Caravaggio in Rome.

“There was art before him and art after him, and they were not the same.”

Of the sixty or so known paintings by Caravaggio, a whopping twenty-four can be found in Rome. They adorn the walls of tiny chapels, where figures fill the canvasses to such a degree they seem pressed against you like bodies in a crowded room, as well as grand palazzi, now museums open to the public. They are found in private collections such as Villa Aurora, which made headlines in 2022 when it hit the market as the world’s most expensive residential property—471 million euros—home to the only Caravaggio mural: Jupiter, Neptune, Pluto (1599).

From exquisite early pictures such as The Fortune Teller (1594-1595) and Rest on the Flight into Egypt (1595-1596)—evenly lit and displaying an elegant use of colour—through to more brooding later works like Saint Francis in Meditation (1606) and David with the Head of Goliath (1609), the Eternal City boasts the full gamut of Caravaggio’s oeuvre.

Why is this significant? Because few artists so radically changed the course of western art. The Renaissance had run its course and Mannerism was almost done. With his revolutionary new style of painting, Caravaggio launched the Baroque.

Saint Matthew and the Angel (1602), Church of San Luigi dei Francesi (right).

Rome in the late 16th century was the world’s great image factory—much like 20th-century Hollywood—as the church promoted the Counter Reformation. The city needed pictures for public spaces, while the rich and powerful needed pictures for their private galleries. Arriving at this scene in 1592 was Michelangelo Merisi, an aspiring artist from the provinces who came to be known by the name of his home town: Caravaggio.

He took work as a lowly apprentice, often went hungry and painted himself using a mirror as he could not afford to pay a model, as seen in Young Sick Bacchus (1593). However, he soon attracted his first patron: the sophisticated Cardinal Francesco Maria del Monte, Roman representative of the Duke of Tuscany. From the refined and stimulating embrace of del Monte’s home, Palazzo Madama, Caravaggio’s genius flourished, painting fabulous pictures for the cardinal and his circle.

Saint John the Baptist (1601-1602), Pinacoteca Capitolina (left); Rest on the Flight to Egypt (1595-1596), Galleria Doria Pamphilj (above).

Caravaggio painted directly from life, down to rotten fruit, callused feet and dirty fingernails, in many ways the world’s first realist painter. Models, once he could he afford them, were often prostitutes and rent boys. Figures were life size and presented close up against a background that was generally left empty. Most important was his new conception of light, an especially pronounced chiaroscuro with violent contrasts of light and dark (tenebrism) that would define Baroque painting.

As central was his mastery of gesture. Caravaggio saw things and painted them with an accuracy rarely if ever seen, especially relating to the human form. How bodies stood and moved and slumped and hunched over; how they writhed in pain and collapsed after death. He found models on the street and painted them as they were, arranging directional lighting in his dark studio to create dramatic contrast. However, little else is known about Caravaggio’s practice as not a single drawing attributed to the artist has survived. This could be down to the fact that he was constantly moving, if not on the run. Another possibility is that he didn’t make any, spontaneously drawing directly onto the canvas without planning anything first.

Saint Francis in Meditation (1606), Palazzo Barberini (right); Judith Beheading Holofernes (1599), Palazzo Berberini (above).

As influential as Caravaggio was on the next century and a half of painting, at the time, his style was completely radical in an age when it was dangerous to be so. For every Caravaggio devotee in Rome (wealthy patrons and young artist groupies adopting his style) there were legions of haters (church conservatives, narrow-minded critics and jealous Mannerist painters). Complicating matters, Caravaggio was always in trouble with the law, insulting officials, blatantly bisexual, writing libellous poems, throwing plates of food at waiters and involved in endless street brawls. None of this helped his cause as an artist. Between his radical style of painting and scandalous style of life, much of his work for the church had to be redone or was rejected outright, falling as a result into the hands of private collectors. It’s hard to fathom today as few Roman churches attract visitors like those with Caravaggio paintings: San Luigi dei Francesi, Santa Maria del Popolo and Sant’Agostino.

The Conversion of Saint Paul (1604-1605), Cerasi Chapel, Church of Santa Maria del Popolo (left); Saint Jerome (1605-1606), Galleria Borghese (above).

In 1606, a street brawl led to the death of gang rival Ranuccio Tomassoni and Caravaggio was charged with murder. With a price on his head he fled to Naples, where he produced some of the most spectacular religious works of his career. One was David with the Head of Goliath (1609), painted for Cardinal Scipione Borghese as an appeal for a pardon, ending up back in Rome. (Borghese was the nephew of Pope Paul V and a huge Caravaggio fan.) The following year the pope began the process of granting the pardon and the artist made his way back to Rome, dying en route under suspicious circumstances in Porto Ercole.

It was a short but dazzling career. As Robert Hughes wrote: “There was art before him and art after him, and they were not the same.”

