Michelangelo Sistine Chapel Quotes

She is the glorious reincarnation of every woman ever loved. It was her face that launched the Trojan War, her untimely demise that inspired the building of India's Taj Mahal. She is every angel in Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel.

So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you... I don't see an intelligent, confident man... I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you're a genius Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my fucking life apart. You're an orphan right? [Will nods] Sean: You think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally... I don't give a shit about all that, because you know what, I can't learn anything from you, I can't read in some fuckin' book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't want to do that do you sport? You're terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.

For someone with the innate social charm of a mounted fish (me), watching Miles befriend this stranger felt like seeing Michelangelo paint the Sistine Chapel: impressive, but also dizzying.

You love a job, no matter how hard it is, it’s still easy. Not sure, never studied up on the guy, could be wrong, but I reckon Michelangelo didn’t wake up and think, ‘Fuck, I gotta drag my ass outta bed. More painting at the Sistine Chapel. Wish that shit was done so I could get to a fuckin’ beach.

A visionary company is like a great work of art. Think of Michelangelo’s scenes from Genesis on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel or his statue of David. Think of a great and enduring novel like Huckleberry Finn or Crime and Punishment. Think of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony or Shakespeare’s Henry V. Think of a beautifully designed building, like the masterpieces of Frank Lloyd Wright or Ludwig Mies van der Rohe. You can’t point to any one single item that makes the whole thing work; it’s the entire work—all the pieces working together to create an overall effect—that leads to enduring greatness.

I am still learning." -Michelangelo late in his life.

Adam'e arm reaching towards God. When I first stood in the Sistine Chapel I wondered if Michelangelo was aware of his blasphemy. Who even noticed God when naked Adam lolled so sensually?

MICHELANGELO (1475-1564)   One of the major reasons the image of Jesus Christ was changed from black to white was due to some of Michelangelo's paintings. He was given a contract on 10th May 1508 by Pope Julius II to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. He used members of his family as models. For instance, his cousin was the model for Jesus Christ. The paintings were carried out between 1508 and 1512.

I once was the guest of the week on a British radio show called Desert Island Discs. You have to choose the eight records you would take with you if marooned on a desert island. Among my choices was Mache dich mein Herze rein from Bach’s St Matthew Passion. The interviewer was unable to understand how I could choose religious music without being religious. You might as well say, how can you enjoy Wuthering Heights when you know perfectly well that Cathy and Heathcliff never really existed? But there is an additional point that I might have made, and which needs to be made whenever religion is given credit for, say, the Sistine Chapel or Raphael’s Annunciation. Even great artists have to earn a living, and they will take commissions where they are to be had. I have no reason to doubt that Raphael and Michelangelo were Christians—it was pretty much the only option in their time—but the fact is almost incidental. Its enormous wealth had made the Church the dominant patron of the arts. If history had worked out differently, and Michelangelo had been commissioned to paint a ceiling for a giant Museum of Science, mightn’t he have produced something at least as inspirational as the Sistine Chapel? How sad that we shall never hear Beethoven’s Mesozoic Symphony, or Mozart’s opera The Expanding Universe. And what a shame that we are deprived of Haydn’s Evolution Oratorio—but that does not stop us from enjoying his Creation.

Now I know how Michelangelo felt. Only he ended up with the Sistine Chapel and I got a sooty ceiling in a minor mansion with two hundred plus chips from twenty layers of ancient paint in various hues of ick.

It’d taken only a few hours, but I felt like Michelangelo staring at the Sistine Chapel after four years of hard labor, like Banksy after spending six days searching the Internet for ideas to steal and three minutes of sidewalk vandalism to execute them.

Kay himself has conceded that technological wizards generally fall into two categories: the Michelangelo types who dream of Sistine Chapels and then actually spend years building them, and the da Vincis, who have a million ideas but seldom finish anything themselves.

Although 'to paint' means something like "to cause to be covered with paint," one does not 'paint a brush' when one dips it in the can, and it is hard to say with a straight face that "Michelangelo painted the ceiling" when he caused the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel to be covered with paint.

