Tag Archives: Artist – Titian

ITALY. Italian art in the 13th-18th Centuries.

FEATURE image: Dosso Dossi (c. 1489–1542), Melissa, 1520s. 69.25 x 68.5 inches, Borghese Gallery, Rome.

Duccio Di Buoninsegna (c.1255-c.1319).

Duccio Di Buoninsegna (c.1255-c.1319), The Apparition of Jesus at the Closed Doors. The Museo dell’Opera del Duomo, Siena, Italy.

The artistic tradition of the Sienese master, Duccio di Buoninsegna (c. 1255-c. 1319) was based on older Greek painting. Duccio, however, was no less “modern” than Giotto (1266-1377). Giotto, who was trained by Cimabue (1240-1302), directed his creative artistry towards concrete reality whose perception derived from the artist’s thoughts and feelings of it. Duccio would achieve a similar but unique synthesis through and from a different direction. 

Duccio modernized the older Greek style creating the painting styles of the Sienese school as well as all of early Renaissance painting. Duccio’s artwork is distinguished by his discriminating advance of the Byzantine Post-Hellenism tradition in Tuscany—and following his own encounter with Cimabue who gave the Sienese artist his first important commission in Florence in 1285 —in a masterly delicate way. This delicacy and discrimination are seen in Duccio’s elegant, often light and airy, compositions and rich colors.

Over the next almost 25 years Duccio learned and deployed the elements of various pictorial traditions that, by his constant intelligent blending, enriched them. Duccio’s style used the iconographic schemata of the ancient Oriental-Byzantine tradition including its glorious color and poetic composition along with the ultra-contemporary French and Gothic linear style. Duccio’s oeuvre epitomizes the artist’s temperament and taste as well as a lifetime of artistic education and culture.  

Beyond its representation of an event in a scene, Duccio’s painting, not unlike Giotto’s histories, is raised to another level by some of its formal elements –- a figure, episode, or gesture -– into the artist’s magical world. This quality of Duccio’s art provides a textually clear and comprehensibly observed episode—such as of the Gospels— within a setting that is carefully observed and delineated—and with its totality imbued in finer artistic and aesthetic sensibilities.

The imminent drama manifested in Duccio’s iconography transcends its representational anecdote, even as figures or episodes of the Bible are easily recognizable. His artwork’s plasticity, with figures and surroundings in serene harmony, emanates a power whose message supersedes, or at least is contiguous to, the painting’s ostensible, usually religious, subject matter.

In the display of such a unique artistic quality, Duccio’s artwork functions in a dream-like and imaginatively timeless dimension—a unique poetical language—while it conveys an historical condition in any of his intentionally-varying episodes. Duccio’s carefully delineated religious scenes, softly and carefully conveyed, would characterize emerging Sienese painting and make religious painting exceedingly popular in Europe over the next 450 years. see – Giotto and His Contemporaries, Enzo Carli, trans. Susan Bellamy, New York: Crown Publishers, Inc., 1958.

Benozzo Gozzoli (c. 1421-October 4, 1497).

Benozzo Gozzoli (c. 1421-October 4, 1497), Saint Anthony of Padua, 1450, Santa Maria in Aracoeli, Rome, Italy. In art, the saint’s iconography often depicts him with one or more of the following: a book, a heart, a flame, a lily, or the child Jesus.

