The Retablo of Saint George

You enter the church of Santa Maria degli Angeli and move toward the side chapel. The space narrows. Then you see it. The Retablo of Saint George stands before you like a painted wall, over eight metres high and more than six wide. Fifty-two wooden panels, oil-painted in the sixteenth century, framed by gilded wood that catches and reflects the light. You step closer and your eye cannot settle. Gospel scenes, saints, evangelists. At the centre, inside a striking niche, a wooden sculpture of Saint George pierces the dragon. Two carved forearms project from the sides, holding invisible banners. You realise this is not only art. It is a narrative machine, designed to strike, to teach, to endure. Around it, the diocesan museum completes the story with silverwork, goldsmith pieces and wooden sculptures from different periods. Yet it is the retablo that commands the space. And your gaze.