I forgot to mention that the title of the book itself,
“‘The best artist has that thought alone which is contained within the marble shell,’” Markham said. “‘Only the sculptor’s hand can break the spell to free the figures slumbering in the stone.’”
“Yes, that’s it,” said Cathy, flustered.
“I have your book right here in front of me. Just finished skimming through it about a half an hour ago. Interesting stuff.”
“Thank you,” Cathy said, suddenly nervous. “Well, you see, Sam, upon its initial publication,
“Yes,” said Markham—distantly, studying the quote. “It changes the emphasis entirely. The sculptor himself becomes of supreme importance, making him much more
“Exactly. Of course, Michelangelo is speaking metaphorically of the potential in a block of marble to become something beautiful, as well as the fact that only through the lens of true genius can this potential be seen. But the artist is also speaking of the magical, nothing short of
“Go on.”
“The classical tradition in which Michelangelo’s artistry is steeped—that is, the humanistic tradition hearkening back to the ancient Greeks—held that the male body was aesthetically superior to the female. It is a well-known fact that homosexuality was an integral part of ancient Greek culture, but not in the way we think of homosexuality today—or during Michelangelo’s time, for that matter. And remember, of course, that we are just talking about
“We see such a dynamic in Michelangelo’s sculptures as well—the majority of which are
“Yes,” said Markham. “You have some lovely photographs of it in your book.”
“I’m sorry if I’m getting off track, Sam, but what I’m saying is that the male figures in Michelangelo’s work are always exquisitely rendered with a kind of detail and authenticity out of proportion to the female—detail that indisputably proves the artist’s obsession with the male anatomy. And so it is also through such flawless rendering that we see the classical dynamic of ancient Greece played out not only in the final execution of Michelangelo’s sculptures, but also in his experience of sculpting them, for it was only through his work that Michelangelo could come close to communing with what he saw as divinely inspired beauty—a beauty, for him, accessible
“So, if I follow you, you’re saying that, for Michelangelo, it was as much the experience of carving as it was the finished product?”
“Yes. Think of the torment the artist must have gone through, born as he was with an inherent appreciation, an inherent love for the male—both spiritually and sexually. A love that he saw bestowed upon him by God and intrinsically woven into the very nature of his gift—that miraculous gift, given
“So then Michelangelo is also speaking about himself. That he, too, is a figure trapped in the stone—a figure imprisoned in the marble shell of his homosexuality, and that only through the act of carving could he, for lack of a better phrase, make love with another man.”
“You could put it that way, yes.”
Markham was silent for a long time—a silence in which Cathy thought she could hear the special agent’s brain ticking; a silence that made Cathy so uncomfortable that she told Markham the gist of her Socratic dialogue on the sofa—neglecting, of course, to tell him that he had played Socrates to her Gorgias.
“Yes,” said Markham when she had finished. “In your book you quite often contrast Michelangelo’s artistry, as well as the world of the Italian Renaissance, with the artistic output of our culture today—specifically with regard to the media. How it dominates our culture, how it dictates what is important, but most significantly, how it physically shapes our intellect—literally, our physiological capacity not only to process information, but also to appreciate beauty. You speak of the detrimental effects of the Internet, of television and movies, and how they are altering, actually conditioning our brains not only to focus for shorter periods of time and with less efficiency, but also to accept a standard of excellence that gets progressively lower and lower. In essence, you are saying that, today, the quality of the marble from which we as human beings are shaped is meager stuff compared to the metaphorical marble of Michelangelo’s time.”
“That’s a lovely way of putting it, yes.”
“And only the sculptor’s hand—whether it’s Michelangelo’s or the twisted psychopath’s who murdered Campbell and Wenick—can free us from the marble prison that is the media. Our society today, we children of this celebrity infatuated culture,
“Yes, Sam. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“That would explain why he chose Campbell, and perhaps even that little boy. Or maybe, as you experienced in your examination of the statue, why he chose to portray them as Michelangelo’s
“It would also explain his contacting me via the quotes, don’t you think? Like the sculpture, the medium itself was part of his message—just as the quote at the beginning of my book was part of mine. In essence, the killer was saying to me, ‘I understand.’”
“And so the inscription on the base of the statue could just be the killer’s way of simply saying, ‘Thank you.’”
“Yes, I guess it could.”
Sam Markham was silent again—the flipping pages on the other end of Cathy’s cell phone the only sound.