If you doubt it for even a second, take a look at the self-portrait he made in his mid-to-late 20s. Tintoretto stares with bloodshot eyes through pink lids and long dark lashes, the muscles above his nose bunched in belligerent resolve. Turning to face the viewer, he has the look of someone who needs no more than a sliver of an excuse to draw his sword and apply its edge to your neck.
The painting hangs near the beginning of "Titian, Tintoretto, Veronese: Rivals in Renaissance Venice," a knockout show that opens Sunday at the Museum of Fine Arts. Organized by MFA assistant curator of paintings Frederick Ilchman, the exhibition is a collaboration with the Louvre in Paris and contains, besides many other wonders, a handful of the sexiest pictures ever painted.
Rivalry has been the animating idea behind many a recent blockbuster. The appeal is obvious: Personal antipathy piques our interest, humanizing art history and bringing sporty satisfactions to more pious forms of genius talk.
Here the concept is not just apt, it's revelatory. And the fact that it's a three-way rivalry involving generational conflict gives it a moody, Shakespearean aspect. The last room in particular, which includes depictions of St. Jerome in the wilderness by the three artists all in a row, conjures visions of King Lear on the heath.
The Renaissance biographer Giorgio Vasari visited Venice only briefly, but was struck by the climate of intense rivalry among its artists. Titian's early career was a series of struggles for ascendancy, first with his teachers Giovanni Bellini and Giorgione and later with Pordenone and the great Florentine, Michelangelo (a major influence on Tintoretto).
By the time the rivalry between our three heroes here got going, Titian was already established as the preeminent artist in Venice. He had had his fill of public commissions in the city and was making the most of his newfound international fame, executing works for the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V as well as Pope Paul III and his family (look out for his portrait of the aging, remorseless old pope under intense duress in the first room).