Sculpture in Print, 1480–1600 9789004445864, 9004445862

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Sculpture in Print, 1480–1600

Brill’s Studies on Art, Art History, and Intellectual History General Editor Walter S. Melion (Emory University)

volume 52

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/bsai

Sculpture in Print, 1480–1600 Edited by

Anne Bloemacher, Mandy Richter and Marzia Faietti

LEIDEN | BOSTON

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Bloemacher, Anne, 1980– editor. | Richter, Mandy, editor. | Faietti,  Marzia, editor. Title: Sculpture in Print, 1480–1600 / edited by Anne Bloemacher, Mandy  Richter and Marzia Faietti. Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, [2021] | Series: Brill’s studies on  art, art history, and intellectual history, 1878–9048 ; volume 52 |  Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2020055961 (print) | LCCN 2020055962 (ebook) | ISBN  9789004421509 (hardback) | ISBN 9789004445864 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Sculpture in art. | Prints, Renaissance—Themes, motives. Classification: LCC NE962.S38 S38 2021 (print) | LCC NE962.S38 (ebook) |  DDC 769—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020055961 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020055962

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. ISSN 1878-9048 ISBN 978-90-04-42150-9 (hardback) ISBN 978-90-04-44586-4 (e-book) Copyright 2021 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense, Hotei Publishing, mentis Verlag, Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink Verlag. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Requests for re-use and/or translations must be addressed to Koninklijke Brill NV via brill.com or copyright.com. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents List of Figures vii Notes on Contributors xxii

“Quanto in virtù d’una ingegnosa mano / la fermezza de’marmi ai fogli cede”: The Art of Translating Sculpture into Print. An Introduction 1 Anne Bloemacher, Mandy Richter and Marzia Faietti

Part 1 Antique Sculpture 1

Aes Incidimus: Early Modern Engraving as Sculpture 41 Madeleine C. Viljoen

2

Transferring Ancient Sculptures into Prints. Marcantonio Raimondi’s Quos Ego: Its Prototypes and Afterimages 70 Gudrun Knaus

3

Marcantonio Raimondi and Fragmentary Ancient Statues: Hypotheses on His Working Method and Antiquarian Practice 95 Mandy Richter

4

Cherubino Alberti’s Engravings after Polidoro da Caravaggio: from Chiaroscuro to Sculpture 124 Maria Gabriella Matarazzo

5

From Sculpture to Print to Sculpture. Parmigianino, Caraglio and the Mystery of the Barberini Faun 168 Marzia Faietti

Part 2 Contemporary Sculpture 6

The Reproduction of Sculpture as Sculpture in 16th Century Prints: Baccio Bandinelli, Giambologna, and Adriaen de Vries 201 Anne Bloemacher

vi

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7

The Young Baccio Bandinelli and the Role of Prints at the Beginning of a Sculptor’s Career 240 Angelika Marinovic

8

Considering the Viewer in Prints of Michelangelo’s Risen Christ: The Cases of Beatrizet and Matham 272 Bernadine Barnes

9

On the Genesis of Antonio Tempesta’s Print of Henry ii on Horseback 294 Claudia Echinger-Maurach

10

Sculpture’s Narrativity in Northern Renaissance Prints 320 Franciszek Skibiński

11

Models for Sculptures in Print: Michelangelo’s Samson and Two Philistines in Lucas Kilian’s Engravings 337 Claudia Echinger-Maurach Index 363

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Hendrick Goltzius, Apollo Belvedere, 1592, printed 1617, engraving, plate: 400 × 292 mm, sheet: 402 × 305 mm, Princeton, Princeton University Art Museum, Bequest of Junius S. Morgan, Class of 1888, inv. x1934-675 © Princeton University Art Museum 3 Marcantonio Raimondi, Apollo Belvedere, ca. 1512, engraving, 291 × 162 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1949, inv. 49.97.114 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 5 Marcantonio Raimondi, Marcus Aurelius, ca. 1510–12, engraving, 215 × 142 mm, Paris, Paris Musées, Musée des Beaux-Arts de la Ville de Paris, Petit Palais, inv. GDUT6253 © Paris Musées 6 Nicolas Beatrizet, Marcus Aurelius, 1548, engraving (first state), 361 × 242 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1953, inv. 53.600.855 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 11 Marcello Fogolino, Marcus Aurelius, early 1530s, etching and drypoint, 199 × 152 mm, Dresden, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen, Kupferstich-Kabinett, inv. A 86128 © Kupferstich-Kabinett, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden, photo: Herbert Boswank 12 Battista Franco, Crepuscolo (Dusk) (after the statue of Michelangelo), ca. 1536, engraving and etching, 303 × 451 mm, Berlin, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett, inv. 64–102 © Kupferstichkabinett der Staatlichen Museen zu Berlin – Preußischer Kulturbesitz, photo: Volker-H. Schneider 15 Battista Franco, Aurora (Dawn) (after the statue of Michelangelo), ca. 1536, engraving and etching, 307 × 443 mm, Berlin, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett, inv. 65-102 © Kupferstichkabinett der Staatlichen Museen zu Berlin – Preußischer Kulturbesitz, photo: Volker-H. Schneider 15 Cornelis Cort, The Tomb of Lorenzo de’ Medici with two Statues (after Michelangelo), 1570, engraving, 559 x 406 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1945, inv. 45.47.3(5) © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 16 Marcantonio Raimondi, The Martyrdom of Saint Cecilia, ca. 1518, engraving, 234 × 400 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Henry Walters, 1917 inv. 17.37.151 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 26 Hendrick Goltzius, Farnese Hercules, ca. 1592, dated 1617, engraving, 421 × 304 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Henry Walters, 1917, inv. 17.37.59 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 28

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0.11 Giulio Bonasone, Pietà (after the statue of Michelangelo), 1547, engraving, 263 × 171 mm, New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1959, inv. 59.595.3 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 30 1.1 Giovanni Battista Scultori, The Trojans Repelling the Greeks, 1538, engraving, 405 × 580 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-39.189 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 43 1.2 Giovanni Battista Scultori, Pallas Athena, 1538, engraving, 170 × 98 mm, Philadelphia, Philadelphia Museum of Art, inv. 1985-52-26130 44 1.3 Enea Vico, The Academy of Baccio Bandinelli, ca. 1544, engraving, 307 × 476 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-38.316 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 45 1.4 Enea Vico, The Academy of Baccio Bandinelli, ca. 1561–62, engraving, 296 × 472 mm, Philadelphia, Philadelphia Museum of Art, inv. 1985-52-1864 45 1.5 Jacob Binck, Portrait of Joachim Hoechstetter, 1532, engraving, 125 × 108 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1874.0808.2369 © The Trustees of the British Museum 47 1.6 Jan van Eyck, Leal Souvenir, 1432, oil on oak panel, 333 × 189 mm, London, National Gallery, inv. NG290 48 1.7 Funerary altar of Cominia Tyche, ca. A.D. 90–100, marble, h. 101.6 cm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Philip Hofer, 1938, inv. 38.27 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 49 1.8 Marco Dente, Equestrian Statue of Marcus Aurelius, ca. 1520, engraving, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection and Fund, 1959, inv. 59.570.282 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 51 1.9 Antonio Benci called Antonio del Pollaiolo, Battle of the Nudes, 1470s–80s, engraving, 424 × 609 mm, Cleveland, The Cleveland Museum of Art, Purchase from the J. H. Wade Fund, inv. 1967.127 53 1.10 Martin Schongauer, The Censer, ca. 1480–85, engraving, 271 × 207 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1926, inv. 26.41 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 54 1.11 Medallist T.R., Commemorative Medal of Printmaker Diana Scultori, ca. 1570, cast bronze medal, 40 mm diameter, London, British Museum, inv. G3,IP.688 55 1.12 Enea Vico, Portrait of Charles V, 1550, engraving, 516 × 367 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-1904-1363 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 57 1.13 Nicolas Beatrizet, Marcus Aurelius, 1548, engraving, 342 × 244 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-1955-316 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 58

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1.14 Workshop of Philips Galle (after Giovanni Stradano), “Sculptura in Aes” from Nova Reperta, published by Philips Galle ca. 1600, engraving, 202 × 271 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1953, inv. 53.600.1823 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 59 1.15 Cornelis Cort (after Giovanni Stradano), The Practice of the Visual Arts, 1578, engraving, 428 × 286 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1926, inv. 53.600.509 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 61 1.16 Claudij Ptolemaei … libri quatuor compositi Syro fratri … Nuremberg: apud Ioannem Petreium, 1535, The New York Public Library, Rare Book Collection, inv. *KB 1535 62 1.17 Nicolas Béatrizet (attributed to), The River Nile, mid sixteenth century, engraving, 332 × 557 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-1926-326 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 64 1.18 Erasmus, Parabolas sive similia, Mainz: Schoeffer, 1521, Frontispiece, Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, A.gr.c. 174 f 65 1.19 Fragment of a bronze military diploma, AD 113/114, Roman, bronze, 7.8 x 7 × 0.2 cm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1921, inv. 23.160.52 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 66 1.20 Bronze votive tablet in the form of a tabula ansata, 2nd Century AD, Roman, bronze, 4.4 × 12.9 cm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1921, inv. 21.88.172 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 67 2.1 Marcantonio Raimondi, Quos Ego, ca. 1515-16, engraving, 420 × 327 mm, Hamburg, Hamburger Kunsthalle, inv. 294 © Hamburger Kunsthalle 71 2.2 Marble relief fragment with scenes from the Trojan War, 1st half of 1st century AD, marble, Palombino, 18.1 × 17.6 cm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, inv. 24.97.11 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 74 2.3 Arch of Constantine, Great Trajanic Frieze, sector in the inner central passage, east side, Victory Crowning Trajan and Battle Scene, Rome © Census ID 152217 78 2.4 Marcantonio Raimondi, Trajan between the City of Rome and Victory, from the Arch of Constantine, 1510–27, engraving, 289 × 436 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. H,3.8 © The Trustees of the British Museum 79 2.5 Vergilius Maro, Publius, Aeneis (fragmenta), Dido receiving the Trojans, Vat. lat.3225, folio XVI recto, Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana © Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vatican City 79 2.6 Vergilius Maro, Publius, Aeneis (fragmenta), Aenaes and the Penates, Vat. lat.3225, folio XXVIII recto, Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana © Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vatican City 80

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Figures Marcantonio Raimondi, The Plague in Phrygia (Morbetto), engraving, 194 × 250 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. H,3.47 © The Trustees of the British Museum 81 Raphael (attributed to), Aeneas escorted by Dido to the Banquet (recto), pen and brown ink, the flanking figures blackened with pouncing, pricked for transfer, 78 × 74 mm, Chatsworth, Devonshire Collection, inv. 727 c © Chatsworth, Devonshire Collection 83 Raphael (attributed to), Aeneas escorted by Dido to the Banquet (verso), pricked outlines on the left and right figures, the central figure drawn freehand in red chalk, 78 × 74 mm, Chatsworth, Devonshire Collection, inv. 727 a © Chatsworth, Devonshire Collection 84 Raphael (attributed to), Dido receiving the Trojans in Audience, pen and brown ink on white paper, the outline of the left foreground figure pricked and pounced, 77 × 75 mm, Chatsworth, Devonshire Collection, inv. 727 b © Chatsworth, Devonshire Collection 85 Marcantonio Raimondi, Juno orders Aeolus, God of the Wind, to destroy the Trojan Fleet, pen in brown ink, 90 × 125 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. 13263 © Albertina Museum, Vienna 87 Neptune Calming the Tempest, woodcut, ill. of Aeneid by Publius Vergilius Maro, liber 1, edited by Sebastian Brant, Strasbourg 1502, fol. 124 v, Heidelberg University Library, VD16 V 1332, CC-BY-SA 3.0 © Heidelberg University Library 88 Peter Paul Rubens, The Voyage of the Cardinal Infante Ferdinand of Spain from Barcelona to Genoa in April 1633, with Neptune Calming the Tempest, 1635, oil on panel, 48.9 × 64.1 cm, Cambridge, Harvard Art Museums/Fogg Museum, Alpheus Hyatt Purchasing Fund, inv. 1942.174 © President and Fellows of Harvard College 90 Peter Paul Rubens, “Quos ego” – Neptune, Calming the Tempest, ca. 1635, oil on canvas, 326 × 384 cm, Dresden, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen, Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister, inv. Gal.-Nr. 964 B © bpk / Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden / Elke Estel / Hans-Peter Klut 91 Nicolas Poussin, The Birth of Venus, 1635 or 1636, oil on canvas, 97.2 × 108 cm, Philadelphia, Philadelphia Museum of Art, The George W. Elkins Collection, 1932, inv. E1932-1-1 © Philadelphia Museum of Arts, Philadelphia 92 Marcantonio Raimondi, Study of the Jupiter Ciampolini, pen and brown ink, 214 × 124 mm, Bayonne, musée Bonnat-Helleu, inv. 704.2 [or NI 1546], verso © Bayonne, musée Bonnat-Helleu / photographer: A. Vaquero 98 Marcantonio Raimondi, Study of the Apollo Belvedere, pen and brown ink, 214 × 124 mm, Bayonne, musée Bonnat-Helleu, inv. 704.2 [or NI 1546], recto © Bayonne, musée Bonnat-Helleu / photographer: A. Vaquero 99

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Marcantonio Raimondi, Samson, pen and brown ink, 235 × 106 mm, Bayonne, musée Bonnat-Helleu, inv. 705 [or NI 1547]) © Bayonne, musée Bonnat-Helleu / photographer: A. Vaquero 100 3.4 Sarcophagus with the Battle of the Amazons, detail, Roman, first half of 3rd century AD, Vatican City, Vatican, Belvedere © Governatorato S.C.V.- Direzione dei Musei 101 3.5 Marcantonio Raimondi (attributed), Study of the Laocoön Group, ca. 1509/1510, pen, wash, ink on paper, 473 × 325 mm, Budapest, Museum of Fine Arts, inv. K.58.983 © Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest 102 3.6 Marcantonio Raimondi, Study of an Antique Statue, pen and brown ink, 216 × 108 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, inv. 2003.110 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 104 3.7 Marcantonio Raimondi, Study of an Antique Statue, pen and brown ink, 261 × 151 mm, Florence, Gallerie degli Uffizi, Gabinetto dei Disegni e delle Stampe degli Uffizi, inv. 1157E © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Gallerie degli Uffizi, Florence 105 3.8 Marcantonio Raimondi, The Equestrian Statue of Marcus Aurelius, engraving, 211 × 144 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. DG1971/459 © Albertina Museum, Vienna 108 3.9 Marcantonio Raimondi, Crouching Venus, ca. 1510, engraving, 217 × 142 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1949, inv. 49.97.110 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 109 3.10 Marcantonio Raimondi, Mars, Venus, and Cupid, 1508, engraving, 286 × 207 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1918, inv. 18.84.2 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 112 3.11 Marcantonio Raimondi, Apollo and his Lover, 1506, engraving, 299 × 225 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Felix M. Warburg and his family, 1941, inv. 33.56.35 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 113 3.12 Anonymous, The Apollo Belvedere, ca. 1500, brush in grey-brown wash, heightened with white, on grey prepared paper, 261 × 172 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1946,0713.1262 © The Trustees of the British Museum 115 3.13 Jacopo Caraglio (after Rosso Fiorentino), Battle between the Romans and the Sabines, traditionally called the Rape of the Sabines, 1527, incomplete engraving, 356 × 502 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1919,0714.2 © The Trustees of the British Museum 116 3.14 Marcantonio Raimondi, Woman and Man Washing, engraving drypoint and etching (?), 110 × 80 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1850,0525.16 © The Trustees of the British Museum 119

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3.15 Anonymous Coburgensis, Bacchic Scene, 1550–55, brown ink, brush with grey wash, 128 × 425 mm, Coburg, Kunstsammlungen der Veste Coburg, inv. HZ 2, Nr. 085 © Kunstsammlungen der Veste Coburg 119 4.1 Federico Zuccaro, Taddeo drawing after the Antique; In the Background copying a Façade by Polidoro, ca. 1595, pen and brown ink, brush with brown wash over black chalk and touches of red chalk, 423 × 175 mm, Los Angeles, The J. Paul Getty Museum, inv. 99.GA.6.12 © Digital image courtesy of the Getty’s Open Content Program 125 4.2 Cherubino Alberti (after Michelangelo), The Florentine Pietà set in a Landscape, ca. 1575, engraving, 467 × 310 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1874,0613.600 © The Trustees of the British Museum 131 4.3 Cherubino Alberti, Flute Playing Apollo, 1577, engraving, 222 × 136 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. BI-1891-3063-73-1 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 132 4.4 Cherubino Alberti, Marysas with his Hands tied to a Tree, his Fingers cut off to resemble Pan Pipes, 1578, engraving, 220 × 123 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1873,0712.33 © The Trustees of the British Museum 134 4.5 Cherubino Alberti (after Michelangelo and Raffaele da Montelupo), Virgin and Child, from the Tomb of Pope Julius II in the Church of San Pietro in Vincoli, ca. 1570, engraving, 286 × 208 mm, Rome, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, inv. FC30004 © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, Rome 135 4.6 Cherubino Alberti (after Andrea del Sarto), Allegory of Faith, 1580, engraving, 225 × 148 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. Dg2017/3/9409 © The Albertina Museum, Vienna 139 4.7 Andrea del Sarto, Allegory of Faith, from the Cycle of The Life of St. John the Baptist in the Chiostro dello Scalzo, 1523, fresco, Florence, Italy © Scala / Art Resource, NY 140 4.8 Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), Two Cupids carrying a Festoon, 1576, engraving, 146 × 228 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1874,0808.558 © The Trustees of the British Museum 141 4.9 Nicolas Beatrizet, Battle of the Amazons, 1559, engraving, 310 × 420 mm and 310 × 420 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Bequest of the Rogers Fund, transferred from the Library, 1941, inv. 41.72(2.115) and 41.72(2.116) © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 143 4.10 Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), Apollo pursuing Daphne, set within a Roundel, from a series of ten prints after Polidoro da Caravaggio of

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mythological scenes, 1590, engraving, 221 × 140 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1874,0808.518 © The Trustees of the British Museum 144 Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), The Rape of the Sabine Women, ante 1591, engraving, 139 × 215 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-1935-163 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 145 Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), Perseus turning Atlas into a Mountain with the Head of Medusa and The Taking of the Golden Apples, 1628, engraving, 170 × 610 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Harry Shaw Newman, 1941, inv. 41.97.442a © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 146 Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), Antique Vase, title page of the Ten Antique Vases series, 1582, engraving, 247 × 180 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-1964-2383 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 147 Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), The Creation of Adam who reclines at left, touching the Hand of God, ca. 1590, engraving, 165 × 268 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Joseph Pulitzer Bequest, 1917, inv. 17.50.16-175 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 149 Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), The Triumph of Aemilius Paullus, 1628, engraving, 174 × 406 mm and 169 × 410 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-34.040 and RP-P-OB-34.041 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 152 Polidoro da Caravaggio, Fragments of The Triumph of Aemilius Paullus, ante 1527, fresco, Palazzo Barberini, Rome © Sailko, https://commons.wikimedia. org/w/index.php?curid=56247600 and https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/ index.php?curid=56247602 153 Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), Neptune (erroneously identified as Pluto), ca. 1590, engraving, 201 × 110 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. DG2017/3/9461 © Albertina Museum, Vienna 156 Hendrick Goltzius (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), Neptune, from the series of the Eight Deities, 1592, engraving, 354 × 215 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-H-OB-101.425 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 157 Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), Pluto holding a Torch, 1590, engraving, 241 × 148 mm, Rome, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, inv. FC 30065 © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, Rome 158 Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Neptune and Triton, ca. 1622–23, marble, h. 182.2 cm, London, Victoria and Albert Museum, inv. A.18:1-1950 © Victoria and Albert Museum, London 160

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4.21 Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), Neptune rising from the Waters, from a series of ten prints of mythological scenes after Polidoro da Caravaggio, 1590, engraving, 157 × 141 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-1935-204 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 161 5.1 Gian Giacomo Caraglio, Jupiter and Antiope, ca. 1527, engraving, 214 × 138 mm, Rome, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, inv. FC 5928 © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, Rome 169 5.2a Francesco Mazzola called Parmigianino, Madonna and Child with Saint John the Baptist and Saint Jerome, ca. 1526–27, oil on panel, 342.9 × 148.6 cm, London, The National Gallery, inv. NG 33 © The National Gallery, London 171 5.2b Francesco Mazzola called Parmigianino, Madonna and Child with Saint John the Baptist and Saint Jerome, detail, ca. 1526–27, oil on panel, 342.9 × 148.6 cm, London, The National Gallery, inv. NG 33 © The National Gallery, London 172 5.2c Gian Giacomo Caraglio, Jupiter and Antiope, detail, ca. 1527, engraving, 214 × 138 mm, Rome, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, inv. FC 5928 © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, Rome 172 5.3 Antonio Allegri called Correggio, Venus, Cupid and a Satyr, ca. 1528, oil on canvas, 188.5 × 125.5 cm, Paris, musée du Louvre, département des Peintures, inv. 42 173 5.4 Francesco Mazzola called Parmigianino, Figure study for the ‘Madonna and Child with Saint John the Baptist and Saint Jerome’, ca. 1526–1527, pen and brown ink with brown wash, heightened with white, 216 × 243 mm, Los Angeles, The J. Paul Getty Museum, inv. 84. GA. 9 © The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles 175 5.5a Hellenistic sculpture from the second half of the third century BC (with subsequent restoration), Barberini Faun, marble, h. 215 cm, Munich, Glyptothek, inv. 218 © Glyptothek, Munich 176 5.5b Gian Giacomo Caraglio, Jupiter and Antiope, detail, ca. 1527, engraving, 214 × 138 mm, Rome, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, inv. FC 5928 © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, Rome 177 5.6 Girolamo Macchietti, Medea rejuvenates Exon, ca. 1570–72, oil on panel, 152 × 83 cm, Florence, Palazzo Vecchio, Studiolo of Francesco I, inv. 1890, 3772 © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Gallerie degli Uffizi, Florence (in storage at the Museo di Palazzo Vecchio, Comune di Firenze) 179

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‘The Barberini Faun’, by Aedes Barberinae ad Quirinalem à comite Hieronymo Tetio Perusino descriptae, Rome 1642, pl. L © Bibliotheca Hertziana, Max-Planck-Institut für Kunstgeschichte 183 5.8 Robert van Audenaerd, ‘Bacchus’, in Paolo Alessandro Maffei, Raccolta di statue antiche e moderne, Rome, Stamperia alla Pace 1704, pl. XCIV © Bibliotheca Hertziana, Max-Planck-Institut für Kunstgeschichte  185 5.9 Agesander, Athenodoros and Polydorus (I century BC), Laocoon, marble, h. 242 cm, Vatican City, Musei Vaticani, Museo Pio Clementino, Octagonal Courtyard, inv. 1059 © Governatorato S.C.V.- Direzione dei Musei 187 5.10 Francesco Mazzola called Parmigianino, Two Studies of the same Head of a young Man in Profile (after Laocoon), ca. 1524–27, brush and brown ink with brown wash, white lead, charcoal, pricked outlines on the left figure, light blue paper, 119 × 143 mm, Florence, Gallerie degli Uffizi, Gabinetto dei Disegni e delle Stampe, inv. 743 E recto © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Gallerie degli Uffizi, Florence 188 5.11 Francesco Mazzola called Parmigianino, so-called Venus and Mars surprised by Vulcan, ca. 1531–34, pen and brown ink, brush with brown wash, 200 × 192 mm, Parma, Galleria Nazionale, inv. 510/18 © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Galleria Nazionale, Parma 189 5.12a Agesander, Athenodoros and Polydorus (I century BC), Laocoon, detail, marble, h. 242 cm, Vatican City, Musei Vaticani, Museo Pio Clementino, Octagonal Courtyard, inv. 1059 © Governatorato S.C.V.- Direzione dei Musei 191 5.12b Francesco Mazzola called Parmigianino, Madonna and Child with Saint John the Baptist and Saint Jerome, detail, ca. 1526–27, oil on panel, 342.9 × 148.6 cm, London, The National Gallery, inv. NG 33 © The National Gallery, London 192 5.12c Gian Giacomo Caraglio, Jupiter and Antiope, detail, ca. 1527, engraving, 214 × 138 mm, Rome, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, inv. FC 5928 © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, Rome 192 5.12d Hellenistic sculpture from the second half of the third century before Christ (with subsequent restoration), Barberini Faun, marble, h. 215 cm, Munich, Glyptothek, inv. 218 © Glyptothek, Munich 193 6.1 Agostino Veneziano (after Baccio Bandinelli), Hercules and Cacus, after 1523, engraving, 123 × 86 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-36.672 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 202 6.2 Baccio Bandinelli, Hercules and Cacus, ca. 1525, bozzetto, colored wax with wooden socle, h. 73 cm, Berlin, Bode Museum, inv. 2612 © Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz – Max-Planck-Institut 204 6.3 Agostino Veneziano (after Baccio Bandinelli), Cleopatra, dated 1515, engraving, 222 × 134 mm, signed with the monogram “A.V.” on the amphora, inscribed

