What is it about artists that makes them so insecure? Maybe it's the fumes from all those oily paints going to the brain and causing a chemical reaction that gradually manifests itself as paranoia. Or perhaps it's too much time spent alone in cold studios worrying about whether the Mona Lisa was, in fact, Leonardo da Vinci dressed as a woman and if they too should try a bit of drag to spice up their portrait painting. Whatever it is, it seems that the more gifted the artist, the more they live in the grip of such all-consuming self-doubt. And at no time was this more true than during the Italian High Renaissance, when some of the greatest artists who ever lived competed ruthlessly for prominence at the Papal Court of Rome. When Pope Julius II summoned Michelangelo Buonarrotti to the Vatican in 1508, the great artist assumed it was to discuss further the designs for his huge marble tomb. The Pope, who was no shrinking violet, was planning a vast monument to himself, reminiscent of the emperors of ancient Rome and it had been Michelangelo's singular occupation since 1505. But ever capricious and autocratic, Julius had decided to put plans for his gigantic sepulchre temporarily on hold. Instead, he had been convinced by the manipulative papal architect Donato Bramante and the renowned portrait painter Raphael (yes the Raphael), both of whom were extremely jealous of the Pope's admiration for Michelangelo's work, to instruct him to paint the Twelve Apostles on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Their motives were simple: both Bramante and Raphael knew that Michelangelo had no experience in the complex art of fresco painting. They were convinced that he would fail miserably and subsequently fall out of favour with the Pope. Michelangelo was bitterly disappointed when he heard the news of his new commission. "I am a sculptor" he cried out, "don't ask me to paint walls!" But the Pope had made his mind up and Michelangelo seemed destined for a very public humiliation. Reluctantly, he set about learning the ancient techniques of frescoes, practising on some of the less conspicuous walls of the Vatican. All the while, he was watched with ever-growing jealousy by his fiercely competitive rivals. When he finally moved into the Sistine Chapel, he constructed a complex system of scaffolding to support himself, as he lay flat on his back just a few feet from the ceiling. In his own words he described his discomfort: "My beard points upward, I seem a bat upon its back, I've breasts and splat! On my face the paint's congealing; this comes of dangling from the ceiling."
As his passion for his work gained momentum, so too did his paranoid need to keep it secret from his rivals. Soon, no one was allowed to enter the chapel, apart from Pope Julius himself, who regularly climbed the scaffolding to inspect the paintings and urge the artist towards completion. Michelangelo continued to work day and night, often in excruciating physical pain, for five years (he described his love-hate relationship with his creation as "I live in hell and paint its pictures") until his completed work was unveiled on 31st October 1512. Bramante, Raphael and the other Vatican artists, who had doubted Michelangelo's ability and tried to sabotage his career, were amazed by what they saw. The original designs for just twelve figures had gradually been expanded to over 300 and the end result was an overwhelming explosion of colour and form. Biblical scenes such as The Great Flood and The Expulsion from Paradise were interspersed with looming personifications of the great prophets and graphic portraits (the 'lunettes') of Christ's ancestors. But there was one scene in particular that was inspirational in its purity of design and execution. It was The Creation of Adam, in which the divine spark of life is passed from Heaven to earth for the first time. The image of Adam, touched by the hand of God, instantly became the centre-piece of Michelangelo's achievement and, standing beneath it 500 years after it was painted, it is not hard to see why it still remains one of the single most iconic images in western art. Donato Bramante was devastated. His artistic talents had been totally eclipsed by Michelangelo's towering genius and he died a broken man two years later, with his grand plans for St Peter's Basilica still unrealised (Michelangelo later became chief architect of the Basilica until his death in 1564). Raphael, too, was radically affected by what he saw. His style of portrait painting was profoundly altered and, from that day until his early dead at the age of 37, he continually strived to capture the spontaneous movement and grace of Michelangelo. Pope Julius survived his beloved frescoes by only one year. When he died in 1513, there was still no completed design for his tomb but he had been personally responsible for leaving behind a far greater legacy.
Michelangelo, exhausted and with his health in shreds, spent much of the next 20 years in his home city of Florence. He returned to the Vatican as an old man in 1535 to paint his final Sistine Chapel masterpiece. At the request of Pope Paul III 'Farnese', he began work on the enormous fresco "The Last Judgement" which covers the entire west wall of the chapel and is the largest single fresco of the Renaissance. Yet again, his work, which is a riotous collection of naked figures either descending to hell's abyss or ascending to heaven to be with Christ, became the focus of huge controversy within the Vatican. The Master of Ceremonies, Biagio de Cesena, said that "it was no work for a papal chapel but rather for the public baths and taverns". But Michelangelo, never modest enough to accept criticism from lesser men (and there were many), was quick to take revenge. He painted the unsuspecting Biagio's face on the figure of Minos, trapping him for all eternity surrounded by serpents and devils in the fiery depths of Hell. His message was clear: don't ever cross an insecure artist, particularly a really great one. You may regret it for many centuries to come.