¡¡¡¡In praising Michelangelo¡¯s Night in the Medici Chapel, Giovanni Strozzi ¨C a
contemporary of the sculptor -- imagined the stone statue being a ¡°living image¡±
of a sleeping woman conjured up by divine power. As if talking to a fellow
visitor to the chapel, he promised that the statue would awake and speak upon a
light touch:
¡¡¡¡ Night, which you see sleeping in such sweet attitudes, was carved in this stone by an angel; and because she sleeps, she has life. Wake her, if you don¡¯t believe it, and she will speak to you.£±
¡¡¡¡ To these clever (but rather conventional) verses Michelangelo responded with a blunt epigram. He indeed let the statue speak, but only to reject any disturbance from an intrusive visitor:
¡¡¡¡My sleep is dear to me, and more dear this being of stone, as long as the agony and shame last. Not to see, not to hear [or feel] is for me the best fortune. So do not wake me. Speak softly! £²
¡¡¡¡ These lines, however, also beg the question -- What would a painted or sculpted figure see, hear, and feel if he or she is not sleeping? This question becomes more tantalizing if the figure belongs to a large composition charged with strong emotion and dramatic intensity. The significance of the question lies in its redefinition of a painting from an external object of viewing to an organic body of internal visions, actions, and feelings. Once we accept the logic of this question, we begin to combine our seeing with active imagination. It is at this point we can turn to Michelangelo¡¯s Last Judgment (fig. 1), which has inspired Miao Xiaochun to create the multiple, large-format photographs and video work in this exhibition. Commonly upheld as the most ambitious and turbulent pictorial work from the Renaissance, Michelangelo¡¯s fresco has been skillfully described by S. J. Freedberg: