In postcard reproductions, its careful outline drawing can suggest the dense symbolism typical of the Northern Renaissance. Even in person, detail emerges the longer I look. A rabbit peeps out from between rocks like a refugee from Where's Waldo , while the artist's signature, on convincingly rumpled paper, hangs not far in front of a tiny drain spout. Still, Bellini's lighting integrates and softens rather than differentiates details. It lets in air and reverence rather than isolates a refuge for fine points of doctrine.
Nothing seems out of place, least of all that gorgeous sunlight.
Besides, hidden meanings are at least as hard to support from the literal evidence as any traditional ones. In a Renaissance picture about music, the singer invariably holds a prop. The painting has signs everywhere, but not a guitar. Anyhow, and in the unlikely event that a painter of the day could express such nuances with only a gaping stare, Francis looks to me more surprised than lyrical. Then, too, whatever the saint is doing, I can almost hear the silence.