in painting, too. When it came to architecture, Michelangelo had amassed the maturity to integrate Bramante’s way of empowering buildings with dimensions proportionate to those of the human body.
Alongside him stood the slightly younger Raffaello Sanzio d’Urbino (known as Raphael) who died at the young age of thirty-seven. His personality also contrasted sharply with Michelangelo’s. To begin, Raphael was very sociable and he, too, had evolved a style of his own. Probably arriving in Florence in 1504 after solid training under Perugino, he mixed easily with his peers as he studied the cartoons of Michelangelo and Da Vinci at the Palazzo Vecchio and savoured Fra Bartolomeo’s palette of colours while borrowing odd touches from Ghirlandaio. After a few private commissions, he headed to Rome in 1508 (the same year as Michelangelo) where he painted the Vatican Stanze, the private apartments of Pope Julius II in the Vatican. Beyond his stunning flair for colours, Raphael excelled at rendering drape, velvet, damask, and silk distinctively – La Velata at the Pitti Palace is a prime example. The real rivalry between Raphael and Michelangelo was never actually aggressive – their technique and personalities were simply too different. Raphael’s premature death left Michelangelo missing a true peer. Given that Raphael’s works instilled the latter’s output with a certain gentle sweetness and way of handling skin colour and fabrics, Michelangelo undoubtedly had a passing to mourn. In 1534, Michelangelo made his final move to Rome, leaving a trail of unfinished works behind him at the Church of San Lorenzo. He had been called to execute the Last Judgment for the Sistine Chapel, along with an assortment of jobs for San Marco. This was when he met Daniel da Volterra, who was to become his lifelong disciple.
Fra Bartolomeo, Portrait of Girolamo Savonarola, c. 1498.
Oil on wood, 47 × 31 cm.
Museum of San Marco, Florence.
Meanwhile, the Mannerist School was also taking shape in Florence, with the likes of native-born Andrea del Sarto executing commissions for the Servi de la Nunziata too. Even today, the Santissima Annunziata Church remains a black sheep of Florentine Renaissance art. There on display are the works of Rosso Fiorentino, Pontormo, and Sarto, works typified by a Mannerist upset of harmony, overextended forms, wavy bodies, and various bodily contortions with occasional recourse to dissonant colour combinations. In short, Mannerism was a radical reaction to Golden Age Classicism. The Last Judgment in the Pauline Chapel as well as Michelangelo’s later figurative works are textbook examples of this school. And in the The Holy Family (Tondo Doni) itself, Michelangelo’s new manner is plain for all to see. His works would go on to demonstrate a fusion of drama and fantasy. In architecture, Michelangelo blazed the trail with the curves and tension he created for the San Lorenzo Church. Mannerism even affected gardening. The gardens around the great private estates were rife with eccentricities, oddities, curious caves, fountains, and statues of animals – examples are in the Boboli Gardens of the Pitti Palace. But Michelangelo opened up new horizons in sculpture too. Though botched, Bartolomeo Ammannati’s statue of the sea god at Piazza della Signoria was nonetheless based on Michelangelo’s David, while Cellini’s Perseus at the Loggia dei Lanzi is magnificent. A final worthy successor was Giambologna (known as Jean Boulogne or Giovanni Bologna) and his Rape of a Sabine Woman in the same loggia. But in the 16th century, the best artists were deserting Florence, Mannerism was floundering in the finer points, and real art now found itself in Rome.
Let us return to Sarto, an artist influenced by Raphael and Michelangelo, who completed Mannerism-based pieces. Mannerism was a response to the general unrest permeating Florence at the time due to the local political situation and the broader background of the Reformation. Around 1520 to 1524, Florentine painting began shifting from the Golden Age into the Late Renaissance.
For all his genius and social prominence, Michelangelo was never immune to the whims of his patrons, yet he, nevertheless, devoted his life to exercising his talents as a sculptor, painter, architect, and poet, leaving an enormous body of work in his wake.
In his late 19th – century History of Art during the Renaissance, Eugene Müntz includes a very thorough study of Michelangelo. However, the study needs updating to incorporate new data, transfer of works to new locations, discovery of additional drawings, recent issues, restorations and more compassion for Italian art prior to the 16th century. Nonetheless, Müntz did an enormous job and, in recognition of that, the only editing of his clear and straightforward style concerns a few idiomatic turns of phrase that would sound precious today.
Vasari, Portrait of Lorenzo de Medici.
Oil on canvas, 90 × 72 cm.
Private collection.
The Sculptor
Late Renaissance Sculpture
David (detail), 1504.
Marble, height: 434 cm.
Galleria dell’Academia, Florence.
Copy of The Head of a Faun, attributed to Michelangelo, original disappeared.
Museo del Bargello, Florence.
Michelangelo not only outshines all his predecessors; he remains the only great sculptor of the Renaissance at its best. Sculpture flourished in the 15th century only to fade and die off in the next. Having progressed too far ahead of painting, it was only natural for sculpture to be the first to peak and decline.
What most Late Renaissance sculptors lacked was not talent, but the ability to use their own eyes and share a vision with either their contemporaries or posterity. We should immediately add that the era was unfavourable to them: Michelangelo’s extreme genius left little scope for works that escaped his influence, damning all his contemporaries to settle for aping him.
The decadence had yet another cause: Michelangelo had brilliantly solved every essential problem facing sculpture at the time, thus freeing fellow artists from research and inclining them towards carefree routine work where they soon found themselves copying readymade techniques, which is the death of all art.
Assuredly, the quest for character and movement was germinating in the works of Donatello, but it was tempered by a strong dose of naturalism; their matter invariably counterbalanced their spirit. Donatello made a major contribution up until the heart of the 16th century; his influence was in marked conflict with Michelangelo’s, especially when it came to low relief, a genre Buonarroti practiced little. But when it comes to Michelangelo’s successors, neurosis prevails: anything you would call bone structure, musculature, vitality, or health deteriorates. Who would still look at such eyesores? And nonetheless, it is the vanquished copycats who give power and flavour to the whole period.
Vasari detailed all the techniques of contemporary sculpture, reviewing the manufacture of wax and earthen models, scaling techniques, low and high relief, casting, stucco, and woodwork. For his part, Cellini offers a comprehensive body of practical information about working wood in his memoirs and a treatise on sculpture. Since the early Renaissance, only bronze and marble have found favour with the public. You would imagine Michelangelo’s preference for marble might tilt tastes his way but both continued to flourish, whether for low relief or in the round.
Giambologna’s biography gives insight into the set-up of a Florentine Renaissance sculptors’ workshop: artists would make smaller works of marble themselves from a model but brought in help for larger ones. For bronze statuettes, the artist does an easily fashioned model in
