Forgotten Ages Research

The Mystery in the Montalcino Masterpiece—Evidence for Time Travel from the Sixteenth Century?

Report Topics:

• Background and description of Salimbeni’s painting, “Glorification of the Eucharist”
• Focus on the enigmatic spheroid with antennae near the top of the painting
• Traditional interpretations
• Taking a closer look—the inherent anomalous elements of futuristic technology
• Not an alien spacecraft as some have claimed
• A remote viewing device from another time?
• The real reasons behind Salimbeni’s religious imagery
• Report Update—Criticisms and Answers
• Report Update—Salimbeni’s Sphere in the Context of the Renaissance Evolved Development of the Artistic Portrayal of the Trinity

Full Report:

Our world is filled with many anomalies, most of them well documented and incontroversial, which demonstrate that space and time are not what we think they are. One of the strangest of these is an enigmatic object which appears in a painting in the little church of Montalcino in Italy, dating over four hundred years old. The object can be classified as a genuine “out-of-place” artifact, because it incorporates several apparent advanced aspects in its design.

But the context in which it was placed in the painting and portrayed in detail opens up a whole different level of technological inquiry and potential achievement. The item’s existence raises not only the question of where did it come from, but more importantly, when did it come from? For here we are faced with something that is more than out-of-place, it also appears to have come from a totally different time.

In essence, what we may be looking at is the first real evidence for time travel.

At this point, we cannot be sure if the item in question manifested from our future, or if it represents a time-traveling technology which was the product of the unknown past, built and sent forward to our period from a prehistoric civilization now lost to us. Let the readers judge for themselves.

In 1595, Italian artist Bonaventura Salimbeni (1567–1613) was commissioned to produce a painting for the right-hand altar of the Church of St. Peter at Montalcino, located within a few miles of Florence. He was a member of a prominent family of artists from nearby Siena, and the goal of his commission was that his work be completed for the Christian Jubilee Year of 1600. According to the message accompanying his signature, Salimbeni’s painting was finished right on schedule.

The Montalcino art masterpiece is entitled “The Glorification of the Eucharist,” and features a vertical work divided into three segments. The lower third depicts a number of worshipping figures seated before the altar, including priests, cardinals and one individual wearing a papal crown believed to represent Pope Clement VII.
The middle third shows the altar itself, and prominently displayed in its center is the Cup of the Eucharist emblazoned in glowing light.

The upper third of the painting symbolizes Heaven, dominated by the three Beings of the Holy Trinity who are looking down on the earthly scene below and giving their blessings—God the Father depicted as a Moses-like bearded old man, God the Son as Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit portrayed as a Dove hovering above the center.

What immediately catches the viewer’s attention, however, is something pictured in among the Trinity members that to modern eyes seems very familiar, but not from the right time period. The first impression is that it looks exactly like a spheroid satellite with two antennae, something akin to the old Russian Sputniks or American Vanguard orbiters of the late 1950’s. But what is it actually supposed to be?

Renaissance art experts interpret the strange sphere as representing the Universe, showing the faint lines of celestial longitude and latitude, plus the images of an obscure sun and an exaggerated crescent moon shining from inside. The two “antennae”—one held by God the Father and the other by God the Son—are said to be “scepters” symbolizing divine rulership.

But the closer one examines the object, the more inconsistencies arise with this somewhat limited interpretation. If the “sphere” is supposed to be the Universe, why are there no stars or constellations depicted shining from inside it? In fact, there is nothing transparent about it—the sphere on the contrary appears to be solid, with what looks like a metallic sheen reflected off its exterior. The so-called celestial “lines” more realistically suggest the seams of metal plating that covers the outer circumference, made of a strange blue-black material.

The “sun” is too indistinct to represent the solar body, and in a technological context more likely is an electrical light source designed to illuminate the sphere’s immediate surroundings.

As for the “moon,” its unnatural double crescent with touching ends was not meant to depict a flat circle in two dimensions, but forms the edge of a three-dimensional narrow-width cylinder seen from an angle—what we today would identify as a camera lens protruding off the sphere‘s surface.

Without a doubt the most outlandish feature are the two antennae. They bear no resemblance whatsoever to any type of “scepter” or staff of power used by Renaissance officials, political or religious. Usually a scepter is pointed at the bottom end and has some symbol or figure prominently displayed at its apex. In contrast, the two objects held by the Trinity members are slightly wider at their bases than their tops.

In fact, on much closer inspection, it can be clearly seen that both objects have an inherent “telescoping” design. They are segmented into distinct sections which could be collapsed into a smaller size, and when pulled apart would extend to greater lengths.

The problem is, “telescoping” was a mechanical innovation which was not invented until the early eighteenth century. What is it doing being portrayed in a painting over a hundred years too soon?

Even stranger yet, it can be observed that the two antennae are fastened to the sphere with gold or brass-colored grommet-rings, and certain lengths of the antennae also have grommet-rings. A grommet-ring is a threaded eyelet that is used to tighten and hold metal segments in place. Once again, we are dealing with something from another time, for such an innovation did not appear in industrial machinery design until the mid-nineteenth century.

And then there is the anomaly of the antennae themselves. We today of course are very familiar with their utilization as “rabbit ears,” used for television, radio and other signal receivers and transmitters. Even the recognizeable wide-angle dispersion configuration is faithfully pictured in the Renaissance painting. Yet the existence of antennae for the earliest radio transmissions did not appear until the early twentieth century.

Going a step beyond, it can also be noticed that the sphere is clearly depicted as not resting on the background cloud it is pictured with, or sits on any surface whatsoever, but is hovering in place, held up by the “invisible powers” of the Trinity. Also, the sphere casts no well-defined shadow, which means that it did not appear in the physical but was more likely seen as a projected image. Here we are now dealing with possible anti-gravitational or electrostatic levitation, as well as sophisticated holography, that are beyond our present abilities.

Looking at all these various anomalies and their technical implications incorporated together into one object, the upshot is that we are being confronted with the presence of an artificial mechanism specifically designed to illuminate and photograph scenes with a camera, and then broadcast the images to somewhere else. It could project itself to a specific location, levitate in place, perform its remote viewing task perhaps for only a few seconds, then disappear and return to its original point. But where would that “origin point” have been?

Ufologists and “ancient astronaut” theorists have been quick to seize upon this out-of-place object as being proof of an extraterrestrial visitation, possibly a spaceship seen by the artist. The problem is, there is nothing especially “alien” about this device. In fact, every one of its aspects is recognizeable as the product of a purely Earth-bound technology.

The real mystery is not one of place but one of time. The sudden appearance of something displaying elements of a futuristic technology in the sixteenth century strongly suggests that this is ultimately where it must have come from, the future. Either that, or it was a projection far forward from a lost advanced civilization long disappeared that developed along technological lines not that much different from our own today.

The questions remain, what exactly did the artist see, and why did he portray it in the manner shown in his painting?

Undoubtedly, Salimbeni regarded his encounter as a God-given vision, and through his artistry sought to comprehend it in that context. The device probably suddenly and unexpectedly appeared before him as if out of thin air, then quickly vanished after only a few seconds. But having an artistic eye sensitive to details, he very likely immediately made sketches of what he saw so he could later better remember it and portray it in the larger and more permanent masterpiece work we see today.

Steeped in a Church-oriented upbringing and education, Salimbeni could only interpret his experience as having been heaven-sent. This is why, in his painting, he placed the object among the Trinity, because in his time period they were the only acceptable source of truly miraculous events.

Being a good Catholic, and having been responsible for numerous other art pieces of a religious theme, there would have been no question in Salimbeni’s mind of the true origins of the apparition. The fact that the object had hovered before him with no earthly supports could only mean that it had been held aloft by the hands of Divine Providence, and he deliberately pictured it that way.

The artist may have very well thought that the sphere in his vision symbolized the Universe, and purposely re-interpreted the two exterior items he saw on its surface—the light and the camera lens—as being the “greater illumination” and “lesser illumination” of the sky, namely the sun and moon.

Luckily for us, Salimbeni’s excellent memory overcame his desire to reduce everything he saw into a religious context. He preserved enough details in his painting that he could not fully understand in his day, but which we in our time can better recognize with our modern technological mindset.

Rather than being “heaven-sent,” the evidence instead points to the mysterious device having been “time-sent.” As to just when in history, either past or future, it was sent from, remains the real unanswered enigma.

Report Update—Criticisms and Answers

One criticism concerning the Montalcino painting showing anything anomalous is that such interpretations are based on “bad reproductions” and “poor images” of the original, that have “led many to jump to conclusions that are at best unfounded.” In reality, the sixteenth century masterpiece, in the skeptics’ opinion, does not portray anything out of the ordinary.