There are many ways to navigate the extraordinary palimpsest that is Rome, from eating or shopping your way through the city to walking the over-touristy golden triangle (Vatican, Colosseum, Trevi Fountain), exploring obscure ancient sites and off-the-beaten-track palazzi, or even more secret delights hidden away in the suburbs, like the Campo Verano in San Lorenzo. I propose another map to explore Rome: the trail of its Caravaggios. While two works are hidden from view in private collections, eight open-to-the-public venues boast 23 Caravaggio paintings. Scroll down to find them.

David with the Head of Goliath (1609), Galleria Borghese (above).

Galleria Doria Pamphilj.

The Doria Pamphilj is one of my favourite places on the planet, where, in a setting of faded Roman grandeur, hangs the most extraordinary (and valuable) collection of Italian art still in private hands. It was assembled from the 16th century onwards by way of marriages between the Doria, Pamphilj, Landi and Aldobrandini families, simplified under the surname Doria Pamphilj. Almost every major Italian artist is represented, alongside many Europeans: Titian, Raphael, Lotto, Carracci, Bernini, Reni, Brueghel, Lorrain and Velasquez, as well as Caravaggio. Saint John the Baptist is a copy of the original in the Pinacoteca Capitolina; 11 copies were made, but the one belonging to the Doria Pamphilj is recognised as being done by the great artist’s own hand. 

Penitent Magdalene (1595), oil on canvas, 123 x 98.5cm

Rest on the Flight into Egypt (1595-1596), oil on canvas, 135.5 x 166.5cm

Saint John the Baptist (1602), oil on canvas, 129 x 94cm

Penitent Magdalene (1595), Galleria Doria Pamphilj (right).

Villa Borghese.

Villa Borghese is home to more Caravaggio paintings than any other place, thanks to a young, art-loving cardinal. Scipione Borghese was a great patron of both Caravaggio and Bernini after amassing enormous wealth as the nephew of Pope Paul V. He was also very good at recognising opportunities when it came to art. When Madonna and Child with Saint Anne (1605-1606) was rejected for the altar of the Papal Grooms at St. Peters—one of three Caravaggio altarpieces rejected by the church over the years, the baby Jesus showing his willy and the Virgin Mary modelled on a Roman prostitute—Borghese swooped in and bought the painting for a song. This colossal picture (292 x 211cm) is one of six Caravaggios on display at Villa Borghese, alongside Boy with a Basket of Fruit (1593-1594), an iconic early work modelled on Mario Minniti, Caravaggio’s lover.

Young Sick Bacchus (1593), oil on canvas, 67 x 53cm

Boy with a Basket of Fruit (1593-1594), oil on canvas, 70 x 67cm

Saint Jerome (1605-1606), oil on canvas, 112 x 157cm

Madonna and Child with Saint Anne (1605-1606), oil on canvas, 292 x 211cm

David with the Head of Goliath (1609), oil on canvas, 125 x 101cm

Saint John the Baptist (1609-1610), oil on canvas, 159 x 124.5cm

Madonna and Child with Saint Anne (1605-1606), Galleria Borghese (left).

Palazzo Barberini.

Palazzo Barberini is home to three Caravaggios, including two from the year 1599. One is the incredibly striking Judith Beheading Holofernes, the model for Judith being the infamous courtesan, Fillide Melandroni. (Melandroni featured in multiple Caravaggio works, including Portrait of a Courtesan (1597), one of the pictures destroyed in Berlin in 1945, and The Deposition of Christ (1602-1604) at the Vatican Museums.) The other is Narcissus, apparently an unusual subject for the time. Apart from a few portraits, this was his last painting not to have a religious theme.

Judith Beheading Holofernes (1599), oil on canvas, 145 x 195cm

Narcissus (c.1599), oil on canvas, 113.5 x 95cm

Saint Francis in Meditation, oil on canvas, 124 x 93cm

Narcissus (1599), Palazzo Barberini (right).

Pinacoteca Capitolina.

On the top floor of one of the interconnected buildings that make up the Capitoline Museums, overlooking Michelangelo’s Piazza Campidoglio, you will find one of Rome’s loveliest picture galleries: the Pinacoteca Capitolina. Created 1748-1750, it is home to the oldest public collection of paintings, including master works by Titian, Rubens and Guercino, alongside two favourites by Caravaggio. 

The Fortune Teller (1594-1595), oil on canvas, 116 x 152cm

Saint John the Baptist (1601-1602), oil on canvas, 129 x 94cm

The Fortune Teller (1594-1595), Pinacoteca Capitolina (left).

The Contarelli Chapel, Church of San Luigi dei Francesi.

The Matthew paintings in the Contarelli Chapel are not only striking in their scale and magnificence, but also important in the story of Caravaggio, as the two larger works were his first public commission. (Saint Matthew and the Angel was added a couple of years later after his first version was rejected, bought by Italian banker, Vincenzo Giustiniani and centuries later, landing in Berlin where it was destroyed alongside Portrait of a Courtesan and another Caravaggio in 1945.) Monumental in scale and a masterwork in composition and light, The Calling of Saint Matthew is widely considered to be Caravaggio’s greatest work.