Anthony of Padua (1195-1231) had a cult in Italy that grew around him quickly and continues to today. He was born with the name Ferdinand in the last decade of the 12th century in Lisbon, Portugal. His father was a high financial official in the king’s court and a knight under Alfonso II of Aragon. Young Ferdinand was educated at the cathedral school in Lisbon and, at 15 years old, became an Augustinian Canon regular in Lisbon. After two years he transferred to a house in Coimbra in part to get away from his well-to-do relatives who were constantly seeking after their promising progeny who had decided to become a Catholic religious and priest. At Coimbra Ferdinand studied at the monastery’s renown biblical studies school for eight years. Steeped in the scriptures he became a theological and scripture scholar of unparalleled high caliber. One day the young Augustinian canon was serving as guest master for the house in Coimbra when 5 Franciscans sent out from Assisi in Italy by St. Francis (1181-1226)– the order had been founded in 1209 – stopped on their way to the missions in in Morocco. Not soon after Anthony learned that all 5 of these zealous Franciscans were butchered in Morocco as martyrs as soon as they arrived there. Their bodies brought back to Coimbra for their funeral deeply moved Anthony who wanted to emulate these Franciscans’ active witness and he decided to become a Franciscan himself in order to take their place. His family, who had been wary of his becoming a scholarly Augustinian following a venerable old rule in nearby Coimbra, grew even more upset as their son who threw away a knight’s career at court now joined a fly by night ragtag group in far flung Italy founded by another rich kid named Francesco who also renounced wealth to focus on evangelical poverty following his brand-new skeletal rule based on a few bible verses. Ferdinand was determined in his inspirations and took the difficult path of leaving the Augustinian canons for the Franciscans and then insisting on leaving Portugal for the missions in Morocco. But Ferdinand’s ambitions were stymied – he fell ill and was ordered home. But the ship he was traveling on was caught in a storm that drove Anthony off course to Sicily. From there he took the long journey to Assisi where he met St. Francis and was present at the famous Chapter of Mats in 1221 that drew, perhaps symbolically, 5,000 brethren of the new order. Though highly educated among a group of mendicants whose founder was suspicious of book learning, Anthony disappeared into menial duties in a small hospice in Forli. But the Franciscans, many of them former sons of the wealthy themselves, recognized Anthony’s brilliant abilities and he was ordered to preach to the whole of Italy. Anthony of Padua became this great preacher and, later, famous worker of miracles. In a time of heresy and controversy throughout Christendom Anthony, who was gentle, poised, charming, intelligent, thoughtful, and deeply well-versed in theology and scripture, served as a personable and effective counterweight. From that point forward until his death, Anthony was active and always on the road from Italy’s south to the north of France. Townspeople and rural folk were positively responsive to his efforts and wherever Anthony went next, churches, plazas and surrounding countryside would be packed with people to hear his sermons. Speaking events would be advertised by word of mouth so that towns often declared a holiday in anticipation of his arrival so that everyone could go out to listen to Anthony. Anthony’s preeminent issue was on the corruption of the secular clergy which scandalized the church, the faithful in the pews, and the wider world to the detriment of the faith. During a time of the rise of cities and the bourgeoisie, as the hierarchical church progressively attached themselves to the bankers and such, Anthony inveighed against the society’s greed, its lust for elite luxuriant living, with its necessary exploitation of labor to maintain themselves at such an unfair level. Anthony called such social behavior “tyrannical.” At a synod in Bourges, France, in the presence of the bishop, Anthony called him out – “as for you with the mitre on your head” and proceeded to denounce his abuses in the diocese before a petrified and perhaps also thrilled audience. Anthony happened to be in Padua when he preached his last sermons – and thus his nomenclature. Miracles and stories have a Franciscan flavor -such as preaching to the fishes or a giant walnut tree unexpectedly providing sustenance and shade to a tired evangelizing preacher. After 10 years of constant travel and preaching, like the Franciscan founder who died blind and naked on the ground outside the Portiuncula in 1226 at 44 years old, Anthony’s body had worn out at an early age. He was 36 years old. In the spring of 1231, his health deteriorated, he took a period of rest and prayer in a small hermitage in Camposampiero close to Padua. His health did not recover and he asked to return to St. Mary’s in Padua. As he was transported to the city in an ox cart he got as far Arcella, just opposite the city, where he died in a convent of Poor Clares. Though his cult hails him as a miracle worker — at his canonization 56 were recorded -– only one occurred in Anthony’s lifetime. Anthony‘s reputation, who was called the “hammer of the heretics” by his contemporaries, rests mainly on his persuasive preaching filled with the fire of the Holy Spirit. Pope Gregory IX (1227-1241) canonized Anthony less than a year after his death – faster than St. Francis himself – as this once rich kid with excellent theological and biblical training became the patron saint of losing things and the illiterate. On January 16, 1946, Pope Pius XII (1939-1958) declared Anthony a doctor of the church. In art, the saint’s iconography often depicts him with one or more of the following: a book, a heart, a flame, a lily, or the child Jesus. see – https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/5118/anthony_of_padua – retrieved June 13, 2025. The Saints: A Concise Biographical Dictionary, edited by John Coulson, Guild Press, New York, 1957, pp.73-76.