Michelangelo is celebrated for the Sistine Chapel; in fact, he supervised a dozen unacknowledged assistants. Even one of the greatest composers, Johann Sebastian Bach, chose to deflect credit for his compositions, writing at the bottom of each of his pieces “SDG,” for Soli Deo Gloria—to God alone the glory. By

You're just a boy. You don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about. You've never been out of Boston. So if I asked you about art you could give me the skinny on every art book ever written...Michelangelo? You know a lot about him I bet. Life's work, criticisms, political aspirations. But you couldn't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling. And if I asked you about women I'm sure you could give me a syllabus of your personal favorites, and maybe you've been laid a few times too. But you couldn't tell me how it feels to wake up next to a woman and be truly happy. If I asked you about war you could refer me to a bevy of fictional and non-fictional material, but you've never been in one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap and watched him draw his last breath, looking to you for help. And if I asked you about love I'd get a sonnet, but you've never looked at a woman and been truly vulnerable. Known that someone could kill you with a look. That someone could rescue you from grief. That God had put an angel on Earth just for you. And you wouldn't know how it felt to be her angel. To have the love be there for her forever. Through anything, through cancer. You wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in a hospital room for two months holding her hand and not leaving because the doctors could see in your eyes that the term "visiting hours" didn't apply to you. And you wouldn't know about real loss, because that only occurs when you lose something you love more than yourself, and you've never dared to love anything that much. I look at you and I don't see an intelligent confident man, I don't see a peer, and I don't see my equal. I see a boy.

When Michelangelo finally completed painting over 400 life size figures on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, he is reported to have written, “If people knew how hard I worked to get my mastery, it wouldn’t seem so wonderful after all.” What appeared to his admirers to have flowed from sheer genius had required four torturous years of work and dedication.20

Be Willing to Pay the Price If people knew how hard I had to work to gain my mastery, it wouldn’t seem wonderful at all. MICHELANGELO Renaissance sculptor and painter who spent 4 years lying on his back painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel Behind every great achievement is a story of education, training, practice, discipline, and sacrifice. You have to be willing to pay the price. Maybe that price is pursuing one single activity while putting everything else in your life on hold. Maybe it’s investing all of your own personal wealth or savings. Maybe it’s the willingness to walk away from the safety of your current situation. But though many things are typically required to reach a successful outcome, the willingness to do what’s required adds that extra dimension to the mix that helps you persevere in the face of overwhelming challenges, setbacks, pain, and even personal

The city was mired in a historic cold snap. I had it all to myself. Even the Sistine Chapel. Alone under Michelangelo’s ceiling, I was able to wallow in my disbelief. I read in my guidebook that Michelangelo was miserable while painting his masterpiece. His back and neck ached. Paint fell constantly into his hair and eyes. He couldn’t wait to be finished, he told friends. If even Michelangelo didn’t like his work, I thought, what hope is there for the rest of us?

Michelangelo, who had already spent much time studying Roman architecture in the ruins, proposed a revolutionary “flying bow bridge” scaffold. It was based on the principles of the Roman arch, whose weight presses out against the sides it is spanning. This ingenious structure could be inserted in just a few small holes made in the side walls, since all its pressure would flow there, and none down to the floor. It would also allow Michelangelo to fresco the ceiling a whole strip at a time, moving to the next strip as soon as one was finished, and thus progressing across the length of the chapel. He got approval to construct it, and it was an instant success, allowing the papal court to have its regular processions under it without any obstruction.

If Michelangelo had been straight, the Sistine Chapel would have been wallpapered.

Even Michelangelo, when painting the Sistine Chapel, built the scaffolds himself and mixed his own paint.

Michelangelo was accused of heresy for giving Adam a belly button in the Sistine Chapel.

What I hope to convey with From the Earth to the Moon is what Andy’s captured so well in this book—just how magnificent an undertaking Apollo really was. That going to the moon was not just a technological endeavor, but an artistic one, like Michelangelo’s frescoes on the Sistine Chapel ceiling.

by Julius II (1503–13). Julius won the papacy in part through bribery and in part through delicate negotiations with the Borgia family. Like Alexander, Julius was a shrewd diplomat. But even more than his predecessor, he was a man of action who, through vigorous military campaigns, greatly expanded the pope’s temporal jurisdiction. Julius was also a great builder as well as a great warrior-diplomat. His foundations included the Vatican Library, many other architectural triumphs, and a series of memorable artistic commissions (including Michelangelo’s frescoes on the vault of the Sistine Chapel).

