The painting was formerly in an unidentified collection before being sold through the art historian Bernard Berenson. It was acquired by Grenville Lindall Winthrop, New York, in 1918, and was later bequeathed to the Fogg Art Museum in 1943.
Pietro Lorenzetti painted this work in the early fourteenth-century when Sienese artists were beginning to move away from the elegant and almost weightless portrayal of religious subjects. It was the time when gold still dominated the sacred paintings and was used as a mark of divinity, but figures started to feel the pull of gravity, of grief, and of real flesh. Christ is hanging with real weight and not the decorative suffering of earlier Byzantine Crucifixions , where the body appears heavier and reluctant. The blood at the hands, feet, and side is not ornamental, but it insists on itself. Below Christ, the Virgin, St.Clare, St. John, St.Francis are not arranged symmetrically but they are pressed together the way people actually gather around something unbearable. The most striking feature is St. Clare’s position, as she kneels in front of Christ, closer to the Cross than St. Francis, who was her spiritual mentor and guide. In the visual grammar of Trecento devotional painting, proximity to Christ did not rely on compositional convenience, but it was a theological argument, made without words, and showed through placement alone. Therefore, it can be inferred that the panel was probably created for a religious woman, who understood St. Claire’s intimacy with the passion. The angel above the cross carries Christ’s bloodied robe, and it is holding out the fabric like an evidence. This highlights the ‘arms Christi’ tradition under which instruments and remnants of the Passion were used as a tool for contemplation in the Medieval century. In a devotional culture saturated with relic veneration, where physical proximity to sacred matter was the closest available method of reaching to the divine, painting a relic inside a painting was a radical step taken by Lorenzetti. Due to the physical presence of material associated with Christ, the painting itself became the reliquary. The panel did not point toward an encounter with the sacred, but it was the encounter, portable and private, made for one woman in one room, the gold ground burning behind it like something that does not belong entirely to this world.