Dosso Dossi (c. 1489-1542).

Dosso Dossi (c. 1489–1542), Melissa, 1520s. 69.25 x 68.5 inches, Borghese Gallery, Rome.

Dosso Dossi (c. 1489-1542)– whose actual name was Giovanni de Lutero–was an Italian Renaissance painter who belonged to the School of Ferrara. Among scores of artists who painted mainly in the Venetian style influenced by Giorgione (c. 1477-1510), Dosso Dossi dominated the school that maintained its tradition of painterly artificiality.

Melissa is Dosso Dossi’s masterpiece: a benign personage in the Italian epic poem Orlando Furioso (1516) of Ludovico Ariosto (1574-1533). The enchantress frees humans from the black arts of the wicked sorceress Alcina. The painting depicts Melissa at the moment she burns the seals and spells of Alcina and liberates two men from the tree trunks.

The realistic dog is certainly a human being under Alcina’s spell who will be liberated by Melissa and take up again the suit of armor he watches earnestly. The trees are stylized, artificially-lighted elements – that is, Giorgionesque – that provide a magical setting for the poem’s characters.

The figure of Melissa is draped in a fringed red-and-gold-brocaded robe and enriched by Titianesque glazes. She is particularly alluring in a sparkling gold and green setting moored by meticulously and softly portrayed meadows, background figures, and distant city towers.

SOURCE: History of Italian Renaissance Art: Painting, Sculpture, Architecture, Third Edition, Frederick Hartt, New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc. 1987.
A Dictionary of Art and Artists, Peter and Linda Murray, Penguin Books; Revised,1998.
Italian Paintings of the Sixteenth Century, Allan Braham, The National Gallery, London (William Collins), 1985.

Giovanni Battista Tiepolo (1696-1770).

Giovanni Battista Tiepolo (1696-1770), The Immaculate Conception, 1767-1769, oil on canvas, 152x 279 cm, Prado, Madrid. 88% 7.88 mb

Tiepolo depicts Mary with proud, almost sculptural, beauty of a human being free from original sin from the moment of her conception. Mary stands as a fully mature woman who is triumphant over the tempter, the serpent, that slithers and writhes itself across the globe. Mary is surrounded by cherubim with her halo pictured as a circle of stars, usually 12 in number, though some here are implicitly hidden from view. In chapter 12 of the Book of Revelation in the New Testament, “a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars” (Rev. 12: 1) stands against the Dragon who is about “to devour her child when she gave birth” (Rev. 12: 4). That Biblical woman has been identified with Mary, particularly as The Immaculate Conception. The dove that hovers above her in the painting represents the Holy Spirit who emanates from the Father and the Son and rests on Mary fundamentally at her Annunciation (Luke 1) which leads to the birth of Jesus and at Pentecost (Acts 2) which is the birth of the Christian Church. Augmented by roses and lilies, Mary is clothed in her traditional symbolic colors representing her virginal purity (white) as she became pregnant by the Holy Spirit, her role as the sinless human Mother of God (red), her character of fidelity, truth and spiritual serenity (blue), and the glory of her birth as The Immaculate Conception and crowning as Queen of Heaven following her Assumption (gold). Though its dogma was not settled definitively until 1854 by Pope Pius IX (reign, 1846-1878), The Feast of the Immaculate Conception (December 8th) was on the Church calendar as early as 1708 and a popular subject for Catholic Church art throughout the 18th century.
Tiepolo was invited to Madrid in 1762 by Charles III (1716-1788). The artist was accompanied to Spain by his sons, Domenico and Lorenzo, and immediately began the frescoes in the Royal Palace that he finished in 1766. His next commission was for altar paintings, seven in number, for the new Franciscan Convent of San Pascual in Aranjuez, a Royal seat, including The Immaculate Conception. As soon as the series of paintings were finished in 1769, they were considered passé as Tiepolo’s late Baroque Rococo style had given way to the rise of neo-classicism as the next new thing that took hold of Carlos III, Europe and beyond to the United States into the first quarter of the 19th century. Tiepolo, who died in 1770, wasn’t around to see his church paintings fragmented and stored away and replaced by neo-classical artwork of the same subjects by another artist. However, The Immaculate Conception survived intact as King Carlos III ‘s confessor, the powerful Franciscan bishop Joaquín de Eleta (1707-1788) who, holding sway over artistic commissions, favored depictions of The Immaculate Conception as one of his important subjects that shaped late 18th century Spain’s visual culture. Tiepolo’s emotional and elegant version, which he signed, was conserved as a masterful contrast to neo-classicism’s colder rationality. The painting has been in the Prado since 1828 – Mary not content with being relegated to a storage closet – while a preparatory drawing that exists for the artwork made its way into the picture collection of the Lords Kinnaird in London. See- A Basic Guide to The Prado, J. Rogelio Buendia, translated by Patricia S. Parrent, Silex, 1973, pp. 240-241.