In the summer of 1967, while on a tour to Europe, I had the opportunity to take a side trip from Florence and visit the Montalcino church in person. For over an hour I examined the painting up close, I made numerous notes, and I took several camera pictures, a few of which are reproduced below. Among these photos I shot several focused specifically on the sphere, getting as much detail as possible. These speak for themselves, and my analysis of the many out-of-place aspects of the sphere is based on what is plainly present. There are no excuses for “bad reproductions” or “poor imagery” here.

Another criticism dismisses Salimbeni’s depiction as nothing more than a weird dream, or possibly of the artitist tapping into the “unconscious mind, that presumably does not recognize past, present or future.” That would make this, at best, a case of “remote viewing” pulled out of the collective unconsciousness.

Except that, when we look at the design features of the anomalous sphere itself, it bespeaks having a specific function. A technological device, by its very nature, is usually not something that is merely dreamed up or visualized on a whim, but rather pre-supposes the existence of a specific purpose for which it was constructed and operates.

In the case of the sphere, as was noted in the Report above, its very specific features point to it primarily being an instrument designed for mobile transport, for illuminating its surroundings and making camera observations, and for broadcasting the images elsewhere. The fact that this is a sophisticated twenty-first century mechanism and that it appears in a sixteenth century painting would strongly suggest it had the ability to travel through time as the major part of its function. This device was not imagined in a dream or came to the artist in a vision—though that was how he interpreted it, because in his religious mindset that was the only alternative that made sense. Instead, the object was something that had been very real, that had traveled to him back through time to the artist’s own day, and fulfilled the function for which it was made by a separate but precocious intelligence.

Report Update—Salembeni’s Sphere in the Context of the Renaissance Evolved Development of the Artistic Portrayal of the Trinity

Religious art connoisseurs and traditionalist interpreters of sacred church pantings have been critical of the idea that Salimbeni’s work could possibly show elements of out-of-place technology.

The strange “sphere” so prominently depicted in his Montelcino painting as sitting in a dominating central position among the members of the Trinity has been conservatively interpreted as representing the globe of the heavens, complete with the sun and moon, and symbolizing the rulership of the Godhead over the universe.

As proof of this assertion, the critics point to other specimens of medieval and Renaissance artwork which likewise portray spheres and circles, and that these examples clearly show them to be representative of the globe of the Earth or of the heavens above.

However, if one takes a more in-depth look at Salimbeni’s sphere in the larger context of the evolutionary development of the artistic portrayal of the Trinity as created in pantings, icons, illuminated manuscripts, drawings and sculptures from the thirteenth through the nineteenth centuries, we find that a fascinating pattern emerges.

In the earliest examples of the Trinity image—as seen in such works as the Unknown French version circa 1250 and the Chiarito Tabernacle of Pacino di Bonaguida circa 1340 (both exhibited in the Getty Museum), or the “Trinity” of Barnaba de Modena, 1374, the “Trinity With Angels” by the Unknown French master from 1410, and the “Trinity” of the central alterpiece from the Camaldolese Nunnery of San Giovanni, painted by Giovanni del Ponte in 1420 (all three to be seen today in the National Gallery of Art)—we find no appearance of any spheres whatsoever.

This same state of affairs also exists among most of the earliest of the Greek Orthodox and Russian Orthodox icons of the Trinity, as those produced by Theophenes the Greek about 1378 and Andrei Rublev circa 1412.

The initial advent of anything of a spherical nature shows up in later Orthodox icons in which Christ, or God the Father, or both, hold a traditional royal orb of rulership, usually with a cross prominently placed atop it, and with horizontal and vertical bands spanning its circumference, which was the standard design of similar orbs held by kings and queens during official ceremonies of state. One can view today in the Tower of London the jewel-encrusted Orb still used by British royalty.

A later period throwback to the portrayal of the orb can be seen in the 1518 painted panel, “Trinity With the Crucified Christ,” by Lucas Cranach the Elder, at Kinsthale, Bremen.

Among the fifteenth century Flemish illuminated manuscripts of Bruges, illustrated by Jean Chevrot, Willem Vrelant and Lieven van Lathem, we can observe the feet of Christ planted on a very small sphere or disc that symbolizing his presence on Earth. Dutch paintings from the same period likewise depict Christ’s feet dangling over an obscure crystalline sphere.

Similarly, in Albrecht Durer’s 1511 painting, “The Adoration of the Trinity,” Christ’s feet now rest on a spherical cloud, part of a surrounding heavenly cloud bank. Clearly, such a minor portrayal of what was considered an artistic afterthought or embellishment stood in sharp contrast to the later predominance of the giant sphere as seen in Salembeni’s work from later in the same century.

