The Bernardino Luini affair in Milan: all of us are the losers


The affair of the painting attributed first to Bernardino Luini and then to his workshop, which has divided scholars Agosti and Stoppa and the Pinacoteca Ambrosiana, is likely to hit the art history milieu hard.

Were it not for the fact that the story is true, there would also be laughter. But it really happened: Giovanni Agosti and Jacopo Stoppa, curators of the exhibition Bernardino Luini and His Sons, running until July 13 in Milan (at the Palazzo Reale), borrow a painting from the Pinacoteca Ambrosiana, the Sacred Family with St. Anne and St. John, which has always been attributed to Bernardino Luini. However, the two scholars believe that the painting is not by the hand of the great Lombard Renaissance painter, and lean toward a more prudent attribution to his workshop (or “heirs,” as written in the news reports that came out in the papers). Agosti and Stoppa, however, make a mistake, according to what we learn from the words released by the Pinacoteca Ambrosiana to Corriere della Sera (which, among other things, improperly headlines, “That Luini is not authentic”: a meaningless title since the painting if attributed to others does not lose its authenticity, that is, it does not become a fake): that is, they do not warn the museum that owns the painting about the new attribution. The Art Gallery then decides to withdraw the painting from the exhibition and take it “home”.

Il dipinto contestato
The disputed painting

As art historian Fabrizio Federici pointed out on his Facebook page Mo(n)stre in a post published the day before yesterday, there are really too many elements that make scholars but perhaps even more so the Pinacoteca look bad. While it is true that the scholars did not alert the Pinacoteca, this is no small failing: not only is it not nice on a “formal” level, but formulating new attributions without directly informing the owner of a painting risks creating diplomatic incidents. Which then occurred, precisely, on time. But this was not the only carelessness committed by Agosti and Stoppa. To try to defend their gesture, they stated, in the same Corriere article we linked above, that “the difference in attribution would make sense in an auction house, but in this case the problem does not arise: the painting is not for sale.” This is not quite how it is: it is true that the change of attribution does not take anything away from the work on a formal level (also due to the fact that it still remains a splendid painting executed by a capable and intelligent artist, who was able to rework clear Leonardesque cues in a non-trivial way), but it is also true that the value of a work of art is not measured only in economic terms.

Indeed, it seems glaringly obvious that theappeal of a painting diminishes if the attribution goes from a famous master to an artist whose name is not even known, since Agosti and Stoppa believe that it is a work of the school of Luini, without, however, a precise name being formulated. So the painting, while not being downgraded on the formal level (and in that case the judgment of the Pinacoteca, which speaks, precisely, of a “downgraded” work, would have to be revised), at the exhibition public is certainly encountering a loss of that charm that connotes a work made by the hand of a great master. But beware: it does not matter whether the loss of charm is rightly or wrongly, because we at Windows on Art are also convinced that the charm of a painting must be unrelated to the hand of the person producing it: there are great artists who have often produced less than exciting paintings, and conversely, authors almost unknown to the general public have been capable of powerfully evocative works. The fact remains that it is undeniable that on a part of the public a painting exerts a certain attraction because it is executed by a famous artist. This does not mean that scholars should not do their job and review an assignment if they think it is right to do so: it is just that the same scholars, while not having conducted an erroneous reasoning (if you will, it is only an incomplete observation), should not at the same time minimize the logic that leads a part of the public to give more consideration to one painting than another by virtue of the artist who made it. So it makes little sense to say that “the painting is not for sale,” because that is not the point at all, and the scholars probably know this: we hope they have merely misspoke. After all, a slight mistake like this can happen to anyone. We are familiar with the work of Giovanni Agosti and Jacopo Stoppa, and they are two of the best art historians currently working: the exhibition they curated on Bramantino two years ago was an outstanding and memorable exhibition. The value of these two scholars is therefore not in the least undermined.

However, it is regrettable to observe the behavior of the Pinacoteca Ambrosiana, which issued unsympathetic press releases and, with a probably overreaction, took the painting back without wanting to attempt the slightest dialogue with the curators of the exhibition. This is precisely one of the most damaging aspects of art history. The lack of dialogue and listening to each other, the divisions, the rivalries, the lack of ability to come to each other peacefully: these are all situations that, in the meantime, do not interest the public, and above all, they risk making the environment lose credibility. It is precisely in times like these, in times of low attention to art history by politics and the media, of chronic lack of funds and constant cuts, that we should break down all kinds of barriers to come together and start building rather than destroying. Even in the case of Luini’s painting, therefore, it would have been much better if there had been a noble and passionate dialogue: it would have benefited everyone, research first and foremost. And in the end, those who lose out are also the public, who will not have the opportunity to admire the work on display. And someone will ask why. The answer can only be one: the absence of the painting is the result of yet another squabble that risks making the whole Italian art system look extremely provincial (indeed, it has probably already largely succeeded). Thus, the loser is all of us. It would therefore be time to stop these situations and overcome the divisions. It bears repeating: we would all gain.


Warning: the translation into English of the original Italian article was created using automatic tools. We undertake to review all articles, but we do not guarantee the total absence of inaccuracies in the translation due to the program. You can find the original by clicking on the ITA button. If you find any mistake,please contact us.