Clearly, staining a single piece of furniture was far more complex than painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Michelangelo never once had to worry about a paint can spilling upon that ceiling.

One of the most overlooked aspects of excellence is how much work it takes. Fame can come easily and overnight, but excellence is almost always accompanied by a crushing workload, pursued with single-minded intensity. Strenuous effort over long periods of time is a repetitive theme in the biographies of the giants, sometimes taking on mythic proportions (Michelangelo painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel). Even the most famous supposed exception, Mozart, illustrates the rule. He was one of the lighter spirits among the giants, but his reputation for composing effortlessly was overstated—Mozart himself complained on more than one occasion that it wasn’t as easy as it looked1—and his devotion to his work was as single-minded as Beethoven’s, who struggled with his compositions more visibly. Consider the summer of 1788. Mozart was living in a city that experienced bread riots that summer and in a country that was mobilizing for war. He was financially desperate, forced to pawn his belongings to move to cheaper rooms. He even tried to sell the pawnbroker’s tickets to get more loans. Most devastating of all, his beloved six-month old daughter died in June. And yet in June, July, and August, he completed two piano trios, a piano sonata, a violin sonata, and three symphonies, two of them among his most famous.2 It could not have been done except by someone who, as Mozart himself once put it, is “soaked in music,…immersed in it all day long.”3 Psychologists have put specific dimensions to this aspect of accomplishment. One thread of this literature, inaugurated in the early 1970s by Herbert Simon, argues that expertise in a subject requires a person to assimilate about 50,000 “chunks” of information about the subject over about 10 years of experience—simple expertise, not the mastery that is associated with great accomplishment.4 Once expertise is achieved, it is followed by thousands of hours of practice, study, labor.5 Nor is all of this work productive. What we see of the significant figures’ work is typically shadowed by an immense amount of wasted effort—most successful creators produce clunkers, sometimes far more clunkers than gems.6

When Michelangelo finally completed painting over 400 life size figures on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, he is reported to have written, “If people knew how hard I worked to get my mastery, it wouldn’t seem so wonderful after all.

After long study of Michelangelo’s Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel I discovered a partial analogy in the fresco with my conception of the Creation of the world. Look at Christ in the fresco, at the gesture He is making. Like some prize champion He hurls into the abyss all who have dared to oppose Him. The whole vast surface teems with people and angels trembling with fright. Suspended in some cosmic expanse, all are engrossed less with their own plight than with the wrath of Christ. He is in the centre and His anger is terrible. This, to be sure, is not how I see Christ. Michelangelo possessed great genius but not for liturgical subjects. Let us reconstruct the fresco. Christ, naturally, must be in the centre, but a different Christ more in keeping with the revelation that we have of Him: Christ immensely powerful with the power of unassuming love. He is not a vindictive gesture. In creating us as free beings, He anticipated the likelihood, perhaps the inevitability, of the tragedy of the fall of man. Summoning us from the darkness of non-being, His fateful gesture flings us into the secret realms of cosmic life. ‘In all places and fulfilling all things,’ He stays for ever close to us. He loves us in spite of our senseless behaviour. He calls to us, is always ready to respond to our cries for help and guide our fragile steps through all the obstacles that lie in our path. He respects us as on a par with Him. His ultimate idea for us is to see us in eternity verily His equals, His friends and brothers, the sons of the Father. He strives for this, He longs for it. This is our Christ, and as Man He sat on the right hand of the Father.

Lots of paintings have hidden messages,” said Clara. “Even the Sistine Chapel. Michelangelo painted an angel essentially giving the pope the finger.

Undoubtedly Michelangelo’s talent created the potential for greatness, but without commitment, his influence would have been minimal. That level of commitment could be seen in his attention to the fine details as well as the overarching vision. When asked why he was working so diligently on a dark corner of the Sistine Chapel that no one would ever see, Michelangelo’s simple reply was, “God will see.

