Seeing things “in
the flesh”
The truism is that the item must be inspected closely
in the original before putting forward or dismissing an attribution. This
comprises the basis of traditional connoisseurship – or what I prefer to call judgment
by eye. It is valid, but only to a limited degree. There are two major qualifications
to the truism, both arising from modern technologies of imaging. The first is
that very high resolution images produced under ideal lighting and/or by
multi-spectral scanning may well disclose more than first-hand inspection, even
aided by magnification. The second is that varieties of scientific analysis may
produce clear evidence about the origins of the work, most definitely to
exclude the artist or period or place from which the work is supposed to
originate.
The imaging will often produce such clear results that a given attribution can be safely excluded, independently of what the object might look like in the original. I am sent many “Leonardos” (and other things) that can be securely excluded without seeing the original. If I were to travel to see every speculative attribution - ranging from 19th-century lithographs to paintings by followers - I would be on the road more or less perpetually. I have been denounced by David Feldman on behalf of the Mona Lisa Foundation for “refusing” to see the so-called first version of the Mona Lisa in Geneva. I have not refused, but on the basis of high level imaging, most notably infrared reflectography, I have decided that the visual and documentary evidence does not in this case rise above the threshold of probability (or even possibility) at which it is worth the time and expense of the necessary travel. If a work is above that threshold, then being in the presence of the original becomes a crucial factor. I would be pleased to see the Geneva version at some stage, just as I would like to see all the earlyish copies of Leonardo paintings, which exist in great numbers.
As it happens, sculptures are something of special
case. Even the best images, including close-ups and photographs from varied
viewpoints, do not convey the full effect of the plastic and spatial properties
of the work at its actual scale. We can draw some conclusions from photography
and technical analysis, but the presence of the sculpture is significantly
diminished when rendered in two dimensions – to a much greater degree than a
two-dimensional painting. The effect of the bronzes in the Fitzwilliam is
different (and more impressive) than the best photographs available online.
The
nudes
The figures of the two men, each with one arm raised
and with one leg more bent than other, are powerfully realised, with a strong
sense of an individual vision. The comparisons in the accompanying book by
Victoria Avery and Paul Joannides are very telling, ranging from the marble David to a figure at the centre of
Bastiano da Sangallo’s fine copy of the bathers in the lost Battle of Cascina cartoon. In all
respects, the two nudes align very well with Michelangelo’s vision of male anatomy
around 1506. I happy to accept them – at
least provisionally.
Questions remain. I will raise just two.
One concerns what the men were holding in their
upraised hands. They are currently gripping stubby cylinders, which appear to
be the vestigial remains of what would have been shafts or handles – perhaps of
weapons.
The second concerns the angles of the men’s’
legs. The relatively narrow V between
their thighs, particularly that of the younger figure, is not that of a rider astride an animal of
normal bodily bulk. This brings us to the animals themselves.
The
“Panthers”
The first thing to say is that to call them “panthers’
is relatively meaningless. Panthera is genus that includes the
lion, tiger, jaguar, leopard and snow leopard. What we now call a panther is a
black (melanistic) variety of a jaguar or leopard, not a species in itself.
Since they are sculpted in dark bronze, we cannot of course tell if the
“panthers” are black. If we are using “panther” in a historical sense, we will
need to clarify what was known and named at the time (not least in Florence),
beginning with Pliny’s Natural History.
The picture is confused, since not enough specimens were available to sort out
the confusion in the existing texts, including bestiaries. Bacchus’s chariot in
Titian’s Bacchus and Ariadne is
pulled by a pair of very well described cheetahs.
The “panthers’ on which the men sit are very poorly
characterised, working against any clear identification – and indeed against
their attribution to Michelangelo. The animals torsos are notably narrow, even
for slim big cats, indicating that they have been formed to fit as best as they
can between the Vs of the men’s thighs. The animals’ anatomies are as
incoherent as the men’s’ anatomies are coherent. The flat-footed paws are
stereotypical, lacking the kind of organic vitality with which Michelangelo
endowed clawed feet. The bodies and heads are full of sausagey lumps that look
anatomical but are not. The strange “shields” with median incisions than run
down the animals’ noses are bizarre and ineloquent. The muzzles are crudely
incised with deep marks that signify nothing. The folds of skin around their
necks fail to convey any sense of real folding. We might argue that
Michelangelo did not have a model of a “panther” to guide him. This would not
have stopped him creating compelling sculptural beasts, even if ithey were not
zoologically accurate.
Provisional
conclusion
The men’s’ figures are compelling in themselves, and
are based on models that can be reasonably attributed to Michelangelo. The
“panthers” seem to have been designed by someone else to accommodate the men.
My hypothesis is that the large models of the men, originally intended to hold
weapons, were made for an unidentified ensemble, perhaps a tomb (like that
sketched in the corner of the Albertina drawing, fig. 31 in the book), in which
they straddled or knelt on an architectural feature. Someone has utilised the exisiting models of
the men to realise a pair of bronze sculptures that have Bacchic connotations. This
is of course very hypothetical.
Is the bronze of the “panthers” the same as that of
men? Are the anal rods that are used to
insert the men into the backs of the “panthers” cast from the same bronze as
the men? There are many questions to
resolve.
A
footnote
While we are talking about making attributions, what
about the famous British Museum drawing for the centrally seated man in the Battle of Cascina (fig. 46 in the book)?
It graced the cover the Michelangelo drawings show in the BM. It seems to me to
be a laboured version, poorly articulated and mis-proportioned. There’s an arbitrary
judgment for you!
(I am trying to attach images...)
(I am trying to attach images...)