English Original
Monsieur Signy l'Abbaye was a master artist in his day, who in 1392 was ready to retire. It was the month of May. But Guiliano Bartoli, a rich Italian patron, sent for him saying, "I'd like a portrait of myself on my banquet room wall. Could you paint it? It's 20 feet tall."
Contemplating this request, Monsieur l'Abbaye shook his head. "I'm ready to retire, so I'm not available for hire. I'm sorry. I simply can't paint your portrait." But seeing the disappointment in Senior Bartoli's eyes, he continued, "Well, there's a possibility if you can find it in your heart to allow me to explore the limits of my abilities. Not for money mind you, but for food and a bed instead. Furthermore, you need not even pose because my memory's excellent. Already I can see your portrait and how to derive it. But I insist, Senior Bartoli, while I work your portrait stays private -- even from you!"
This is strange, thought the patron, but he also thought about how highly the artist had been recommended. "Of course," he said "Anything you wish, but I insist upon paying you at least something for your effort. Let's draw up a contract."
Now a glint came to Monsieur l'Abbaye's eyes as he gazed upon that 20-foot wall and thought of all that space, such a wonderful place for schemes and things to give imagination wings. Because, unknown to Senior Bartoli, or anyone else for that matter, for all of his career (which was 45 years) Monsieur L'Abbaye had yearned to paint in his own way. And what way was that? Certainly not the style of Byzantine or of Proto-Renaissance. No. Monsieur Signy l'Abbaye had hungered to break free of restraints. But the guild, his craft and livelihood, would never have allowed it so he followed their rules although never proud of it. Of course he didn't reveal this to Senior Bartoli.
Signing the contract, they sealed the agreement.
Immediately the master artist threw a high curtain in front of the wall, a curtain through which Senior Bartoli couldn't see at all. He tried to peek, but Monsieur l'Abbaye insisted on total privacy for his artistic techniques.
A week passed. "How is it coming?" asked the hopeful Senior Bartoli.
Answering him from behind the curtain, Monsieur l'Abbaye said, "It's coming quite well. You know, at the age of eight I was apprentice to the great Ambrogio Lorenzetti. I could never dishonor his name. He taught me the art of grinding pigment, laying plaster, sometimes slowly, sometimes faster. He taught me how to draw and, most important, not to hurry. My training was rigorous and after certification even more vigorous. Senior Bartoli, a masterpiece... takes a while at least."
Reluctantly, Senior Bartoli withdrew.
A month passed. "How is it coming?" Senior Bartoli asked.
"It's coming well," said Monsieur l'Abbaye, again from behind the curtain. Along with his words came the strange sounds of swooshing, clanking and slapping. "You know you're fortunate it's I painting your portrait. Only buon fresco will do. It's four coats of lime plaster. First layer the trullisatio, followed by the arriccio, then the anenato and finally the intonaco not to mention the part where I draw. But it's the best plaster process I ever saw. Senior Bartoli, it will last forever, but alas, it's a time-consuming endeavor."
Sighing deeply, the patron again withdrew. Just how long would this take? Who knew?
Another three, four months passed and finally half a year went by. Senior Bartoli, the patron, marched in demanding of Monsieur l'Abbaye, the master artist, to see his portrait, "You must be finished by now and today I will see it!" he shouted, shaking with frustration.
Stepping from behind the cloth as though surprised by such anger, Monsieur l'Abbaye said calmly. "That's fine. You needed only to request it." And he pulled aside the 20-foot curtain.
Guiliano Bartoli stood for a minute and then his mouth fell open, his eyes turned red and he grabbed what few hairs he had left on his head. He did a little hop, and then a twitch, and his eyebrows contorted as though bewitched. Guiliano Bartoli obviously did not like his portrait, not a bit. Guiliano Bartoli threw a fit.
"How absurd, how obscene. What does this mean? You'll not receive one Florine, do you hear? You're not an artist, maybe a thief or a madman. Get out of my sight! You'll leave my house tonight or I'll throw you out!"
So what had Monsieur l'Abbaye drawn that was wrong? He couldn't see it, he'd fussed and fixed for so long. It was his masterpiece. He wasn't sorry, no, not at all, that he had drawn to his heart's content for 20 feet tall. No matter what anybody could say, Monsieur Signy l'Abbaye had drawn it his way. Perhaps his patron couldn't tolerate his obsession with cubist expression, but Picasso would have been proud.
If truth be told Monsieur l'Abbaye wasn't crazy, surely. He'd simply been born 500 years too early!