My mother started singing Mick's lower line as I sang Carly's high lead vocal. without realizing it.. I was harmonizing! just as they do in the song! my heart lit up! my eyes wide and! and then something clicked… the sound over two voices, singing two different Melody lines, made me realize one of music's most basic principles: different notes, when sung together in harmony, create a chord. This moment is burned in my heart and mind as my first love. It is the Michelangelo and the Sistine Chapel. My baptism. My musical “Big Bang” if you will. Hell, this was the chicken AND the egg! From that moment on, I heard life with an entirely new set of ears. I scored the radio for harmony. I searched every record in the house to find more. Did every song have this amazing new trick I just learned? Did everyone know about this? Had this been going on forever? Why hadn’t anyone bothered to tell me?! songs became more than songs; they became my toys. They became my puzzles. They became challenges and mysteries. Some became my best friends. Some picking my worst enemies. I was fascinated, and raptured, obsessed! I was hooked! (pg. xiii)

The girl's the Michelangelo of torture. She'd paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel with a scalpel.She is so ruthlessly skilled, she'll hurt you and make you believe you're enjoying it.

The Apotheosis of Washington—a 4,664-square-foot fresco that covers the canopy of the Capitol Rotunda—was completed in 1865 by Constantino Brumidi. Known as “The Michelangelo of the Capitol,” Brumidi had laid claim to the Capitol Rotunda in the same way Michelangelo had laid claim to the Sistine Chapel, by painting a fresco on the room’s most lofty canvas—the ceiling. Like Michelangelo, Brumidi had done some of his finest work inside the Vatican. Brumidi, however, immigrated to America in 1852, abandoning God’s largest shrine in favor of a new shrine, the U.S. Capitol, which now glistened with examples of his mastery—from the trompe l’oeil of the Brumidi Corridors to the frieze ceiling of the Vice President’s Room. And yet it was the enormous image hovering above the Capitol Rotunda that most historians considered to be Brumidi’s masterwork. Robert

Maybe he was just a crazy guy who liked funerals.” Phyllis was applying polish topcoat with all the care of Michelangelo painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. “Nobody goes to funerals for fun,” said Lucy,

both hands against the door. “Feet wider apart. That’s right. Like in the American movies.” Satisfied, Qazi patted the man down. “What, no gun? A GRU man without a gun …” Qazi carefully felt the man’s crotch and the arms above the wrists. “First humor and now this! The GRU will become a laughingstock. But of course there is a microphone.” Qazi lifted all the pens from the Russian’s shirt pocket and examined them, one by one. “It had better be here, Chekhov, or you will have to part with your buttons and your shoes.” It was in the third pen. “Now turn around and sit against the door.” The Russian’s face was covered with perspiration, his fleshy lips twisted in a sneer. “The shoes.” Qazi examined them carefully and tossed them back. “Now the coat.” This he scrutinized minutely. From the uppermost of the large three buttons on the front of the coat a very fine wire was just visible buried amid the thread that held the button on. Qazi sawed the button free with a small pocketknife, then dropped the pen and button down a commode. He tossed the coat back to Chekhov. “And the belt.” After a quick glance, Qazi handed it back. “Hurry, we have much to say to each other.” He unscrewed the silencer and replaced the pistol in his ankle holster. He opened the door as the Russian scrambled awkwardly to his feet. An hour later the two men were seated in the Sistine Chapel against the back wall, facing the altar and Michelangelo’s masterpiece The Last Judgment behind it. On the right the high windows admitted a subdued light. Qazi kept his eyes on the tourists examining the paintings on the ceiling and walls. “Is it in Rome, as General Simonov promised?” “Yes. But you must tell us why you want it.” “Is it genuine, or is it a masterpiece from an Aquarium print shop?” The Aquarium was the nickname for GRU headquarters in Moscow. The Russian’s lips curled, revealing yellow, impacted teeth. This was his smile. “We obtained it from Warrant Officer Walker.” “Ah, those Americans! One wonders just how long they knew about Walker’s activities.” The Russian raised his shoulders and lowered them. “Why do you want the document?” “El Hakim has not authorized me to reveal his reasons. Not that we don’t trust you. We value the goodwill of the Soviet Union most highly. And we intend to continue to cultivate that goodwill. But to reveal what you do not need to know is to take the risk that the Americans will learn of our plans through their activities against you.” “If you are implying they have penetrated—” “Chekhov, I am not implying anything. I am merely weighing risks. And I am being very forthright with you. No subterfuge. No evasion. Just the plain truth. Surely a professional like you can appreciate that?” “This document is very valuable.

