reveal action at its most intense ; it thus brings the process of “ becoming ” to an end . We see Chosroes ' s son falling over backwards , just a fraction of a second after his throat has been slit ; and this instant will remain immobile forever . A lance sails across the sky ; if we are to see it , however , we must take our aim at it with the perspective needles of other lances , following other trajectories and seemingly exploding within the white cloud at the very apex of their flight . At this same instant , yet another lance is breaking ; in an example of careful forethought , its triangular , broken line coincides to the millimeter with the central axis of the entire scene .
We are , in short , at the antipodes from Antonio Pollaiuolo ' s famous print , the Battle of Nude Men , where everything is in frenzied motion . Piero ’ s scene , described by Vasari as “ an almost unbelievable massacre of the wounded , the fallen , and the dead ” ( but actually involving , if you bother to count , no more than forty participants ) , has already “ happened , ” once and for all . To put things differently , the battle is already “ over ” at the moment that best represents , on Piero ' s stylistic terms , its dynamic culmination . It becomes a sort of colored anagram , created from the continuous intersection and conjoining of interlocking things : sky , clouds , earth ; weapons , coats of arms , human figures . It is , in fact , a sort of “ battle under glass , ” viewed with a cruel clarity . After the clarity of simplicity manifest in the Victory of Constantine , here Piero achieves a clarity of multiplicity ; but the process and its outcome remain the same . Try saying to yourself : “ from top to bottom ” or “ from bottom to top ; ” “ from left to right ” or “ from right to left . ” All these expressions will turn out to have no bearing whatsoever on this polychromed structure , this brightly colored marquetry , locked in before our gaze like some freshly materialized abstraction . It takes a while to pronounce the names of the things we see : clouds ; coats of arms ; weapons held high against the blue backdrop of the sky ; the sky itself , filling the gap in the torn banner ; the complicated tangles of combat ; one - on - one duels ; warriors ’ dark heads , standing out against the bright rumps of warhorses ; white , green , or blue helmets ; costumes and shields in the colors of noble houses ; wounds , sporting their blood like coral trinkets .... Ah , but its too slow a business , for no verbal repetition can duplicate the instantaneous flash of this single moment of unified multiplicity , clarified by Piero at its language - defying peak .
The above commentary applies only to the ideal , autograph version of the fresco , however ; in the real one , alas , too much has been “ lost in translation . ” A demanding eye will be troubled by the distortions of Piero ' s ideas , both in this scene and in the concluding one of Heraclius Returning the Cross to Jerusalem . This same eye will , however , be better satisfied upon turning to another , supremely autograph fresco painted by Piero during the same years .