controversies between Brunelleschi and Ghiberti during the works—that Filippo essentially and in every sense holds the paternity of the great work.

Built without scaffolding, through a spiral arrangement of brickwork and a system of transverse arches resting on ribs, the dome was considered complete when the terminal ring ("la chierica") was finished. The event (August 1436) was solemnly celebrated with a sacred ceremony, amid the jubilation of the people gathered in the Cathedral. At Brunelleschi’s death, the lantern was still unfinished, though he himself had prepared the model, which is still preserved in the museum of the Opera; its execution was overseen

Gorosa fidelity, by Giuliano da Maiano. Even today, strictly speaking, the dome must be considered unfinished, since the loggia running externally along the impost (caustically described by Michelangelo as a "cage for crickets") is built on only one of the eight sides. Some critics judge it as a work still bearing witness to Gothic taste, both for the framework of its ribs—snapping and elastic—and for certain constructive and formal peculiarities. Yet, to heighten and strengthen its spatial and plastic essence (already, albeit obscurely, foreshadowed by the first architect of the Duomo, Arnolfo di Cambio), the Florentines clad it so that it would be "magnificent and swelling," that is, of a more majestic appearance and as far removed as possible from the pointed arch (it is indeed a double dome, but its external shell does not intervene, except passively, in the structural economy; hence it cannot substantially be regarded as a precursor of the double domes of the 16th century).

During the long works for the Duomo (B. also made the external "tribunettes," classically articulated by niches and engaged columns), Brunelleschi undertook other works. Scarce are the testimonies of his military and civil architecture, the latter consisting, moreover, of restorations and partial constructions: documents link his name to the fortifications of Pisa (1426 and 1440), Vicopisano (1433 and 1439), Castelfranco, Volterra, Lastra, etc., and to the palaces of the Busini, Pazzi, Quaratesi, and Barbadori families. The Palazzo di Parte Guelfa remains unfinished and altered (the main hall seems entirely authentic), while the attribution of the Palazzo Pitti is doubtful; in any case, originally it was much smaller than it is today (it extended only to the seven central windows).

In religious architecture, however, Brunelleschi’s personality fully asserts itself, already well-defined in his early work (c. 1419) of the loggia of the Ospedale degli Innocenti; despite the harmful alterations made to the original design by inept executors, among whom Fr. della Luna stands out.

The Old Sacristy of San Lorenzo (begun in 1420) is already a clear affirmation of space interpreted geometrically—not so much for its cubic form as for the manner in which the internal walls are articulated. Against the light background, pietra serena sharply delineates the classical-style pilasters and entablature, rigorously defining or delimiting the windows, the skeletal structure of the dome (the "crests" and arcatures), and the ornamental roundels. Yet all these elements decisively negate any structural function or memory: the pilasters, and even less the brackets, do not fulfill their original role as supports, being spaced as they are from the entablature; nor do the arches and the dome’s members, with their thinness, appear as visual enhancements of a static system of weights and forces. Rather, the dark elements have the value of pure lines, which alone suffice to define three-dimensional space; so much so that the wall loses all concrete function. These formal values are even more fully realized in the perfect Pazzi Chapel (begun c. 1430; the façade remains unfinished), where the elements (windows, arcatures, roundels) are always well separated from one another, without weight or static dependence, as if hovering in space or in the sheer contingency of the walls; so much so that there is no formal disparity between false and true windows. The façade, with its central arch, perpetuates Romano-Hellenistic and Cosmatesque motifs and anticipates Bramantesque schemes, without imposing external limits on the series of architectural values. The plan of the monument hints at an aspiration to centrality that would later be fulfilled in the humanist ideal of perfect form.

Prior to the Pazzi Chapel is San Lorenzo, of which only the interior can be considered complete, even if not faithfully interpreted in those parts that seem to be due to Manetti; here the ideals of spatial geometry are clearly manifested. Not only is the central axis well marked in the pavement and in the median structure of the ceiling (according to the original reconstruction), but the uninterrupted entablature, tangent to the arches below, certifies the perspectival, and thus geometrically linear, value of the architecture. And the absence of any sense of weight is fully confirmed by the presence of the pulvini.

The columns, which interrupt any functional connection with the walls above, serve as a structural device in the church of S. Spirito. Built almost entirely after the death of Brunelleschi, yet without betraying his intentions, the master’s style reaches its fullest expression here. Despite the Baroque additions and alterations that have marred the original design, the baldachin and numerous Baroque superstructures remain evident. The architectural principles are essentially those of S. Lorenzo, but clarified to an extreme degree: the entablature is entirely freed from any—even problematic—structural support and openly manifests itself as a bundle of lines converging toward the rear; the formal function of the pulvini, the central band of the pavement, and the ceiling (reconstructed by De Angelis) is heightened. Almost as a definitive elucidation of the master’s style, what in the drawing was the vanishing point to which all those lines converged is realized in the architectural work as the central column, which, at the far end, thus appears as the ultimate formal objective.

Here, the formal inconsistency of the walls becomes unmistakable: the perimeter of the church is hollowed out by a series of successive chapels; between each chapel stands a deeply recessed, projecting column, so that when the side aisles are viewed axially (i.e., perspectivally), the limiting presence of the outer wall is not revealed.

Thus reduced to a pure geometry of lines, Brunelleschian spatiality is realized in mathematical essentiality.

The humanistic ideal is therefore fully affirmed by Brunelleschi; yet one perceives how the necessary duality of viewpoint and vanishing point somewhat limits the absolute spatiality, which is instead fully expressed (almost symbolically) in the expressive plenitude of the circle—that is, the central form. But whether in the Pazzi Chapel or, more significantly, in the hexagonal oratory of the Angeli (unfortunately only begun), Brunelleschi’s art reaches toward the future and confronts, with fully Renaissance spirit, the supreme problem of centrality.

Even if, as biographers and critics claim, Brunelleschi drew upon local tradition (one notes in the ancient church of the SS. Apostoli, which provided instruction even to later architects, forms closely akin to his) or upon the suggestive models of ancient Rome, it is certain that both propositions, though justifiable in the taste of their proponents, yield before the supreme originality of Brunelleschi. Similarly, the attempt to trace the linearism and the preponderance of void over mass in his architecture back to a historicist continuity with Gothic forms remains a vacuous critical schema when confronted with the personality of the Master. His influence spread freely throughout the century and beyond Tuscany, in parallel with the cultural current headed by Leon Battista Alberti (q.v.), to generate, through the synthesis of the Sangallo (especially Antonio the Younger), the definitive art of the early 16th century; it provided Leonardo with passionate material for study, who drew the plan of S. Spirito, and was destined to elicit the astonished admiration of the Baroque Bernini, who, in the same S. Spirito, would declare it “the most beautiful church in the world.” — See Pl. XII.

BRUNELLI, Antonio. - A musician from Viterbo, flourishing at the beginning of the 17th century. A pupil of G. M. Nanini, he served as maestro di cappella at S. Miniato, then at Prato, and later at Pisa.

He published: *Regole utilissime per li scolari che desiderano imparare a cantare*, Florence 1606; *Regole et dichiarazioni di alcuni contrappunti doppi utili alli studiosi della musica*, ibid. 1610; *Sacra Cantica*, for 1-4 voices, ibid. 1617; and several *Messe dei morti*, ibid. 1619; he also composed 25 motets.

Francesco Coradini