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Figures “bacio fi/orenti/no. i/vento/r” on the socle, 2nd state, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1863,1114.749 © The Trustees of the British Museum 206 Giulio Bonasone (after Michelangelo), Vatican Pietà, 1547, engraving, 269 × 171 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-36.606 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 209 Cornelis Cort (after Michelangelo), Tomb of Giuliano de’ Medici, 1570, engraving, 425 × 278 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-BI6403B © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 211 Jean de Boulogne called Giambologna, Neptune Fountain, 1566, marble, bronze, Bologna, Piazza Maggiore 212 Domenico Tibaldi, Neptune Fountain, 1570, engraving, 384 × 508 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1873,0809.922 © The Trustees of the British Museum 213 Jean de Boulogne called Giambologna, Rape of a Sabine, 1583, marble, h. 410 cm, Florence, Loggia dei Lanzi, Piazza della Signoria © Photo: Charles Avery 215 Jean de Boulogne called Giambologna, Rape of a Sabine, 1583, marble, h. 410 cm, Florence, Loggia dei Lanzi, Piazza della Signoria © Photo: David Finn 216 Andrea Andreani (after Giambologna), Rape of a Sabine, ca. 1583, chiaroscuro woodcut from two blocks in green and dark gray, 448 × 204 mm, Cambridge, MA, Harvard Art Museums/Fogg Museum, Gray Collection of Engravings Fund, inv. G7510 © President and Fellows of Harvard College 218 Andrea Andreani (after Giambologna), Rape of a Sabine, ca. 1584, chiaroscuro woodcut printed in black and three shades of gray, 450 × 202 cm, Cambridge, MA, Harvard Art Museums/Fogg Museum, Bequest of Horace M. Swope, Class of 1905, inv. M9760 © President and Fellows of Harvard College 220 Andrea Andreani (after Giambologna), Rape of a Sabine Woman, ca. 1584, chiaroscuro woodcut, 447 × 209 cm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1922, inv. 22.73.3-70 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 221 Woodcut illustrations of Giambologna’s Rape of a Sabine Woman. From Alcune composizioni di diversi autori in lode del ritratto della Sabina, ed. M. Sermartelli (Florence, 1583), Typ 525.83.781, Cambridge, MA, Harvard University, Houghton Library © Houghton Library, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA 222 Adriaen de Vries, Hercules Slaying Hydra (Hercules Fountain), 1596–1602, bronze, Augsburg, Maximilianmuseum © Hochbauamt Augsburg (Achim Bunz) 227 Jan Muller, Hercules Fountain of Augsburg, 1602, engraving from two plates, 575 × 520 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. OB-32234a,b © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 228

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6.15 Jan Muller (after Adriaen de Vries), Hercules Slaying the Hydra (from the Hercules Fountain), ca. 1602, engraving, 505 × 365 mm, Washington, D.C., National Gallery of Art, inv. 1971.36.3 © National Gallery of Art, Washington 230 6.16 Adriaen de Vries, Mercury and Psyche, 1593, bronze, h. 215 cm, Paris, musée du Louvre, département des Sculptures, inv. M.R. 3270 © Musée du Louvre, Paris (Thierry Ollivier) 231 6.17 Jan Muller (after Adriaen de Vries), Mercury and Psyche, ca. 1597, engraving, 505 × 258 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-32.228 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 232 6.18 Jan Muller (after Adriaen de Vries), Mercury and Psyche, ca. 1597, engraving, 512 × 261 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-32.230 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 233 6.19 Jan Muller (after Adriaen de Vries), Mercury and Psyche, ca. 1597, engraving, 503 × 256 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-32.232 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 234 7.1 Agostino Veneziano (after Baccio Bandinelli), Hercules and Cacus, here dated to ca. 1515–16, engraving, 114 × 84 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-36.672 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 243 7.2 Baccio Bandinelli, Hercules and Cacus, ca. 1525, wax, 73 cm, Berlin, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Skulpturensammlung, inv. 2612 © Photo: Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz – Max-Planck-Institut 244 7.3 Baccio Bandinelli, Hercules and Cacus, ca. 1523–34, marble, h. ca. 505 cm, Florence, Piazza della Signoria 246 7.4 Agostino Veneziano (after Baccio Bandinelli), Cleopatra, 1515, engraving, 222 × 134 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1863,1114.749 © The Trustees of the British Museum 248 7.5 Agostino Veneziano (after Albrecht Dürer), Peasant Couple Dancing, 1515, engraving, 115 × 80 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1873,0809.781 © The Trustees of the British Museum 250 7.6 Agostino Veneziano, Bust of the Roman Emperor Vitellius, engraving, 207 × 152 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. It/I/23/83 DG2017/3/7377 © Albertina Museum, Vienna 251 7.7 Agostino Veneziano (after Raphael), Dancing Fauns and Bacchants, detail, 1516, engraving, 176 × 255 mm (total), Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-36.631 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 252 7.8 Baccio Bandinelli, Leda with the Swan, here dated to ca. 1515, pen and brown ink, 282 × 192 mm, Florence, Gallerie degli Uffizi, Gabinetto dei Disegni e delle Stampe, inv. 509F © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo – Gallerie degli Uffizi, Florence 255

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7.9 Agostino Veneziano (after Baccio Bandinelli), Young Hercules, here dated to ca. 1515–16, engraving, 114 × 79 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. It/I/23/69, DG2017/3/7343 © Albertina Museum, Vienna 258 7.10 Andrea Pisano, Hercules and Cacus, ca. 1337–43, marble, 83 × 69 cm, Florence, Museo dell’Opera del Duomo 260 7.11 Baccio Bandinelli, Self-Portrait, after 1529, oil on panel, 142.5 × 113.5 cm, Boston, Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, inv. P26e22 263 8.1 Michelangelo, Risen Christ, 1519–21, marble, Rome, Santa Maria sopra Minerva © Alinari / Art Resource NY 274 8.2 Michelangelo, Risen Christ, first version, 1514–16, with later modifications, Bassano Romano, Church of San Vincenzo Martire, Monastero dei Silvestrini, Viterbo © Photo: Roberto Sigismondi, courtesy of Bibliotheca Hertziana, Rome 276 8.3 Michelangelo’s Risen Christ, from Pietro Martire Felini, Trattato nuovo delle cose maravigliose dell’alma città di Roma, woodcut, Rome, 1610 279 8.4 Nicolas Beatrizet (after Michelangelo, reversed), Risen Christ, after 1558, engraving, 441 × 214 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. no. RP-P-2003.10 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 281 8.5 Michelangelo, Risen Christ, 1519–21. Photo taken from viewer’s position 284 8.6 Jacob Matham (after Michelangelo, reversed), Risen Christ, ca. 1600, engraving, 365 × 242 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. no. RP-P-OB-27.076 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 286 8.7 Hendrick Goltzius, Farnese Hercules, ca. 1592, dated 1617, engraving, 421 × 304 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Henry Walters, 1917, inv. 17.37.59 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 289 8.8 Jacob Matham, Portrait of Michelangelo, 1630, engraving, 257 × 198 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-27.030 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 291 9.1 Antonio Tempesta, Henry II on Horseback, ca. 1600, etching, 509 × 335 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1951, inv. 51.639.22 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 295 9.2 Michelangelo, Sketch for the Monument of Henry II, 1559, black chalk, white heightening, 250 × 124 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-T-1953-140 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 298 9.3 Vincenzo Borghini (attr.), Sketches after the Model for the Monument of Henry II, detail, ca. 1564 (?), pen, 181 × 253 mm, Munich, Staatliche Graphische Sammlung, inv. 35343b, no. 141 recto © Staatliche Graphische Sammlung, Munich 299

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9.4 Anonymous (ed. N. van Aelst), Signum Lupae, ca. 1585–90, engraving and etching, Wolfenbüttel, Herzog August Bibliothek © Photo: Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, 157, fig. 5.30 303 9.5 Antonio Tempesta, Alexander and Bucephalus, 1589, etching, 362 × 468 mm © Photo: The Illustrated Bartsch, Antonio Tempesta, Italian Masters of the Sixteenth Century, vol. 35, 285 304 9.6 Nicolas Béatrizet, Equestrian Statue of Marc Aurel, 1548, engraving, 361 × 242 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1953, inv. 53.600.855 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 305 9.7 Antonio Tempesta, Equestrian Statue of Marc Aurel, ca. 1591, etching, 466 × 337 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-H-H-350 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 306 9.8 Edmé Bouchardon, Equestrian Statue of Louis XIII, black crayon, 600 × 460 mm, Paris, musée du Louvre, département des Arts graphiques, inv. 24349, recto © Musée du Louvre, dist. RMN-Grand Palais – Photo L. Chastel 308 9.9 Antonio Tempesta, Sergius Galba, ca. 1596, etching, 292 × 227 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1951, inv. 51.501.3480 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 310 9.10 Nicolas Béatrizet, Second Portrait of Henry II, 1558, engraving, 480 × 322 mm, Melbourne, National Gallery of Victoria, Everard Studley Miller Bequest, 1959, inv. 417–5 © National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne 312 9.11 Antonio Tempesta, Equestrian Statue of Cosimo I, 1608, etching, 573 × 348 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-37.733 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 315 10.1 Antonio Fantuzzi (after Francesco Primaticcio), Woman Turned to the Right, 1540–45, etching, 259 × 103 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1959, inv. 59.596.19 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 322 10.2 Dirck Volckertsz. Coornhert (after Maarten van Heemskerck), Man placing Hope on Money, from the series The Vain Hope for Worldly Gain, 1550, etching and engraving, 275 × 198 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-1984–8 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 324 10.3 Dirck Volckertsz. Coornhert (after Maarten van Heemskerck), The Elders trying to seduce Susanna, from the series The Story of Susanna, 1551, engraving and etching, 247 × 195 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. DG44705 © Albertina Museum, Vienna 326 10.4 Dirck Volckertsz. Coornhert (after Maarten van Heemskerck), The Story of Ruth and Boaz, 1550, etching, 298 × 862 mm, London, British Museum, Department

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Figures of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1949,0709.43 © The Trustees of the British Museum 327 Dirck Volckertsz. Coornhert (after Maarten van Heemskerck), Naphtali, from the series The Twelve Patriarchs, 1550, etching, 215 × 273 mm, New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, inv. 194949.95.122 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 328 Hans Sebald Beham (after Barthel Beham), Adam and Eve, 1543, engraving, 80 × 54 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Bequest of Grace M. Pugh, inv. 19851986.1180.15 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 330 Anonymous engraver (after Lambert Lombard (?)), Female Antique Statues, mid-16th century, engraving, 194 × 150 mm, Brussels, Royal Library of Belgium, inv. SV 88686 © Brussels, Royal Library of Belgium, Print Room 332 Maarten van Heemskerck, Study after Antique Sculpture, Van Heemskerck’s Roman Sketchbook, fol. 60v, 1532–36, red chalk, 134 × 211 mm, Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett, inv. 79 D2 xviii © bpk / Kupferstichkabinett, SMB / Volker-H. Schneider 333 Lucas Kilian, Samson with two Philistines (after Michelangelo), ca. 1600, engraving, 202 × 110 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. DG2013/197 © Albertina Museum, Vienna 339 Unknown artist, Samson and two Philistines, ca. 1600, bronze, h. 36.5 cm, Berlin, Bode-Museum © Berlin, Bode Museum 342 Lucas Kilian, Pietà, 1602, engraving, 209 × 156 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. D/I/35/21 © Albertina Museum, Vienna 343 School of Jacopo Tintoretto, Samson Slaying two Philistines (after a cast by Michelangelo), 16th century, black chalk, white heightening, 339 × 229 mm, Northampton, Smith College, inv. SC 1946.9 verso © Smith College, Northamptonn 345 Lucas Kilian, Samson with two Philistines (after Michelangelo), ca. 1600, engraving, 202 × 110 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. DG2013/196 © Albertina Museum, Vienna 347 Unknown artist, Samson and two Philistines, bronze, h. 33 cm, Stockholm, National Museum, inv. NMSk 342 © Photo: Larsson 1992, p. 49 348 Lucas Kilian, Samson with two Philistines (after Michelangelo), ca. 1600, engraving, 202 × 110 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. DG2013/198 © Albertina Museum, Vienna 349 Unknown artist, Samson and two Philistines, bronze, Stockholm, National Museum © Photo: Larsson 1992, p. 49 350

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11.9 Lucas Kilian, Archangel Michael by Hubert Gerhard after a drawing by Peter Candid, 1588 or later, engraving, 491 × 328 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. D/I/35/41 © Albertina Museum, Vienna 352 11.10 Marcantonio Raimondi, Apollo (after Raphael’s School of Athens), ca. 1512–15, engraving, 220 × 108 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1949, inv. 49.97.116 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 354 11.11 Hendrick Goltzius, Apollo Belvedere, 1592, printed 1617, engraving, plate: 400 × 292 mm, sheet: 402 × 305 mm, Princeton, Princeton University Art Museum, Bequest of Junius S. Morgan, Class of 1888, inv. x1934–675 © Princeton University Art Museum 355 11.12 Andrea Andreani, Rape of a Sabine woman (after Giambologna), ca. 1583, woodcut, 448 × 204 mm, Cambridge, MA, Harvard Art Museums/Fogg Museum, Gray Collection of Engravings Fund, inv. G7510 © President and Fellows of Harvard College 357 11.13 Jan Muller, Mercury and Psyche (after Adrian de Vries), 1593, engraving, 512 × 261 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-32.228 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam 358

Notes on Contributors Bernadine Barnes is a professor of Art History in the Art Department at Wake Forest University. She specializes in Italian Renaissance art and the history of prints. She has published extensively on Michelangelo’s work, including Michelangelo and the Viewer in his Time and Michelangelo in Print. Her research interests focus on audience responses and the critical reception of art, with a special interest on female viewers and printed reproductions as indicators of viewer response. Anne Bloemacher is assistant professor of Art History at the University of Münster, where she completed her PhD in 2012 with a thesis on “Raphael and Marcantonio Raimondi” (funded by the German National Academic Foundation), published as a monograph in 2016. Other recent publications treat erotic prints in Raphael’s circle and the self-fashioning of Maximilian I. Her main research areas are early modern prints and Italian and Northern Renaissance Painting and Sculpture. She is currently pursuing research for her new book on the artist’s hands. Marzia Faietti Marzia Faietti, former Director of the Gabinetto dei Disegni e delle Stampe at the Gallerie degli Uffizi, teachs at the Scuola di Specializzazione in Storia dell’Arte at the Università di Bologna and at the Università Cattolica del Sacro Cuore, Milan, and is associate researcher of the Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz – Max-Planck-Institut. Her research interests span the Ferrarese painting of the post-Tridentine era; the Bolognese and Emilian graphics of the fifteenth century and its developments up to the contemporary age; the drawing and painting of central Italy of the fifteenth and sixteenth century; the Italian erotic engraving of the sixteenth century and its relationship with antiquity; the graphic line and its theoretical implications; the artistic personalities of Andrea Mantegna, Amico Aspertini, Leonardo, Raphael, Francesco Mazzola, known as Parmigianino. Among the most recent publications figures the catalogue of the Raffaello 1520–1583 exhibition (Rome, Scuderie del Quirinale, 2020) published with Matteo Lafranconi.

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Gudrun Knaus is a project manager at Graphikportal (Gateway to graphic arts), an art historical database developed in collaboration with the German Documentation Centre for Art History – Bildarchiv Foto Marburg, and has been responsible for the design and development of the database since 2014. She is also the coordinator of the international working group Graphik vernetzt (Graphics networked), which aims to implement common digitalization standards for the digital networking of graphic collections. Knaus received her PhD in 2010 from the University of Berne for a thesis entitled: “Invenit, incisit, imitavit. Die Kupferstiche von Marcantonio Raimondi als Schlüssel zur weltweiten Raffael-Rezeption 1510–1700”, published by De Gruyter in 2016 and funded by the Swiss National Science Foundation. Angelika Marinovic is a university assistant and doctoral candidate at the University of Vienna. She received her Master of Arts in 2015 from the University of Vienna. Her master’s thesis, “Die Clair-obscur-Holzschnitte des Monogrammisten NDB. Ein Bologneser Formschneider in Fontainebleau?” was awarded the Sir Ernst Gombrich-Nachwuchspreis from the Society for Art History at the University of Vienna and the Würdigungspreis from the Austrian Ministry of Science, Research and Economics. Her doctoral thesis on the engraver Agostino Veneziano and printmaking in Italy in the early 16th century is supported by a DOC-fellowship from the Austrian Academy of Science. Maria Gabriella Matarazzo Maria Gabriella Matarazzo holds a PhD from Scuola Normale Superiore of Pisa, where in 2020 she defended her dissertation on the notion of chiaroscuro in the theory and practice of art in seventeenth-century Rome. During her PhD, she was a visiting scholar at New York University (2016–17) and Johns Hopkins University (2018–19, supported by the Singleton Center for the Study of Premodern Europe). Previously, she received a M.A. cum laude from the University of Pisa and Scuola Normale Superiore. Her M.A. thesis was the first catalogue raisonné of the Dutch engraver Cornelis Bloemaert, whose workshop practices in Rome were the subject of an article published in 2017 in Print Quarterly. Her forthcoming article in the Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz will also investigate Bloemaert’s artistic collaboration with the painter Ciro Ferri. Most recently, she published an essay that focuses on the engraving technique of Andrea Pozzo’s collaborators for his treatise on perspective as part of the edited volume “I colori del marmo”.

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Claudia Echinger-Maurach is professor of Art History at the University of Münster. She has studied Art History, Philosophy, Archeology and Ancient History at the universities of Munich and Braunschweig and has been trained as a sculptor from 1970–1975 at the Akademie der bildenden Künste in Munich. Her main research areas are Michelangelo on whom she published extensively (including her dissertation on the tomb of Julius II in Florence and Rome), Leonardo da Vinci and French painting in the 19th century. Mandy Richter is collaborator in the department of Alessandro Nova at the Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz – Max-Planck-Institut. She has studied Art History, American Studies, and Computer Science at the Technische Universität in Dresden and at the Scuola Normale Superiore in Pisa. In 2014, she received a PhD in Art History. Her first book, Die Renaissance der Kauernden Venus. Ihr Nachleben zwischen Aktualisierung und Neumodellierung von 1500 bis 1570, was published by Harrassowitz in 2016. Together with Fabian Jonietz and Alison Stewart, she is preparing a publication on Indecent Bodies in Renaissance Visual Culture. Franciszek Skibiński has a PhD in Art History from Utrecht University. He currently works as an assistant professor of Art History and Heritage Studies at the Nicolaus Copernicus University in Toruń and at the National Museum in Gdańsk. His scholarly interests are focused on art and architecture in the Baltic Region and the Low Countries in the 16th and early 17th century, especially the patterns of artistic and cultural exchange. His recent publications include Willem van den Blocke. A Sculptor from the Low Countries in the Baltic Region (2020). Madeleine C. Viljoen Curator of Prints and the Spencer Collection, is responsible for the care of The New York Public Library’s wide-ranging collection of prints and illustrated books from their origins to the present. Her articles have appeared in Print Quarterly, The Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte, Renaissance Quarterly, the Oxford Art Journal, The Art Bulletin, as well as in exhibition catalogues and collections of essays. During her tenure at the Library she has organized numerous exhibitions, including, Printing Women, Love in Venice and Daring Methods: The Prints of Mary Cassatt. She is currently working on an exhibition to commemorate the 300-year anniversary of the speculation schemes known as the Mississippi and South Sea Bubbles.

“Quanto in virtù d’una ingegnosa mano / la fermezza de’marmi ai fogli cede”: The Art of Translating Sculpture into Print. An Introduction Anne Bloemacher, Mandy Richter and Marzia Faietti The history of sculpture in print has not yet been written. This is all the more remarkable given that the “reproductive” print was already discussed extensively by the end of the 19th century and has again gained attention in the last decades.1 The focus of studies on prints has always fallen on painted “originals” and their “reproduction” in engravings, woodcuts or etchings.2 This might have to do with the fact that the number of prints after painted works of art is – at least for the first half of the 16th century – higher than that of sculptural works of art, be they antique or contemporary. Another explanation can be found in the fact that the study of 16th century sculpture still lags behind that of painting and consequently the research on prints after sculpture remains underdeveloped. Perhaps, as Bernadine Barnes put it, judging from the critical and theoretical writings of the period, “there was simply much less that people found to say about sculpture than about painting”.3 It is also relevant that late 15th century and early 16th century “reproductive” prints after paintings often relied on preparatory drawings for altarpieces or frescoes, if not on drawings made a priori for print, which came out of the painter’s studio.4 This modus operandi was quite effective as these drawings could be used both for the execution of a painting, and for its translation into print, granted with some changes to the context of the invention, such as the insertion of rural, monumental or domestic backgrounds in which the engraver expressed his own visual culture and his ability to “pictorially” interpret the original invention. The preparation of a print after sculpture differed from this process and 1 Franz Wickhoff, Paul Kristeller, Mary Pittaluga and Alfredo Petrucci mark the beginning of discussions evolving around the “reproductive” print; Wickhoff, “Beiträge zur Geschichte der reproduzierenden Künste”, 181–194; Pittaluga, L’Incisione italiana nel Cinquecento; Petrucci, “Disegni e stampe di Marcantonio”, 392–406; Petrucci, “Il Mondo di Marcantonio”, 31–44; Petrucci, “Linguaggio di Marcantonio”, 403–418; Kristeller, “Über Reproduktionen von Kunstwerken”, 538–543. 2 See for example Lambert, The Image Multiplied. Five Centuries of Printed Reproductions of Paintings and Drawings; Landau/Parshall, The Renaissance Print, 1470–1550; Bury, The Print in Italy, 1550–1620; Borea, Lo specchio dell’arte italiana. Stampe in cinque secoli. 3 Barnes, Michelangelo in Print. 4 Oberhuber, “Raffaello e l’incisione”, 333–342.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | doi:10.1163/9789004445864_002

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required that the engraver or woodcutter was also a skilled draughtsman, who was able to translate three-dimensional objects into two-dimensional prints. The topic of this volume can be presented visually by Hendrick Goltzius’s Apollo Belvedere (fig. 0.1). In the engraving, Goltzius presents the ancient statue in a monumental way, seen slightly from below, with every detail meticulously engraved. Yet Goltzius exceeds the mere depiction of the statue as he includes a draughtsman in the process of drawing the ancient work on his study sheet. In so doing, Goltzius both reveals the steps required for the production of the print and shows that he was able to master both the depiction of sculptures and that of living three-dimensional subjects in print. This work demonstrates not only the challenges of rendering sculpture in print but also shows that engravers were interested in representing this complex process of translation. It is evident that the two-dimensional depiction of a three-dimensional sculpture was not meant to substitute the experience of the work in the round. Plaster or bronze casts were better suited to meet such needs, reason for which the search for casting techniques, which emerged in the 15th century, has continued to be developed to this day.5 Although prints cannot convey an entirely authentic rendering of sculpture, artists have found ways to approximate real-life experiences in print, often in highly creative and singular ways. Even though prints were never the perfect solution for such reproductions, no other medium offered such a quick, portable and broad circulation. For these and other reasons, both the engravers and the audience accepted and, in some cases, even embraced the differences and limits of representations or even “reproductions” of sculpture in print. The “reproductive function” was omnipresent even if not always paramount for early modern prints. Prints from the sixteenth century onwards not only made artworks accessible to a wider audience, but also gave access to the singular artistic inventio, otherwise only conserved in preparatory drawings or sketches. Prints enabled artists and connoisseurs to study works of art anywhere and anytime, without the need to travel. The robust interest in Antiquity prompted a demand for prints after antique sculptures and reliefs, but we also know of printmakers who created such a demand for prints after antiques by “reproducing” antique works of art. Among the first widespread examples of prints explicitly depicting ancient sculptures are Marcantonio Raimondi’s engravings of the Belvedere statues as well as his Marcus Aurelius.6 In these prints, Raimondi indicates, via the inscriptions that name the material and the 5 See Exh. Cat. Phönix aus der Asche. Bildwerdung der Antike – Druckgrafiken bis 1869, 9–10. 6 Marcantonio Raimondi, Apollo Belvedere, after 1511, engraving, 291 × 162 mm; Marcantonio Raimondi, Marcus Aurelius, c. 1510, engraving, 215 × 142 mm.

