Mind Picker: Brunelleschi's Dome: How a Renaissance Genius Reinvented Architecture

Even the original planners of the dome had been unable to advise how their project might be completed: they merely expressed a touching faith that at some point in the future God might provide a solution, and architects with a more advanced knowledge would be found.

I was in Florence a couple of weeks ago, and although I hadn't really noted the omission at the time, it's now oddly sad to me that at the Accademia we were told, “This is Michelangelo's Statue of David”, and at the Uffizi we were told, “This is Botticelli's Birth of Venus”, but at the cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore we were told, “The original architect of the church died without explaining how to build the dome you see here. The church would be under construction for over a hundred years before someone came along and figured it out.” So while Michelangelo and Botticelli are familiar names – and rightly so – it is kind of sad that the “someone” who came along and figured out how to build this iconic dome isn't really known to history; an omission more or less corrected by Ross King's Brunelleschi's Dome. And I only say “more or less” because it would seem that biographical information on Brunelleschi himself is scant, making this book more the story of the dome than of the man; an interesting tale, but not perfectly matched to my own interests.

What is known of Brunelleschi: Trained as a goldsmith and clockmaker, he entered a competition to design the bronze doors of the Baptistery of Saint John. When Brunelleschi was declared a co-winner along with another young goldsmith, Lorenzo Ghiberti, the notoriously hot-headed Brunelleschi declined to work in partnership and left Florence: starting his self-directed training in architecture and beginning a life-long rivalry with Lorenzo. Brunelleschi travelled to Rome (where he studied the dome of the Pantheon and the proportions of various columns and facades), and when he returned to Florence, he reintroduced vanishing point perspective to painting. When the main body of the Cathedral was nearly finished and a competition was finally opened for a plan for constructing its massive dome, Brunelleschi's design barely beat out that of Lorenzo Ghiberti, and once again, they were asked to work together. This time Brunelleschi agreed, but with few of the specifics written down – and many that were, recorded in a cipher – Brunelleschi took control of the project, leaving Lorenzo to share the title of capomaestro in name only (but why should Lorenzo care? He enjoyed equal pay and was free to pursue many lucrative and prestigious projects on the side.) In addition to working out how to construct the huge, uniquely-shaped dome without the need for props and centering devices, Brunelleschi also won every competition for the designs of the necessary hoists and cranes that would be used in the dome's construction. He had many engineering successes (he received the first ever invention patent), a few failures, exchanged insulting sonnets with his rivals, and died shortly after the last brick was placed on the dome (and before construction began on the dome's surmounting lantern; the design for which Brunelleschi also beat out Lorenzo in yet another competition). In many ways, Brunelleschi was as successful, inventive, and groundbreaking as a Leonardo da Vinci, and with his greatest accomplishment dominating the skyline of Florence, it's a sad wonder to me that I've never before heard his name; even while in the shadow of a structure that still stands as the largest brick and concrete dome in the world.

Like da Vinci, Brunelleschi kept ciphered notebooks, but unlike the great Leonardo, Brunelleschi was too secretive of his designs to have left behind diagrams of his greatest inventions; even today, engineers have to guess at how his hoists were built; guess at how he designed and inserted the various “chains” that are hidden within the dome's structure and balance the forces at work there. If I had more interest in engineering, I would probably be more awestruck by what Brunelleschi achieved; more interested in a passage like this one:

The horizontal thrust of an arch or dome varies inversely with its rise, and since a pointed arch rises higher than a rounded one, it naturally generates less thrust. In fact, the architects of the Cathedral of Milan believed that pointed arches produced no horizontal thrust whatsoever. They were mistaken, of course, though a quinto acuto arch does generate as much as 50 per cent less radial thrust than a shallower, semicircular one. It therefore requires less abutment and has a lower tendency to crack or burst at its base.

Ross King is heavy on the engineering of the dome – which is, I suppose, the point – but I preferred the human moments. I liked the idea of the original architect's large scale model having a home in the under-construction Cathedral, which the wardens touched every New Year's Day while vowing, throughout the generations of construction, to follow it faithfully. I also like that once the dome was finally underway, this scale model then served as a lavatory for those same wardens. I liked King's description of the Plague and wars that carried on throughout the dome's construction; liked the description of the decimated Rome that Brunelleschi found himself in:

A million people had dwelled in Rome during the height of the Empire, but now the city's population was less than that of Florence. The Black Death of 1348 had reduced numbers to 20,000, from which, over the next fifty years, they rose only slightly. Rome had shrunk into a tiny area inside its ancient walls, retreating from the seven hills to huddle among a few streets on the bank of the Tiber across from St. Peter's, whose walls were in danger of collapse. Foxes and beggars roamed the filthy streets. Livestock grazed in the Forum, now know as il Campo Vaccino, “the Field of Cows”. Other monuments had suffered even worse fates. The Temple of Jupiter was a dunghill, and both the Theater of Pompey and the Mausoleum of Augustus had become quarries from which ancient masonry was scavenged, some of it for buildings as far away as Westminster Abbey. Many ancient statues lay in shards, half buried, while others had been burned in kilns to make quicklime or else fertilizer for the feeble crops. Still others were mangers for asses and oxen. The funerary monument of Agrippina the Elder, the mother of Caligula, had been turned into a measure for grain and salt.

The bottom line: I was a little bored by the engineering details (but appreciate their importance), and while King was forced to repeatedly say, “Little is known of this period in Brunelleschi's life”, I was grateful that he was able to assemble what is known; Brunelleschi deserves this and more; tour guides ought to say, "This is Brunelleschi's Dome." Four stars is a rounding up, only reflecting my own reading enjoyment.

Okay, I said in my Augustus review that I was done obnoxiously adding photos from our Italy trip to my book reviews, but I only read this book because of a recommendation from John at work; a recommendation based on this recent trip. So, here are a few more pics of me and Kennedy in Florence: