Saint Jerome Writing Poem by Sergio Savioli

The painting of St Jerome Writing has become one of my favourite Caravaggio paintings. I like it for its relative simplicity, a simplicity that is in fact deceptive. Even the plain background, devoid of any details, is important. It serves to strengthen and accentuate the composition and its message.

We see an ageing Saint Jerome, improbably draped in a beautiful red cloak which is more artistic and symbolic than realistic. He is working intently on his translation of the scriptures.

There are three very big books on a solid wooden table. One is open with a skull resting on it. The skull mirrors Saint Jerome's bald pate on the right side of the composition. It resembles him so much that I feel it is his. The teeth of the skull seem to be biting or attacking the book. It could be a subtle touch of humour that Caravaggio has added, as if the Saint is still trying to get his teeth into his work even after his demise.

Jerome's sinewy right arm is outstretched and holding a quill which is being dipped into an inkwell. But the arm also links him in a straight line to the skull, his skull, and thus to death.

The index finger of his left hand seems to be holding a place in the pages of the book that he is working on. It is as if he wants to physically enter the pages of the book. However, Jerome is also fixedly and obsessively staring at his own hand rather than at the text. He seems to be contemplating his own mortal flesh.

The other important element in the composition is the white cloth placed artistically and symbolically under the books and the skull. It contrasts starkly with Jerome's bright red cape. Its pale lifelessness is another reminder of our departure from life. In fact it is reminiscent of a shroud.

The whole picture emphasises mortality. It is a memento mori but it is very human too. Caravaggio has entered the essence of Saint Jerome's mind as he is trying to work hard on his translation, his mission.Death is on his mind as much as his work. He is trying to distract himself through his work from death but in fact he can not manage to do so. He can not totally forget it. It is constantly there. There is no escape. And that is what I like about the painting.