As some of you may know, and those who don’t are about to find out, I am hugely inspired by the work of Caravaggio. His art is immediate, raw and passionate, it jumps off the canvas and down your throat; while other artists painted the classical form—perfect, aspirational, inspired by the great sculptors of the past—he painted real people with an abrupt and powerful urgency. Dirt on fingernails, weather beaten faces. At the centre of this drunken brawler’s work was the message of the gospel; not men elevated to the form of God, but God taking the form of man. But this post isn’t really about...
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