The Art of Translating Sculpture into Print

Figure 0.1

Hendrick Goltzius, Apollo Belvedere, 1592, printed 1617, engraving, plate: 400 × 292 mm, sheet: 402 × 305 mm, Princeton, Princeton University Art Museum, Bequest of Junius S. Morgan, Class of 1888, inv. x1934-675 © Princeton University Art Museum

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place where the statue is found, that he has reproduced sculpture: the Apollo Belvedere is labelled “Sic Romae ex Marmore sculpto” (“as [it is] in Rome, sculpted in marble”), in the Marcus Aurelius the place is specified as “Romae Ad S.IO Lat” (“in Rome, near San Giovanni in Laterano”) (figs. 0.2, 0.3). This was all the more important when the print “reproduced” ancient reliefs which unlike statues did not feature bases that made them easily recognizable as sculpted stone – see for example Raimondi’s Three Graces (B.XIV.340), after a marble relief then in the collection founded by Cardinal Ludovico Podocatari, with the inscription “Sic Romae carites Niveo ex marmore sculp” (“These are Roman Charities [or Graces], sculpted from snowy white marble”).7 Kathleen Christian has recently pointed out that the phrase ‘sic Romae’ became something of a convention in prints after Roman antiquities “as a stamp of authenticity and a statement of the printmaker’s expertise and representational skill”.8 In other prints by Raimondi sculptures are interpreted more freely, as they are only based on ancient prototypes for example the Man examining his wounded foot (B.XIV.465) which is a free adaption of the Spinario of the Palazzo dei Conservatori in Rome and the Crouching Venus (B.XIV.313), derived from a Roman copy of the Hellenistic statue.9 Such prints were made even before the emergence of “reproductive” engravings in the narrower sense, as for example Giulio Bonasone’s Saint Cecilia of the 1530s which translates a painting by Raphael into print (B.XV.74).10 They were also created much earlier than prints after contemporary sculpture which were only produced on a larger scale after 1550. Apart from numerous single sheets depicting or dealing with antique sculpture, extensive collections of such prints emerged in the second half of the 16th century. The most notable examples include collections such as Giovanni Battista Cavalieri’s Antiquarum Statuarum Urbis Romae, or Etienne Dupérac’s 7 Marcantonio Raimondi, The Three Graces (B.XIV.340), engraving, 320 × 220 mm. 8 Exh. Cat. Marcantonio Raimondi, Raphael and the Image multiplied, cat. no. 50, 191 (Christian). 9 Marcantonio Raimondi, Man examining his wounded foot (B.XIV.465), c. 1502–1504, engraving, 177 × 110 mm, Albertina Museum, Vienna, inv. 1971/420; Marcantonio Raimondi, Crouching Venus (B.XIV.313), c. 1508, engraving, 222 × 145 mm, British Museum, London, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1973U.22; Richter, Die Renaissance der Kauernden Venus. Ihr Nachleben zwischen Aktualisierung und Neumodellierung 1500–1570. 10 Giulio Bonasone after Raphael, Saint Cecilia (B.XV.74), engraving, 322 × 190 mm, Bologna, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Gabinetto dei Disegni e delle Stampe, inv. 53; Faietti, “La trascrizione incisoria”, 191. The dating of the print is controversial as the last digit of the date in the inscription is not clearly legible – the propositions range from 1531 to 1537 to 1539; cf. Landau-Parshall, The Renaissance Print, 166 and Faietti, “Giulio Bonasone disegnatore”, 4, fn. 27.

The Art of Translating Sculpture into Print

Figure 0.2

Marcantonio Raimondi, Apollo Belvedere, ca. 1512, engraving, 291 × 162 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1949, inv. 49.97.114 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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Figure 0.3

Bloemacher, Richter and Faietti

Marcantonio Raimondi, Marcus Aurelius, ca. 1510–12, engraving, 215 × 142 mm, Paris, Paris Musées, Musée des Beaux-Arts de la Ville de Paris, Petit Palais, inv. GDUT6253 © Paris Musées

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I vestigi dell’antichità di Roma, printed by Lorenzo Vaccari in 1575,11 and some, like Antonio Lafreri’s Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae, also included contemporary sculpture.12 The above mentioned sheets by Marcantonio Raimondi, as well as the larger collections of prints to which they belong, are of particular interest for this publication as the analysis of their singular roles and contexts may not only add to discussions on “reproductive” engravings but also to those regarding possible audiences as well as the appreciation and functions of such prints. 1

Art Historical Survey

Not only is there no monograph on the history of sculpture in print or anthology focusing on this aspect of Early Modern print, but even art historical overviews of the history of (reproductive) prints do not treat sculpture in print extensively, if at all. This fact has made it challenging to provide the reader of the current publication with an extensive bibliographic survey on the topic. Therefore in the following, we would like to highlight various important case studies and essays that deal with some aspect of sculptures in prints or present relevant topics and questions. Particularly useful are publications in which the reproduction of antique sculpture in print dominates. Research has especially focused on those engravings, woodcuts and etchings that convey the state of conservation of ancient works of art, which were the basis for questions touching upon art historical, archeological or historical approaches to the represented sculptures. Apart from confrontations of the printed statues with later restorations or additions, some antique works of art known to the Renaissance have not survived and are only known via such prints. One of the first comprehensive examples of scholarly analysis of antique sculpture in print is the exhibition catalogue Antiquity in the Renaissance by Wendy Stedman Sheard, published in 1978.13 The essays in this catalogue confront the crucial question of the relation of sculpture and its “reproduction” in print and how translation to print reveals artistic interpretation or even additions that surpass mere depiction. Suzanne Boorsch, for 11 Bury, The Print in Italy, 127. 12 The Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae is famous for the fact that buyers could choose between various single sheets and could combine them according to their own wishes. That is why the editions known today differ completely from each other both in the single engravings as well as in the extent of the volumes, ranging from around 20 up to almost 1000 sheets. See for example Exh. Cat. Phönix aus der Asche, cat. no. II.2, 54–57 (Ruggero). 13 Exh. Cat. Antiquity in the Renaissance.

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instance, remarks in her entry on the Apollo Belvedere, that Goltzius chose to represent the sculpture from a low viewpoint so as to show the widest spread of the arms in order to maximize the dramatic potential of the sculpture (fig. 0.1).14 The comparison with Raimondi’s earlier engraving after the same statue highlights this detail of the arms (fig. 0.2). Boorsch concludes with an observation that underlines the advantages of reproductions of sculpture in print: “Many Renaissance bronze replicas exist; yet this rendition printed on paper may well be the one that conveys most forcefully the statue’s weight and impression of colossal strength.”15 The catalogue mentions another important example, Benedetto Montagna’s Man with an Arrow which the artist supposedly based on Tullio Lombardo’s Adam, one of the statues adorning the tomb monument for Doge Andrea Vendramin in Venice.16 The print is a fascinating document, ‘reproducing’ the first life-size nude marble statue of the Renaissance, re-transforming the Adam, which Tullio based on a Roman copy of a Greek Apollo of the fifth-century BC (perhaps intentionally) into an Apollo.17 Stedman Sheard brings up another interesting example of a Renaissance printmaker’s use of ancient sculpture for prints in combination with contemporary sculpture that nevertheless was based on antique prototypes: Marcantonio Raimondi’s Mars, Venus und Cupid, dated 1508. The engraver uses different antique sculptural works, a relief with a nude woman leading a child 14 Exh. Cat. Antiquity in the Renaissance, cat. no. 55 (Boorsch) (unpaginated); Hendrick Goltzius, Apollo Belvedere, c. 1592, engraving, 402 × 305 mm, Princeton University Art Museum, Bequest of Junius S. Morgan, Class of 1888, inv. X1934-675. Goltzius would then maximize this effect in his print after the Hercules Farnese, c. 1592, where the statue is seen from an even lower viewpoint, and in combination with the two spectators whose tiny heads are to be seen in the lower right corner of the sheet, aggrandizing the statue to a huge and mighty colossus. While the printmaker departs from reality to obtain this effect, he clings to it regarding the large club, serving as a support, but being somewhat aesthetically unpleasant in its enlarged form and seen from behind. 15 Exh. Cat. Antiquity in the Renaissance, cat. no. 100 (Boorsch). 16 Ibid., cat. no. 35 (Stedman Sheard). Benedetto Montagna, Man with an Arrow, c. 1508 (?), engraving 213 × 147 mm, The Art Institute of Chicago, Mr. and Mrs. Potter Palmer Collection (1956.1035 R8950); Tullio Lombardo, Adam, c. 1490–93, Carrara Marble, height 191.8 cm, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Fletcher Fund, 1936, inv. 36.163. Stedman Sheard claims that in the print, Montagna sought to suggest marble rather than flesh by sharply defining planes that sometimes meet in angular ridges and abstractly handled anatomical features. Yet in other prints by Montagna these features are also to be found, even though they do not represent sculptures. The flatness, therefore, rather points to the technical inability of the engraver to model bodies convincingly. 17 Stedman Sheard, The Tomb of Doge Andrea Vendramin in Venice by Tullio Lombardo, t. 1, 168–173. The sculpture is kept today in the Palazzo Ducale, Mantua. For the interpretation of Montagna’s print as a representation of Apollo see Hind, Early Italian Engraving, t. 5, 180, 15.

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by the hand on the tomb of Doge Giovanni Mocenigo in the Church of Santi Giovanni e Paolo in Venice, attributed to Tullio and Antonio Lombardo, which might have been based on an antique source, and the Torso Belvedere, then in the Palazzo Colonna in Rome. Raimondi thus combined the ancient fragment – which he enlarged into a figure of Mars – with a contemporary sculpture, the Venetian relief.18 In contrast to his print after the Apollo Belvedere, in this case, Raimondi does not show the sculptures as sculptures but as acting figures in a scene, as breathing beings in a surrounding landscape.19 This twofold approach to antique sculpture that Raimondi has in common with many of his contemporary printmakers is also analyzed in depth by Marzia Faietti and Konrad Oberhuber in their exhibition catalogue Bologna e l’Umanesimo.20 Landau and Parshall, in their seminal book on the Renaissance print, concentrate on the reproduction of drawings, paintings and frescoes: they consider the ability to attain a wide range of tones in print as a precondition for the rise of “reproductive” engraving.21 In their chapter on “The Birth of Reproductive Engraving”, however, prints after sculpture are not treated. Nevertheless, a short, but insightful glance on this topic is provided in Chapter VI “Artistic Experiment and the Collector’s Print”. Here the authors compare various reproductions of the Marcus Aurelius in print, in line with Evelina Borea’s assertion that most of the engravings made after antiquity in Rome during the first fifty years of the century were interpretations rather than reproductions of ancient sculpture.22 Landau and Parshall’s studies indicate that the phenomenon of engravings after the antique is more multilayered than initially hypothesized by Borea: According to Borea in the late Quattrocento there are cases of imitation (as for example Amico Aspertini’s drawings in the Codex Wolfegg), whereas in the early Cinquecento engravings start to reinterpret their ancient models.23 Landau and Parshall state that in contrast to earlier prints, Nicolas Beatrizet’s rendering of Marcus Aurelius in engraving is an effective document 18 Ibid., cat. no. 56 (Stedman Sheard). 19 Giancarlo Fiorenza noted this recently for the print Apollo and his Lover. See Fiorenza, “Apollo Dismembered: Love, Initiation, and Idolatry in an Engraving by Marcantonio Raimondi”, 105–120. 20 Exh. Cat. Bologna e l’Umanesimo, for example cat. no. 23, 134–136 (Marcus Aurelius), cat. no. 34, 160–161 (Mars, Venus and Cupido), cat. no. 36, 164–166 (Crouching Venus), cat. no. 42, 182–183 (Apollo Belvedere); Cf. as well, de Maria, “Artisti ‘antiquari’ e collezionisti di antichità a Bologna fra XV e XVI secolo”, 43–44. 21 Landau/Parshall, The Renaissance Print, 76. 22 Borea, “Stampe figurative e pubblico dalle origini all’affermazione nell’Cinquecento”, 391; for a comparable study concerning the Apollo Belvedere see Exh. Cat. Bilder nach Bildern. Druckgrafik und die Vermittlung von Kunst, 126–149. 23 Borea, “Stampe figurative e pubblico”, ibid.

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of the statue: every detail of the statue is represented, including the base and its full inscription, the signature is engraved outside the subject, and the setting is a white background (fig. 0.4).24 Marcantonio Raimondi’s, Nicoletto da Modena’s and Marcello Fogolino’s prints after the statue, in their opinion, did not aim to reproduce it. Raimondi set the figure group in front of a black wall, which makes it appear to be marble rather than bronze, while Fogolino renders it lifelike, as if it were a living horse (figs. 0.3, 0.5).25 The authors seem to believe – which would be an interesting point – that in prints like Fogolino’s Marcus Aurelius or Raimondi’s Apollo and Hyacinthus, the engravers willfully created hybrids of sculpture and “living beings”. This would imply that the artists generated a form of imitation that was not possible in painting or sculpture. The tendency of creating figures which increasingly go beyond mere imitation seems to go hand in hand with Ernst Gombrich’s argument of a gradual process in the working method of certain artists from mere imitation of classical models to their assimilation, synonymous with a mastery of classical models, as for example visible in his analysis of Giulio Romano’s works of art.26 Only through such confident ways of assimilation, could such singular cases like the aforementioned “hybrids” come into being. Marzia Faietti has proven that the Codex Wolfegg is dated to the first years of the 16th century, with some later additions, but Aspertini’s work underlines that the process from imitation to assimilation was complex and not without contradictions. As a matter of fact, an antiquarian artist like Aspertini gradually came to the free assimilation of his models, after having used them with greater archeological precision in his early career.27 Michael Bury published one of the few contributions that explicitly tackles the topic of sculpture in print: “Beatrizet and the ‘Reproduction’ of Antique Relief Sculpture”. Analyzing Beatrizet’s engraving of the ancient sculpture of the Rivergod Tiber, then in the Vatican’s Belvedere (today in the Louvre), Bury highlights the artist’s individual approach in the rendering of ancient sculpture in print by elaborating how the engraver extended the carved rippling water on the platform of the figure to fill the whole foreground of his print. The artist also accommodated the carved scenes of the rivergod’s life, which decorate three sides of the sculpture’s marble platform, as a frieze in the margins at the 24 Ibid., 305f. Nicolas Beatrizet, Marcus Aurelius, engraving, 361 × 242 mm, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, inv. 53.600.855. 25 Ibid. 305. Marcantonio Raimondi, Marcus Aurelius, engraving, 210 × 144 mm, Paris Musées, Musée des Beaux Arts de la Ville de Paris, Petit Palais, inv. GDUT6253; Marcello Fogolino, Marcus Aurelius, engraving, 199 × 152 mm, Kupferstich-Kabinett, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen, Dresden, inv. A 86128. 26 Cf. Gombrich, “The Style ‘all’antica’: Imitation and Assimilation (1963)”, 126–127. 27 Faietti, Il segno della ripetizione variata: i libri di disegni dall’antico di Amico Aspertini, 11–22.

The Art of Translating Sculpture into Print

Figure 0.4

11

Nicolas Beatrizet, Marcus Aurelius, 1548, engraving (first state), 361 × 242 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1953, inv. 53.600.855 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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Figure 0.5

Marcello Fogolino, Marcus Aurelius, early 1530s, etching and drypoint (?), 199 × 152 mm, Dresden, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen, Kupferstich-Kabinett, inv. A 86128 © Kupferstich-Kabinett, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden, photo: Herbert Boswank

top and down the two sides of the sheet. Bury claims that Beatrizet’s inventive solutions for the representation of antique sculpture resulted from the combination of accuracy with an attractive visual effect.28 28

Bury, “Beatrizet and the ‘reproduction’ of antique relief sculpture”, 126.

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A monographic approach explicitly addressing the topic of sculpture in print is also provided by Patricia Simons in her paper “Mantegna’s Battle of the Seagods: the material and thematic interaction of print and sculpture”.29 Her study provides a unique and innovative methodological approach in that it analyzes not only Mantegna’s inspiration from ancient sculpture, but also the sculptural responses his engraving sparked which she considers vital to our understanding of the print.30 In this volume, Marzia Faietti follows this line of inquiry: she elaborates on the possible pictorial and sculptural models for Gian Giacomo Caraglio’s print Jupiter and Antiope and traces the possible consequences that the print had in return on sculptures and their restorations. Simons argues that not only does the engraving imitate sculpture, but that the physical plate was a “material object treated in a sculptural manner, cut into like intaglio work in stone”.31 She analyzes how the emerging medium of engraving at first was considered a “hybrid technology, a combination of disegno with sculpture more than painting”.32 Another important angle in Simons’s essay is the analysis of the intricate relationship between sculpture in print with regards to terminology. In the early phase of engraving, “tagliare” or “intagliare”, a sculptural verb meaning to cut in, grave or carve, was used to denominate the process of engraving. For Mantegna’s circle she points out that the verb “to carve” or “to engrave” also had a romantic notion in poetry (to engrave one’s name into the beloved’s heart). The sculpture-like act of engraving thus conveyed romantic and poetic notions. She concludes that Mantegna could thereby consider himself as “being occupied in a poetically and intellectually, as well as technically, challenging task when producing both the disegni and the engraved plates”.33 Marzia Faietti has already elaborated on the observation that for Mantegna signs written on paper or incised in metal as well as words applied to stone or cut into marble, became the vocabulary of a lost, sought after antiquity, which was linked to Mantegna’s decision to imitate sculpture more than nature in some of his works.34 In this volume, Madeleine 29 Simons, “Mantegna’s Battle of the Sea Gods: the Material and Thematic Interaction of Print and Sculpture”, 89–113. 30 The frieze-like engraving was used, for example, as a model for mantelpieces, architraves, friezes or cornices, but also for three-dimensional objects like statuettes; ibid., 94, 98. 31 Ibid., 90. 32 Ibid., 103. 33 Ibid., 103–105. 34 Cf. Vasari’s famous episode on Squarcione’s criticism of Mantegna’s paintings in the Chapel of San Cristoforo agli Eremitani, “che non erano cosa buona perché aveva nel farle imitato le cose di marmo antiche, dalle quali non si può imparare la pittura perfettamente […]”; Mantegna, who apparently received this critique, however, sticked to his opinion “che le buone statue antiche fussino più perfette et avessino più belle parti che non mostra il naturale; […]”; Vasari, Le Vite, 549; Faietti, “Il segno di Andrea Mantegna”, t. I, 15–44; Faietti, “Andrea Mantegna e i segni dell’antico”, 193–218.

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Viljoen elaborates and provides new insights on the essential question of the terminology shared by both sculpture and print. Sarah Cree has provided a more comprehensive approach to antique sculpture in print, and has given an overview of the “translation” of antique sculptures and reliefs north and south of the Alps up to the 18th century.35 She hypothesizes that the audiences of early prints after antique sculpture did not have preconceived ideas about what kind of information they should convey, whereas later on, with more prints circulating and the formation of a canon of antique statues, viewers came to have expectations for how those prints were supposed to look.36 Moreover Cree analyses the different modes of translating antique sculpture into prints, from “exact replication” to a “more general evocation” or “imaginative interpretation”.37 The author addresses important issues of sculpture in print, yet the broad layout of her essay, treating a wide range of sculptures and prints, precludes a more in-depth analysis. In comparison to the scholarly literature on antique sculpture in print, there are even less writings on contemporary, that is Renaissance sculpture in print. Until Bernadine Barnes’s seminal book on the prints after Michelangelo, there are only scattered, isolated considerations on contemporary sculpture in print. The subject is not treated in The Renaissance Print by Landau and Parshall in 1996. Michael Bury, in The Print in Italy, 1550–1620, analyses only one example of the reproduction of contemporary sculpture in print: Domenico Tibaldi’s engraving after Tommaso Laureti’s and Giambologna’s Fontana del Nettuno (Neptune Fountain) in Bologna.38 An important contribution is Raphael Rosenberg’s study of the reproduction and publication of Michelangelo’s Sacristy. First, he gives an overview of the sculptures by Michelangelo translated into prints, then he concentrates on the etchings and engravings after the Sagrestia Nuova (New Sacristy), focusing on how the printmakers “worked” with the sculptures they “reproduced”. Rosenberg was the first to publish two etchings after Michelangelo’s Crepuscolo (Dusk) and Aurora (Dawn), which he attributed to Battista Franco, around 1536 (figs. 0.6, 0.7).39 Franco represents 35 Cree, “Translating Stone into Paper: Sixteenth and Seventeenth-century Prints after Antique Sculpture”, 75–88. 36 Ibid., 76. 37 Ibid., 76–77. 38 Bury, The Print in Italy, 208. 39 Rosenberg, “The reproduction and publication of Michelangelo’s Sacristy. Drawings and prints by Franco, Salviati, Naldini and Cort”, 115. The basis of Rosenberg’s argumentation are seven drawings by Battista Franco of the Times of the day, three in pen and four in chalk. While the pen drawings were made with the aim to collect models for his own composition, the chalk drawings were made for reproduction (one of them is indented).

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Figure 0.6 Battista Franco, Crepuscolo (Dusk) (after the statue of Michelangelo), ca. 1536, engraving and etching, 303 × 451 mm, Berlin, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett, inv. 64–102 © Kupferstichkabinett der Staatlichen Museen zu Berlin – Preussischer Kulturbesitz, photo: Volker-H. Schneider

Figure 0.7 Battista Franco, Aurora (Dawn) (after the statue of Michelangelo), ca. 1536, engraving and etching, 307 × 443 mm, Berlin, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett, inv. 65-102 © Kupferstichkabinett der Staatlichen Museen zu Berlin – Preussischer Kulturbesitz, photo: Volker-H. Schneider

the sculptures from an elevated angle which alludes to the fact that he saw them before they were set up above the sarcophagi.40 The artist did add scenic surroundings: a curtain drapery behind the statue is gathered to the left so that an overgrown yard with stone fragments and a building in the background are visible. Crepuscolo (Dusk) is completely taken out of context: Franco places the river god in nature, where he is lying on the grass, surrounded by trees. By comparison, Cornelis Cort’s prints after the sacristy (fig. 0.8), as Rosenberg shows, are fairly accurate representations of the tomb monuments, rendering the three-dimensionality of Michelangelo’s work remarkably effective, reflecting even the light and shade of its original situation in the chapel.41 Yet 40

Ibid., 116–117. However, the position of Dawn on the volute in Franco’s print shows that he knew about her intended position. Ibid., 117. 41 Ibid., 126. Geraldine Johnson instead speaks of a reduced three-dimensionality (“[…] the sculpture itself casts almost no shadow on the surroundings and its mass is sharply contained by a precise contour outline. The result is that the figure appears to lie rather flatly on the surface of the print like a white paper cut-out.”), See Johnson, “ ‘(Un)richtige Aufnahme’. Renaissance Sculpture and the Visual Historiography of Art History”, 14.

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Figure 0.8

Bloemacher, Richter and Faietti

Cornelis Cort, The Tomb of Lorenzo de’ Medici with two Statues (after Michelangelo), 1570, engraving, 559 × 406 cm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1945, inv. 45.47.3(5) © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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the sculptures, according to Rosenberg, were modified to a greater extent: they appear to be oversize, and each is seen from a different viewpoint. Rosenberg elucidates that Cort was working from drawings by Giovanni Battista Naldini: Naldini could not decide whether to present the non-finito of the Giorno’s (Day’s) head, which resulted in Cort reproducing Naldini’s awkward solution.42 Barnes’s discussion of the prints after Michelangelo’s statues is to date the most comprehensive and systematic analysis of contemporary sculpture in print.43 She analyses in detail the problems that sculpture posed to printmakers: their three-dimensionality, materiality and the way in which people typically responded to sculptural works of art. Another issue addressed by Barnes is that of the potential markets for prints showcasing Michelangelo’s statues. She also asks why so many of Michelangelo’s sculptures were not reproduced in print and points to the unfinished state of many of them as a potential reason. Barnes further notes that the unfinished state of Michelangelo’s sculptures also gave rise to the desire to reproduce Michelangelo’s statues accurately, which, however, was in conflict with the desire to visually give life to these figures.44 Even though a number of the reproduction problems which Barnes elaborates are Michelangelo-specific, many of the points she makes can be generalized, such as the necessity to give sculpture in print an appropriate background to create a satisfying composition or the need to choose the spectator’s point of view, the latter entailing the selection of appropriate lighting for the sculpture and the adjustment of proportions that in many cases only “come right” from a particular point of view.45 Her essay in this volume continues these discussions by confronting Nicolas Beatrizet’s and Jacob Matham’s reproductions of Michelangelo’s Risen Christ. 2

Terminology and Methodology

As this book deals with “sculptures in print”, we must address the problem of the term “reproduction” or “reproductive” and its methodological impact.46 Used by Hind and Kristeller who saw a decline of engraving in the later 16th

42 43 44 45 46

Rosenberg, “The reproduction and publication of Michelangelo’s Sacristy”, 126, 127. Barnes, Michelangelo in Print, 145–165. Ibid., 145. Ibid., 147, 148. See Bloemacher, Raffael und Raimondi, 17–22 and Barnes, Michelangelo in Print, 3–5 for a comprehensive discussion of the history of the term (Begriffsgeschichte).

