in Siena: the narrative reliefs are fl anked by fi gures.
All the forms—capitals, fi gures, narratives—are more
energetic than the corresponding elements in Nicola’s
pulpits. In particular, the lion, griffi n, and eagle of the
central support are dynamic opposing forces, revolv-
ing around the column as hub. Traces of polychromy
on the fi gures as well as remains of the glazed colored
background tesserae give a hint of the original chromatic
effect. The most stunning aspect of this pulpit, however,
is the heightened emotional content of the narratives. In
the Annunciation, for instance, the awesome message
simultaneously thrusts the Virgin away from Gabriel
and magnetically draws the fi gures together. Expres-
siveness combines with naturalism to bring the sacred
fi gures down to earth: the Christ child in the Nativity
is neither the miniature adult of medieval tradition nor
the Herculean child rendered by Nicola but is argu-
ably the fi rst realistic newborn infant in the history of
art (Moskowitz 2001). Giovanni’s compositional and
expressive powers are nowhere more evident than in
the Massacre of the Innocents. At fi rst the composition
appears chaotic, but closer examination reveals that the
violent movements, deep pockets of shadow, and fl ash-
ing highlights cohere as a series of zigzag vertical and
horizontal rhythms generated by the forward motion
and gesture of King Herod. In a cinematic sequence,
every moment of response is portrayed: to the left of
Herod, three women plead before the brutal slaughter;
immediately below and at the lower left, several mothers
clutch their infants in terror, shielding the babies with
their own bodies; at the base, three grieving mothers
bend over their dead children. Finally, bringing the eye
upward toward Herod again, mother and murderer—like
an angel and devil fi ghting for a soul in the Last Judg-
ment—battle over the body of a screaming infant who
has already received the death blow.
A quieter, more intimate side of Giovanni’s artistic
personality is revealed in a series of depictions of the
Madonna and child executed throughout his career. In
Giovanni’s hands, the image is transformed from aus-
terity and rigidity to an expression of intimacy, as can
be seen in a half-length Madonna from a tympanum of
the duomo in Pisa of the mid-1270s (Keller 1942, 13).
In several later Madonnas, the child leans toward his
mother, resting his arm on her shoulder. Finally, in the
Prato Madonna, universally attributed to Giovanni (c.
1312), the relationship intensifi es, as Mary, smiling,
bends her head down to direct her gaze at her son. In
contrast to the regular, planar features of Giovanni’s
fi gure on the tympanum in Pisa, the Prato Madonna is
characterized by refi ned features and delicate transitions
in the soft planes and contours.
Giovanni’s mastery extended to wood and ivory. He
executed a beautiful ivory Madonna and child (Ragghi-
anti 1954; Seidel 1972, 1991) and a series of wood and
ivory crucifi xes—none documented or dated—which
are so compellingly close to his images on the pulpits
that the attributions seem valid (Seidei 1971). These,
too, mark a turning point in the history of the theme in
Italy: the relative quietude of Nicola’s representations
is now often replaced by an aching pathos reminiscent
of some transalpine examples.
In 1302, Giovanni was commissioned to execute a
pulpit for the grand Tuscan Romanesque cathedral of
Pisa. Because of its location within the vast space of the
duomo—beneath the cupola, near the south transept—it
had to be much larger than the pulpit in Pistoia. Like
Nicola’s pulpit in Siena, it is octagonal rather than hex-
agonal. Since each parapet of the bridge leading from
stairway to balustrade contains a narrative, there are nine
relief fi elds (an unprecedented number), with the fi rst
and last narratives (those on the bridge) on fl at panels
and the rest on curved slabs. This expanded sequence
includes scenes from the life of John the Baptist: the
fi rst relief shows the Annunciation to Mary, Mary and
Elizabeth in the Visitation, and the Nativity of John the
Baptist. Parallels and intersections between the life of
Christ and that of John, his precursor, were emphasized
in the popular apocryphal literature of this period; and
here they are made eloquently clear because the two
Nativity scenes are at an angle to each other and thus
can be seen simultaneously.
An inscription on the pulpit alludes, in a surprisingly
self-conscious way, to diffi culties: “The more I have
achieved the more hostile injuries have I experienced”
(Pope-Hennessy 1972). Further along, there is a refer-
ence to the “envy” of others and the “sorrow” of the
sculptor who lacks adequate “recognition.” Vasari was
quite critical of this pulpit, and later in the sixteenth
century, when an excuse presented itself, the monu-
ment was dismantled (Bacci 1926; Moore et al. 1993).
After various proposals for reconstruction in the late
nineteenth century, the present version was executed by
Peleo Bacci in 1926. Responses continue to be mixed.
Documents record the names of dozens of individuals
engaged on this pulpit, and certainly the quality of the
carving is not as uniform as that on the pulpit in Pistoia.
Nevertheless, there are passages of unsurpassed emo-
tional power and inventiveness, such as a saint dragging
a resurrected soul toward Christ; moreover, many of the
reliefs reveal a continuing engagement with issues of
spatial illusionism and naturalism in the treatment of
fi gures and landscape.
Both artist and patron must have felt the challenge
posed by the three earlier pulpits and must have sought
to surpass them in size, iconographic and sculptural
complexity, and decorative richness. The pulpit in Pisa
is, then, a recapitulation, synthesis, and amplifi cation
not only of the three others but also of the major innova-
tions in almost all the earlier monuments by GiovanniPISANO, GIOVANNI