The Renaissance was not as we were told

You have to be very sure of your research and your thesis to try to dismantle a certain view of a period of history, whose interpretation is already practically engraved in the minds of all subsequent generations. 

Art historian and archaeologist Alberto Garín, who also holds a PhD in architecture, dares to present his version in his book 'Renaissance. The Art that Conquered the World' (Harper Collins, 302 pages). This professor at the Francisco Marroquín University in Guatemala does not mince his words when he reveals the conclusion of his work, describing as 'incorrect' the well-established thesis that 'the Renaissance recovered the classical world, yes, but not to put man at the centre of the universe (something that had not happened in Greece or Rome either), but because, from the outset, a successful Florence wanted to free itself from the burden of the Holy Roman Empire'. 

Another thing is that the Florentine Renaissance was so popular with the popes that they ended up turning it into the quintessential Catholic art form. And he states categorically: ‘Yes, the Renaissance is the art of Catholics, because if anything characterised the Protestants, it was their open rejection of Renaissance forms and classical knowledge in general’. This is a complete refutation, with abundant supporting documentation, of the thesis that has spanned centuries of history, asserting that the Renaissance was the light that came to illuminate and end the supposed darkness of the Middle Ages, another widespread belief that Garín has no qualms about seriously questioning. 

The truth is that such a powerful and universal artistic movement needed the resolute support of personalities who promoted it and projected it into the future. But, already launched into the demonstration of his thesis, he returns to support it with one of the statements that will surely give rise to much discussion: the Renaissance needed as its great driving force a wise, humanist prince who respected Christian tradition but was open to all classical knowledge. 'That prince who lives in a harmonious palace but surrounded by a well-rationalised nature, in perfectly ordered gardens. That prince who surrounded himself with scholars and thousands of books in order to govern well did indeed exist. But no, it was not Lorenzo the Magnificent, nor Pope Julius II. It was not Emperor Charles V, nor King Francis I of France. The prince who did know how to conform to all the principles defended by the great theorists of the Renaissance was Philip II.'

In short, between 1400 and 1527, the Renaissance was an anecdotal artistic movement in certain courts, those of the Catholic Monarchs, their grandson, Emperor Charles V, the kings of the Valois dynasty of France and Henry VIII of England, where the most convoluted forms of medieval art dominated. And, although in these times of disbelief, controversy is increasing, the truth, according to Garín, is that ‘only when the Renaissance became a symbol of Catholicism did it become an artistic style that conquered the world.’ 

Putting his scientific knowledge at the level of popularisation, the author also explains how artists accepted to submit to the market, so that they knew how to move from medieval art, which is what they knew how to do, liked and provided them with the income to live, to the classical art that their clients demanded. So much so that, when he talks about artists who could be described as groundbreaking, he cites exclusively Michelangelo, himself immersed in the process of rebuilding the Vatican, along with so many other great creators, such as Bramante and Raphael, but without the devastating independent character continually exhibited by the great Michelangelo Buonarroti Simoni, ‘the artist touched by the gods’.