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century as opposed to “originality” or the “original print”,47 the term “reproduction” has for a long time been dismissed as anachronistic. In the 1980s the question of “original” and “reproduction” was taken up and widely discussed, i.e. on occasion of three conferences between 1985 and 1988.48 A trigger for the renewed interest might be attributed to the re-evaluation of the artistic copy in contemporary art as well as the postmodern trend of “appropriation”.49 As a result, early modern “reproductive” prints became once again the focus of attention. A re-evaluation began, which proceeded well into the 1990s and is still paramount for the newest research on the topic of prints. In the following, we will concentrate exclusively on the discussion of these keywords for prints. For David Landau and Peter Parshall, the “birth” of reproductive engraving set in shortly after Raphael’s death with a generation of engravers in succession of Marcantonio Raimondi, such as Caraglio and Bonasone. Only after circa 1530 would it have been technically possible to reproduce not only drawings in print, but also to work directly from painting (“ex post”). The power of the editors, as of the authors, would have decreased the originality and individuality of the printmakers. As a result, the quality of their prints declined and engravers and woodcutters lost their high status.50 Michael Bury, on the contrary, represents a line of thinking in which the distinction between “reproductive” and “original” would not have been made in the 16th and early 17th century.51 Similar observations have been made by Peter Schmidt who dealt with early prints in connection to devotional images.52 His analyses show that the question of a faithful depiction of the original 47 Hind, A History of Engraving & Etching, Chapter 4; Kristeller, “L’Origine dell’incisione in rame”, 400. 48 The first conference took place in Washington 1985 and was published four years later (Retaining the Original: Multiple Originals, Copies and Reproductions (Studies in the History of Art 20), Washington D.C. 1989); another one in 1986 was published in October 37 (Multiples without Originals: The Challenge to Art History of the Copy). In 1988, the topic was discussed at the conference “Recycled Images: citations and appropriations of Style”. For a concise overview on the state of research see Elaine K. Gazda’s introduction to the anthology The Ancient Art of Emulation. Studies in Artistic Originality and Tradition from the Present to Classical Antiquity, Ann Arbor 2002. 49 Schwartz, The Culture of the Copy: Striking Likenesses, Unreasonable Facsimiles. Soll, “La re-invención de la rueda: Reflexiones quijotescas sobre la repetición y la creatividad”, 43–54. 50 Landau/Parshall, The Renaissance Print, 166–167. 51 Bury resorts to hypotheses like the one by Caroline Karpinsky who questions the existence of any distinction between “reproductive” and “inventive” until the 17th century in her essay for the conference “Retaining the Original”; Karpinsky, “The Print in Thrall to Its Original: A Historiographic Perspective”, 102f. 52 Schmidt, “Die Erfindung des vervielfältigten Bildes: Reproduktion und Wahrheit im 15. Jahrhundert”, 119–147.

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within the “copy” was not of primary importance and may even have been “insignificant” for the recipient even though the pictures established a certain presence (“Präsenz”) of the original or prototype. In comparison to prints of devotional images, it could be argued that the question of a faithful depiction is indeed a crucial one when considering images of sculptures in prints in the 16th century. Viewers relied on their truthfulness at least for the form of the represented object, if not for its material.53 Perhaps to avoid the pejorative term of “reproduction” the term “translation” was soon coined when talking about the relation between “original” and “reproduction” for prints in reference to drawings, paintings, or sculpture. The term “translation” might ultimately be traced back to Vasari who uses the verb “tradurre” in his Lives in regard to some of Marcantonio Raimondi’s prints, as Massimo Mussini has pointed out.54 The term “ritrarre”, Mussini notes, which was traditionally used for portraits, is employed by Vasari also for prints after antique sculpture to highlight the engravers’ special attitude of utmost faithfulness towards the antique objects while rendering them in prints.55 Diderot had already tried to theorize the relationship between painter and printmaker: the latter does not copy, rather he acts like a translator (“traducteur”), who translates a poet from one language into another. For Diderot, a good author could thus lose a lot in the hands of a bad translator, while a bad author, that is artist, could gain much from an able interpreter.56 Adam von Bartsch, too, compared in his Le Peintre-Graveur of 1803 the production of an engraving after a work of art with the translation of a text into another language.57 Apart from the concept of “translation”, the concept of “imitation” was applied to prints. Patricia Emison analyses letters by humanists, written in the late 15th and early 16th century, praising the artistic accomplishment of the printmaker Giulio Campagnola, especially his ability to imitate Mantegna and Bellini.58

53 Hopkins, “Reproductive Prints as Aesthetic Surrogates”, 11–21. 54 Mussini, La Bibbia di Raffaello. Scienza e ‘scrittura’ nella stampa di riproduzione dei secoli XVI e XVII. 55 Ibid., 43 and fn. 12. 56 “Le graveur en taille-douce est proprement dit un prosateur qui se propose de rendre un poète d’une langue dans une autre. […] Les peintres, s’ils étoient un peu jaloux de leur gloire, ne deviendront donc pas perdre de vue le graveur. Raphaël corrigeoit lui-même le trait de Marc-Antoine. […] Un excellent auteur qui tombe entre les mains d’un mauvais traducteur […] est perdu. Un auteur médiocre, qui a le bonheur de rencontrer un bon traducteur […] a tout à gagner. Il en est de même du peintre et du graveur […]”; Denis Diderot, Œuvres, Paris, t. XIII (Salon 1765), 319, cf. Seznec, Denis Diderot, 227. 57 Ruskin also uses in 1870 the term “translation” for such prints; Ruskin, Lectures on Art, 13f. 58 Emison, Invention and the Italian Renaissance Print, Mantegna to Parmigianino, 86.

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Lisa Pon, in her fundamental study on the transfer processes between Raimondi, Raphael and Dürer, focused, however, not on “imitation” or “reproduction”, but rather on the copy – as counterpart to “possessive authorship”.59 Pon describes a culture of copying as formative for the Renaissance. Yet she subordinates “imitatio” under copy and equates mimesis to copying.60 With regards to the term “translation”,61 Pon states that translations of texts were part of the cultural discourses at that time. On the one hand, the translator had to be faithful to the original or model, on the other hand, prontezza, a certain swiftness, was desired. As early as 1530, there would have been translations of literature that were regarded as works of art in their own right.62 What is questionable regarding this understanding of “reproductive” engraving is, if visual contents can be equated with texts.63 Edward Wouk shifts the emphasis from the relationship between print and the object “reproduced” (the print being a passive tool of dissemination) to the print’s “role as generative, active agent driving modes of invention and perception far beyond the locus of its production”.64 Following Graham Larkin’s and Lisa Pon’s understanding of prints as an unstable medium in which form and meaning shifted in the process of conception, production and reception, Wouk’s analysis of prints places great emphasis on their material experience and their generative powers.65 To study prints, Wouk also draws on methodologies from media studies, for which the analysis of material transformations is at the center of a web of cultural and epistemological systems.66 As the book focuses on the translation of prints to other media, the methodological problem of the “first” translation, the one from object to print, is not explicitly tackled and thus remains open. Studies on sculpture in photography often deal with a related series of questions and key concepts central to the study of sculpture in print. Early theory on photography as well as art historical research have for a long time addressed, 59 Pon, Raphael, Dürer, and Marcantonio Raimondi. Copying and the Italian Renaissance Print, 28–33. 60 Ibid., 22–27. 61 Ibid., 33–35. 62 Ibid., 34. 63 Pon applies Roland Barthes’s writings on text and object as well as concepts of “practical collaboration” and thus of “framing” on prints; ibid., 7–9. 64 Wouk, “Toward an Anthropology of Print”, 3. Wouk refers to Ivins’s Prints and Visual Communication, Eisenstein’s The Printing Press as an Agent of Change, Chartier’s The Culture of Print and Wood’s Forgery, Replica, Fiction. 65 Wouk, “Toward an Anthropology of Print”, 6. Larkin/Pon, “The Materiality of Printed Words and Images”, 1–6. 66 Ibid., 9.

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in a profound way, the rendering of sculpture in a reproductive medium. These studies have tackled the question of how photography deals with sculpture when “reproducing” it and have contributed greatly to evaluating how this “reproduction” might be considered as an artistic approach. Many aspects of the studies on photography are applicable to the relation between sculptures and prints, and could, with adjustments to time and context, help clarify the role of a reproductive medium vis-à-vis sculpture. Both print and photography challenge our understanding of what it means to depict sculpture in a twodimensional medium: both have an impact on how sculpture is perceived, interpreted, and displayed.67 Photography pioneer Henry Fox Talbot claimed that photography had an important advantage over other kinds of media in that it did not require drawing skills.68 Despite the common belief that photography is more objective than other media, photographs of sculptures in particular have to be considered as a means of communication capable of advancing visual arguments on the represented objects.69 Information on both the sculpture and the photographs, including details on the photographer and the original context of creation, is necessary in order to grasp the different possible meanings of the final image. In photography of sculpture the decisions of various agents must be considered: first, those of the sculptor, followed by the photographer, and may include publishers of such photographs or authors who use such images in their texts. As shown above, the same is true for prints of sculpture as the intended messages of sculptures may differ according to the printmaker or publisher. Even in scholarly literature on photography the term “reproduction” is used scarcely because it omits the shaping of the final image by the photographer who chooses various technical specifics, as well as points of view, perspective and lighting. Roxana Marcoci highlights the role that photography plays in documenting, interpreting, and altering our understanding of the objects it represents, the interplay of operations being essential to what we call art.70 Photography of sculpture was, at first, regarded as truthful:

67 Regarding the analysis of photography of sculpture in these matters see Johnson, “Sculpture and Photography. Envisioning the Third Dimension”, 1–20. 68 “Already sundry amateurs have laid down the pencil and armed themselves with chemical solutions and with a camera obscura. Those amateurs especially, and there are not few, who find rules of perspective difficult to learn and to apply – and who moreover have the misfortune to be lazy – prefer to use a method which dispenses with all that trouble” (1844). 69 Schröder, Ein Bild von Skulptur. Der Einfluss von Fotografie auf die Wahrnehmung von Bildhauerei, 13. 70 Marcoci, “The Original Copy: Photography of Sculpture, 1839 to Today”, 12.

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“[…] the very impress of the object”71 and “always true to the marble”.72 Later, it was stated that the shift from three to two dimensions was problematic and that photographs of sculpture are “inevitably affected by the personal agendas of photographers and the larger cultural and historical circumstances in which they are working […].”73 The same holds true for prints after sculpture. Moreover, for both photographs and prints after sculpture, their reproducibility complicates their reception as unique works of art independent of the objects they represent. As Geraldine Johnson states concerning photography and sculpture, “by negotiating issues such as the intrinsic difficulties of trying to define photographs of sculpture as either art or document, the manipulation to the photographic medium’s simultaneous transparency and opaqueness when representing three-dimensional objects, and the tensions that arise when the boundaries between sculpture and photography as categories of artistic production are either reaffirmed or destabilized”, researchers can only demonstrate the complexities, contradictions and convergences inherent in the relation between sculpture and print.74 Art historical literature has not found a replacement for the classification of “original” and “reproduction” or a better term for the “reproductive print” as a phenomenon of the 16th century. Some art historians have argued, even before the debates of the 1980s, that reproduction is always interpretation.75 Bury proposes to use ‘reproductive’ only to define a historical function: in cases where it is definitely known that the print was made with the intention of reproducing another work. And he clarifies: the word reproduction does not imply mechanical copying, but rather “a highly creative attempt to find an equivalent and to create a graphic object that was of value in its own right.”76 Or, as Marzia Faietti acknowledged even much earlier regarding the 16th century prints after Raphael’s Saint Cecily altarpiece: “[…] in these years, the reproductive print is almost always an autonomous artistic expression”.77 Some researchers have altogether replaced the term “reproductive”, e.g. Norberto Gramaccini who coined the terms “monological engraving” and “dialogical engraving” and used 71 Marshall, Photography, 18; cf. Johnson, “Sculpture and Photography”, 2. 72 Unknown author, “Photographs of the Sculpture of the Great Exhibition”, 68; cf. Johnson, “Sculpture and Photography”, 2. 73 Johnson, “Sculpture and Photography”, 3. 74 Ibid., 15. 75 Exh. Cat. Prints and Related Drawings by the Carracci Family. A Catalogue Raisonné, 54–56; Argan, “Il valore critico della ‘stampa di traduzione’ ”, 179–181. 76 Bury, The Print in Italy, 10–11. 77 “[…] la stampa di riproduzione in questi anni […] si configura quasi sempre come espressione artistica autonoma”; Faietti, “La trascrizione incisoria”, 191.

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them alongside the common terms “interpretative engraving” and “print as translation” to differentiate what these prints do.78 However, most recent studies still apply the term “reproductive”, but highlight the interpretative aspects of the printmaker’s work (at times, replacing “reproduction” with transformation). In the last years, the concentration on the interpretative and inventive skills of engravers “reproducing” models in print, has shown that “reproductive” prints are remarkable works of art in their own right. Walter Melion, for example, in a seminal essay on the subject of the “reproductive print”, pointed out that Hendrick Goltzius in his engraving of 1589 after Federico Barocci’s Rest on the Flight to Egypt uses his model to assimilate the technique of the famous printmaker Cornelis Cort, turning the latter’s linear means into his primary object of representation, and by doing so, divorces them of their original translational purpose.79 This conception of “reproductive prints” as remarkable works of art in their own right is especially relevant for the translation of sculpture into print: unlike the printed “reproduction” of painting, which allows one to work in the same dimension, the “reproduction” of sculpture calls not only for the translation but also for the transformation of a three-dimensional object into a two-dimensional one. This implies various difficulties which are not suggested by terms like “reproduction” or “copy”. First of all, the artist must choose the viewpoint: from which angle shall the beholder contemplate the sculpture? How does the printmaker solve the problem of scale? How does he adapt size and monumentality to the significantly smaller format of a printed sheet? Does he add bystanders, architecture or landscape to convey the sculpture’s size and even monumentality in his print? What makes the process even more interesting is the fact that some engravers or etchers had an intermediary draughtsman.80 Secondly, to what extent is the sculpture’s materiality – 78 Gramaccini/Meier, Die Kunst der Interpretation. Italienische Reproduktionsgraphik 1485– 1600, 9–52. 79 Melion, “Hendrick Goltzius’s Project of Reproductive Engraving”, 462. Melion in particular analyzes Lampsonius’s letters to Vasari, Titian and Clovio in which he discusses the challenges of reproductive printmaking, but asserts that skilled and talented engravers deserve corresponding attention and respect, even when Michelangelo’s Vatican frescoes are the objects reproduced (letter to Clovio, 1570); ibid., 472. 80 While a lot of prints inform us about this division of labor via inscription, Bury also cites a document in which Lampsonius trying to persuade Clovio of the project of having Cornelis Cort engrave all the paintings in the Sistine and Pauline Chapels in the Vatican, mentions that it would be necessary to find a good draughtsman to make drawings and then pass them to Cort for “God has not given [Cort] the gift of knowing how to copy from the originals so as to produce works of the fine quality needed” (“[…] non essendogli concessa dal Cielo la gratia di saper copier et trarre dall’Originali le opera con quella bontà et

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stone, bronze, etc. – taken into account? Thirdly, are the limits of the medium respected or does the printmaker add elements that would be impossible in sculpture? Which movements and facial expressions are feasible in stone or bronze and how does the engraver or etcher transgress these potentialities? And in relation to these questions: is the sculpture reproduced at all as a sculpture? Or is it transformed into a narrative scene by added backgrounds and surroundings or other figures and details, so that the beholder – without knowledge of the original – cannot fathom that the model for the print was a sculpture? 3

The Challenge of Translating Sculpture in Print: Materiality and the Essence of Sculpture

Taking into consideration the different media and their characteristics, how does the inventor of a design for a print suggest to the spectator that he is representing a statue? The first possibility would be in terms of the material. According to Cree “a two-dimensional engraving cannot replicate the materiality of a three-dimensional marble or bronze”.81 Very important in this regard is Stedman Sheard’s claim in view of Marco Dente’s Lacoon of ca. 1520–1525: Dente’s exquisite and highly differentiated hatching shows the medium’s potential for rendering the hardness of marble surfaces.82 But the question still remains: do printmakers want to translate the characteristics of sculpture into print and to what extent can graphic works of art imitate such materiality convincingly? There are a range of options at the printmaker’s disposal to approach such issues, several of which will be discussed in what follows. For the specific case of marble, the color “white” is a challenge as white spaces in prints could refer to ideas of incompleteness or immateriality. Even the structure of marble or possible toolmarks are difficult to imitate. That is why printmakers commonly refer to secondary characteristics of sculpture like supports or struts, as for example the clearly visible tree trunk in Marcantonio Raimondi’s Apollo Belvedere (fig. 0.2). Furthermore, artists often take advantage of particular features linked to the material, such as the possible fragmentation of a sculpture, which refers in most cases to marble and especially to ancient works. An example is Marcello Fogolino’s etching of a fragmentary

81 82

perfettione, che ben ne sarebbe richiesta”); da Como, Girolamo Muziano 1528–92, 181; Bury, The Print in Italy, 13 and 16, fn. 7. Cree, “Translating Stone into Paper”, 76–77. Exh. Cat. Antiquity in the Renaissance, cat. no. 60 (Stedman Sheard).

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Statue of Venus.83 Another way to explicitly make materiality obvious is the use of an inscription. As already discussed above, in Marcantonio Raimondi’s Apollo Belvedere the artist has included the following information: “Sic Romae ex Marmore sculpto” (fig. 0.2),84 in which the words “marmore” and “sculpto” refer to the medium of sculpture and name the material “marble”. That Raimondi also mentions Rome as its location is significant. Since 1503 the statue was located in the Cortile del Belvedere and therefore had become more visible. Raimondi’s sheet underlines this new visibility. A comparison of this print with Raimondi’s Marcus Aurelius shows that the engraver was very well aware of the challenges of depicting sculpture in print: while he explicitly mentions “marble” in the inscription of his Apollo, he does not specify his Marcus Aurelius as made of bronze. Raimondi might have been sensitive to the fact that because of the dark horse, the emperor had to be rendered quite light, which made him look like marble more than bronze, a fact already criticized by Landau and Parshall (see above). Yet Barbara Furlotti calls Raimondi’s approach a compositional invention which does not reflect the statue’s actual position, but allows the figures to stand out sharply and keeps the viewer’s attention focused on the sculpture.85 Apparently, the engraver had to make an aesthetically based decision between the best visibility of the statue, and the most natural depiction of its materiality. Closely linked to materiality, the most evident and most frequently used attribute of a statue within a print is its base, as already mentioned above. While in the medium of sculpture bases are in most cases part of the work, within prints they may also serve to identify a statue as such. For example, idols are often represented with a base. Nicholas Penny divides bases of statues into the categories of “pedestal” (a vertical support), “plinth” (a horizontal support)

83 Marcello Fogolino, Venus, early 1530s (?), etching with punctuation and drypoint (?), signed “marcelo / fogolino”, Kupferstichkabinett Dresden, inv. A 86129. The print is today preserved in only one copy in Dresden. We do not know whether the print is based on a drawing by another artist or on a study in front of the original of the Afrodite velata, which is today in the Palazzo Ducale in Mantova (Venus, Census-ID 159373. Exh. Cat. Ars Nova. Frühe Kupferstiche aus Italien, cat. no. 191, 247 (Metze). Fogolino shows the statue including its fragmentarily preserved arms. Comparing it to his painting Adoration of Christ in Verona, it can be seen that within the print he decided to include a restored head, which may or may not have been invented by him. The print should therefore rather be considered as an homage to antiquity in contrast to the painting in which he decided to stick more accurately to the fragmentary state. 84 Marcantonio Raimondi, Apollo Belvedere, engraving, 291 mm × 163 mm, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, inv. 49.97.114. 85 Exh. Cat. Marcantonio Raimondi, cat. no. 51, 192 (Furlotti).

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Figure 0.9

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Marcantonio Raimondi, The Martyrdom of Saint Cecilia, ca. 1518, engraving, 234 × 400 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of Henry Walters, 1917 inv. 17.37.151 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

and “socle” (a base that is considerably smaller than the mass it supports).86 It is entirely up to the printmaker, when reproducing an existing statue on a single sheet, whether to copy the base as it is, change existing elements, or even create a completely new base. It is difficult to say whether in the first half of the sixteenth century the base within a print was generally perceived as part of the work of art or whether it was just a way to connect a statue to or distinguish it from its setting. Such assessments can only be made according to a case-by-case analysis. An example in which the base of a statue in an engraving serves to distinguish the work of art from its surroundings is Raimondi’s Martyrdom of Saint Cecilia after Raphael (fig. 0.9).87 The statue of Jupiter in the background would not be recognizable as a sculpture without its base because Raimondi uses no other graphic means – such as scale or material indications – to distinguish Jupiter from the people standing around him. On the contrary, in early photography sometimes humans were placed on socles to make them 86 Penny, “The Evolution of the Plinth, Pedestal, and Socle”, 460–481. 87 Marcantonio Raimondi, The Martyrdom of Santa Cecilia, engraving, 234 × 400 mm, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of Henry Walters, 1917 inv. 17.37.151.

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look like antique sculpture, as for example, in the photographs of the body builder Eugen Sandow.88 Apart from the imitation of material and sculptural characteristics closely linked to materiality, such as the statue’s base, the setting can be used to show that the depicted figure is a sculpture: in some cases, the sculpture is included in an explicit context, most of the time an architectural setting. In Marco Dente’s The Abduction of Helen, for example, there is a statue in the background that is supposed to elaborate on the narrative scene. A figure standing in a niche will quite naturally be identified as a sculpture by the beholder – with printmakers, as well as painters, regularly addressing the ‘paragone’ between sculpture and painting by depicting lifelike statues which transcend sculpture’s real limitations in movement and confinement to a niche or base. Closely linked to setting is the possibility to characterize a figure as a statue by using different proportions as for example can be seen in Hendrick Goltzius’s Farnese Hercules (fig. 0.10). One of the most problematic aspects for representations of sculpture in print is nothing less than one of the defining characteristics of sculpture, that is, its three-dimensionality. Such a feature allows for multiple viewpoints that highlight different aspects of the work (meaning, artifice, etc.). For print­ makers, the only solution is to represent a statue from various points of view or angles in two, three or more prints, which may or may not imply a movement of the eye of the beholder, as suggested by Claudia Echinger-Maurach in her case study on Lucas Kilian within this book. Nevertheless, the plasticity of statues may be approximated by the differentiated use of hatchings which imitate the play of illuminated and shaded parts of an object. 4

Approach of the Volume

Due to the numerous challenges involved in the process of transformation, reproductive prints after sculpture are less often condemned as “copies” or mere “reproductions” than the ones after painting. The present-day beholder must first of all be aware of the fact that former beholders of prints did not necessarily know the “original”. The possibility to constantly compare, as is common practice today, especially via photographs and digital images, was not possible then. Based on this precondition, this book argues that the link between “original” and “reproduction” or “translation” should be seen with different eyes: instead of slavishly comparing small details of the sculpture and the print one 88 Hatt, “Eakins’s Arcadia. Sculpture, Photography, and the redefinition of the classical body”, 63.

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Figure 0.10

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Hendrick Goltzius, Farnese Hercules, ca. 1592, dated 1617, engraving, 421 × 304 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Henry Walters, 1917, inv. 17.37.59 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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should rather ask what kinds of ideological ties have been applied in order to unite or divide both works. Shifting the terms of comparison would also allow for a more differentiated terminology when talking about such works of art. While certain prints intend to reproduce an object meticulously, others can be considered as interpretations (for example a fanciful completion of a fragmentary statue) or as transformations (like the transfer into another context which may make it difficult to recognize the model). In the latter cases the recipient may even be seduced to think, that what he sees in the print is the reproduction of, for instance, a painted work of art, as is the case in Giulio Bonasone’s print after Michelangelo’s Vatican Pietà of 1547 (fig. 0.11).89 Moreover, there are intriguing hybrids, for example a sculpture is reproduced as a sculpture, but in an extreme with a strong use of foreshortening, so that it offers “divergent” facts. Goltzius’s Hercules Farnese, for example, looks gigantic from the chosen perspective that places the beholder at the height of the statue’s feet, showing an angle that is largely exaggerated from what it would be from life, as is the musculature (fig. 0.10). These different ways of “reproducing” sculpture as well as the ways in which the two media diverge, allows for a more detailed insight into the possible reasons for producing such prints and enables us to raise questions about the role and involvement of the audience as well as the demands of the market. As we will be focusing mainly on early examples or singular cases we can only hint at their importance and merits for later developments of sculpture in print or of the comprehension of sculpture in general (formation of a canon, aesthetization of ancient sculptures, standardization of views on sculpture etc.).90 The multitude of engravings, woodcuts and etchings show a highly creative handling of the “original”, which remains the same for both ancient and contemporary sculpture. The essays in this volume reflect these various approaches to the transformation of sculpture in print. 5

Content of This Volume

As discussed above, ancient sculptures entered prints before contemporary sculpture. This accounts for the structure of our book: the first part deals with 89 Barnes, Michelangelo in Print, 145–148; Giulio Bonasone after Michelangelo, Vatican Pietà, 1547, engraving, 269 × 171 mm, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, inv. 59.595.3. Other examples are: Antonio Salamanca after Michelangelo, Vatican Pietà, 1547, engraving, 375 × 263 mm, Fine Arts Museum of San Francisco, inv. 1963.30.36150; and Cherubino Alberti after Michelangelo, Florence Pietà, ca. 1575, 467 × 310 mm, engraving, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawing, London, inv. 1874,0808.598. 90 Such broader questions were dealt with in Exh. Cat. Phönix aus der Asche.