One of the major reasons the image of Jesus Christ was changed from black to white was due to some of Michelangelo's paintings. He was given a contract on 10th May 1508 by Pope Julius II to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. He used members of his family as models. For instance, his cousin was the model for Jesus Christ.

He hauled in Michelangelo, commanding the aged maestro to make the naked figures in The Last Judgment “suitable” for the papal chapel. Michelangelo hotly replied: “Let His Holiness make the world a more suitable place, and then the painting will follow suit.” That was the last time Buonarroti had anything to do with Carafa.

SUCCESS, IT HAS OFTEN BEEN SAID, means different things to different people. Measured by the throngs of visitors who are moved to make personal pilgrimages to Rome and the Vatican, the Sistine Chapel is a success beyond compare—a place that some have suggested should be listed as one of the wonders of the world. But there is another way to determine whether a human effort has achieved its goal. It is important to take note of what its creators sought to accomplish. We need to know not only what the Sistine Chapel is today, but also what it was meant to be by its founders. Would they feel their chapel is a success today? As

SUCCESS, IT HAS OFTEN BEEN SAID, means different things to different people. Measured by the throngs of visitors who are moved to make personal pilgrimages to Rome and the Vatican, the Sistine Chapel is a success beyond compare—a place that some have suggested should be listed as one of the wonders of the world. But there is another way to determine whether a human effort has achieved its goal. It is important to take note of what its creators sought to accomplish. We need to know not only what the Sistine Chapel is today, but also what it was meant to be by its founders. Would they feel their chapel is a success today? As we have seen, the chapel has been altered, expanded, decorated, and yes, even partially defaced down through the ages. It has undergone not only structural alterations but also philosophic and theological modifications. Unlike Saint Paul, the Sistine never became “all things to all men,” but it has spoken with many voices and preached many different messages. Its strongest messages undoubtedly come from Michelangelo, the man most responsible for the Sistine’s enduring fame. However, his messages—“things seen and unseen”—have been obscured, misinterpreted, censored, overlooked, and forgotten over the centuries, only to come back to light in our time. Buonarroti once prayed, “Lord, grant that I may always desire more than I can accomplish.” We have to ask: would he feel that he accomplished his goal with his frescoes? For Michelangelo, could the Sistine be considered a success?

Let’s start with Michelangelo’s predecessors. What did they want the chapel to say, and what relevance, if any, do these ideas still have today?

The goal was to teach and spiritually transform its viewers. But in what way? We have already unveiled many of the artist’s secret messages hidden throughout the frescoes; but was there one overall statement he was trying to convey? Did he deliver it? In order to decide if Michelangelo succeeded, we will first need to probe into his innermost thoughts and find the key to his master plan, his “hidden brain” in the artwork. We have to do no less than answer the question, What was Michelangelo really trying to accomplish with his Sistine Chapel frescoes?

It is likely that this very maelstrom of conflicted impulses is what has foiled all previous attempts to come up with a “unified theory” of the chapel’s meaning. Any true portrait of a human being must be multifaceted. To portray the turbulent passions, loves, and hatreds of the great Michelangelo required the whole ceiling and front wall of the Sistine. As the famed British architect Sir Christopher Wren summed up his own life and works with the words, “If you want to see my monument, look around you,” Michelangelo may have chosen to write his autobiography on the chapel ceiling.

Yet, to view the Sistine primarily as a self-portrait doesn’t ring totally true. In spite of his arrogance regarding his artistic skill, Michelangelo was a very unassuming man. He lived an extremely humble life. Even though he was the highest-paid artist of his day, he dressed poorly and lived in a simple apartment, sending almost all his income to his family in Florence. Yes, he slipped his face into The Last Judgment, but unlike Julius II, he did not need an entire chapel or basilica to proclaim his ego. Furthermore, he considered himself first, last, and always a sculptor, not a painter. If he had made one piece the summary of his life, it would certainly have been a statue, not a fresco.

