Why Did Caravaggio Paint Two Different “Supper at Emmaus” Paintings?

Emily Stepp
4 min readApr 18, 2020

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In my first article here on Medium, I discussed some interesting details and reflected on Renaissance and Baroque art. I decided to look into one of my favorite artists from that article: Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio — or just Caravaggio for short.

His style is quite distinct; often he uses lighting that has a sharp contrast to it, painting scenes that appear dimly lit, with light resting on certain small spaces. In my further research into his other work, I discovered something strange.

Caravaggio made two different versions of his “Supper at Emmaus” painting.

One of them, which I discussed in my first article, is dated at 1601. The other which I discovered is dated between 1605–1606.

This is the one dated at 1601, by Caravaggio — National Gallery, London web site, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=270022
This is the one dated between 1605–1606, by Caravaggio — Web Gallery of Art: Image Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=509489

Of course, my first question was “why?” Had he been unhappy with the previous one? I’m no painter, but I can understand as a writer the need to go back and rewrite. So I decided to examine the differences, and what they might reflect:

In the 1601 painting, it is noticeably brighter. The figure of Jesus has no beard, and as I’ve discussed before, appears to embody some feminine characteristics in his face; it lacks the usual strong features a male face often embodies in art, which I feel may reflect the theological idea of Christ being neither strictly male, nor strictly female.

The table is perhaps the most noticeable difference besides the lighting. In the 1601 version, there is a lavish spread of food. The figures around it are all male, all seemingly in the middle of an action (the man in the chair in the foreground, for instance, appears to be just about to leap out of his seat).

Now to compare this to the 1605 version:

Notice how the table is much more sparse. There seems to be only bread and some kind of meat, but nothing so grand as the display of fruit in the 1601 version. The lighting is much darker, and while most of the persons in it appear to be in the middle of an action, it is not as animated as before.

In addition, Christ’s physical features seem to embody a more masculine presentation; he has a short beard, and the overall shape of his face seems to be sharper, though not so much that it is jarring. In both, however, Christ has very long, curly hair, which again adds to the more feminine characteristics of his appearance.

His pose is similar to the one in the 1601 version, seeming to invite the audience to come and sit at the empty space at the table (which both paintings feature), though in this newer one his hand is only raised a little, as opposed to the literal open hand and raised arm in the older one.

This 1605 version also features a woman. There is an old woman holding a basket of something (upon zooming in, it looks like cooked ribs, but I’m unsure as to what exactly it is).

Overall, this newer version seems to be Caravaggio’s way of “toning down” as it were; all the differences that can be seen seem to point to a desire or intention for a more subtle scene. Instead of a brightly-lit table, it’s much darker; the people within it are less animated, the table is sparse (perhaps giving it a more realistic feel for the time period).

If the 1605 version is Caravaggio trying to emulate something more subtle or realistic, what does that mean for the “meaning” of the painting?

I’ve discussed before about how I feel the overall “meaning” of the painting is that Christ is beckoning the audience to join him at the table, as shown by his pose and the empty space at the table. So if this newer version is meant to be more “realistic,” what does a “realistic” invitation mean?

One way to look at it might be that this “realistic” invitation doesn’t sugar-coat things. The table Christ is inviting us to is not a fancy one; it is not the heaven-like delight you might imagine. And in that way I think it fits well with our own time. The theological idea that Christ is at work in the world today, and that he shares in humanity’s suffering, may be illustrated quite well here.

Even though the table is sparse and things look dark, Christ invites the audience to join him nonetheless. He appears to say, “Look, I know this isn’t as glamorous as you thought it would be, but I’m here too, so let’s all be here together and make the most of it.”

There’s no escaping all the bad news circulating in the world right now; climate change is an ever-encroaching issue, COVID-19 has had rippling economic repercussions (as well as mental health repercussions), and none of it seems to be letting up anytime soon.

Even if you’re not a very religious person, I feel that art is a kind of universal language.

I hope this painting can give you a little bit of hope — the table is dark, but we’re still all in this together.

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