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Figure 0.11

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Giulio Bonasone, Pietà (after the statue of Michelangelo), 1547, engraving, 263 × 171 mm, New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1959, inv. 59.595.3 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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prints after antique works of art, the second part with prints after contemporary, that is, early modern sculpture. There are, of course, many questions and considerations regarding the “reproduction” or even imitation of antique and contemporary sculpture in print that coincide and will be discussed in the articles, among which the question of which viewpoint to choose or of the embedding of a figure into a given context. The article by Madeleine Viljoen, “Aes Incidimus: Early Modern Engraving as Sculpture”, acts as a preface to the volume and tackles a philologically distinctive feature that aligns the artistic practices of printmaking and sculpture: printmakers use the term “sculpsit” as an inscription on their prints to characterize or to single out their share in the work. Examining the rise of these sculptural terminologies in relation to the images on which they appear, the processes used to create them, the growing consciousness of the “metallicity” of the matrices upon which printmakers worked, and the similarities of copperplates to medals, ancient tablets and moveable type, this paper reflects upon what these associations can tell us about early modern attitudes towards the art of engraving. The essay that follows by Gudrun Knaus opens the first section of the book, which is dedicated to antique sculpture imitated or reproduced in early modern prints. The author explores how ancient relief sculpture as well as illustrated manuscripts from early Christianity were combined in order to create the Quos Ego, an engraving by Marcantonio Raimondi based on a design by Raphael. The questions raised by Knaus touch upon the consciously pursued sculptural qualities of figures within the finished work and the creative imitatio of ancient reliefs as part of humanistic discussions. In her analysis of “Marcantonio Raimondi and Fragmentary Ancient Statues: Hypotheses on his Working Method and Antiquarian Practice”, Mandy Richter shows to what extent Marcantonio Raimondi studied fragmentary ancient sculpture in his drawings. Apart from a handful of prints that represent ancient statues in detail, no torsi or other ancient fragments are portrayed in his finished prints. Her essay therefore examines the relationship between the preserved studies and the finished prints, asking whether the comparison can lead to conclusions about Marcantonio’s working method when dealing with ancient torsi or other figural fragments. Maria Gabriella Matarazzo, in “Cherubino Alberti’s Engravings after Polidoro da Caravaggio: From Chiaroscuro to Sculpture”, highlights Cherubino Alberti’s visual strategies for translating Polidoro da Caravaggio’s chiaroscuro facades into print in the later 16th century. She argues that these engravings were meant to dialogue with ancient reliefs, encouraging a sculptural interpretation. She ends her essay with a brief discussion of the role that Alberti’s

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reproductive prints played in the reception of Polidoro’s friezes and their visual assimilation to ancient reliefs. Marzia Faietti finishes this section with “From Sculpture to Print to Sculpture. Parmigianino, Caraglio and the Mystery of the Barberini Faun” in which she analyses the possible pictorial and sculptural models for Gian Giacomo Caraglio’s print Jupiter and Antiope: she argues that the erotic figure of Antiope is the result of a crossover between the Christian visionary nature of Saint Jerome in the Bufalini-Caccialupi altarpiece by Parmigianino and the patheticism of the Laocoon. Faietti then traces possible consequences that the print had on sculptures and their restorations. For the Barberini Faun, for example, Faietti suggests that the print contributed to the fortune of one of the most famous models of classicism. The second part of the present publication collectively explores how contemporary sculpture was included in early modern prints. The essays span from records of now lost models to the question of how contemporary sculptures can be reproduced in an adequate way and how printmakers interpreted sculpture. Anne Bloemacher in “The Reproduction of Sculpture as Sculpture in the 16th Century. Baccio Bandinelli, Giambologna, and Adriaen de Vries” takes a closer look at prints which render contemporary sculptures, from Agostino Veneziano after Baccio Bandinelli, to Andrea Andreani after Giambologna and Jan Muller after Adriaen de Vries. The focus lies on how the materiality of sculpture is rendered in print and which point of view is chosen. Due to the variety of viewing points of many later 16th century figural groups, the latter constituted a special challenge for the printmaker. Bloemacher elaborates which aspects of the sculptural work the printmaker sought to convey and points out that the ‘fast’ medium of print could even respond to contemporary debates on the sculptures. “Young Baccio Bandinelli and the Role of Prints at the Beginning of a Sculptor’s Career” is the focus of Angelika Marinovic’s essay. The author discusses Bandinelli’s use of prints to promote his own sculptural projects, the question of self-presentation and the function of such prints. In this context, Marinovic proposes, a new date of ca. 1515/1516 for Agostino Veneziano’s print of Hercules and Cacus – ­analyzing it for the first time within the context of the engraver’s technical development and placing the invention for the print in Bandinelli’s early œuvre in the first half of the second decade of the 16th century. The next essay in the volume, “Considering the Viewer in Prints of Michelangelo’s Risen Christ. The Cases of Beatrizet and Matham”, by Bernadine Barnes, tackles head-on the problem of the viewer in prints after Michelangelo’s

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sculptures: Barnes demonstrates that printmakers were particularly concerned with the viewer – not just the viewer of the actual sculpture, but also the viewers of their published prints – by drawing on information about the original location and religious function of the sculpture, the printmakers’ backgrounds, and the evidence that the prints themselves provide, such as inscriptions, pose and point-of-view. The focus remains on Michelangelo as we move to Claudia EchingerMaurach’s essay, “On the Genesis of Antonio Tempesta’s Print of King Henry II on Horseback”. Echinger-Maurach analyzes a work of art which records the bronze horse designed by Michelangelo and realized by Daniele da Volterra for Catherine de’ Medici. She confronts the print with studies by Michelangelo to show that large parts of the sculpture as depicted in the print were invented by Tempesta himself in order to sell the print as a counterpart to his etching of the Marcus Aurelius, both addressed and sold as a set to travelers to Rome. Franciszek Skibiński in “Sculpture’s Narrativity in Northern Renaissance Prints” focuses instead on how antique and modern sculptures were contextualized in Northern Renaissance prints, in particular their transformations as part of a larger narrative. Concentrating on the tensions between their material presence as sculptures and connections to animated figures, the author focuses on the nexus between the agency of the object and that of the artist’s interpretation. Turning to sculptural models, Claudia Echinger-Maurach in “Models for Sculptures in Print: Michelangelo’s Samson and two Philistines in Lukas Kilian’s engraving” considers the problem of a connection between a today lost bozzetto and three prints referring to it. Questions regarding possible avenues of transmission as well as viewership are considered and connected to different or complementary kinds of representations in diverse media. In the title of our introduction we quote the poet Giambattista Marino who in 1619, referring to Francesco Villamena’s rendering of Rome in print, pointed out that “by virtue of an ingenious hand, the hardness of marble yields to paper”.91 The aim of our book is to introduce this art of representing sculpture in print and to indicate its wide range of possibilities through case studies. With this volume, we hope to encourage further research in this understudied area of art history. 91 “(…) quanto in virtù d’una ingegnosa mano / la fermezza de’marmi ai fogli cede”, Giovambattista Marino, La Galeria del Cavalier Marino. Le Pitture, Parte Prima, Distina in Favole, Historie, Ritratti, e Capricci, 1619 (“Roma intagliata in rame dal Villamena”); (http://ww2.bibliotecaitaliana.it/xtf/view?docId=bibit000657/bibit000657.xml&chunk .id=d4636e143&toc.id=d4636e143&brand=newlook; 15.6.2020).

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Acknowledgements This publication would not have been possible without the support of many people. First, we would like to thank Walter Melion and Brill (especially Wilma de Weert and Ivo Romein) for their interest and generous support in realizing this book. Furthermore, we would like to extend our thanks to the Association of Print Scholars for sponsoring the sessions in New Orleans in 2018. The support of the Renaissance Society of America, both in accepting all four sessions on “Sculpture in Print, 1480–1600” as well as hosting them in Boston and New Orleans, could not have been more generous. A special thanks goes to the Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz – Max-Planck-Institut which supported intensively our research both with its extensive library as well as all the people working and studying there, in particular its directors Alessandro Nova and Gerhard Wolf. The Deutscher Akademischer Austauschdienst and the Gleichstellungsbüro der Westfälischen Wilhelms-Universität Münster sponsored part of the travel costs. Obviously, the sessions would not have been so fruitful without the presentations, comments, responses and participation of Bernadine Barnes, Claudia Echinger-Maurach, Ruth Ezra, Norberto Gramaccini, Gudrun Knaus, Angelika Marinovic, Maria Gabriella Matarazzo, Franciszek Skibiński, Edward Wouk, and Madeleine Viljoen. In addition, we would also like to thank all the guests in both venues, in Boston and New Orleans, for their participation and questions raised as well as the anonymous peer-reviewers for their helpful feedback. Last but not least, we extend our thanks to Laura Somenzi for proof-reading our introduction and to Miriam Holtkamp for help with the index. Bibliography Argan, Giulio Carlo, “Il valore critico della ‘stampa di traduzione’ ”, in Essays in the history of art presented to Rudolf Wittkower on his sixty-fifth Birthday, ed. Douglas Fraser, Howard Hibbard (London: 1967), 179–181. Barnes, Bernadine, Michelangelo in Print. Reproductions as Response in the SixteenthCentury (Farnham, Surrey and Burlington: 2010). Bloemacher, Anne, Raffael und Raimondi. Produktion und Intention der frühen Druckgraphik nach Raffael (Munich/Berlin: 2016). Borea, Evelina, “Stampe figurative e pubblico dalle origini all’affermazione nell’Cinquecento”, in Storia dell’Arte italiana, part 1, t. II, (Turin: 1979), 317–413. Borea, Evelina, Lo specchio dell’arte italiana. Stampe in cinque secoli (Pisa: 2009). Bury, Michael, “Beatrizet and the ‘reproduction’ of antique relief sculpture”, in Print Quarterly 13 (1996), 111–126.

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Bury, Michael, The Print in Italy, 1550–1620 (London: 2001). da Como, Ugo, Girolamo Muziano 1528–92, Note e documenti (Bergamo: 1930). Cree, Sarah, “Translating Stone into paper: Sixteenth and seventeenth-century prints after antique sculpture”, in Exh. Cat. Paper Museums, The Reproductive Print in Europe, 1500–1800 (David and Alfred Smart Museum of Art, Chicago, Ill., 3.2.– 15.5.2005; Grey Art Gallery and Study Center, New York, NY, 13.9.–3.12.2005), ed. Rebecca Zorach and Elisabeth Rodini (Chicago: 2005), 75–88. Eisenstein, Elizabeth L., The Printing Press as an Agent of Change. Communications and cultural transformations in early-modern Europe (Cambridge: 1980). Emison, Patricia A., Invention and the Italian Renaissance print, Mantegna to Parmigianino (New York, N.Y., Columbia University, Phil. Diss., 1985). Exh. Cat. Antiquity in the Renaissance (Smith College Museum of Art, Northampton, MA, 6.4.–6.6.1978), ed. Wendy Stedman Sheard (Northampton: 1978). Exh. Cat. Ars Nova. Frühe Kupferstiche aus Italien (Kupferstichkabinett Dresden, 11.10.2013–19.1.2014), ed. Gudula Metze (Petersberg: 2013). Exh. Cat. Bilder nach Bildern. Druckgrafik und die Vermittlung von Kunst (LWL-Museum für Kunst und Kultur, Münster, 21.3.–2.5.1976), ed. Bernard Korzus et al. (Münster: 1979). Exh. Cat. Bologna e l’Umanesimo (Pinacoteca Nazionale, Bologna, 6.3.1988–24.4.1988, Graphische Sammmlung Albertina, Vienna, 20.5.–26.6.1988), ed. Marzia Faietti and Konrad Oberhuber (Bologna: 1988). Exh. Cat. Marcantonio Raimondi, Raphael and the Image multiplied (The University of Manchester, The Whitworth, Manchester, 30.9.2016–23.4.2017), ed. Edward H. Wouk and David Morris (Manchester: 2016). Exh. Cat. Phönix aus der Asche. Bildwerdung der Antike – Druckgrafiken bis 1869 (Munich, Zentralinstitut für Kunstgeschichte, 27.06.–22.09.2019), ed. Ulrich Pfisterer and Cristina Ruggero (Petersberg: 2019). Exh. Cat. Prints and related drawings by the Carracci family. A catalogue raisonné (National Gallery of Art, Washington, 18.3.–20.5.1979), ed. Diane DeGrazia (Washington: 1979). Faietti, Marzia, “La trascrizione incisoria”, in Exh. Cat. L’Estasi di Santa Cecilia di Raffaello da Urbino nella Pinacoteca Nazionale di Bologna (Bologna, Pinacoteca Nazionale, 1983), ed. Andrea Emiliani et al. (Bologna: 1983), 186–204. Faietti, Marzia, “Giulio Bonasone disegnatore”, Grafica d’Arte 11 (2000), no. 44, 2–10. Faietti, Marzia, “Andrea Mantegna e i segni dell’antico”, in Mantegna e Roma. L’artista davanti all’antico, eds. Teresa Calvano, Claudia Cieri Via and Leandro Ventura (Rome: 2010), 193–218. Faietti, Marzia, “Il segno di Andrea Mantegna”, in Andrea Mantegna impronta del genio, ed. Rodolfo Signorini, Viviana Rebonato and Sara Tammaccaro (Florence: 2010), t. I, 15–44.

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Faietti, Marzia, “Il segno della ripetizione variata: i libri di disegni dall’antico di Amico Aspertini”, in Libri e album di disegni 1550–1800. Nuove prospettive metodologiche e di esegesi storico-critica, ed. Vita Segreto (Rome: 2018), 11–22. Fiorenza, Giancarlo, “Apollo Dismembered: Love, Initiation, and Idolatry in an Engraving by Marcantonio Raimondi”, in Renaissance Love. Eros, Passion, and Friendship in Italian Art around 1500, ed. Jeanette Kohl, Marianne Koos, Adrian W. B. Randolph (Berlin, Munich: 2014), 105–120. Gazda, Elaine K., ed., The Ancient Art of Emulation. Studies in artistic originality and tradition from the present to classical antiquity (Ann Arbor, MI: 2002). Goddard, Stephen H., “Goltzius Working around Tetrode”, in Exh. Cat. Goltzius & the Third Dimension (Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute, Williamstown, MA, 07.10.2001–06.01.2002; Elvehjem Museum of Art, Madison, WI, 19.01.2002– 16.03.2002; Helen Foresman Spencer Museum of Art, Lawrence, KS, 30.03.2002– 19.05.2002), ed. James A. Ganz and Stephen H. Goddard (Williamstown, MA: 2001), 3–45. Gombrich, Ernst H., “Lo stile «all’antica»: Imitation and Assimilation”, in Norm and Form. Studies in the art of the Renaissance (London: 1996), 122–128. Gramaccini, Norberto and Hans Jakob Meier, Die Kunst der Interpretation. Italienische Reproduktionsgraphik 1485–1600 (Berlin: 2009). Hatt, Michael, “Eakins’s Arcadia. Sculpture, Photography, and the redefinition of the classical body”, in Sculpture and Photography. Envisioning the Third Dimension, ed. Geraldine A. Johnson (Cambridge, MA: 1998), 51–67. Hind, Arthur Mayger, A history of engraving & etching. From the 15th Century to the year 1914 (London: 1923). Hind, Arthur Mayger, Early Italian Engraving, a critical catalogue, 7 vols (London: 1938). Hopkins, Robert, “Reproductive Prints as Aesthetic Surrogates”, The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 73 (2015), no. 1 (Special Issue: Printmaking and Philosophy of Art), 11–21. Ivins, William M., Prints and Visual Communication (Cambridge, MA: 1969) Johnson, Geraldine A., “Sculpture and Photography. Envisioning the Third Dimension”, in Sculpture and Photography. Envisioning the Third Dimension, ed. Geraldine A. ­Johnson (Cambridge: 1998), 1–20. Karpinsky, Caroline, “The Print in Thrall to Its Original: A Historiographic Perspective”, Studies in the History of Art 20 (1989) (Symposium Papers VII: Retaining the Original. Multiple Originals, Copies, and Reproductions), 101–109. Kristeller, Paul, “Über Reproduktionen von Kunstwerken”, Repertorium für Kunstwissenschaft 31 (1908), 538–543. Kristeller, Paul, “Sulle Origini dell’Incisione in Rame in Italia”, Archivio Storico dell’Arte 6 (1893), 391–400.

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Lambert, Susan, The image multiplied. Five Centuries of printed reproductions of Paintings and drawings (New York: 1987). Landau, David and Peter Parshall, The Renaissance Print, 1470–1550 (New Haven and London: 1994). Larkin, Graham and Lisa Pon, “The Materiality of Printed Words and Images”, Word and Image 17 (2001), 1–6. Marcoci, Roxana, “The Original Copy: Photography of Sculpture, 1839 to Today”, in Exh. Cat. The Original Copy. Photography of Sculpture, 1839 to Today (Museum of Modern Art, New York, 1.8.–1.11.2010), ed. Roxana Marcoci (New York: 2010), 12–19. de Maria, Sandro, “Artisti ‘antiquari’ e collezionisti di antichità a Bologna fra XV e XVI secolo”, in Exh. Cat. Bologna e l’Umanesimo (Pinacoteca Nazionale, Bologna, 6.3.1988–24.4.1988, Graphische Sammmlung Albertina, Vienna, 20.5.–26.6.1988), ed. Marzia Faietti and Konrad Oberhuber (Bologna: 1988), 17–42. Marshall, F. A. S., Photography. The Importance of its Application in Preserving Pictorial Records of the National Monuments of History and Art (London: 1855). Melion, Walter, “Hendrick Goltzius’s Project of Reproductive Engraving”, Art History 13 (1990), no. 4, 458–487. Mussini, Massimo, La Bibbia di Raffaello. Scienza e ‘scrittura’ nella stampa di riproduzione dei secoli XVI e XVII (Brescia: 1979). Oberhuber, Konrad, “Raffaello e l’incisione”, in Exh. Cat. Raffaello in Vaticano (Città del Vaticano, Braccio di Carlo Magno, 16.10.1984–16.1.1985), ed. Fabrizio Mancinelli (Rome: 1985), 333–342. Penny, Nicholas, “The Evolution of the Plinth, Pedestal, and Socle”, Studies in the History of Art 70 (2008) (Symposium Papers XLVII: Collecting Sculpture in Early Modern Europe), 460–481. Petrucci, Alfredo, “Disegni e stampe di Marcantonio”, Bollettino d’Arte 30 (1937), 392–406. Petrucci, Alfredo, “Il Mondo di Marcantonio”, ivi, 31 (1937), 31–44. Petrucci, Alfredo, “Linguaggio di Marcantonio”, ivi, 32 (1938), 403–418. Pittaluga, Mary, L’Incisione italiana nel Cinquecento (Milan: 1928). Pon, Lisa, Raphael, Dürer, and Marcantonio Raimondi. Copying and the Italian Renaissance Print (New Haven: 2004). Richter, Mandy, Die Renaissance der Kauernden Venus. Ihr Nachleben zwischen Aktualisierung und Neumodellierung 1500–1570 (Wiesbaden: 2016). Rosenberg, Raphael, “The reproduction and publication of Michelangelo’s Sacristy. Drawings and prints by Franco, Salviati, Naldini and Cort”, in Reactions to the master, ed. Francis Ames-Lewis and Paul Joannides (Aldershot [i.a.]: 2003), 114–136. Ruskin, John, Lectures on art (delivered before the University of Oxford in Hilary Term, 1870) [reprint of the edition Oxford 1870] (London: 1903).

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Schmidt, Peter, “Die Erfindung des vervielfältigten Bildes: Reproduktion und Wahrheit im 15. Jahrhundert”, in Imagination und Repräsentation. Zwei Bildsphären der Frühen Neuzeit, ed. Horst Bredekamp, Christiane Kruse, Pablo Schneider (Munich: 2010), 119–147. Schröder, Karoline: Ein Bild von Skulptur. Der Einfluss von Fotografie auf die Wahrnehmung von Bildhauerei (Bielefeld: 2018). Schwartz, Hillel, The culture of the copy: Striking likenesses, Unreasonable facsimiles (Cambridge, MA: 1998). Seznec, Jean, Denis Diderot. Diderot Salons (Oxford: 1979), t. 2 (Salon 1765). Simons, Patricia, “Mantegna’s Battle of the Sea Gods: the material and thematic interaction of print and sculpture”, in Prints in Translation, 1450–1750. Image, Materiality, Space, ed. Suzanne Karr Schmidt and Edward H. Wouk (London, New York: 2017), 89–113. Soll, Ivan, “La re-invención de la rueda: Reflexiones quijotescas sobre la repetición y la creatividad”, Politeia 25 (2000), 43–54. Stedman Sheard, Wendy, The Tomb of Doge Andrea Vendramin in Venice by Tullio Lombardo, 3 vols., PhD Diss., (Yale University, New Haven: 1971). Unknown Author, “Photographs of the Sculpture of the Great Exhibition”, Art Journal 2 (1863), 68. Vasari, Giorgio, Le Vite de’ più eccellenti pittori scultori e architettori nelle redazioni del 1550 e 1568, ed. Rosanna Bettarini, Paola Barocchi (Florence: 1971), t. 3. Wickhoff, Franz, “Beiträge zur Geschichte der reproduzierenden Künste: Marcantonios Eintritt in den Kreis römischer Künstler”, Jahrbuch der Kunsthistorischen Samm­lungen des Allerhöchsten Kaiserhauses 20 (1899), 181–194. Wood, Christopher S., Forgery, Replica, Fiction. Temporalities of German Renaissance Art (Chicago: 2008). Wouk, Edward H., “Toward an anthropology of print”, in Prints in Translation, 1450–1750. Image, Materiality, Space, ed. Suzanne Karr Schmidt and Edward Wouk (London: 2017), 1–18.

