THE cleaning in 1983 of the panel of Pentecost ascribed to Giotto in the National Gallery, London (no.5360; Fig. 13) has prompted renewed speculation about the altar-piece, composed of several now dispersed panels, of which it originally formed part. Much has been written about the possible format, the style and the dating of the altar-piece, but little about its original location or who might have commissioned it.

ANTONIO DI TUCCIO MANETTI lists the Barbadori Chapel in S. Felicita, Florence (Fig. 17) without reservation among the works of Filippo Brunelleschi.' The church lay near Manetti's route from his house in the Fondaccio di S. Spirito (now Via di S. Spirito), along the Borgo S. Jacopo and across the Ponte Vecchio to his guild hall, the Arte della Seta, next to the seat of the Parte Guelfa near the Mercato Nuovo. His description of the form and location of the chapel indicates first-hand observation. Deeply con-cerned with his hero's reputation, Manetti was not in the habit of ascribing buildings indiscriminately to Filippo: his attributions of otherwise undocumented buildings have withstood the test of reappraisal by modern scholars, and his testimony is not to be dismissed lightly. Most writers have, in fact, accepted the Barbadori chapel as a work of Brunelleschi. Hidden within the framework of an eighteenth-century reconstruction (Fig. 18), it received only summary treatment by Fabriczy and Stegmann-Geymiiller. Paolo Fontana's brief but incisive study of 1931 3 laid the foundation for a serious reconsideration of it as an early work by Brunelleschi and led to the partial uncovering of original parts by Niccoli in the following years (Figs. 19, 20).

WITH THE INCREASING frequency the history of renaissance art is being written not in libraries or archives, but in the laboratories and on the scaffolds of restorers. The cleaning of Donatello's reliefs in the Sagrestia Vecchia, Masaccio and Masolino's frescoes in the Brancacci chapel and on the ceiling of the Sistine chapel, to mention only the most conspicuous examples, has placed before us works of art that differ in fundamental ways from those described and interpreted by previous generations. Moreover, a whole range of technical information, unimaginable only a few decades ago, has been made available, putting us in closer touch with the actual work of art and the creative process underlying its appearance. One of the most ambitious – and potentially exemplary – restoration projects is now underway in Orvieto. Financed by a government grant, the project will, if carried through, affect virtually every monument of significance in and around the city, from the cathedral, where work has already begun on the various sculptural and pictorial decorations, to the Palazzo Papale, which will eventually house works of the fourteenth century, while the present Museo del Opera del Duomo will be dedicated to the distinguished series of sixteenth-century statues that are now disgracefully stored in its basement, to the Torre del Maurizio, with its familiar automaton.

UNTIL RECENTLY OUR knowledge of Gentile da Fabriano's activity in Orvieto has been limited to two documents; the first, dated 20th October 1425, is a record of payment for work done, and the second, dated 9th December 1425, contains a partial transcription of the decision of the Council of the Opera del Duomo to remove the coat of arms that the powerful Alberici family had painted on the wall below Gentile's fresco. The other four documents which were cited by Luigi Fumi in his history of the cathedral of 1891 hint at the vicissitudes the fresco underwent after 1425. New archival discoveries, which will be fully published in the catalogue of the exhibition reviewed above by Keith Christiansen, greatly expand on these meagre facts.