Daily Caravaggio: David with the Head of Goliath

Costanza Colonna and this final canvas key to Caravaggio's mysterious disappearance

The Marchesa of Caravaggio's hometown was an important figure in his life. Costanza Colonna knew him as a small boy and helped him in his career -- and out of jams -- throughout his life. He was living in her cousin's house in Naples when he disappeared in 1610. She too was there. I decided to put this relationship at the center of my novel A Name in Blood, because it takes the traditional story of Caravaggio the bloodthirsty he-man (albeit a gay one) and introduces a connection to the feminine world of creativity and sensitivity. (It takes the most cursory of examinations of his works to see that this was the place he truly inhabited.)

He painted this David with the Head of Goliath right before his disappearance and presumed death. It's now at the Galleria Borghese in Rome.

It plays a central role in the denouement of my novel, as does Caravaggio's relationship with Costanza Colonna.

To coincide with the UK paperback publication of my Caravaggio novel A NAME IN BLOOD, I'm posting each of the paintings that appear in the book this month along with a snippet from the novel.

Goliath's face in this picture is generally acknowledged to have Caravaggio's features. I think there's an even more sinister and yet more beautiful connection than that. Here Costanza has taken a look at the unfinished David with the Head of Goliath:


‘It’s David with the Head of Goliath, is it not, Michele?’ she said.
Caravaggio went on with his work. ‘Quite so, my lady.’
She had seen many Davids before, but never one like this. David was usually a triumphant figure, the helmeted warrior of old Maestro Donatello or the muscular giant by the divine Michelangelo which she had seen in a square in Florence. ‘The way you’ve painted it, David looks so sad.’
Costanza tried to remember how Caravaggio had appeared as a child. There’s more than a trace in the painting, she thought, of the boy I took in so many years ago. ‘Is it you, Michele?’
He rounded on her. She stepped away in surprise. The wound on his cheek, the twitching eye, the lowered shoulders, his scars all threatened her.
‘The boy looks like you used to.’ She gestured towards the canvas with a quivering finger.
‘You’re mistaken, my lady.’
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Published on September 02, 2013 03:38 Tags: art-history, caravaggio, covers, crime-fiction, food, historical-fiction, italy, rome
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