For the archetype of the dangerously passionate artist, go no further than Caravaggio. Caravaggio (full name Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, 1571–1610) lived a tumultuous life in Rome in the late 16th century, painting masterpieces in between being locked away for various offences usually involving brawling and assault. Many records exist of his being sued for one infraction or another: he was sued by a waiter for throwing artichokes in his face; he was sued by his landlady for not paying his rent and then for vandalism when he threw rocks through her window. Usually, Caravaggio was bailed out by wealthy patrons but when, in a duel in 1606, he actually killed a local gangster, he was forced to go on the run and he spent the final four years of his life moving between Naples, Malta, and Sicily. Thus, Caravaggio, like none other, compels us to separate the artist from his art.

But what an art: Caravaggio employed close physical observation with a dramatic use of chiaroscuro (the use of strong contrasts between light and dark) that came to be known as tenebrism. He used the technique to transfix subjects in bright shafts of light between dark shadows, and since he often chose crucial moments and scenes from the Bible and literature, his works were often vividly expressed drama. He worked rapidly, with live models, preferring to forgo drawings and instead work directly onto the canvas: if he had been a snooker player he would have been Hurricane Higgins.

A case in point is The Calling of St Matthew, held in the Contarelli Chapel, Rome, and depicting the story from the Gospel of Matthew: “Jesus saw a man named Matthew at his seat in the custom house, and said to him, ‘Follow me’, and Matthew rose and followed Him.” Caravaggio depicts Matthew the tax collector sitting at a table with four other men. Jesus Christ and Saint Peter have entered the room, and Jesus is pointing at Matthew. A beam of light illuminates the faces of the men at the table as they stare at the new arrivals. When you look at the picture, you could be forgiven for wondering which sitter is Matthew: is the bearded man pointing to the slumped figure (“Who, him?”) or at himself (“Who, me?”). Fortunately, two other paintings sit alongside this one in the chapel (The Martyrdom of St Matthew and The Inspiration of St Matthew) and they feature the same bearded man unequivocally playing Matthew.