The lights are very dimmed but the 'presence' of the Last Supper is huge.
It's strange but from this viewpoint (our eyes are below the centre of the mural), you would swear that the vanishing point is above Jesus' head. In fact, it is situated just below his right temple.
Did you know that in the Last Supper, the corners of the windows are positioned on the main perspective lines suggested by the tapestries?
Here is a close up of the vanishing point in the Last Supper. Where would you say it falls: on the ear of Jesus?
Above the door, a decorative semi-circular pediment is faintly visible—its edges softened by the deterioration of Leonardo da Vinci's Last Supper.
The Early Renaissance discovery of linear perspective was a major breakthrough which revolutionised the visual arts. For the first time, painters were able to represent objects receding into the distance with accuracy.
Leonardo takes such liberty with the perspective of the windows that we might question whether he resorted to some other logic significant enough to justify this emancipation from a strict obedience to the theory.
The Last Supper is like a snapshot. Something has just triggered the vast array of emotions shown by the disciples.
Beneath even the most expressive works of art, there can lie a framework of quiet, deliberate order.
The 12-by-6 grid proposed by art historian Thomas Brachert in 1971 commands the architectural space in which the emotionally charged scene of The Last Supper unfolds.
Jesus has just spoken these chilling words: “Truly, truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me.”
There is a wave-like motion running through the disciples. Those closest to Jesus express the most intense and varied emotions, their reactions a stark contrast to the more subdued figures at the far ends of the table.
As we wrap up this mini-series on the role of the grid in The Last Supper, let’s take a moment to summarise how the grid governs the composition, and where it breaks the rules.