When Michelangelo came along a generation after the original fresco masters, he took on the almost-impossible task of linking the whole Sistine Chapel together. To accomplish this, he had to engineer an amazing “flying arch” bridge scaffolding from which to create his works. No one else was able to figure out how this could be done. No one after him could replicate his amazing feat. Michelangelo’s bridge is regarded as an engineering miracle to this day. How appropriate for the very same Michelangelo to have accomplished a similar miracle in creating the bridge between faiths that is perhaps the major message of his masterpiece.

Thus, Michelangelo filled the chapel with hidden messages of his passionate loves and his righteous rages, along with mystic symbols of divine justice and divine mercy. For him, the Sistine was indeed the Sanctuary, the neck of the world, but more than that, it was “The Bridge”—the bridge meant to unite people with God, with their fellow humans, and, perhaps most difficult of all, with their own spiritual selves.

Almost exactly five hundred years ago, a tormented soul named Michelangelo built a very narrow bridge in the middle of the air in the middle of a chapel in the middle of Rome. This resulted in a masterwork that would change the world of art forever.

the original commission for the ceiling was a plan designed by the pope and his closest advisers. Jesus was to have been the focal point of the project, surrounded by his apostles and probably also Mary and John the Baptist. This commission was especially dear to the pope’s heart, since the chapel had originally been built by his uncle Sixtus IV and would be an eternal monument to their family’s glory. Now Michelangelo was about to subvert the entire project to secretly promote his own beliefs, especially those of humanism, Neoplatonism, and universal tolerance. He had already somewhat appeased the pope with his ploy of putting him in the place of Jesus—but how was he going to get the pope to pay for the world’s largest Catholic fresco without a single Christian figure in it?

There was even a third person to deal with, as far as anything that took place in the Sistine Chapel. He was the official Inquisitor of Heresies, a fanatical Dominican friar named Giovanni Rafanelli, who had the right even to interrupt priests in the middle of their sermons if he found any of their statements not 100 percent in line with the Vatican.

sit well with Michelangelo. The project seemed like a series of insurmountable challenges: •​It would be the largest fresco on earth—there would be more than twelve thousand square feet to cover. •​He had never frescoed before. •​His competition would be staring him in the face every day—the Moses and Jesus wall panels, world-class masterpieces created by the top fresco artists in the world—including his own first maestro, Ghirlandaio. When and if he ever finished the ceiling, his beginner’s work would be compared with these. •​The chapel was in constant use, more than twenty times per month. The scaffolding could not be of the traditional kind, which would require too much wood and thus block up the chapel and render it unusable for years. •​The pope’s rigid and unimaginative concept for the ceiling stood against everything Michelangelo believed in, both as a spiritual seeker and as an artist. •​The pope’s advisers would be trying to catch him at any changes or “heresies” that he might insert in the work. •​The pope and Bramante had given him a large number of Roman assistants to help with the plaster and paint—but Michelangelo knew very well that their other job would be to spy on his work.

Whoever’s idea it was, the new Palatine Chapel was designed to replace the ancient Jewish Temple as the New Holy Temple of the New World Order in the New Jerusalem, which would from this time forward be the city of Rome, the capital of Christendom.

Zeus…,” Langdon declared, his voice powerful. “The god of all gods. The most feared and revered of all the pagan deities. Zeus, more than any other god, resisted his own extinction, mounting a violent battle against the dying of his own light, precisely as had the earlier gods Zeus had replaced.” On the ceiling flashed images of Stonehenge, the Sumerian cuneiform tablets, and the Great Pyramids of Egypt. Then Zeus’s bust returned. “Zeus’s followers were so resistant to giving up on their god that the conquering faith of Christianity had no choice but to adopt the face of Zeus as the face of their new God.” On the ceiling, the bearded bust of Zeus dissolved seamlessly into a fresco of an identical bearded face—that of the Christian God as depicted in Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

What is this plan, then? What does the great ceiling really mean? To understand it fully, we have to experience it the way that Michelangelo created it and meant it to be interpreted: step by step, layer by layer. It is important to keep in mind that originally all visitors to the chapel entered through the front door, to experience the sanctuary as an organic whole, first seeing the entire length of the hall from the portal and then slowly immersing themselves in the imagery, step by step. Michelangelo’s purpose was twofold: On the one hand, the impact of the large-scale all-encompassing view served as powerful inspiration; one could not help but be overwhelmed, both visually and emotionally. But there is another function—a brilliant technique to conceal the deeper and more dangerous messages in his work. Michelangelo put so many different ingredients into the mix that the average viewer is distracted, unsettled, and ultimately disoriented.