Guercino (1591-1666).

Guercino (1591-1666), Christ and the Woman of Samaria, c. 1640–1641, Museo Nacional Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid.

Art of Connoisseurship, or How THE ART INSTITUTE OF CHICAGO’S TITIAN PAINTING was revealed to be artwork by an “Imitator.”

FEATURE image: Allegory of Venus and Cupid, c. 1600, Imitator of Titian (Tiziano Vecellio, Italian, c. 1485/90-1576), oil on canvas, 51 1/8 x 61 1/8 in. (129.9 x 155.3 cm). Charles H. and Mary F.S. Worcester Collection, 1943.90.

By John P. Walsh

The pleasant if heavily-restored late 16th century allegorical painting in the collection of The Art Institute of Chicago is today called Allegory of Venus and Cupid and dated to around 1600. Attributed to an “imitator” of Titian it remains in museum storage (“Not on Display”).

When this same painting was “rediscovered” around 1930 it was hailed as a Titian masterpiece and over the next 15 years was talked of that way in the general press and in some quarters of the art press. It delighted crowds who came to see it hang on the walls of The Art Institute of Chicago and The Cleveland Museum of Art. Called The Education of Cupid and dated to the 1550s, it was compared favorably with Titian’s famous allegorical subject paintings in Paris’s Louvre and in Rome’s Galleria Borghese.

The painting through the Great Depression and World War II was labeled “Titian,” but among expert connoisseurs there existed a longstanding dismissal of that attribution ever since its first known “resurfacing” in the mid1830s at Gosford House in Scotland.

Titian, Self portrait, c. 1550, Gemäldegalerie, Berlin.

In Italian his name is Tiziano Vecellio, but in English the artist is famously known as Titian (1485-1576)

Titian was part of a family of artists who had been civic leaders in 13th-century and 14th-century Italy, such as mayors, magistrates, and notaries. In the 15th century, two Vecellio brothers had children who became artists. Titian was the grandson of one of those brothers who was ambassador to Venice where the family had a timber trade. Titian became the leading painter in Venice and an influential artist throughout sixteenth-century Italy. His cousin Cesare Vecellio (1530-1601) was an engraver and painter who trained in Titian’s workshop. The Vecellio cousins and their sons became artists and were allowed to use the appellation “di Tiziano” which would bring them attention.

The painter of The Art Institute of Chicago’s allegory entitled Allegory of Venus and Cupid is only identified as an “imitator” of Titian. Its allegorical motifs share similarities with Titian’s and this is perhaps partly why this Old Master painting by an unknown follower of Titian was mistaken for the master himself when it resurfaced on the art market in 1927.

Called The Education of Cupid and dated to the 1550s, it traded back and forth to the dealer for almost a decade until it was bought in 1936 by a well-connected Chicago couple who collected sixteenth-century Venetian paintings. The Wemyss ‘Allegory’ (named for its former British owner, Lord Wemyss) came to Chicago out of what amounted to be a Scottish attic.