Part 1 Antique Sculpture

⸪

Chapter 1

Aes Incidimus: Early Modern Engraving as Sculpture Madeleine C. Viljoen Scholars of early modern painting, sculpture and drawing are accustomed to dealing with tricky questions of attribution – only on rare occasions did their makers sign their works. From the time engraved images went into circulation in the mid-fifteenth century, by contrast, printmakers regularly employed monograms, signographic devices and partial or full names in combination with a range of Latin verbs to indicate their part in cutting or engraving their printing plates. Fecit (he or she made) was common initially, but by the middle of the sixteenth century European printmakers introduced and increasingly adopted the terms sculpsit, incidit, and caelavit to signal their roles in incising their matrices.1 Intending to clarify the unfamiliar jargon, glossaries of printmaking render the three verbs uniformly as “has engraved.”2 Undeniably handy, compilations like these have the virtue of offering easily digestible information on the peculiarities of the print inscription. Assembled for rapid reference, they also lack nuance, leaving little room for more sustained contemplation of what the terms may tell us about the printed image at this moment in the history of art. The action of engraving on copper is the removal of material from the matrix by pushing a ‘burin’ or ‘graver’ through the metal plate parallel to its surface to create recessed grooves that will capture ink. The tool used to perform this motion consists of a steel shaft, which the user grips with a wooden handle, driving the lozenge-shaped tip into the plate. After inking and wiping, the plate is forced through a press against dampened paper. The ink, pulled from inside the lines, transfers onto the paper, printing the incised image in reverse. While the process of incising lines into the metal plate may bear some resemblance to the act of cutting or carving and the black and white images 1 Landau and Parshall, The Renaissance Print, 288, 306. Griffiths, Printmaking before Photography, 82. 2 In addition to dictionaries of printmaking terms, glossaries offer useful advice on a range of print inscriptions. Among many, see Simmons, Dictionary of Printmaking Terms; and Stijnman, Engraving and Etching 1400–2000: A History of the Development of Manual Intaglio Printmaking Processes, 415–418.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | doi:10.1163/9789004445864_003

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the matrices yielded may be thought to present qualities of monochrome statuary, the printed sheets of paper themselves are not sculptural in any obvious way. Sixteenth-century printmakers and commentators, nonetheless, described their prints in terms that are indebted to the language of sculpture, a mindset that is not reproduced in accounts of the medium today. Wherein did early modern printmakers locate the sculptural qualities of the works they created and what can the introduction of terms like sculpsit, incidit and caelavit as well as other telltale textual and indexical markers tell us about evolving attitudes towards prints? This hitherto under-studied sensibility, which comes to the fore by the mid-sixteenth century and quickly becomes a matter of convention – losing with it some of the subtlety of meaning that resided in the original choice of terminology – is the topic of this essay. David Landau connects the introduction of the Latin sculpsit and other sculptural terms to the interest in antiquities that swept across the publishing industry, linking the verb to the prevalence of representations of classical sculpture in prints from the 1550s and earlier.3 Elaborating on this thesis in a footnote, he asserts: “The verb sculpsit is used in different forms on a number of prints, but always in connection with statuary, and it is obvious that in these instances it refers to the object being represented.”4 He supports this proposition with reference to engravings by Marcantonio Raimondi and his followers, including the Apollo Belvedere, the equestrian sculpture of Marcus Aurelius and others, which include inscriptions that employ the past participle sculpto from the Latin verb sculpere. Agreeing with the ablative neuter nouns marmore and aere, however, the past participle sculpto in each case tells us something about the material from which the sculptures were made: sculpto marmore (sculpted marble) in the case of the Apollo Belvedere and aere sculp (sculpted bronze) in the case of the bronze Marcus Aurelius on horseback. The term has nothing, however, to say about the plate or about the engraver’s role in incising lines into it. Landau further states that the first instances of the word ‘sculptor’ to indicate the printmaker’s role in incising the plate belong to Giovanni Battista Scultori, who used this term to sign his 1538 engraving of The Trojans Repelling the Greeks after Giulio Romano as well as (Fig. 1.1) his 1550 engraving of David and Goliath likewise after Giulio Romano. While the word attractively puns on his name, Scultori, the use of the term does not relate to or reflect on the prints’ themes, which is to say that none of the 3 Landau and Parshall, The Renaissance Print, 306. 4 The works Landau refers to are Marcantonio Raimondi (Bartsch 330, 331, 340, 341); Agostino Veneziano (Bartsch 301); Marco Dente (Bartsch 242, 515). Landau and Parshall, The Renaissance Print, 405, note 219.

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Figure 1.1

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Giovanni Battista Scultori, The Trojans Repelling the Greeks, 1538, engraving, 405 × 580 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-39.189 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

engravings employs the Latin terms in conjunction with the representation of sculpture.5 The term is notably absent, moreover, from subjects that are inspired by sculpture, such as his 1538 engraving of the goddess Pallas Athena, rendering it unlikely that the prints’ portrayal of statuary is at stake, an idea that is central to Landau’s argument (Fig. 1.2). Enea Vico was the next to apply the term to his prints, and Landau suggests he may have been inspired to use the term after copying works in Cardinal della Valle’s antique sculpture garden, but, as in the case of Scultori, Vico’s prints after ancient marbles lack the sculpsit terminology.6 The dating Landau gives for Vico’s first use of the term on a print, in the early 1540s, is based, moreover, on a misapprehension of the date when that inscription was added to it. Known as the Academy of Baccio Bandinelli, the engraving portrays a group of students drawing examples of diminutive sculptures and human bones by candlelight. The first state of that 5 Ibidem, 306. 6 Ibidem, 306.

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Figure 1.2

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Giovanni Battista Scultori, Pallas Athena, 1538, engraving, 170 × 98 mm, Philadelphia, Philadelphia Museum of Art, inv. 1985-52-26130

print created circa 1544 (Fig. 1.3) includes the inscription “Baccius Bandinellus invenit” on a book propped open on a shelf in the right corner, but omits the lettering “Enea Vigo Parmegiano sculpsit,” which was only added in an intermediate state, completed around 1561 (Fig. 1.4), as well as in a subsequent second state, published after 1567.7 Thus, while Vico used the term sculpsit to describe his role in engraving the plate, we have to place the date of his first use of the 7 Thomas, “The Academy of Baccio Bandinelli”, 3–14.

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Figure 1.3

Enea Vico, The Academy of Baccio Bandinelli, ca. 1544, engraving, 307 × 476 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-38.316 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

Figure 1.4

Enea Vico, The Academy of Baccio Bandinelli, ca. 1561–62, engraving, 296 × 472 mm, Philadelphia, Philadelphia Museum of Art, inv. 1985-52-1864

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term a little under twenty years later, at a point when other sources of inspiration for thinking about prints in terms of sculpture need to be taken into consideration and offer richer and more plausible explanation. Without disavowing the possibility that Giovanni Battista Scultori’s last name may have suggested the Latin noun sculptor as a witty gag on his name, I propose that equivalencies between printmaking and sculpture have deeper roots and more profound means of expression. Printmakers’ consciousness of working in copper, a hyper-awareness of the metallicity of the supports upon which they operated, the intertwined histories of goldsmithing and engraving, and the correspondences between copperplate engraving, medals, ancient tablets and moveable type are linked to a pan-European sensibility that mobilizes an analogy between intaglio printmaking and sculpture around the mid-sixteenth century. Jacob Binck’s engraving of the Augsburg entrepreneur and businessman Joachim Hoechstetter offers a good point of departure for such an argument (Fig. 1.5). Dated 1532, Binck renders Hoechstetter bust length in three-quarter profile, adding a Latin inscription that states: “The German Apelles has sculpted those faces you discern and has uncommonly expressed a work of nobility, for such truly now is the image of Ioachim Hoecstter [sic], the Augsburg citizen conveys with this copper” [QUOS CERNIS VULTUS SCULPSIT GERMANUS APELLES/ ET RARE EXPRESSIT NOBILITATIS OPUS/ QUALIS ENIM NUNC EST IOACHIM HOECSTTER IMAGO/ VINDELICE AUGUSTE CIVIS HOC AERE REFERT]. The product of a German Apelles who “sculpted” the work, the eulogy appears to confound the sculptor Phidias with the painter Apelles, a mix- up that finds some support in the compositional type on which the engraving relied. The printmaker’s portrayal of Hoechstetter behind a parapet with an inscription engraved on a stone plaque harkens back to a compositional type employed by the fifteenth-century Netherlandish painter Jan van Eyck (Fig. 1.6). Depicted from his chest up behind a chipped stone partition on which the inscription “Leal Souvenir” and sgraffito-like scratches are fictively scored, van Eyck’s rendering of the person as a bust with an inscription below has been recognized as having precedents in ancient Roman funerary sculpture (Fig. 1.7).8 Whereas those stele are monochrome, the painting profits from color, and van Eyck uses a vivid palette of complementary red and green hues to enliven the sitter, contrasting the vigor of the figure with the

8 Schmitt, “Images and the Work of Memory”, 24; Belting and Kruse, Die Erfindung des Gemäldes: das erste Jahrhundert der niederländischen Malerei, 48–50.

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Figure 1.5

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Jacob Binck, Portrait of Joachim Hoechstetter, 1532, engraving, 125 × 108 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1874.0808.2369 © The Trustees of the British Museum

inertness of the rock-hewn balcony behind which he stands.9 Deploying the format van Eyck had popularized for early modern portrait painting, Binck’s monochrome engraving cannot make such distinctions, however. Printing uniformly as black lines on white paper in a manner the late sixteenth-century Flemish painter and writer Carel van Mander would later grumble rendered 9 Belting, (trans.) Hansen and Hansen, Face and Mask: A Double History, 118.

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Figure 1.6

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Jan van Eyck, Leal Souvenir, 1432, oil on oak panel, 333 × 189 mm, London, National Gallery, inv. NG290

Early Modern Engraving as Sculpture

Figure 1.7

Funerary altar of Cominia Tyche, ca. A.D. 90–100, marble, h. 101.6 cm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Philip Hofer, 1938, inv. 38.27 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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prints with the look of marble, sixteenth-century reproductive engravings are challenged to distinguish between different media and are consequently obliged to include wording to apprise the viewer of the materials in which their subjects were made.10 Marco Dente’s engraving of the bronze equestrian sculpture of circa 1517–1519, for example, bears the inscription: “SIC ROME AERE SCULP. ANTE PORTAM ECCL. S. JOHANI LAHER” [“Sculpted in this manner in bronze in Rome in front of the Church of St. John the Lateran.”] (Fig. 1.8). The viewer to whom the original work was perhaps unknown – and it is worth bearing in mind that works like this one were in part destined for an emerging market of “virtual tourists” – might well have erroneously assumed that the work was shaped in marble.11 The engraved lettering thus serves both to impart the information that the sculpture was crafted in bronze and to prevent the observer from falsely concluding that the work, like much extant ancient statuary, was formed in marble. Much as that work seeks to distinguish the material in which the monument was executed, Binck adds wording “hoc aere refert” to draw attention to the bronze or copper in which it was wrought. While Dente’s inscription has the advantage of offering clarity on the medium in which the horse and its rider were fashioned, no such certainty is achieved with Binck’s “hoc aere refert,” whose referent remains unclear. Is Bink’s “aere” asking viewers to infer that the half-length portrait of Hoechstetter is a sort of bronze bust or to be cognizant of the (unseen underlying) copper matrix on which the printmaker worked to create the engraved sheet? This lack of specificity sows confusion, encouraging a slippage between the figure as a sculptural half-length bronze and the copper support on which the figure was conceived. The effect conflates the plate with the sculptural representation it depicts, a circumstance that points to the circulation of early modern ideas about engraving as a form of sculptural practice. With regard to the other Latin terms that are employed on engravings to describe the printmaker’s role in creating the print, it is worth noting that caelare was used in antiquity to denote the act of incising or carving bas-reliefs in metals, particularly the chasing of metalwork in relief, while incidere was occasionally used to describe engraving in marble, but more often than not referred to the act of engraving bronze.12 The choice of verbs evokes printmak10 Van Mander, Grondt der Edelvry Schilderkonst, Chapter 5:42. 11 Zorach, The Virtual Tourist in Renaissance Rome: Printing and Collecting the Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae, 11–23. 12 A Latin Dictionary revised, enlarged, and in great part rewritten by Charlton T. Lewis and Charles Short (Oxford, 1879): “Caelatura: the art of engraving or carving bas-reliefs in metals and ivory, engraving, celature.” See also Faber, “Vergil Eclogue 3.37, Theocritus 1 and

Early Modern Engraving as Sculpture

Figure 1.8

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Marco Dente, Equestrian Statue of Marcus Aurelius, ca. 1520, engraving, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection and Fund, 1959, inv. 59.570.282 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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ing’s origins in metalwork. Among the very first to write about printed images and their makers, Giorgio Vasari gives the invention to the fifteenth-century Florentine goldsmith Maso Finiguerra who, he claims, pulled paper impressions from nielli and other decorative metal works.13 We may quibble with this narrative, yet evidence points to the pivotal role goldsmiths played in the development and progress of intaglio printmaking, especially in the early years of print. The most influential fifteenth-century printmakers, including Martin Schongauer, Israel van Meckenem, the Master E. S. and Antonio Pollaiuolo, were all goldsmiths. Eager to show off their skills, they flaunted their expertise in engravings aimed at showcasing their extraordinary technical proficiency while demonstrating their familiarity with patterns for metal ware. Pollaiuolo, for example, strips his ten men of the merest shred of drapery, but equips them with highly wrought shields, axes, swords and daggers, lavishing on these metal objects an attentiveness that seems out of keeping with the figures’ conspicuous state of undress (Fig. 1.9). And when Martin Schongauer engraved a richly ornamented micro-architectural censer, rendering with breathtaking skill the vessel’s intricate filigree, openwork, and the individual loops of the coiling chains from which the object was to be suspended, he merged his treatment of the metal subject with the intaglio medium in which he created it (Fig. 1.10). As Max Lehrs has observed, moreover, Schongauer consistently used a monogram composed of his initials and a cross with a “Häkchen” or a little hook, which he describes as equivalent to the goldsmith’s Werkzeichen or hallmark.14 The care Schongauer gave to tagging his printing plates with a professional device specific to goldsmiths indicates not only a high level of self-consciousness and pride in his profession, but also a recognition of his craft’s and by extension prints’ ancestry in the art of working metals. The instrumentality of the copper matrix in facilitating the creation of the printed image is corroborated by the goldsmith’s Zeichen a sign that persists in the imprinted sheet as an index of the work’s original, but all but invisible, metallic substrate. Returning to the Latin aes, which we have seen Binck and Dente used in the ablative form aere to describe features of their work, it is worth noting the term’s multivalence, which could denote a range of base metals, including copper, and alloys, such as bronze and brass. Classical authors additionally employed the word metonymically to refer to everything made or prepared Hellenistic Ekphrasis”, 411, who notes with regard to classical sources that the caelatura “… is the art, quae auro, argento, aere, ferro opera efficit.” (the art which accomplishes work in gold, silver, bronze and iron). According to Lewis and Short, op. cit., moreover, the verb incidere appears most often in conjunction with the word aes. 13 Vasari, Le Vite de’ più eccelenti pittori scultori ed architetti, 395. 14 Lehrs, Katalog der Kupferstiche Martin Schongauers, 26.

Early Modern Engraving as Sculpture

Figure 1.9

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Antonio Benci called Antonio del Pollaiolo, Battle of the Nudes, 1470s–80s, engraving, 424 × 609 mm, Cleveland, The Cleveland Museum of Art, Purchase from the J. H. Wade Fund, inv. 1967.127

from copper and bronze, including statues, tables of laws, money, and medals.15 Playing with just these sorts of meanings, a late sixteenth-century medal honoring the printmaker Diana Scultori invokes the printing plates’ communality with the ancient medaglia (Fig. 1.11). Inscribed AES INCIDIMUS, we engrave/ carve or copper/bronze, the medal’s reverse pictures Diana’s hand silhouetted against an oval printmaking plate on which an image of the Virgin and Child is engraved.16 In an act that celebrates printmaking’s reliance on aes to create engraved images the medaglia pictures Diana’s hand incising a metal plate that is both the face of the medal’s verso and the very material in which the object itself was wrought. A word that was understood in the sixteenth century

15 Lewis and Short, A Latin Dictionary: “Aes, aeris II. Metonymic: (Esp. in the poets.) For everything made or prepared from copper, bronze, etc. (statues, tables of laws, money), and (as the ancients had the art of hardening and tempering copper and bronze) weapons, armor, utensils of husbandry.” 16 See Viljoen, “Paper Value: Marcantonio Raimondi’s Medaglie Contraffatte”, 39.

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Figure 1.10

Viljoen

Martin Schongauer, The Censer, ca. 1480–85, engraving, 271 × 207 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1926, inv. 26.41 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Early Modern Engraving as Sculpture

Figure 1.11

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Medallist T.R., Commemorative Medal of Printmaker Diana Scultori, ca. 1570, cast bronze medal, 40 mm diameter, London, British Museum, inv. G3,IP.688

to derive etymologically from the Latin metalla (or metals), the medaglia or medal is the perfect vehicle for commemorating the printmaker’s metal art.17 The Latin term aes held special meaning for Enea Vico, among the first printmakers to introduce the verb “sculpsit” to describe his role in working the copper printing plate. Indeed, much as Giovanni Battista Scultori may have used the noun sculptor to pun on his professional affiliation with engraving, Vico signed several of his prints with a Latinate version of his forename that is similarly related to his occupation. Vico’s well-known 1550 engraving of Charles V is signed, for example, in the bottom right corner: ‘Inventum Sculptumque ab Aenea Vico’ (Fig. 1.12). The spelling of his first name happens to coincide with the Latin adjective aeneus, meaning of copper/bronze, as is evident in Nicolas Beatrizet’s 1548 depiction of the sculpture of Marcus Aurelius, which an inscription describes as “statua aenea” or a bronze statue (Fig. 1.13). Vico’s print is based on a portrait painted by Titian, which he imbued with a new semisculptural, medal-like format adding an impressive triumphal arch and countless figures whose iconography the artist explained in a short treatise titled Sopra L’Effigie.18 In the preface to Vico’s text, Anton Francesco Doni declared: 17 Agustín, Dialoghi … intorno alle medaglie, inscrittioni et altre antichita. (Rome [1592]), fol. 2: “… l’idioma Italiano & lo Spagnuolo … derivi della parola Latina metalla, ancorche non sia il medesimo il sentimento, ma perche la materia, di che le medaglie son fatte, sono i metalli d’oro, dell’argento, & del rame, o bronzo, non sarà stato gran fatto il produrne un nome ch dinoti in generale la lor materia.” 18 Doni, Dichiarazione sopra l’effigie di Cesare fatta da M. Enea Vico da Parma (Venice, 1550), preface.

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“In this imperial medal one will see how diligent Enea has been in engraving.” (“In questa medaglia imperiale vedra quanto sia stato diligente M. Enea nel taglio.”). Conflating the print’s fictive medallic format with an actual medaglia, Doni’s eulogy suggests that the engraving allows us to appreciate Vico’s industry in cutting medals rather than in incising prints. Just as the Latin aes was a metonym for the medaglia, the medal is a sort of metonym for the printmaker’s art, a notion that we may now also see at play in Diana Scultori’s commemorative medaglia (Fig. 1.11). The idea may be traced to ideas that circulated as early as 1510. In a letter to Agostino Maffei, Pomponio Leto, the well-known head of the Roman Academy, claimed that printing was an ancient art that had been lost and recently revived.19 The German humanist Konrad Peutinger, in an announcement that points to the continued currency of Leto’s opinions twenty years later, stated that while Leto was correct in asserting that the Roman god Saturn was the first to mint coins and inscribe bronze tablets and also that the ancients had written on copper, he was amiss to think that they had used the faces of these metal objects to impress letters or images on paper.20 Right or wrong, such ideas had traction. John Evelyn, in an important work significantly titled Sculptura or the History and Art of Chalcography, first published in 1662, echoes the idea that the invention of print would not have been possible had it not been for the “Greeks and inventive Romans, who engraved so many inscriptions both in brass and marble, impressed and published so many thousands of medals and coins….”21 Sculptura in aes is the title of Jan Collaert’s well-known illustration of a sixteenth-century engraving workshop (Fig. 1.14). Published by Philip Galle at the end of the sixteenth century after a drawing by Giovanni Stradano, the work is part of a series of prints celebrating novel inventions or Nova Reperta. An inscription below elaborates: “The sculptor with this new art, engraves figures in metallic plates and imprints with pressure” (Sculptor nova arte, bracteata in lamina/scalpit figuras proelis imprimit). Ostensibly a depiction about the innovative art of “sculpting” copper, the image instead shows a room filled with figures engaged in a variety of tasks, just one of whom, the older bespectacled engraver in the right foreground, actually cuts a plate. He is attended by two young apprentices, one of whom eagerly shows off a design to his master. At the bottom a young trainee busily copies a model print with a quill pen, 19 Viljoen, “Paper Value,” 211–212. 20 Ibidem, 211–212. 21 Evelyn, Sculptura, or, The history and art of chalcography, and engraving in copper: with an ample enumeration of the most renowned masters and their works: to which is annexed, a new manner of engraving, or mezzotinto (London, 1775), 42.

Early Modern Engraving as Sculpture

Figure 1.12

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Enea Vico, Portrait of Charles V, 1550, engraving, 516 × 367 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-1904-1363 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

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Figure 1.13

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Nicolas Beatrizet, Marcus Aurelius, 1548, engraving, 342 × 244 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-1955-316 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

Early Modern Engraving as Sculpture

Figure 1.14

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Workshop of Philips Galle (after Giovanni Stradano), “Sculptura in Aes” from Nova Reperta, published by Philips Galle ca. 1600, engraving, 202 × 271 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1953, inv. 53.600.1823 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

while at center a man heats a matrix over a flame in an effort to make it more receptive to the greasy and messy printer’s ink from which he protects himself with a heavy apron. A second worker inks and wipes another plate in preparation for the press. In the rear, a figure hangs up prints on a rack to dry, while a man on the far right tightens the printing press by pulling on the wheel with both his arms and strenuously pushing on it with his left leg, an activity that requires the full weight of his body. Leonardo who sought to assert the primacy of painting over sculpture in his famous paragone of the two arts would have had much to complain about the working conditions of sixteenth-century print shops.22 Like the art of sculpture, which Leonardo remarked was loud and required considerable physical effort causing perspiration to mingle with grit and turn to mud, printmaking was a noisy, sweaty and thoroughly dirty business. The studio teems with chattering workmen and the job of at least 22 See Farago, Leonardo da Vinci’s Paragone, 256–257; and Goffen, Renaissance Rivals: Michelangelo, Leonardo, Raphael, Titian, 65.

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one of the artisans involved in the process involves brute force.23 Surrounded by soiled plates, grimy inks, as well as mordants made of lye, ammonia and stale urine, the filthy, backbreaking, and raucous conditions of sculptura in aes aligned the production of engraving with those Leonardo characterized as belonging to sculpture. Cornelis Cort’s slightly earlier 1578 print after a drawing by Giovanni Stradano similarly characterizes printmaking as the art of incising copper (Fig. 1.15). Known as The Practice of the Visual Arts, the engraving portrays a range of arts in single image, including painting, architecture, casting and copperplate engraving in the right foreground. Seated at a worktable bottom left, the engraver drives his burin into the plate. Dangling off the edge of the table, a sheet of paper identifies what he is doing as “Typorum aeneorum incisoria,” a choice of wording that closely relates to that found in other mid-sixteenthcentury prints, including an engraving by Jacob Bos of Mars Wearing a Cuirass (1562) which is inscribed “Ant Salamanca aeneis typis suis delineavit” [Ant[onio] Salamanca has drawn [this image] with his copper plates]. Print glossaries suggest that the term “typis” was included to mean something like “has printed the text, or owner of the printing plate,” and it is the latter meaning that no doubt applies to the publisher Salamanca’s engraving of Mars.24 Like the Latin noun aes, however, the nominative typus (whence the genitive plural “typorum” stems) used within the contexts of both Cort’s and Bos’s images has multiple meanings referring as in Cort’s and Bos’s images to a plate, but also to a form, character or type.25 Not surprisingly, therefore, the formulation is common in book publishing, as in the case of Ptolemy’s Tetrabiblos: issued in Nuremberg in 1535, the volume includes the wording “Hoc in libro nunqua[m] ante typis aeneis in lucem edita haec insunt” [In this book there are these subjects never brought to light before metal type], a turn of phrase, I suggest, that must have inspired the language of printed images (Fig. 1.16). I have already drawn attention to some of the affinities between print and book publishing. It is a point worth accentuating, however, not only because the intersections between printed texts and images are critical to an understanding of the analogy between engraving and sculpture, but also because 23

Compare here the description of an eighteenth-century French printing atelier offered by Darnton, The Business of Enlightenment: a publishing history of the Encyclopédie, 242–243. 24 Stijnman, Engraving and Etching 1400–2000: A History of the Development of Manual Intaglio Printmaking Processes, 413–418. 25 The Latin typus derives from the Ancient Greek τύπος, referring to the effect of a blow or of pressure, or the print or impress of a seal. Latter day “seals”, early modern metal type was printed under pressure and produced unvaried impressions. See Liddell and Scott, An Intermediate Greek-English Lexicon.

Early Modern Engraving as Sculpture

Figure 1.15

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Cornelis Cort (after Giovanni Stradano), The Practice of the Visual Arts, 1578, engraving, 428 × 286 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1926, inv. 53.600.509 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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Figure 1.16

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Claudij Ptolemaei … libri quatuor compositi Syro fratri … Nuremberg: apud Ioannem Petreium, 1535, The New York Public Library, Rare Book Collection, inv. *KB 1535

scholars regularly fail to consider the printed image in conjunction with the published word. Long before printmakers began attributing sculptural qualities to their pictures, book publishers were printing books with metal types that contemporaries hailed as examples of “sculpted” texts. As early as 1471 the French printer and publisher Nicolas Jenson is described as a “librorum exsculptorem” (sculptor/excavator of books) while early descriptions of metal type greet the invention as offering the ability to circulate books with “litteris sculptis” (sculpted letters).26 In 1475 the important Nuremberg printer Friedrich Creusner even states that he had “sculpted” Poggio Bracciolini’s Facetiae: “hoc opus exiguum sculpsit Friedrich Creusner sua fabrili arte”, it states.27 The 26 Laire, Index Librorum ab Inventa Typographia ad annum 1500, Part I, 244; and Reed, A History of the Old English Letter Foundries, 7. 27 Panzer, Älteste Buchdruckergeschichte Nürnbergs, 176.