There is so much information and decoration that this, the world’s largest fresco painting at about twelve thousand square feet, seems overstuffed and overdone. Let us be clear: it is—and on purpose. Think of a master magician performing sleight-of-hand tricks. The prestidigitator will be making so many flourishes, grandiose gestures, and distracting movements with one hand that you will never notice the real operation happening in the other hand. So it is with the artwork in the Sistine Chapel.

This had to be kept secret, of course, since only Catholic artists were allowed to work inside the Vatican, and especially in the pope’s chapel. If it had been discovered that Buonarroti had denied the Church and veered into Valdesian Protestantism, he would not only have lost his career, but also his freedom—and possibly his life.

To Giovanni da Pistoia Michelangelo, translated from the Italian by Joel Agee | 144 words (On painting the vault of the Sistine Chapel) 1509 I’ve grown a goiter from this trap I’m in, as cats do from foul water in Lombardy, or some such place, wherever it may be. My stomach’s almost up against my chin, My beard points skyward, at my nape the store of memory dangles, I’ve grown a harpy’s breast, and from above, my dripping brush, for jest, transforms my face into a mosaic floor. And while my haunches press into my gut, my ass serves as a steady counterweight. My feet tread blindly somewhere down below. In front I feel my skin stretched lengthwise, but in back it crimps and folds. This is my state: arched and indented like a Syrian bow. Not to be trusted, though, are the strange thoughts that through my mind now run, for who can shoot straight through a crooked gun? My painting’s dead. I’m done. Giovanni, friend, remove my honor’s taint, I’m not in a good place, I cannot paint.

We should reconsider cruelty and open our eyes,” chides Nietzsche. “Almost everything we call ‘higher culture’ is based on the spiritualization of cruelty, on its becoming more profound: this is my proposition.” Breaking the four-minute mile demanded the superior abilities of Roger Bannister coupled with intense, painful training. Endless hours of excruciating self-denial went into Michelangelo’s adornment of the Sistine Chapel. The glories of the pyramids were made possible by the relentless cruelty of slave labor. Such is the cost of all human greatness. It pays in the coin of pain, and hence greatness itself would be destroyed by maximizing pleasure and comfort and treating pain itself as simply evil.

I am sure that it was only because Michael Angelo was engaged in the ancient and honourable occupation of lying in bed that he ever realised how the roof of the Sistine Chapel might be made into an awful imitation of a divine drama that could only be acted in the heavens.

that) but because God thought the whole thing up first. Fran illustrates this with the Sistine Chapel in Rome, where Michelangelo portrays the creation of

There is so much about the history of the Sistine that seems predestined. According to the more reliable sources, work began on renovating the chapel in 1475. In the very same year, in the Tuscan town of Caprese, Michelangelo Buonarroti was born.

Mather wrote of all humans having a White soul the same year John Locke declared all unblemished minds to be White. Robert Boyle and Isaac Newton had already popularized light as White. Michelangelo had already painted the original Adam and God as both being White in the Vatican’s Sistine Chapel. And for all these White men, Whiteness symbolized beauty, a

Even the Sistine Chapel. Alone under Michelangelo’s ceiling, I was able to wallow in my disbelief. I read in my guidebook that Michelangelo was miserable while painting his masterpiece. His back and neck ached. Paint fell constantly into his hair and eyes. He couldn’t wait to be finished, he told friends. If even Michelangelo didn’t like his work, I thought, what hope is there for the rest of us?

The mightiest oak tree in Wild Acres was even larger than its two cousins that flanked the crossroads. The base spanned the ground like a giant claw, its network of visible roots gripping the earth with a ferocious intensity. Its branches spread high and wide, a desperate reach for the heavens. A low-lying cloud hovered above the treetops, within sight but not within reach. The scene reminded me of Michelangelo’s famous frescoes on the Sistine Chapel ceiling—the finger of God stretched toward Adam’s. In this moment, I understood why certain cultures believed that trees served as the bridge to both the underworlds and the heavens. I