In the past half century scholars have downplayed the significance of Lorenzo de' Medici (1449–1492), called "the Magnificent," as a patron of the arts. Less wealthy than his grandfather Cosimo, the argument goes, Lorenzo was far more interested in collecting ancient objects of art than in commissioning contemporary art or architecture. His earlier reputation as a patron was said to be largely a construct of humanist exaggeration and partisan deference. Although some recent studies have taken issue with this view, no synthesis of Lorenzo as art patron and art lover has yet emerged. In Lorenzo de' Medici and the Art of Magnificence historian F. W. Kent offers a new look at Lorenzo's relationship to the arts, aesthetics, collecting, and building—especially in the context of his role as the political boss (maestro della bottega) of republican Florence and a leading player in Renaissance Italian diplomacy. As a result of this approach, which pays careful attention to the events of his short but dramatic life, a radically new chronology of Lorenzo's activities as an art patron emerges, revealing them to have been more extensive and creative than previously thought. Kent's Lorenzo was broadly interested in the arts and supported efforts to beautify Florence and the many Medici lands and palaces. His expertise was well regarded by guildsmen and artists, who often turned to him for advice as well as for patronage. Lorenzo himself was educated in the arts by such men, and Kent explores his aesthetic education and taste, taking into account what is known of Lorenzo's patronage of music and manuscripts, and of his own creative work as a major Quattrocento poet. Richly illustrated with photographs of Medici landmarks by Ralph Lieberman, Lorenzo de' Medici and the Art of Magnificence offers a masterful portrait of Lorenzo as a man whose achievements might have rivaled his grandfather's had he not died so young.

A vividly colorful portrait of one of the greatest and most fascinating figures of the Renaissance, Lorenzo de' Medici, focusing on his role as a brilliant—sometimes ruthless—statesman who was responsible for the artistic flowering of Florence, the city where the Renaissance first blossomed. Lorenzo de' Medici—a leading statesman, the uncrowned ruler of Florence during its golden age, a true Renaissance man known to history as Il Magnifico (the Magnificent). Lorenzo was not only the foremost patron of his day but also a renowned poet, equally adept at composing philosophical verses and obscene rhymes to be sung at Carnival. He befriended the greatest artists and writers of the time—Leonardo, Botticelli, Poliziano, and, especially, Michelangelo, whom he discovered as a young boy and invited to live at his palace—and, in the process, turned Florence into the cultural capital of Europe. Though Lorenzo's grandfather Cosimo had converted the vast wealth of the family bank into political power, Lorenzo's position was precarious. Bitter rivalries among the leading Florentine families and competition among the squabbling Italian states meant that Lorenzo's life was under constant threat. Those who plotted his death included a pope, a king, and a duke, but Lorenzo used his legendary charm and diplomatic skill—as well as occasional acts of violence—to navigate the murderous labyrinth of Italian politics. Florence in the age of Lorenzo was a city of contrasts, of unparalleled artistic brilliance and unimaginable squalor in the city's crowded tenements; of both pagan excess and the fire-and-brimstone sermons of the Dominican preacher Savonarola. Florence gave birth to both the otherworldly perfection of Botticelli's Primavera and the gritty realism of Machiavelli's The Prince. Nowhere was this world of contrasts more perfectly embodied than in the life and character of the man who ruled this most fascinating city.

Do I dare disturb the universe? It is a question recognized by people around the world. If typed into the internet, hundreds of examples appear. Many know that it comes from one of the best known poems of the twentieth century, T. S. Eliot’s The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. What many do not know is that Eliot dramatically shifted his views at the height of his fame for writing such dark poetry as this and his also famous The Wasteland, becoming a sincere, devoted Christian. While his poetry is famous because it expresses the loss of a spiritual center in European civilization, a careful reading of it reveals that he was struggling with his Christianity from the beginning, not rejecting it, but trying to make it fit into the contemporary world. If a reader works through his love song for all of the esoteric meanings, as he demands, it quickly becomes evident that he intended it as a struggle between agape, amour and eros. Beginning it with a quote from Dante forces that into place. Though the protestant forms of Christianity have changed their views on these, the Roman Catholic holds fast. Eliot references Michelangelo in the poem, bringing in the great painter of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Most immediately recognize his name and work. Many do not realize how he expressed a similar personal struggle between the desires of the flesh and the spirit. Both of them admired Dante’s Divine Comedy, and its inclusion of amour as a means to salvation. His work is generally seen as the greatest literature ever to come out of Italy, sometimes referred to as the epic representation of St. Thomas Aquinas’ Summa Theologica, one of the central documents establishing Catholic doctrine. This book explores how these brilliant men struggle with the highest meanings of life in their artistic expressions and perhaps manage to express what Rudolph Otto designates the mysterium tremendum, the experience of a mystical awe, what he calls the numinous or, in more common terms, the experience of God.

This volume explores the concept of magnificence as a social construction in seventeenth-century Europe.

Do I dare disturb the universe? This is a question recognized by people around the world. If typed into the internet, hundreds of examples appear. Many know that it comes from one of the best-known poems of the previous century, T. S. Eliot’s The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. What many do not know is that Eliot dramatically shifted his views at the height of his fame for writing such dark poetry as this and The Waste Land, becoming a sincere, devoted Christian. While his poetry is famous because it expresses the loss of a spiritual center in European civilization, a careful reading of it reveals that he was struggling with his Christianity from the beginning, not rejecting it, but trying to make it fit into the contemporary world. If the reader works through Eliot’s love song for all of the esoteric meanings, as he demands, it quickly becomes evident that he intended it as a struggle between agape, amour and eros. Beginning it with a quote from Dante forces that into place. Though the protestant forms of Christianity have changed their views on these, the Roman Catholic holds fast. Eliot references Michelangelo in the poem, bringing in the great painter of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Most immediately recognize his name and work, but do not realize how he expressed a similar personal struggle between the desires of the flesh and the spirit. Both of them admired Dante’s Divine Comedy, and its inclusion of amour as a means to salvation. Dante’s work is generally seen as the greatest literature ever to come out of Italy. This book is an expanded revision of Seeking God in the Works of T. S. Eliot and Michelangelo. It explores how T.S Eliot struggled with the highest meanings of existence in his poetry and his own life, and perhaps managed to express what has become known as a modernist (and post-modernist) view of what Rudolph Otto designated the mysterium tremendum, the experience of a mystical awe, the experience of God.

Long obfuscated by modern definitions of historical evidence and art patronage, Lucrezia Tornabuoni de? Medici?s impact on the visual world of her time comes to light in this book, the first full-length scholarly argument for a lay woman?s contributions to the visual arts of fifteenth-century Florence. This focused investigation of the Medici family?s domestic altarpiece, Filippo Lippi?s Adoration of the Christ Child, is broad in its ramifications. Mapping out the cultural network of gender, piety, and power in which Lippi?s painting was originally embedded, author Stefanie Solum challenges the received wisdom that women played little part in actively shaping visual culture during the Florentine Quattrocento. She uses visual evidence never before brought to bear on the topic to reveal that Lucrezia Tornabuoni - shrewd power-broker, pious poetess, and mother of the 'Magnificent' Lorenzo de? Medici - also had a profound impact on the visual arts. Lucrezia emerges as a fascinating key to understanding the ways in which female lay religiosity created the visual world of Renaissance Florence. The Medici case study establishes, at long last, a robust historical basis for the assertion of women?s agency and patronage in the deeply patriarchal and artistically dynamic society of Quattrocento Florence. As such, it offers a new paradigm for the understanding, and future study, of female patronage during this period.