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German humanist scholar and poet Conrad Celtes, finally, eulogized Johannes Gutenberg’s achievement in a 1503 volume stating: [On the other bank of the Main river lie Frankfurt and Aschaffenburg and the mountains opposite Mainz, the place that first sculpted solid letters in bronze (quae prima sculpsit solidos aere characters) and taught how to write with letters in reverse”].28 The comparison of metal type with sculpture makes a certain amount of sense. Designing and casting metal type was carried out in the print shop during the early years following the invention of printing. The punch-cutter first carved a letter in reverse and relief on top of a steel bar, and it was this act of cutting and paring that must have suggested the association of printed texts to sculpture. Given the knowledge of metals this required, the task was usually performed by artists trained to cut and pour various alloys, which is to say by goldsmiths or die-cutters. Johannes Gutenberg, Nicolas Jenson, Johann Fust, Georg Husner and Matthias Zasinger are among the many printer-publishers with this professional background. By the mid-sixteenth century, publishers in several European cities demonstrate their willingness to work equally in the production and circulation of texts and images, encouraging the sculptural sensibility that already undergirded contemporary understanding of metal type to become attached to that of the copper matrix. It seems no accident that Enea Vico, one of the first printmakers to employ the new sculptural terminologies for his role in working the plate is amid the first generation of sixteenth-century reproductive engravers to find employment within the book industry. Hired first by Pietro Paolo Palumbo, a book publisher from Novara who ran his shop in Rome, he later made engravings for Antonio Salamanca, a Spanish-born publisher who settled in Rome. Experienced in issuing both printed books and images, Salamanca published at least ten texts, primarily in Spanish language between 1520 and 1556, while also around 1538 starting to produce illustrations of famous antiquities.29 An early partner of Salamanca, Antonio Lafreri a Frenchman who operated his business in Rome from 1544–77, took over the Spaniard’s operations in 1538 and is today widely celebrated for his role in developing the ambitious Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae. The print of the River God Tiber attributed to Nicolas Beatrizet, was made in conjunction with this effort (Fig. 1.17). Featuring a conspicuously long inscription, the text addresses the viewer as “candide lector”: “ECCE TIBI CANDIDE LECTOR TIBERIS FLVVI SIMVLACHRVM …” [Here for you, dear reader is an image of the River Tiber]. Its companion, an engraving 28 Cited in Meerman, Origines Typographicae, 143: “Ex altera autem Moeni ripa, ubi Francifordiam et Asiburgium urbes, montesque e regione Maguntiae Urbis, quae prima sculpsit solidos aere characters et versis docuit scriber literis.” 29 See Bury, The Print in Italy, 230 and Thomas, “The Academy of Baccio Bandinelli,” 13.

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Figure 1.17

Viljoen

Nicolas Béatrizet (attributed to), The River Nile, mid sixteenth century, engraving, 332 × 557 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-1926-326 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

of the Nile River God with a similarly lengthy greeting, meanwhile, hails the observer as “studiose lector” [Studious or learned reader]. Comparable salutations appear on the frontispieces to texts of Erasmus published in 1521 and of Valentinus Curio published in 1523, illustrating the myriad ways in which the publication of sixteenth-century printed images formed part of continuum with printed texts, designed to be seen as much as read (Fig. 1.18). The textual conceit of Beatrizet’s engraving, finally, is complemented by a typographic layout that follows formats of printed books, rendering the introductory address in lines of ever decreasing numbers of words to give it the effect of a triangle. What is different from the arrangements in early printed books, however, is the engraving’s reliance on capitalized Roman lettering throughout – rather than a combination of upper and lower case – a style that is more reminiscent of ancient epigraphy than of early modern printed texts. Referring to itself within the lengthy inscription as a tabella and later as an aenea tabula, Beatrizet’s engraving of the River God conceives itself as a counterpart to or perhaps in a continuum with the classical inscription in metal (or perhaps marble), a conceit that could only be accommodated by compressing the original River God that is carved in the round to a state of virtually flat relief sculpture. The text that is inserted into the

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Figure 1.18 Erasmus, Parabolas sive similia, Mainz: Schoeffer, 1521, Frontispiece, Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, A.gr.c. 174 f

space at top left above Beatrizet’s supine figure now reads readily as part of an an extended bas-relief-like tablet. Ancient metal inscriptions including well-known tablets of law, military decrees, and votives are quite rare, often because they were melted down to produce other artifacts, though textual commentary and surviving examples show that Renaissance artists were familiar with them (Fig. 1.19). Particularly popular in early modern prints were versions of classical tabulae ansatae, tablets that are recognizable by their rectangular form with distinctive dovetail

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Figure 1.19

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Fragment of a bronze military diploma, AD 113/114, Roman, bronze, 7.8 x 7 × 0.2 cm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1921, inv. 23.160.52 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

handles and that in antiquity were as likely to be executed in metal as in marble. A premier site for textual inscription in ancient times, the tabula ansata, or winged tablet, is commonly employed as a device on which the early modern engraver would announce his identity, as in the case of Pollaiuolo’s Battle of the Ten Nudes, which states: “OPUS ANTONII POLAIOLI FLORENTINI” (Fig. 1.9).30 Suspended from a thick textile filament threaded through holes 30

In antiquity, the tabula ansata was employed to frame texts alone, while circular or shield shapes were used to frame both texts and images. See Leatherbury, “Framing Late Antique Texts as Monuments: The Tabula Ansata between Sculpture and Mosaic,” (forthcoming).

Early Modern Engraving as Sculpture

Figure 1.20

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Bronze votive tablet in the form of a tabula ansata, 2nd Century AD, Roman, bronze, 4.4 × 12.9 cm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1921, inv. 21.88.172 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

in the tablet’s triangular handles, the inscribed panel is reminiscent of other kinds of ancient metal tabulae ansatae including one, now at the Met, which still bears traces of the plaited metal cords from which it would once have been suspended as well as its Greek inscription dedicated to the Egyptian god Serapis (Fig. 1.20). Merging the metal of the plate with the imaginary metal of the archaic tabula, Pollaiuolo and others figure print authorship as the act of inscription on copper. Thinking back to Vico’s image of Baccio Bandinelli’s studio, it is worth noting, that the support on which Vico signs his work “sculpsit” is an open printed book. Much as Diana Scultori’s medaglia proposed seeing the medal’s metal as a surrogate for the printing plate, the inscribed volume (or tabula ansata) visualizes its inscriptions as a counterpart to the printed book’s litteris sculptis, or sculpted letters. By way of conclusion, I return to the beginning of my essay where I stated that contemporary accounts of printmaking rarely invoke sculpture to describe what is distinctive about the medium. The Print Council of America

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encourages visitors to its website to follow the definition of the print offered by The International Print Center New York, which states: “Technically, a print is any image that is transferred from a matrix. […] Most, though not all, matrices are able to print the same image many times.”31 Sundry methods for making prints have been invented since the sixteenth century such that matrices today are as likely to be made of rubber tires as of more conventional materials like zinc (copper is hardly ever used for printing plates anymore). What I would highlight, nonetheless, is the way in which the contemporary definition stresses the matrix’s role as point of transfer to another support. When Renaissance prints insist on being sculpted or incised in metal, they by contrast draw attention away from the paper or surfaces they imprinted to the underlying and largely invisible metal matrix itself. The story related by Ludovico Dolce that Enea Vico presented Charles V not with paper impressions of his engraving of the emperor but with the matrix itself, and that he had the matrix gilded, jibes with this sensibility.32 Cloaked in a thin gold veneer that symbolically reflected the value he assigned to the matrix as an artifact in its own right, the gilded plate fetishized the artist’s hand embodied in the incised plate. Vico’s matrix for Charles V is admittedly an extreme example. Distilling aspects of sixteenthcentury veneration of what was regarded as sculptura in aes, nonetheless, the story highlights the ways in which sixteenth-century viewers located the printmaker’s expertise not in the act of pulling paper impressions, but of sculpting metal. Bibliography Agustín, Antonio, Dialoghi … intorno alle medaglie, inscrittioni et altre antichita. (Rome: [1592]). Belting, Hans and Kruse, Christiane, Die Erfindung des Gemäldes: das erste Jahrhundert der niederländischen Malerei (Munich: 1994). Belting, Hans, Face and Mask: A Double History (trans.) Thomas S. Hansen and Abby J. Hansen (Princeton: 2013). Bury, Michael, The Print in Italy 1550–1620 (London: 2001). Darnton, Robert, The Business of Enlightenment: a publishing history of the Encyclopédie (Cambridge: 1979).

31 https://www.ipcny.org/glossary/. 32 Mulcahy, “Enea Vico’s Proposed Triumphs of Charles V”; and Viljoen, “To Print or Not to Print? Hendrick Goltzius’s 1595 Sine Baccho et Cerere Friget Venus and Engraving with Precious Metals”.

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Doni, Anton Francesco, Dichiarazione sopra l’effigie di Cesare fatta da M. Enea Vico da Parma (Venice: 1550). Evelyn, John, Sculptura, or, The history and art of chalcography, and engraving in copper: with an ample enumeration of the most renowned masters and their works: to which is annexed, a new manner of engraving, or mezzotinto (London: 1775). Faber, Riemer, “Vergil Eclogue 3.37, Theocritus 1 and Hellenistic Ekphrasis,” The American Journal of Philology 116 (1995), 411. Farago, Claire, Leonardo da Vinci’s Paragone (Leiden: 1992). Goffen, Rona, Renaissance Rivals: Michelangelo, Leonardo, Raphael, Titian (New Haven and London: 2002). Griffiths, Antony, Printmaking before Photography (London: 2016). Laire, François-Xavier, Index Librorum ab Inventa Typographia ad Annum 1500 (Sens: 1791). Landau, David and Parshall, Peter, The Renaissance Print (New Haven and London: 1994), 288, 306. Leatherbury, Sean V., “Framing Late Antique Texts as Monuments: The Tabula Ansata between Sculpture and Mosaic,” in Andrej Petrovic, Ivana Petrovic, and Edmund V. Thomas (eds.), The Materiality of Text: Placements, Presences, and Perceptions of Inscribed Text in Classical Antiquity. Studies in Greek and Roman Epigraphy (Leiden: Brill, forthcoming). Lehrs, Max, Katalog der Kupferstiche Martin Schongauers (Vienna: 1925). Mander, Carel van, Grondt der Edelvry Schilderkonst (Haarlem: 1604). Meerman, Gerard, Origines Typographicae (The Hague: 1765). Mulcahy, Rosemarie, “Enea Vico’s Proposed Triumphs of Charles V,” Print Quarterly 19 (2002), 331–40. Panzer, M. Georg, Älteste Buchdruckergeschichte Nürnbergs (Nuremberg: 1965). Reed, Talbot Baines, A History of the Old English Letter Foundries (London: 1887). Schmitt, Jean Claude, “Images and the Work of Memory”, in Elma Brenner, Meredith Cohen, Mary Franklin-Brown eds., Memory and Commemoration in Medieval Culture (London and New York: 2013) 13–32. Simmons, Rosemary, Dictionary of Printmaking Terms (London: 2002). Stijnman, Ad, Engraving and Etching 1400–2000: A History of the Development of Manual Intaglio Printmaking Processes (Houten: 2012). Thomas, Ben, “The Academy of Baccio Bandinelli”, Print Quarterly 22 (2005), 3–14. Vasari, Giorgio, Le Vite de’ più eccelenti pittori scultori ed architetti, ed. Gaetano Milanesi, V (Florence: 1880). Viljoen, Madeleine, “Paper Value: Marcantonio Raimondi’s Medaglie Contraffatte”, Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 48 (2003), 203–226. Viljoen, Madeleine, “To Print or Not to Print? Hendrick Goltzius’s 1595 Sine Baccho et Cerere Friget Venus and Engraving with Precious Metals”, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 74 (2011), 45–76.

Chapter 2

Transferring Ancient Sculptures into Prints. Marcantonio Raimondi’s Quos Ego: Its Prototypes and Afterimages Gudrun Knaus 1 Introduction The central panel of Marcantonio Raimondi’s well-known engraving Quos Ego (Bartsch XIV.264.352) illustrates a scene in which Neptune calms a tempest in order to save Aeneas’ fleet of men. Through means of a stylistic analysis, I aim to demonstrate that Raphael not only created this central panel, but also conceived of the overarching composition of the work. Meanwhile, Marcantonio was charged with elaborating the design of the engraving’s outer panels, modeling them in the same vein as antique relief sculptures. The title of the engraving Quos Ego finds its roots in a quote by Neptune, who is angry with Juno for overshadowing his reign and calling on the tempest.1 With the aid of Neptune, Aeneas and his companions find refuge on the coast of Libya during the storm. At this moment in time, only seven of Aeneas’ twenty ships have survived. His mother, Venus, is grief-stricken with her son’s destiny and begs Jupiter to intervene. Agreeing to help, Jupiter sends Mercury to earth to ensure that the citizens of Carthage welcome Aeneas and his men. Within the engraving, this scene is depicted in the upper central panel and is framed by the zodiac circle. Venus, disguised as a huntress, appears to Aeneas, assuring him that his men will be saved. The mid-left panel illustrates swans in heaven, which symbolize Aeneas’ rescued companions. To the lower left, we see Aeneas and Achates admiring images of the Trojan War along the façade of the temple of Juno. Dido, the queen of Carthage, arrives at the temple with her entourage, where she takes a seat on the throne. Here, Aeneas is reunited 1 Aeneid, lib. 1, verse 131–135: “Eurum ad se Zephyrumque vocat, dehinc talia fatur: ‘Tantane vos generis tenuit fiducia vestri? iam caelum terramque meo sine numine, venti, miscere et tantas audetis tollere moles? quos ego – sed motos praestat componere fluctus’.” – “He calls the East and West winds to him, and then says: ‘Does confidence in your birth fill you so? Winds, do you dare, without my intent, to mix earth with sky, and cause such trouble, now? You whom I – ! But it’s better to calm the running waves’,” trans. by Tony Kline, https://www .poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/Latin/VirgilAeneidI.php, last visit 08-04-2018.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | doi:10.1163/9789004445864_004

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Marcantonio Raimondi, Quos Ego, ca. 1515-16, engraving, 420 × 327 mm, Hamburg, Hamburger Kunsthalle, inv. 294 © Hamburger Kunsthalle

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with his comrades, who he believed to be lost at sea. On the occasion of this reunion, Dido invites all Trojan guests for a celebratory dinner at her palace. In an attempt to prevent Aeneas from embarking on yet another odyssey, his mother Venus encourages Dido to fall in love with him. She convinces Cupid to impersonate Aeneas’ son Ascanius. As he sits on Dido’s lap during the banquet, he fills her heart with love for Aeneas, a love that ultimately results in the queen’s tragic suicide. In observing the engraving, it is clear that Raphael attempted to adhere to the mythological text as closely as possible. For instance, he deliberately included Latin inscriptions in the illustrative panels. These inscriptions are taken from poet Vomanius’ synopsis of Book One of Aeneid, a text dating back to the 4th or 5th century.2 As such, the engraving cannot be fully comprehended without prior knowledge of Aeneid. Based on this premise, it can be argued that the intended audience was that of well-educated humanists familiar with Latin mythology. There is evidence that Marcantonio created this print prior to 1516. This is exemplified in the reversed copy of four scenes from the side panels by Giovanni Antonia da Brescia, which is dated “1516 MZO” (March 1516).3 According to Vasari, Quos Ego was among the first prints that Marcantonio created in close collaboration with Raphael in Rome, following Judgment of Paris (Bartsch XIV.197.245) and Massacre of the Innocents (Bartsch XIV.19.18 und Bartsch XIV.21.20).4 Based on stylistic observations, Oberhuber and Gnann argue in favor of Vasari’s chronological timeline. They assert that Judgment of Paris precedes Quos Ego since the anatomy and elegance of the figures are more elaborate in the latter print.5 Moreover, Judgment of Paris 2 Virgil’s Epitaph is part of a larger cycle entitled XII sapientes. This quote from Vomanius is part of the 9th cycle that contains the 12 books of Aeneid. These would have been available to Marcantonio in the Aldus 1505 edition of the complete Virgil. These “Argumenta XII Librorum Aeneidos” appear on pp. 54v–55v, see also Hunterian Museum, University of Glasgow, inv. no. GLAHA 3679 and Friedrich, Das Symposium der XII Sapientes, 59 and 192. According to Faietti, “Con Studio e Fantasia”, 31–32, Raphael had knowledge of the Venetian edition of the Aeneid published by Aldus Manutius in 1501, as well as of the Strasbourg edition, published by Sebastian Brant in 1502 and a later Venetian edition of 1515 printed by Alessandro Paganino. See also Faietti, “Un’epica per immagini: Raffaello e l’Eneide”. 3 Höper, Raffael und die Folgen, A 89.1, 204–205, Hind, Early Italian engraving, 48, 35. Da Brescia also copied further scenes from the Quos Ego, see ibid., 48, 33, 34 and 36. 4 Vasari/Milanesi, Le Vite, vol. 4, 354: “Avendo dunque veduto Raffaello lo andare nelle stampe d’Alberto Durero, volenteroso ancor egli di mostrare quel che in tale arte poteva, fece studiare Marco Antonio Bolognese in questa pratica infinitamente; il quale riuscì tanto eccellente, che gli fece stampare le prime cose sue, la carta degli Innocenti, un Cenacolo, il Nettunno, e la Santa Cecilia quando bolle nell’olio.” See also, vol. 5, 411: “Dopo queste, fu intagliata la carta degl’Innocenti con bellissimi nudi, femine e putti, che fu cosa rara; ed il Nettunno, con istorie piccole d’Enea intorno.” 5 Exh. Cat., Raphael und der klassische Stil in Rom, 94.

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preemptively lays the groundwork for the dispute between Juno and Venus, which leads to the events depicted in the Quos Ego. In fact, Juno and Venus sit in their carriages across from one another in the upper corners of the composition, raising their hands in lively dispute. Envious of Venus’ beauty, Juno inflicts wrath upon Aeneas by summoning a violent storm – a scene which is foregrounded in the print Quos Ego. Given the relational narratives of these two works, it is likely that Raphael conceived of both around the same time. The Judgment of Paris repeats several motives from a Roman sarcophagus with the same subject, now kept in the Villa Medici in Rome.6 Further, Raphael and Raimondi created the print The Plague – commonly known as The Morbetto (Bartsch XIV.314.417) – within the same time period as Quos Ego and both engravings relate closely to Aeneid.7 For instance, in the same vein as Quos Ego, The Morbetto bears a direct quote from Virgil’s poem (Book Three, verse 141). Three other drawings by Raphael are also associated with The Morbetto, one of which is a sketch of spolia from the Forum Romanum that eventually served as staffage for The Plague scene.8 Therefore, it is likely that antique models served as important reference points for Quos Ego. 2

Possible Antique Models

Following a renowned essay by Lawrence Nees, scholars have widely cited tabulae iliacae as antique sources for Quos Ego.9 In total, 22 tabulae iliacae are currently known, 13 of which recount Homer’s Iliad – hence the origin of their name.10 These small reliefs are nearly the size of the print, most of them surviving only as fragments. Similar to Quos Ego, the tabulae are divided into 6 Bober, Rubinstein, Renaissance Artists and Antique Sculpture. A Handbook of Sources, 119. 7 Exh. Cat., Marcantonio Raimondi, Raphael and the image multiplied, 48 (Wouk). There exists only one other print by Raimondi that is based on Aeneid (Book IV): Dido committing suicide, Bartsch XIV.153.187. 8 The main drawing among these three works is a pen drawing in Florence, Gallerie degli Uffizi, Gabinetto dei Disegni e delle Stampe, inv. no. 525 E, while the two others are in Windsor Castle, Royal Library, inv. no. 0117 (columns and ruins from the Forum Romanum) and inv. no. 12735 (cows), see also Landau, Parshall, The Renaissance Print, 125–127. 9 Nees, “Le ‘Quos Ego’ de Marc-Antoine Raimondi, L’adaptation d’une source antique par Raphael”, 18–29. Nees published this argument in Exh. Cat., Rome and Venice: prints of the High Renaissance, cat. no. 17, 31. 10 Squire, The Iliad in a nutshell. Two tabulae are now lost, one of which can only be traced through a 19th century drawing by Emiliano Sarti. Sarti’s plaque also shows the Zodiac – a similarity that forms the basis of Nees’ argument that Raphael created the design for the print based on a tabula. Henry Thode refers to an antique gemstone as a model for Marcantonio’s engraving, quoting Bernard de Montfaucon, L’antiquité expliquée et

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Marble relief fragment with scenes from the Trojan War, 1st half of 1st century AD, marble, Palombino, 18.1 × 17.6 cm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, inv. 24.97.11 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

small motifs ordered around a central image. One of the tabulae, housed in the Metropolitan Museum, accurately illustrates this visual composition.11

11

représentée en figures/Les dieux des Grecs & des Romains; Suppl. 1, Paris 1724, yet this gemstone is not retraceable, see Thode, Die Antiken in den Stichen Marcantons, 26. Marble relief fragment with scenes from the Trojan War, 1st half of 1st century AD, Marble, Palombino, 18.1 × 17.6 cm, New York, Metropolitan Museum, inv. 24.97.11.

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However, as a definitive source for Quos Ego. As Nees asserts, the main issue remains that only two tabulae were known in the early 16th century, while the rest were excavated at a much later date.12 Nevertheless, Quos Ego repeats a structure found in the tabulae: the combination of verbal inscriptions and figurative reliefs. In both cases, text explains image and image explains text. It is important to note that the textual source itself was not chosen by chance. Should we accept Nees’ argument that the tabulae iliacae were indeed the main source of inspiration for Raphael, then it follows that the author intentionally chose Aeneid rather than Iliad as the subject for Quos Ego. By replacing a Homeric epic with a Virgilian epic, Raphael highlights Roman – rather than Greek – antiquity as the point origin for the Italian Renaissance.13 Drawing on the former glory of Ancient Rome, Raphael expressed in both his artworks and architectural projects a splendor in Roman civilization. In turn, the tabulae likely served as a formal model for him to transform text into image by splitting a storyline into multiple visual sequences. From the tabulae iliacae, Raphael inherited sequential story telling providing a solution to this textimage split. Yet, this solution also posed a problem to the artist’s painterly habits. A key challenge of painting is the ability to capture an evolving narrative within a single image. When looking at an artwork, the beholder generally understands a story by ‘reading’ the picture from left to right. The composition of Quos Ego differs from this traditional method of reading. Instead, the attention of the viewer is immediately drawn to the center of the composition, where the most dramatic moment in Book One of Aeneid is translated into pictorial form. Had his task been a painting or a fresco, Raphael would have chosen the same method to express this topic. To reconstruct the narrative in chronological order, we must move our eyes to the upper left panel, then downwards and up again. Though initially confusing, this strategy can be explained by the assumption that all surrounding panels serve as frames of reference for the central engraving. Raphael did not order the scenes in chrono­ logical order, rather he focused on dividing the panels according to celestial and earthly areas. The elaborate composition of the print reveals Raphael’s strategy to prioritize pictorial needs over linear narratives.14 For instance, the central panel significantly differs in style from its surrounding images. While 12 Nees, “Le ‘Quos Ego’ de Marc-Antoine Raimondi”, 22. 13 Exh. Cat., Raffaello 1520–1483, cat. no. IV.18 (Salvo), 176–177. As another model may have served the so-called Tabula Iliaca or Tabula “Tomassetti”, end of the 1st century B.C.– beginning of the 1st century A.D., marble, 22 × 17,7 × 1,6 cm, Città del Vaticano, Musei Vaticani, Museo profano, inv. 69750, which depicts the Odyssey rather than the Iliad by Homer. Like the Quos Ego, the central scene of this stone plaque shows Neptune. 14 For a deeper analysis of the composition in relation to the chronological order of the text see Faietti, “Un’epica per immagini: Raffaello e l’Eneide”.

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the dynamic composition of this central image creates a strong illusion of depth, the peripheral panels contain flat depthless backgrounds. In contrast to Neptune, who appears to be made of flesh and bones, the surrounding figures are akin to printed miniature sculptures aligned closely in the foreground like stone reliefs. Further, the twisted muscular body of Neptune, as well as the four wild hippocampi that surround him, are reminiscent of sculptural fountain works from the Italian Renaissance, though no direct model can be traced. As Christian Kleinbub points out, the peripheral images serve to create the illusion of a window; a direct reference to Leon Battista Alberti’s famous metaphor, which likens painting to an open window.15 This frame-like composition is further reinforced by the engraved shadow around the central image as well as Marcantonio’s use of hatching to emphasize the contrast between the painterly scene and the chiseled frame.16 While the engraver employed parallel hatchings for the peripheral images, he applied a more dynamic cross hatching technique to the central image. In considering which ancient reliefs may have served as sources of inspiration for Quos Ego, the relief sculptures from the Arch of Constantine come to mind. Many similarities in costume and posture can be identified in both the relief works and the print, as they apply to the soldiers and comrades of Aeneas.17 In fact, Marcantonio translated one such relief into an engraving, showing Emperor Trajan standing beside the personification of Rome and being crowned by Victory (Bartsch XIV.275.361). In a letter written in 1519 by Baldassarre Castiglione in collaboration with Raphael to Pope Leo X, Raphael commented on the different styles of the reliefs added to the Arch in different decades. He observed the deterioration of Roman sculptures towards the end of the Empire.18

15

http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/02666286.2012.724571: Kleinbub, “Raphael’s Quos Ego: forgotten document of the Renaissance paragone”. 16 It is important to note the stylistic differences between the central image and the outer panels, since the latter are obviously ‘engraved reliefs all’antica’. This rather sculptural appearance is in clear contrast to the statement of Broun, Shoemaker Exh. Cat., The Engravings of Marcantonio Raimondi, cat. no. 32, 120–121: “Both {the Judgement of Paris and the Quos Ego} indeed resemble painting rather than sculpture in spite of the fact that they were based on sculptural models. (…) Although the composition is based upon the tabula iliaca, the style of the execution is pictorial rather than sculptural.” 17 Exh. Cat., Raphael und der klassische Stil in Rom, 18–19. Further, there exists an engraving that shows the entire Arch. This print is attributed to Agostino Veneziano (Bartsch XIV.385.537). 18 Raphael and Baldassarre Castiglione, letter to Leo X, 1519, manuscript, Mantova, Archivio di Stato, acquisition Castiglione 2016, see Exh. Cat., Raffaello 1520–1483, cat. no. II.6 (Di Teodoro), 68–75 and 113–114 and Bober, Rubinstein, Renaissance Artists and Antique Sculpture. A Handbook of Sources, 232–233.

