National Gallery Curatorial Trainee, Eloise Donnelly, discusses a rare work from the Lycett Green collection.

While the historic Scottish referendum at the end of last month may have put our differences under the spotlight, it was also a chance to think about some of the things we have in common with our friends north of the border.

For some, the pound, the Union Jack and the Queen may top the list of things we share, but with my research of York’s Old Master paintings gathering pace I was struck by something completely different…

This tiny panel, gilded in fine gold leaf, is an example of the work of the Master of the San Lucchese Altarpiece, an artist who lived and worked in Florence during the mid 14th Century.

We don’t know very much about the artist’s life – in fact, even his real name is a mystery, and he has become known by the stunning altarpiece he painted for the Church of San Lucchese in Poggibonsi, Tuscany, which was sadly destroyed during the Second World War.

What little we do know comes from a sprinkling of beautifully delicate works of art that are now scattered in collections around the world.

One of these paintings was this picture, bought by Lycett Green in 1929 and added to his expanding collection of rare gold ground pictures in his home in Kent.

It shows the Virgin Mary and St. John the Baptist weeping and kissing the hands of Christ after his crucifixion, and originally it would have been one of 5 similarly sized panels that sat beneath an altarpiece painting.

All five of these panels, which had remained together for hundreds of years, were separated at an auction in 1860. So, what became of the other four?

Well, one, showing a saint being martyred, was bought at the auction and has not been seen since. Another, showing a saint being visited by an angel, was last seen in 1965 having disappeared into a private collection.

The remaining two, which probably sat either side of Lycett Green’s picture, are in the National Gallery of Scotland in Edinburgh, where you can see them on display.

One of these shows a saint being baptised, and the other one seems to show a figure being beaten with wooden poles before two Roman officers.

The saint’s identity, and exactly what the panels represent, remain a mystery, but finding out more about the subject matter could help us discover where all 5 panels were originally located.

In many ways, it’s a shame that the panels have been separated, as by seeing them together you can appreciate the artist’s beautiful colour schemes, his careful modelling of the figures, and the glorious use of gold tooling that he must have copied from Daddi.

If I’d have been around at the auction in 1860 I certainly would have voted against separation. On the other hand, we’re lucky that they are merely a train ride away in Edinburgh, and we don’t need to cross international borders in order to pay them a visit.

Eloise Donnelly