It gained ready acclaim as a rediscovered Titian and since its subject was reminiscent of Titian’s Allegory of Marriage (1533) in the Louvre and a Titian subject allegory in the Galleria Borghese, the Wemyss ‘Allegory’ in Chicago was hailed as completing a triumvirate of Titian’s greatest allegorical compositions.

The problem was that this Chicago Titian was not a Titian at all, although it took about 10 years for that fact to gain modern acceptance.

After the purchase, the new owners immediately lent their Titian to The Art Institute to mount on its gallery walls. It would hang next to the collector couple’s verifiable Tintoretto, Veronese, and G.-B. Moroni. The museum eventually acquired the Wemyss ‘Allegory’ in 1943, but not before it toured The Cleveland Museum of Art during their “Twentieth Anniversary Exhibition” in 1936 and viewed with enthusiasm as a Titian.  

The collector purchase and subsequent loan to the Art Institute was front page news in Chicago. The director of the museum at the time, Robert Harshe, compared the work in importance to only two others in The Art Institute at that time – El Greco’s Assumption of the Virgin (1577-79) and Girl at the Open Half Door (1645) attributed to Rembrandt. Curiously, this painting first attributed to Rembrandt has been itself increasingly questioned in terms of its high authorship. One of the first historical European paintings to enter the museum’s permanent collection, Girl at the Open Half Door is today identified with the moniker “and Workshop” to indicate the possibility that it was created by a student under the master’s supervision.

The Assumption of the Virgin, 1577-79, El Greco ( see – https://www.artic.edu/articles/810/the-many-lives-of-el-grecos-assumption)
Young Woman at an Open Half-Door,1645, Rembrandt van Rijn and Workshop (see – https://www.artic.edu/artworks/94840/young-woman-at-an-open-half-door). Author’s photograph.
“Allegory of Venus and Cupid,” c. 1600, Imitator of Titian (Tiziano Vecellio, Italian, c. 1485/90-1576), oil on canvas, 51 1/8 x 61 1/8 in. (129.9 x 155.3 cm). Charles H. and Mary F.S. Worcester Collection, 1943.90.

Soon after its acquisition by The Art Institute, the Titian attribution was loudly critiqued in print and eventually dropped. The subject of the painting is of a girl who appears before Venus to be initiated into the mysteries of Love. At the girl’s right are Venus and the boy Cupid with an arrow. In the background two satyrs raise items such as a basket with two doves and a bundle of fruit.

Allegories were popular in Italian Renaissance art to convey social, political, economic and religious messages using historical and mythological figures. This painting’s figures, however, appear to be derivative of specific Titian works. Further, it possesses little of the technical brilliance or psychological revelations found in Titian’s work such as in Triple Mask or Allegory of Prudence (c. 1570, London, National Gallery). For example, Titian’s imitator gives the figure of the girl the same dramatic hand gesture found in Titian’s Venus with a Mirror (c. 1555, The National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C. ). Insofar as the girl’s skyward gaze and flowing hair, the imitator cites The Penitent Magdalene (1531-33, Florence, Palazzo Pitti).

Titian, Venus with a Mirror, 1555, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.
Titian, Penitent Magdalen, 1533, Pitti Palace.

In addition to the painting’s derivative character of well-known Titian works, what most connoisseurs recognized by 1945 was what they called its “very modern” execution. This referred to its sharp color contrasts and figurative forms which developed only after Titian’s time. Connoisseurs also noted that Titian differentiated sharply between hair and ornament and that his female figures’s hair is neatly braided, whereas the hair is “in a mass” in the Wemyss ‘Allegory’. 

These characteristics pointed to the picture being related less to authentic Titians in Paris and Rome and more to those attributed dubiously, even spuriously, to Titian in Munich and at the Durazzo Palace in Genoa. Though this inauthenticity of Chicago’s Wemyss “Allegory” could have been questioned at the start of its appearance in Chicago in 1936, the museum was not adhering closely to the historical connoisseurship.

