Renaissance. Oil on wood, 176 × 116 cm. Musée du Louvre, Paris.
Perugino’s art, like Fra Angelico’s, had its roots in the old Byzantine tradition of painting. The latter had departed further and further from any representation of the human form, until it became merely a symbol of religious ideas. Perugino, working under the influence of his time, restored body and substance to the figures, but still made them, as of old, primarily the symbols of an ideal. It was not until the 17th century that artists began to paint landscape for its own sake.
However, the union of landscape and figures counts very much for Perugino, because one of the secrets of composition is the balancing of what artists call the full and empty spaces. A composition crowded with figures is apt to produce a sensation of stuffiness and fatigue; whereas the combination of a few figures with ample open spaces gives one a sense of exhilaration and repose. It is in the degree to which an artist stimulates our imagination through our physical experiences that he seizes and holds our interest. When Perugino left Perugia to complete his education in Florence he was a fellow-pupil of Leonardo da Vinci in the sculptor’s bottegha. If he gained from the master something of the calm of sculpture, he certainly gained nothing of its force. It is as the painter of sentiment that he excelled; though this beautiful quality is confined mainly to his earlier works. For with popularity he became avaricious, turning out repetitions of his favourite themes until they became more and more affected in sentiment.
161. Andrea Mantegna, St Sebastian, c. 1495–1505.
Early Renaissance. Tempera on canvas, 210 × 91 cm. Galleria Franchetti, Ca’ d’Oro, Venice.
162. Antico (Pier Jacopo Alari-Bonacolsi), Apollo, end of the 15th century.
High Renaissance. Bronze and silver, height: 54.6 cm. Ca’ d’Oro, Venice.
The sculptor Pier Jacopo Alara-Bonacolsi was called “Antico” because of the references to antique sculpture found in his work. He would have not only seen Greek and Roman statues that had recently been rediscovered and curated, but he also made copies of them and even worked on the restoration of some pieces. Classical subjects and forms inform his work. He is best known for small bronzes such as this one of the archer Apollo, a god of the Greek pantheon. Like some of the bronze statues that survive from Antiquity, Antico’s bronze are often accented with other metals, such as silver in the eyes or gilding on details. Here, Apollo’s cloak, sandals, and his golden hair are gilded, providing a decorative contrast to the duller bronze of the body. Antico took advantage of the technology of his chosen medium and sometimes cast not only the original figurine, but also copies. There are three known versions of this piece.
163. Antico (Pier Jacopo Alari-Bonacolsi), Apollo Belvedere, 1497–1498.
High Renaissance. Partially gilded bronze, height: 41.3 cm. Skulpturensammlung Liebieghaus, Frankfurt am Main.
164. Anonymous, Marsyas or Ignudo della Paura, late 15th century.
Renaissance. Bronze, height: 32 cm. Musée de la Renaissance, Château d’Écouen, Paris.
165. Antonio Pollaiuolo (Antonio di Jacopo Benci), Hercules and Antaeus, Early Renaissance, c. 1470.
Bronze, height: 46 cm. Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence.
166. Andrea del Verrocchio, David, c. 1475. Early Renaissance. Bronze, height: 126 cm.
Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence.
167. Michelangelo (Michelangelo Buonarroti), David, 1501–1504.
High Renaissance. Marble, height: 410 cm. Gallerie dell’Accademia, Florence.
Michelangelo returned to Florence after his stay in Rome, recalled by friends who had managed to obtain for him the commission of the most gigantic statue that Italy had seen since the fall of the Roman Empire – a marble of David. Created between 1501 and 1504, the statue stood in front of the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence until 1873, and is exhibited today at the Accademia in Florence. Originally, in 1468, the Florentine clergy gave Bartolomeo di Pietro the responsibility of rough-hewing a monumental figure of David. As his work did not find unanimous support, Michelangelo was asked on 16 August, 1501, to complete this enormous task. Michelangelo made use of the studies he had carried out for the Dioscuris of Monte Cavallo. His David is, however, absolutely independent of Greek marbles. When starting the work, the young master made one of the worst mistakes: he forgot that only adult forms are well suited for replication, especially for a monolith of this size. As a model, he used a young, not fully developed man, which may be what gives the statue a void impression that clashes with its colossal dimensions. The pose is very simple; in consideration of the dimensions of the block, a lively or violent attitude would have affected the balance of the work. It may also be that the monolith did not leave enough room for projection. In any case, it was a tour de force to have created from this inordinately long rectangle a figure as noble and lively as David. The figure stands on the right leg in a position known as contrapposto, with the left leg advanced, the right hand resting on the thigh and the left arm raised to the shoulder. With a bold look, but thoughtful expression, the hero waits for his opponent, while calculating calmly, like a true Florentine, the chances of the fight. The effect of this early masterpiece was overwhelming. Florence had never seen such a burst of enthusiasm and even today its success is undeniable.
168. Michelangelo (Michelangelo Buonarroti), Bacchus, 1496–1497.
High Renaissance. Marble, height: 203 cm. Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence.
169. Anonymous, Dispute of the Three Ladies, late 15th or early 16th century.
Renaissance. Parchment, 26.7 × 17.7 cm. Private collection.
170. Albrecht Dürer, Four Naked Women (The Four Witches), 1497.
Engraving, 19 × 13.1 cm. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.
171. Workshop of Sandro Botticelli, Venus Pudica, 1480–1490.
High Renaissance. Oil on canvas, 158 × 68.5 cm. Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Gemäldegalerie, Berlin.
He was the son of a citizen in comfortable circumstances, and had been, in Vasari’s words, “instructed in all such things as children are usually taught before they choose a calling.” However, he refused to give his attention to reading, writing and accounts, continues Vasari, so that his father, despairing of his ever becoming a scholar, apprenticed him to the goldsmith Botticello: whence came the name by which the world remembers him. However, Sandro, a stubborn-featured youth with large, quietly searching eyes and a