The Calling of Saint Matthew (1599-1600), oil on canvas, 322 x 340cm

The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew (1599-1600), oil on canvas, 323 x 343cm

Saint Matthew and the Angel (1602), oil on canvas, 296.5 x 195cm

The Calling of Saint Matthew (1599-1600), Contarelli Chapel, Church of San Luigi dei Francesi (right).

Church of Sant’Agostino.

Having attended an Augustinian school, it was with great pleasure that I recently discovered this Caravaggio in the Augustinian church in Rome. And having just made it through Peter Robb’s weighty Caravaggio biography, I had a quiet chuckle at the size of the baby Jesus (at least as big as a seven-year-old child), reaching for the breast of the Madonna, done as a sexy young housewife coming to the door. Robb’s musings aside, Madonna of Loreto—also known as The Pilgrim’s Madonna—is a splendid work. And all the more lovely as the Church of Sant’Agostino is one of the quieter Caravaggio spots in Rome, where you might be able to steal a minute or two alone with this mother and child receiving pilgrims at the door.

Madonna of Loreto (1604-1605), oil on canvas, 260 x 150cm 

Madonna of Loreto (1604-1605), Church of Sant’Agostino (right).

The Vatican Museums.

If you hate cues and crowds, visiting the Vatican Museums is a nightmare. You buy a heftily priced jump-the-cue ticket online, then meet the next morning at some dodgy-looking office on the border of the Vatican City, line up behind a flag-holding guide on the street for what seems like hours, march to the entrance, go through security checks alongside thousands of other groups massing like a stampede catastrophe about to happen, before being let loose in the vast maze of buildings comprising the museums. The only upside is that many of the galleries are overlooked by the 90% of punters only there to see the Sistine Chapel. In one of them you’ll find this incredible mass of figures looming out of the dark in 3D, a blue-lipped Christ that for once actually resembles a real corpse.

The Deposition of Christ (1602-1604), oil on canvas, 300 x 203cm

 

Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Antica di Palazzo Corsini.

Of the Caravaggios in Rome on view to the public, this one takes last place as it’s the only one I’m yet to see: Saint John the Baptist, also known as John in the Wilderness. It is one of at least eight renditions of John the artist painted across the course of his career. I had the chance to see it in April but decided to save it for a future visit, unable to imagine Rome without a yet-to-be-seen Caravaggio. Composition wise it shares an affinity with the magnificent John the Baptist in Kansas City, but executed more quickly with wider brushstrokes—a style that would later define his first Neapolitan period.

Saint John the Baptist (1602-1603), oil on canvas, 94 x 131cm

The Deposition of Christ (1602-1604), The Vatican Museums (left); Saint John the Baptist (1602-1603), Palazzo Corsini (above).

Odescalchi Balbi Collection.

This version of The Conversion of Saint Paul and a Crucifixion of Saint Peter (now lost) were done in 1600 for the Cerasi Chapel and rejected, leading to the somewhat more resolved Conversion painting hanging in the chapel today. Whether these works were actually rejected is not clear: it’s possible that the client, Tiberio Cerasi (Treasurer-General to Pope Clement VIII) never saw them, as he died the month they were to be delivered. They very quickly ended up in the collection of Cardinal Giacomo Sannesio who, according to Peter Robb, took advantage of the confusion when Cerasi died. Interestingly, both works were executed on wood panel. The difference between the two Conversion paintings is marked: the earlier wood panel more Mannerist and formal and the later canvas—the one that hangs in the Cerasi Chapel today—belonging to Caravaggio’s new, more minimalist realism.

The Conversion of Saint Paul (1600), oil on panel, 237 x 189cm

The Conversion of Saint Paul (1600), Odescalchi Balbi Collection (right).

Casino Ludovisi.

Casino Ludovisi belonged for a time to Caravaggio’s most loyal and devoted patron, Cardinal Francesco del Monte, who commissioned the artist to paint the ceiling of a small chamber used to experiment with alchemy. In this scene the gods Jupiter, Neptune and Pluto (alongside their respective mythological attributes: eagle, marine horse, trident and the three-headed dog Cerberus) surround a luminous globe showing the sun, moon and various constellations. Having been criticised for not understanding planes or perspective, Caravaggio foreshortened figures and used bold angles so the painting looked right from below—looking at himself in a mirror to create the standing figures of Neptune and Pluto and the crouching figure of Jupiter—resulting in a truly breathtaking scene.

Jupiter, Neptune, Pluto (1599), oil on masonry, 500 x 285cm

Jupiter, Neptune, Pluto (1599), Casino Ludovisi (left); Boy with a Basket of Fruit (1593-1594), Galleria Borghese, and The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew (1599-1600), Contarelli Chapel, Church of San Luigi dei Francesi (below).