中文翻译
西尼·拉贝大师是他那个时代的艺术巨匠，1392年5月，他正准备退休。然而，富有的意大利赞助人朱利亚诺·巴托利派人请他来，说：“我想在我宴会厅的墙上画一幅我的肖像。你能画吗？它有20英尺高。”
考虑着这个请求，拉贝先生摇了摇头。“我准备退休了，所以不接受雇佣。很抱歉，我实在不能为您画肖像。”但看到巴托利先生眼中的失望，他继续说道：“嗯，如果您能发自内心地允许我探索自己能力的极限，倒是有可能。不是为了钱，您明白，而是为了食宿。此外，您甚至不需要摆姿势，因为我的记忆力极好。我已经能看到您的肖像以及如何构思它了。但我坚持一点，巴托利先生，在我工作期间，您的肖像必须保密——甚至对您本人也要保密！”
这真奇怪，赞助人心想，但他也想到这位艺术家被极力推荐过。“当然，”他说，“如您所愿，但我坚持至少要为您付出的努力支付一些报酬。我们来签一份合同吧。”
当拉贝先生凝视着那面20英尺高的墙，想到那巨大的空间——一个能让计划和想象展翅高飞的绝佳场所时，他的眼中闪过一丝光芒。因为，巴托利先生或任何其他人都不知道，在他整个职业生涯（长达45年）中，拉贝先生一直渴望以自己的方式作画。那是什么方式呢？当然不是拜占庭或早期文艺复兴的风格。不。西尼·拉贝先生渴望打破束缚。但是行会、他的技艺和生计，绝不会允许他这样做，所以他一直遵循着行会的规则，尽管从未以此为荣。当然，他没有向巴托利先生透露这一点。
签署合同后，他们达成了协议。
大师艺术家立即在墙前挂起一道高高的帘幕，巴托利先生完全无法看透。他试图窥视，但拉贝先生坚持他的艺术技巧需要绝对的隐私。
一周过去了。“进展如何？”满怀希望的巴托利先生问道。
拉贝先生在帘幕后回答：“进展相当顺利。您知道吗，我八岁时就师从伟大的安布罗吉奥·洛伦泽蒂。我绝不能玷污他的名声。他教会了我研磨颜料、涂抹石膏的技巧，有时慢，有时快。他教我如何绘画，最重要的是，不要匆忙。我的训练是严格的，获得认证后要求更加严苛。巴托利先生，一幅杰作……至少需要一些时间。”
巴托利先生不情愿地退下了。
一个月过去了。“进展如何？”巴托利先生问。
“进展顺利，”拉贝先生再次从帘幕后说道。伴随着他的话语，传来奇怪的嗖嗖声、叮当声和拍打声。“您很幸运是由我来画您的肖像。必须用真正的湿壁画技法。那是四层石灰石膏。第一层是粗灰层，接着是粗打底层，然后是细打底层，最后是绘画层，更不用说绘画部分了。但这是我见过的最好的石膏工艺。巴托利先生，它将永世长存，但唉，这是一项耗时的工作。”
赞助人深深叹了口气，再次退下。这到底要花多长时间？谁知道呢？
又过了三四个月，最终半年过去了。赞助人巴托利先生大步走进来，要求大师艺术家拉贝先生让他看肖像，“你现在肯定画完了，我今天就要看！”他喊道，因沮丧而颤抖。
拉贝先生仿佛被这种愤怒惊到，从帘布后走出来，平静地说：“好的。您只需要提出来就行。”然后他拉开了20英尺高的帘幕。
朱利亚诺·巴托利站了一分钟，然后张大了嘴，眼睛变红，抓住了他头上仅剩的几根头发。他跳了一下，然后抽搐了一下，他的眉毛扭曲着，仿佛中了邪。朱利亚诺·巴托利显然一点也不喜欢他的肖像。朱利亚诺·巴托利大发雷霆。
“多么荒谬，多么不堪。这是什么意思？你一个弗罗林也拿不到，听到了吗？你不是艺术家，也许是个小偷或疯子。滚出我的视线！你今晚就离开我家，否则我就把你扔出去！”
那么，拉贝先生到底画错了什么？他看不出来，他为此精心修饰了那么久。这是他的杰作。他并不后悔，不，一点也不后悔，他心满意足地画了20英尺高。无论别人怎么说，西尼·拉贝先生是按他自己的方式画的。也许他的赞助人无法容忍他对立体主义表达的痴迷，但毕加索会为此感到骄傲。
说实话，拉贝先生肯定没有疯。他只是生早了500年！