Sir Joseph Archer Crowe by Louis Kolitz (German, 1845-1914), London, National Portrait Gallery.
Sir Joseph Archer Crowe by Louis Kolitz (German, 1845-1914), London, National Portrait Gallery.
Giovanni Battista Cavalcaselle, 19th century.
Giovanni Battista Cavalcaselle, 19th century.

Sir Joseph Archer Crowe (British, 1825-1896) and Giovanni Battista Cavalcaselle (Italian, 1819-1897) had seen all three of the spuriously attributed Titians in Munich, Genoa, and at Gosford House which was now in Chicago. It was well known the pair excluded all three from their Titian catalog except to note that they were imitations which had been notably damaged and restored. Chicago museum research in the late 1930s was also aware of Crowe and Cavalcaselle’s attributive work for they cited them in official publications on the Wemyss ‘Allegory,’ but overlooked their conclusions.

With the museum’s acquisition of the Wemyss ‘Allegory’ in 1943 Crowe and Cavalcaselle’s negative attribution for it was no longer ignored or denied.  About its reworking in England one tempting and likely wishful speculation was that the Wemyss ‘Allegory’ was restored by Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723-1792) but that claim remains unsubstantiated. Further facts contextualized in the deft historical hands of modern connoisseurship left the Wemyss ‘Allegory’ out in the Titianesque cold as an imitator. In the case of the Chicago painting it was by historical comparison with compositional arrangements in known Titians that the compositional arrangements in the Munich and Chicago paintings were deemed by Crowe and Cavalcaselle to be done by imitators. Historically for Titian it would be nonsensical or “unique” for Titian to have manipulated the figures in that way at that time.

By the mid1940s the Chicago painting was searching for a new name attribution, since Crowe and Cavalcaselle did not give it one. The notion that it was done by Damiano Mazza (active after 1573), an obscure 16th century artist and student of Titian, was proposed but later dismissed.

Chatsworth, Duke of Devonshire: Van Dyck, Sketchbook.
Rome, Galleria Borghese: Venus and Cupid with Satyr Carrying a Basket with Fruit, attributed to Paolo Veronese.

Some of the confusion over the attribution to Titian of the Wemyss ‘Allegory’ is based on erring connections made using erring extant evidence. For example, the conjecture of Vienna School-trained art historian of Venetian art Hans Tietze (Czech, 1880-1954) that a sketch by Sir Anthony van Dyck (1599-1641)–which Tietze wrongly believed was made at Chatsworth House of a painting once attributed to Titian–shared similar motifs with the Wemyss ‘Allegory’ is a thin thread for possible attribution to Titian. It may be argued that the Wemyss ‘Allegory’ shares very little with the Van Dyck sketch except for the satyr lifting a basket. Further, the painting which Van Dyck sketched is no longer attributed to Titian and has long been in the Galleria Borghese in Rome as a minor Venus and Cupid with Satyr Carrying a Basket with Fruit now attributed to Paolo Veronese. It was in Rome where Van Dyck must have made his sketch, not England, and it was there he misidentified it as Titian. It is a tenous trail of misleading evidence that became the prompt to a connoisseur’s mistaken thought.

Paris, Louvre: Allegory of Marriage, Titian, 1533.

Nuptial paintings

One persuasive conclusion on attribution today for the Wemyss ‘Allegory’ was offered by Hans Tietze’s wife, the historian of Renaissance and Baroque art, Erika Tietze-Conrat (1883-1958). Tietze-Conrat believed that The Art Institute painting resides in a pool of works done by assistants and imitators who combined varied elements of Titian’s allegories as found in the Louvre’s Allegory of d’Avalos (the aforementioned Allegory of Marriage) and the Borghese’s Education of Cupid.

Erwin Panofsky (German, 1892-1968) postulated that those known Titians were nuptial paintings. Building on that premise, Tietze-Conrat postulated that numerous reproductions were made by Titian followers so to create nuptial paintings for their patrons to suit their needs. The derivative works shared the intimacy of a private format with a recognizable cast of 16th century depictions of mythological actors and the evocation of a Titianesque mood.

