A Vision of Judgment

By John Moody/Rome

So overpowering was its impact that Pope Paul III, upon first seeing it, sank to his knees and murmured, "Lord, charge me not with my sins when thou shalt come on the Day of Judgment." Since being unveiled in 1541, Michelangelo's Last Judgment has been revered for its towering spiritual strength and enduring symbolism. The 40-by-45-ft. fresco on the west altar wall of the Sistine Chapel, on which Michelangelo labored for five years, is also a searing, unsparing personal document -- both of the unsettled world in which Michelangelo lived and of the artist's inner torment and fear of approaching death.

The exclusive selection of photographs on these pages provides the first extensive look at the newly cleaned Last Judgment, which will go on view in April at an Easter week Mass celebrated by Pope John Paul II. Its return to the public realm in dramatically improved condition will be an important event for both art and religion. Notes Kathleen Weil-Garris Brandt, a New York University art historian who has followed the project: "Our idea of what art tells us about God is shaped by Michelangelo more than anyone else, and by the Last Judgment more than any of his other works."

The rendering of a final verdict is reflected in the Judgment more unmistakably than ever, particularly in the central figure of Christ. Although its cleaning is not yet complete -- and hence the Vatican has released no color photos of it -- the emerging image clearly shows that contrary to a previous assumption that Christ's expression is one of anger, it instead betrays impatience, as though He were saying, "Silence! Now I will pronounce judgment!" Even more significant, no one in the fresco except the Virgin Mary seems to know his own fate, and thus everyone looks fearful. Says Fabrizio Mancinelli, the Vatican's curator of Renaissance art: "Michelangelo's way of interpreting this theme -- the uncertainty -- was not in line with the church at the time. The church wanted to project itself as the only certainty."

A controversial restoration of the chapel's 33-panel ceiling, which includes God's finger touching Adam's, was finished in 1989. Though some critics contend the process produced undesirable changes in color, the majority think it revealed the original hues used by Michelangelo in their pristine state. The Judgment, probably the world's most important example of fresco -- a technique that involves applying water-based pigments to a still wet plaster wall -- has not been seen by the public since 1990, when it was hidden behind draped scaffolding. As with the ceiling, its cleaner and brighter look, once revealed, is certain to generate debate. Says Mancinelli: "((The fresco)) wasn't painted in Tuscan color that you might associate with Michelangelo, who spent much of his life in Florence. Rather he used the warm palette of Venice. Obviously Michelangelo had seen the works of Titian and was influenced by them."

The Last Judgment is a swirl of more than 300 figures. As Christ majestically takes a step forward at the center, saints, angels, the redeemed and damned gesticulate, struggle and cringe in the shared moment of cataclysm. In the high reaches of the fresco, two angels kiss; another plays coyly with an old man's beard. Lower on the right, pugnacious angels pound down the damned into hell with brute force. The seven angels of the Apocalypse trumpet vigorously, blowing out their cheeks and exhibiting two books to the figures on the lower levels: an enormous tome lists the names of the hell-bound and a small one those who merit salvation.

After the fresco is unveiled to critics, art lovers and the 7,000 tourists a day who file through the Sistine Chapel, much of the credit, or blame, for its new look will be heaped on chief restorer Gianluigi Colalucci, 64, who also headed the team that cleaned the chapel's ceiling. Says he: "To clean the Last Judgment you have to enter into the spirit of the epoch in which it was created. You see the work through the eyes of the artist, but using modern techniques."

Colalucci and three assistants took a year to study the wall and make infrared and ultraviolet photographs to identify possible trouble spots. Spectrophotometry images showed restorers where Michelangelo had used the secco technique -- adding color after the plaster had dried -- which requires more care in cleaning. A dozen cleaning agents were proposed before the restorers settled on a solution of distilled water and 25% ammonium carbonate.

There were centuries of accumulated soot and grime to remove. The lapis lazuli sky, for example, was originally an intense, almost phosphorescent blue, accentuated by reflections from the coarsely ground semiprecious stone. But it had been applied secco; now, after 400 years, its adhesion is fragile, and the crystals in some areas have been irreparably bleached to a dull gray by cleaning.

At some occasions in the Sistine Chapel, such as Vatican funerals, as many as 100 heavy tallow candles sent ribbons of acrid smoke upward, sullying parts of the fresco almost beyond recognition. The work has been subjected to other roughshod treatment as well. During the installation of a canopy above the altar, iron rings were driven into the fresco near the trumpeting angels. Workmen's ladders scraped off even more plaster.

Previous cleanings did more harm than good, especially those that relied on such dubious detergents as sour Greek wine, used by restorers from the 17th century onward. Says Carlo Pietrangeli, director-general of the Vatican Museums: "Gluey solutions were spread on top of the frescoes to enliven the color. The smoke and dust stuck to the glues, and the deposits became stickier with each century. In the past they would attempt to clean the fresco, then become frightened by the dramatically changed colors and be forced to dirty it again." The restorers had a bit of undressing to do as well: decency laws passed by the Council of Trent in 1564 led to the commissioning of minor artists to clothe several of Michelangelo's nude figures. After much debate, the Vatican decided to allow most of those additions to be removed.

As Colalucci and his team worked on, heads and shoulders and rows of the blessed, obscured for hundreds of years, began to emerge through the dissolving murk -- ghosts of the 16th century. Michelangelo's message of divine retribution fitted the mood of the times, perhaps too well. In 1527 Rome had been sacked by Emperor Charles V, bringing its Renaissance to an effective end. The Catholic Church was attempting to come to terms with the challenge posed by the Protestant Reformation. Bickering among leading families in what is now Italy, plus the shifting sands of papal politics, made the world a most uncertain place. Pope Clement VII, who commissioned the Judgment, and his successor Paul III wanted Michelangelo's work to shout out a warning that the Catholic Church was the path to salvation.

Michelangelo lived 23 years after completing the Judgment, dying in 1564 at 89. In his last confession, he lamented, "I regret I have not done enough for the salvation of my soul." Those who see the restored Last Judgment would have good reason, just this once, to dispute the master.

With reporting by Ann Natanson/Rome