I was instantly fascinated when I saw the headline yesterday: "Italians say they may have found Caravaggio bones”. After centuries of mystery, the lost painter may have been located. Researchers in the Italian coastal town of Porto Ercole have studied the remains of a man who was approximately Caravaggio’s age, who died around the same time as Caravaggio, and who had frequent contact with the lead and other metals that were commonly used in 17th century paint. The researchers have begun DNA testing to determine if the bones can be linked genetically to current residents of the town of Caravaggio who are likely relatives of the Baroque portrait painting artist. Within two weeks, we should know if the bones could be those of the painter.

The possibility of making a pilgrimage to visit the remains of the man who was a master of religious paintings, oil painting self portrait painting, and still life oil painted pictures grabbed me immediately. And then, just as quickly, a question hit me: so what?

Why should it matter if we have found the remains of the oil painting artist? Would it change the impact of his work? Would it affect how we interpret his self portrait oil representation in the decapitated head of his David with the Head of Goliath (1610) or how we empathize with the grief of his Entombment of Christ (1603)? I’m sure there’s something to be gained from the forensic study of his bones, but could it really revolutionize scholarship that much? My guess is: probably not.

But maybe that’s not why it matters. There’s value beyond just what we can learn about art; there’s the need we feel to be connected to the artist. Caravaggio’s art presents his often shocking perspective on the divine and on his contemporary world. There’s a very basic human experience represented in his work, and it’s that experience that we feel connected to. It’s unsurprising, then, that we also feel connected personally to the artist of the portrait oil paintings himself.

It’s the reason we hang original oil art reproductions in our homes. It’s the reason I almost cried when standing before the funerary monument of Michelangelo in the Basilica di Santa Croce in Florence. It’s the reason I’ll probably visit the tomb of Caravaggio, if my travels allow me. When an artist like Caravaggio offers himself across the centuries so personally in his work, it’s only reasonable that we want to pay our respects to him in person.