Circa 1550, the Brussels panel painting “Holy Trinity” of Pieter Coecke van Aelst once more portrayed Christ’s feet positioned on a globe, only this one evolved into a sphaera mundi, showing the zodiacal band, Earth, sun and moon. Yet again, however, this globe is gray and colorless, used only as an insignificant backdrop for the rest of the artistic theme.

Earlier, in 1515, Jan Provost painted what has been termed by some as a “creation globe,” a light ethereal sphere with a discus shaped sun, an Earth and a moon, placed between portraitures of Christ and Mother Mary.

But this artwork is entitled “Christian Allegory,” and deals not with the Trinity as its formal main scenario but rather with religious esoteric symbolism, including not one but two curious appearances of the All-Seeing Eye.

In this context, the sphere in question can also be regarded as only a metaphor for the known heavens—not unlike the woodcut figure of a sphere with sun, moon, stars and a central human being taken from Henry Peacham’s 1612 highly cryptic illustrations in his Minerva Brittana series.

It was the sudden advent of Salimbeni’s giant anomalous sphere which broke with the long-established rules of artistic composition by completely predominating over the Trinity in the upper register of his 1600 painting. This formed a precedence that was followed by other church artists for almost a century.

Rather than being a part of a tradition he was simply following, as has been claimed, Salimbeni actually initiated a distinctive trend based on his unique visionary experience.of the out-of-place artifact he saw briefly appear before him.

During his lifetime and following him, fellow artisans were inspired to copy and emulate his sphere in their own manners of expression and interpretation.

Salimbeni‘s contemporary, the metal sculpturer Girolamo Campgna, no doubt saw his sphere drawings before it was executed as a painting. As a result, Campagna fashioned the high altar for Palladrino‘s San Giorgio Maggiorre in Venice in the form of a gigantic gilded copper globe atop which strode the figure of God the Father wearing a triangular crown. Nothing like this had ever been created before—and the parallel connection with Salimbeni‘s painted sphere is unquestionably obvious.

Another contemporary, the Venetian Jacopo Palermo, in his crica 1615 painting, “The Annunciation With God the Father,” likewise features the Deity holding a very large globe, which Palermo more traditionally associated with a starry sky.

Later, Antonia de Pereda, in his circa 1650 panting, “The Holy Trinity,” maintained the new trend by picturing another large solid-like sphere of the heavens in the midst of the Divine Trio, precisely in the same manner as Salimbeni‘s, even to depicting the sphere with deep blue color and with lines across its surface just like at Montelcino.

The same influence is also to be witnessed in Johann Heinrich Schonfeld‘s 1640 “Adoration of the Holy Trinity,” and in Juan Carrero de Miranda‘s 1660 “La Messe de Fondation de l‘Order des Trinitaires.” Once again, a pecuiar blue almost solid-looking sphere, as first depicted in Salimbeni‘s original vision, holds center stage in the heavens, surrounded by the Trinity members.

But while many Italian artists followe suit, the same imagery did not take hold elsewhere. The 1620 “Holy Trinity“ of Antwerp‘s Henrick van Balem shows Christ and his Father using a somewhat smaller sphere more like a footstool, while the Viennese Franz Anton Maulbertsch’s circa 1750 “Trinity” depicts only Christ sitting on a very much obscured grayish-blue sphere—a return to the older symbolic association of his sojourn on Earth.

When we look at still later representations of the Trinity in eighteenth through the twentieth centuries’ religious art, we find that the image of the sphere has all but vanished.

The point to be emphasized here is that Salimbeni’s giant domineering sphere in his Montelcino painting had no real precedent before its appearance. Its uniqueness was based not on any innovative artistic style, but rather from his personal visionary experience of something real that momentarily appeared before him. Its importance, as being for him the equivalent to a profound religious experience, is what he wanted to expand upon by making his painted sphere so large, even to the point of outclassing the surrounding Trinity.

For other artists of his time, Salimbeni’s bold oversized sphere made a lasting impression and for a certain period they duplicated aspects of it in their own works. The trend eventually faded out, and more conservative motifs came back into the fore.

Again, we may well ask, what was the source of Salimbeni’s motivation for introducing so significantly different an artistic expression? There was very little if anything portrayed in the art of his time or from times past that served as a primary inspiration to make such an innovative change.

The answer may very well be that the real inspiration was not an intellectual one, but rather from a personal experience that altered his life forever. And he wished to portray that revelation as best he could in his painting, not in the least mindful of the consequences that it would generate in the field of religious art.

[Copyright 2009. Joseph Robert Jochmans. All Rights Reserved.]