Today the Art Institute of Chicago has renamed their Wemyss “Allegory” as Allegory of Venus and Cupid and dated it to “around 1600.” The museum removed Titian and every other named attribution. Attribution has been returned to the term that connoisseurs Crowe and Cavalcaselle gave the painting in 1881, namely, “imitator.” 

“The execution here is very modern,” the pair wrote in their Life and Times of Titian in 1881. “It is greatly injured, but was apparently executed by some imitator of Titian.” Their late 19th century judgment hold fast today.

NOTES –

“first known “resurfacing” in the mid1830s in Scotland at Gosford House” – http://www.artic.edu/aic/collections/artwork/46314?search_no=6&index=4 ,retrieved Dec 29, 2014.

On Titian and Vecellio family – Encyclopedia of Italian Renaissance & Mannerist Art, Volume II, edited by Jane Turner, Macmillan Reference Limited, 2000, p. 1695.

For provenance since 1835 – see http://www.artic.edu/aic/collections/artwork/46314?search_no=6&index=4 ,retrieved Dec 29, 2014.

“ready acclaim as a rediscovered Titian…”; “lent their Titian to The Art Institute to mount……”; “Cleveland… ‘Twentieth Anniversary Exhibition’ in 1936…” – “A Great Titian,” Bulletin of the Art Institute of Chicago (1907-1951) Vol. 31, No. 1 (Jan., 1937), p. 8; “Famed Titian Work Acquired by Chicagoans,” Chicago Tribune, October 20, 1936, p. 28; “The Mr. and Mrs. Charles H. Worcester Gift,” Daniel Catton Rich, Bulletin of the Art Institute of Chicago, Vol. 24, No. 3 (Mar., 1930), pp. 29-31 and 40.  The Chicago collectors were Mr. and Mrs. Charles H. Worcester, a museum Vice-President and lumber and paper manufacturer.

“…director of the museum… compared the work in importance to El Greco’s ‘Assumption of the Virgin’ and Rembrandt’s ‘Girl at the Open Half Door’” – “Famed Titian Work Acquired by Chicagoans,” Chicago Tribune, October 20, 1936, p. 28.

“….Allegories were popular in Italian Renaissance art…”-  http://www.iub.edu/~iuam/online_modules/iowc/b_003.html,retrieved December 29, 2014.

“little of the technical brilliance or psychological revelations found in…Triple Mask…” – H. E. Wethey, The Paintings of Titian: Complete Edition, vol. 2, The Portraits, Phaidon, New York, p. 50.

“its ‘very modern’ execution”; “in a mass” – The Wemyss Allegory in the Art Institute of Chicago, E. Tietze-Conrat. The Art Bulletin Vol. 27, No. 4 (Dec., 1945), p. 269.

“It was widely known the pair excluded all three from their Titian catalog…” – “A Great Titian Goes to Chicago,” Art News 35, 5 (1936), p.15 (ill.).

“Chicago museum research in the late 1930s was aware of Crowe and Cavalcaselle’s attributive work… overlooked their conclusions…” – Footnote #4, The Wemyss Allegory in the Art Institute of Chicago, E. Tietze-Conrat. The Art Bulletin Vol. 27, No. 4 (Dec., 1945), p. 269.

“…restored by Sir Joshua Reynolds…” – The Wemyss Allegory in the Art Institute of Chicago, E. Tietze-Conrat. The Art Bulletin Vol. 27, No. 4 (Dec., 1945), p. 269.

 “done by Damiano Mazza…” Ibid., p. 270.

Conjecture of Hans Tietze; Erika Tietze-Conrat’s postulation –  Ibid., p. 271.

“the execution here is very modern… It is greatly injured, but was apparently executed by some imitator of Titian.” – Crowe and Cavalcaselle, Life and Times of Titian, London, 1881,
II, p. 468.

https://www.academia.edu/13331765/THE_ART_OF_CONNOISSEURSHIP_OR_HOW_THE_ART_INSTITUTE_OF_CHICAGO_DISCOVERED_THEIR_TITIAN_PAINTING_WAS_A_WORK_BY_AN_IMITATOR._