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Raphael and Marcantonio, familiar with this ancient monument, were likely inspired by its earlier reliefs. Though we cannot identify any specific figures analogous to those in the Arch, the costumes and structures of such figures clearly influenced Quos Ego. Drawing on these reliefs from classical antiquity, Raphael and Marcantonio searched for a contemporary setting in which their narrative could unfold. Additional sources of influence for Quos Ego include the antique painted manuscript Virgil Codex, also known as the Vatican Virgil. This work is currently archived in the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana (Vat. Lat. 3225) and appears to have originated in Rome around the late 4th or early 5th century (ca. 370–430).19 Virgil Codex is the most widely known illustrated manuscript to have survived classical antiquity, its illustrations composed by three different painters. In examining the manuscript’s history of restoration, we discover that it was repaired in Tours in the 9th century and likely remained in France throughout the Middle Ages. Yet sometime within the 15th century Virgil Codex returned to Italy, for there are a number of Italian annotations in its margins from this period.20 Subsequently, in 1579, Fulvio Orsini purchased the manuscript from the son of Pietro Bembo. As Raphael and Raimondi were in close contact with Bembo, a protagonist of Renaissance Humanism, they might have encountered Virgil Codex, which was presumably in his possession at the time. Norberto Gramaccini and Hans Jakob Meier suggest that Pietro Bembo played a major role in bringing Raphael and Raimondi together, since he likely owned Raphael’s famous drawing Lucretia, engraved by Raimondi (Bartsch XIV.155.192).21 Bembo moved to Rome in 1511 to serve as the segretario dei brevi for Pope Leo X, drafting his official Latin documents. As such, Bembo would have had great interest in integrating Latin text into Renaissance works of art. It is possible that he initiated Raphael and Raimondi’s interest in Virgil Codex or, as certain scholars suggest, even acted as a patron for Quos Ego.22 In this case, Quos Ego might have served as a frontispiece for Book One of Aeneid.23 19 http://digi.vatlib.it/view/MSS_Vat.lat.3225, see also: Cordellier, Py, Raphaël – son atelier, ses copistes, 316 and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vergilius_Vaticanus and Wright, Vergilius Vaticanus. There are 75 surviving leaves in the manuscript with 50 illustrations. Originally, there must have been approximately 430 folios. Hence, there are many lacunae between the surviving fragments. 20 Wright 1984, 13. 21 Gramaccini, Meier, Die Kunst der Interpretation, 32–33. 22 Lord, “Marcantonio Raimondi and Virgil”. 23 Delaborde, Marc-Antoine Raimondi, 146; Nees, “Le ‘Quos Ego’ de Marc-Antoine Raimondi”, 21, 21; Exh. Cat., Marcantonio Raimondi, Raphael and the image multiplied, 48 (Wouk), Kleinbub, “Raphael’s Quos Ego: forgotten document of the Renaissance paragone”, 287: The engravings referring to the Aeneid, that were created in the circle of Raphael, such as the Judgement of Paris, Morbetto, Quos Ego, Suicide of Dido, Death of Laocoon by Marco Dente among others differ strongly in format and style. Therefore, it seems very unlikely

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Figure 2.3

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Arch of Constantine, Great Trajanic Frieze, sector in the inner central passage, east side, Victory Crowning Trajan and Battle Scene, Rome © Census ID 152217

The artists drew on the illustrations of the Vatican Virgil as source material for Quos Ego, particularly for the scene Dido receiving the Trojans in audience on the right hand side of the print, for which a similar scene is illustrated in the manuscript (folio 16r, Book One, verse 586–590). Further, the posture of Aeneas leaning a spear against his shoulder in the scene Aeneas escorted by Dido to the banquet, in the lower right panel, is similar to that in folio 36v of the manuscript. The Morbetto similarly employed Vatican Virgil as a source of inspiration. For instance, the scene of the Penates that they were meant to be included into the same volume of an illustrated edition of the Aeneid. Yet, Farinella, points to the interesting idea that Raphael may have planned 12 frontispieces similar to Quos Ego according to the 12 Books of the Aeneid, each of which contains a synopsis of the content of each book. Exh. Cat., Raffaello 1520–1483, cat. no. IV.17 (Farinella), 175–176.

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Marcantonio Raimondi, Trajan between the City of Rome and Victory, from the Arch of Constantine, 1510–27, engraving, 289 × 436 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. H,3.8 © The Trustees of the British Museum

Figure 2.5 Vergilius Maro, Publius, Aeneis (fragmenta), Dido receiving the Trojans, Vat.lat.3225, folio XVI recto, Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana © Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vatican City

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Figure 2.6 Vergilius Maro, Publius, Aeneis (fragmenta), Aenaes and the Penates, Vat. lat.3225, folio XXVIII recto, Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana © Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vatican City

appearing to Aeneas while he sleeps is adapted from the manuscript illustration of folio 28r.24 The argument that Raphael and Raimondi drew inspiration from Virgil Codex becomes even more compelling if we take into account Marco Dente’s print, Ancient bas-reliefs with Laocoon, from the Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae, which refers to the Laocoon group on folio 18v of the same manuscript (Bartsch XIV.195.243).25 Yet what does it mean to ‘refer to’ the antique manuscript in these different cases? The illuminated manuscript is noticeably different in style from Raphael and Raimondi’s prints. One could say that the manuscript served as a starting point for the idea to invent illustrations for Virgil’s Aeneid. Yet, in stark contrast to the illuminated manuscript, the engraved figures in Raphael and Raimondi’s prints give the illusion of three-dimensionality. In addition, the manuscript and the prints differ in their hierarchy between text and image. In the manuscript, illuminations serve to illustrate text, which is inscribed in impeccable Latin capital lettering. In contrast, the artists’ prints highlight images rather than text. In Quos Ego, for instance, the Latin quotations are subordinate to the images and rendered in cartouches, similar to the ornamented scrolls engraved in marble pedestals or sarcophagi. Such 24 Vergilius Vaticanus, 13, note 4. According to Exh. Cat., Marcantonio Raimondi, Raphael and the image multiplied, 51 (Wouk), the dead sheep in The Morbetto (lower left) also correlate to a detail in folio 27r. I disagree with this argument, as all animals in the ancient illustration are alive. 25 Oberhuber, Gnann, Exh. Cat., Raphael und der klassische Stil in Rom, cat. no. 58, 120. Exh. Cat., Marcantonio Raimondi, Raphael and the image multiplied, 164–165.

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Marcantonio Raimondi, The Plague in Phrygia (Morbetto), engraving, 194 × 250 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. H,3.47 © The Trustees of the British Museum

ornamentations further add to the illusion of the peripheral images as stone reliefs. The Morbetto reflects a similar visual strategy; engraved onto the base of a sculpted herm is a Latin quote, the letters of which appear to be carved in stone. This motif is further repeated in Marco Dente’s Laocoon. As such, neither Quos Ego, The Morbetto nor Laocoon are designed as illustrations that serve text. Rather they prioritize engraved images, drawing on antique sculptures, reliefs and spolia as key visual sources. Full of gestures and allusions, the images in Quos Ego ‘speak’ to the spectator. In return, we must fill in the blanks of the narrative based on our knowledge of textual references and, notably, our own imagination. This holds true when viewing the central scene of Quos Ego, where we can really feel the danger of the storm and Neptune’s anger. According to Marzia Faetti, the engraving Quos Ego not only refers to the old paragon between sculpture and painting as it unites a painterly central

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scene with relief-like compartments in the frame, but also to the paragon between painting and poetry since it includes short written paraphrases while it recounts the story with pictorial inventions. Yet, it synthesizes these rivalries in the new art form of copper engraving, which was to become a central form of communication and dissemination of new artistic ideas.26 Therefore, this print is a statement of what could be expected from the collaboration between inventors and engravers with the skills of Raphael and Raimondi. This “statement” evolved on the basis of antique sculpture and book illustration. 3

Attribution of the Preliminary Drawings

It is almost certain that Raphael developed the concept for Quos Ego. The artist chose the scenes and quotations from textual sources – likely with Pietro Bembo – with the aim of conveying the narratives of Book One of Aeneid in one single print. As previously established, Quos Ego was invented shortly after Judgement of Paris and likely during the same period as The Morbetto; two works which Raphael also conceived of. To date, there are no known preliminary drawings by Raphael that lay the design of the overall composition for Quos Ego. Yet two anonymous drawings exist, which may have been modelled after Raphael’s – now lost – drawing of the central scene.27 This would come as no surprise, as the central scene remains the most influential element of the print and has inspired many artists as a result of its lively and dramatic rendering. In fact, Vasari informally entitled Marcantonio and Raphael’s engraving Nettuno, due to its dynamic central figure of Neptune. Further, it can be argued that Raphael created the central part of this engraving, as it shows many similarities to the artist’s fresco Galatea, completed a few years prior around 1512.28 Similar to Galatea, in Quos Ego the central figure stands on a shell. Moreover, the head of the hippocampus behind Neptune’s left arm has its model in the 26 27

28

Faietti, “Con Studio e Fantasia”, 31–32 as well as Kleinbub, “Raphael’s Quos Ego: forgotten document of the Renaissance paragone”, 295–297. One is kept at the Accademia di Carrara in Bergamo, the other at the Wesleyan University. A) Anonymous, Italian, Bergamo, Accademia di Carrara, Inv. No. 2003; B) Anonymous, Italian, late 16th century, red chalk, 412 mm × 511 mm, Davison Art Center, Wesleyan University, Inv. No. 1974.15.1. Lawrence Nees argues that Raphael might have rivalled Leonardo’s drawing of Neptune, now in Windsor Castle, Royal Collection, charcoal or soft black chalk, 25.2 × 38.9 cm, which refers to a Roman sarcophagus, now preserved in the Vatican, Giardino della Pigna; Bober, Rubinstein, Renaissance Artists and Antique Sculpture. A Handbook of Sources, cat. no. 99 and 99a, 143, see also Nees, “Le ‘Quos Ego’ de Marc-Antoine Raimondi”, 24–25. Ibid., 25.

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Raphael (attributed to), Aeneas escorted by Dido to the Banquet (recto), pen and brown ink, the flanking figures blackened with pouncing, pricked for transfer, 78 × 74 mm, Chatsworth, Devonshire Collection, inv. 727 c © Chatsworth, Devonshire Collection

Galatea fresco in reverse form. Lastly, one of the cupid figures in the fresco, hiding behind a cloud, is strikingly similar to the children’s heads that appear in Quos Ego, which are symbolic of the wind. Yet, the fact that Raphael designed the composition of Quos Ego and drew the central part, does not necessarily entail that the two preliminary drawings in the Chatsworth collection, Aeneas

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Raphael (attributed to), Aeneas escorted by Dido to the Banquet (verso), pricked outlines on the left and right figures, the central figure drawn freehand in red chalk, 78 × 74 mm, Chatsworth, Devonshire Collection, inv. 727 a © Chatsworth, Devonshire Collection

escorted by Dido to the banquet and Dido receiving the Trojans in audience, are to be attributed to him as well.29 Indeed, the oeuvre catalogue of Raphael’s drawings forces us to question whether Aeneas escorted by Dido to the banquet should be attributed to the 29 Ibid., 22, discusses an attribution of the Chatsworth drawings to Giovanni Francesco Penni.

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Figure 2.10

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Raphael (attributed to), Dido receiving the Trojans in Audience, pen and brown ink on white paper, the outline of the left foreground figure pricked and pounced, 77 × 75 mm, Chatsworth, Devonshire Collection, inv. 727 b © Chatsworth, Devonshire Collection

artist, notwithstanding the poor condition of the piece.30 The contours of Dido and one of her maids were created through spolvero, a common transfer technique in Italy at the time. Remnants of this technique can be traced on the verso of the drawing, where the contours of Aeneas are repeated in red chalk. Spolvero was frequently used to transfer the design of a cartoon onto a wall in preparation for a fresco. Once the artist pricked small contouring holes into a 30

Knab, Mitsch, Oberhuber Raphael, Die Zeichnungen, Nos: 535, 536, 538. 535 = verso of 536.

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sheet of paper, the verso of the paper was then dusted with black charcoal. This allowed for reverse-traces of the contoured figure to be printed onto another sheet of paper or onto a wall. This method was used in Aeneas escorted by Dido to the banquet, as one can discern the black charcoal rubbed onto the recto of the work, a procedure that nearly destroyed the drawing. We find many subtle differences when comparing the print to the recto of the drawing, particularly when observing the head of Aeneas and his fellow warrior. It seems more likely that the Chatsworth drawing was used as a preemptive study for another work, as the design was not transferred directly onto the copper plate. Rather only two figure contours were traced, leaving rough unfinished marks. I argue that the two Chatsworth drawings should be attributed to Raimondi rather than Raphael, as their style is inconsistent with Raphael’s other mythological drawings. For instance, Raphael expressed the contrast between light and dark by means of two techniques: parallel hatching and washing. When the artist used cross-hatching in his work, this was drawn in a quick manner with broad strokes, as is the case of the aforementioned Lucretia drawing. In contrast, the minute cross-hatching technique of the Chatsworth drawings calls to mind an engraver’s hand. These cross-hatchings are akin – if not identical – to those that Raimondi used in the print Quos Ego; in fact, the broad lines that mark the pleats in Dido’s dress are replicated in the print. If we accept that Raimondi translated Raphael’s drawings into engravings why should we not attribute these drawings to his hand as well?31 Which art historical bias prevents us from accepting the notion that Raimondi created his own drawings; either to prepare a print by means of direct transfer or to elaborate a rough sketch by Raphael? One might argue that this question of artistic agency was constantly at play in the collaboration between Raphael and Raimondi. Raimondi often worked with drawings by Raphael that were created without a specific print in mind and, as such, one of the master’s drawings could be used for multiple ends. In this sense, Raphael failed to take into account which drawing techniques were best suited for future artworks. Instead, he relied on the skillset of his workshop to translate his inventions into works that would suit different commissioned projects. A skilled engraver like Raimondi was trusted to adjust the drawn inventions by Raphael according to pictorial needs of engravings.32 At times, Raimondi translated Raphael’s drawn inventions into new drawings, 31

For other drawings attributed to Raimondi see: Exh. Cat., Bologna e l’Umanesimo: 1490– 1510, 51–88, Knaus Invenit, incisit, imitavit, 42–43 and Faietti, “Marcantonio. Questioni di metodo e nuovi disegni”, in: Marcantonio: il primo incisore di Raffaello, Atti del Convegno Internazionale di Urbino, Palazzo Albani, 23.–25.10.2019, eds. Luigi Bravi, Anna Cerboni Baiardi, Marzia Faietti, about to be published. 32 Ibid.: “ritengo però che un incisore provetto e professionale come Marcantonio fosse responsabile in prima persona dell’ultimo disegno, quello strumentale alla stampa.”

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Figure 2.11

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Marcantonio Raimondi, Juno orders Aeolus, God of the Wind, to destroy the Trojan Fleet, pen in brown ink, 90 × 125 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. 13263 © Albertina Museum, Vienna

because he needed to adapt the dimensions of the model to the scale of the copperplate. Likewise, he had to transfer Raphael’s drawings into a system of lines that could be printed. Since Raphael’s drawings were always preserved to serve multiple needs, Raimondi would not have dared to destroy them in the process of transferring his design to a copper plate, instead he had to redraw them or work directly on the surface of the copperplate with Raphael’s model in front of his eyes. In this regard, I support Veronika Birke and Janine Kertész’s argument that Raimondi created a separate preliminary drawing for Quos Ego, which resides in the Albertina collection in Vienna.33 Though it must be admitted that the contour lines are less lively than those of the Chatsworth drawings, there are 33 Marcantonio Raimondi, Juno orders Aeolus to destroy the Trojans’ fleet, pen in brown ink, 90 × 125 mm, Albertina Vienna, inventory no. 13263, Birke, Kertész Die italienischen Zeichnungen der Albertina, vol. 3, 1818, https://sammlungenonline.albertina. at/?query=search=/record/objectnumbersearch=[13263]&showtype=record.

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Figure 2.12 Neptune Calming the Tempest, woodcut, ill. of Aeneid by Publius Vergilius Maro, liber 1, edited by Sebastian Brant, Strasbourg 1502, fol. 124 v, Heidelberg University Library, VD16 V 1332, CC-BY-SA 3.0 © Heidelberg University Library

ample reasons to assume that this drawing originates from the same hand. Should we acknowledge Raimondi as the author of these three preliminary drawings, another question emerges: Were these simply intermediate workshop drawings, created in the process of preparing the plate for Raphael? Or can we go even further and attribute certain artistic license in the outer panels to Raimondi himself, at least to those on the left and right side of the plate, where the composition is less complex? Given the stylistic differences between the central panel and the surrounding areas, it is likely that Raphael prepared the central element with Neptune and probably the upper part with the zodiac in great detail, while simply providing general instructions for the remaining parts of the composition. Raimondi would then have been left to create the peripheral panels, a process that presumably evolved into a close collaboration between the engraver and the artist.34 Trained through the copy 34 That Raimondi was capable of such a task, is proven in a most excellent manner in his engraving of the Bacchanal scene (Bartsch XIV.202.249), modeled after a Roman

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of a part of the Arch of Constantine, as mentioned above, as well as through copies of Roman sarcophagi, Raimondi was able to create relief-like scenes that illustrate several motifs of the Aeneid. The question of the attribution of drawings to Marcantonio is closely linked to the debate about his appreciation as a rather autonomous artist in contrast to the traditional valuation according to Adam von Bartsch as a mere “reproductive engraver”.35 4

What Did Raphael Learn from Antique Sculptures?

One can best evaluate Raphael’s achievement in interpreting Virgil’s Aeneid by comparing the print to the first edition that illustrated the epic. This book was published in 1502 by Johann Grüninger in Strasbourg and edited by German humanist Sebastian Brant (1458–1521). With 137 woodcuts, it forms the largest illustrated edition of Aeneid.36 The same publisher recycled these woodblocks in later editions, as in the first German version by Thomas Murner. The author of the woodcuts is unknown, yet it is clear that they were under the guidance of editor Sebastian Brant. In the illustrated edition of Aeneid, the woodcuts are closely linked to the printed text and all images are placed alongside the written sequence they illustrate. The images are generally designed on the basis of contemporary architecture and costume, summarizing different incidents that occur within the narrative. Although the book is dated fourteen years before Raphael’s engraving, the two works appear to be a hundred years apart. The German woodcuts are of fine quality, but, stylistically, speak a foreign language. Their bodies are flat and stiff; their faces bearing no individual expression. Exemplary of woodcut techniques used prior to Dürer, the illustrative sarcophagus from the Museo Archeologico in Naples. Despite its reverse direction, it is a perfect example of the transfer of a marble relief into an engraving. See also Marcantonio’s engraving after a design by Baldassare Peruzzi of an antique sarcophagus with scenes of a lion hunt now part of the decoration of the Casino Rospigliosi in Rome, Bartsch XIV.317.422 or Marcantonio’s engraving of The triumph of a Roman Emperor after a design of his fellow Bolognese artist Jacopo Ripanda, Bartsch XIV.173.213. 35 Faietti, “Marcantonio. Questioni di metodo e nuovi disegni”: “L’identificazione di un corpus di disegni autografi di Raimondi non è questione di secondaria importanza perché, …, si collega alla verifica del grado di autonomia dell’incisore rispetto ai modelli delle sue stampe dovuti ad altri autori e/o alla possibilità di impiego di proprie invenzioni a trascrivere graficamente.” 36 Brant, Publius Vergilius Maro, Opera, see for example: http://digi.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/ diglit/vergil1502/0266, see also Suerbaum Handbuch der illustrierten Vergil-Ausgaben, VP 1502, 51–55 and 131–157.

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Peter Paul Rubens, The Voyage of the Cardinal Infante Ferdinand of Spain from Barcelona to Genoa in April 1633, with Neptune Calming the Tempest, 1635, oil on panel, 48.9 × 64.1 cm, Cambridge, Harvard Art Museums/Fogg Museum, Alpheus Hyatt Purchasing Fund, inv. 1942.174 © President and Fellows of Harvard College

contour lines are rather thick and the figures carry their names in banderoles to ensure they are identified correctly. In clear contrast to the woodcuts of Brant’s edition, Raphael’s engravings inherit many stylistic elements from antiquity; particularly their portrayal of Neptune as a vibrant and seductive figure. The Roman god’s twisted body reflects the melodrama of the entire epic. Based on his study of antique sculptural works, such as Laocoon, Raphael created an entirely new expressive style featuring eloquent gestures and postures. By illustrating written testimonials from antiquity, Raphael revived these ancient stylistic techniques while translating them into a modern pictorial language, a method later embraced by his disciples. To conclude, Quos Ego boasts an extensive artistic afterlife, attesting to its strong stylistic influence. It comes as no surprise that the distinctly

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Figure 2.14

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Peter Paul Rubens, “Quos ego” – Neptune, Calming the Tempest, ca. 1635, oil on canvas, 326 × 384 cm, Dresden, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen, Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister, inv. Gal.-Nr. 964 B © bpk / Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden / Elke Estel / Hans-Peter Klut

Raphaelesque elements of the engraving – namely, the central panel – inspired many artists. For instance, the Fogg Museum of Art, Boston houses an oil sketch by Peter Paul Rubens of Neptune calming the tempest, which served as a study for a painting now in Dresden. In this work, Rubens transforms Raphael’s seductive Neptune into an old man with blue trousers; a figure that no longer conveys the god’s divine power over the sea. Dated the same year is Nicolas Poussin’s Birth of Venus, which comprises a medley of referential nods to Raphael’s work. On the left, we see the reappearance of a juvenile Neptune, while in the center many figures found in Raphael’s Galatea can be identified, such as the putto in the foreground, the dolphins and the Triton. Finally, the nude seated above the amphora to the right in Birth of Venus is reminiscent of one of the central figures in Judgment of Paris. Poussin often quoted Raphael in his work. Living in Rome, he was not only familiar with Raphael’s paintings and frescoes, but also studied Marcantonio’s prints in his atelier. As a classical painter, he intentionally cited his artistic

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Nicolas Poussin, The Birth of Venus, 1635 or 1636, oil on canvas, 97.2 × 108 cm, Philadelphia, Philadelphia Museum of Art, The George W. Elkins Collection, 1932, inv. E1932-1-1 © Philadelphia Museum of Arts, Philadelphia

predecessors, with the aim of aligning his practice within a tradition of great masters. To this degree, Raphael served as an intermediary between the ideals of antiquity – largely preserved through sculpture and text – and more lively and persuasive forms of painterly expression. Quos Ego embodies an artwork that successfully united these ideals within the Renaissance period, translating motifs from antique sculpture cross contemporary boundaries. Bibliography Binder, Gerhard (ed.), Virgil (Publius Vergilius Maro), Aeneis, lib. 1 and 2 (Stuttgart: 2011). Birke, Veronika, Janine Kertész, Die italienischen Zeichnungen der Albertina, Generalverzeichnis, vol. 3 (Vienna: 1992).

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Bober, Phyllis Pray, Ruth Rubinstein, Renaissance Artists and Antique Sculpture. A Handbook of Sources (London: 2010). Brant, Sebastian (ed.), Publius Vergilius Maro, Opera: [cum quinque vulgatis commentariis ex politissimisque figuris …] (Strasbourg: 1502). Cordellier, Dominique, Bernadette Py, Raphaël – son atelier, ses copistes (Paris: 1992). Delaborde, Henri, Marc-Antoine Raimondi (Paris: 1888). Di Teodoro, Francesco Paolo, “La Lettera a Leone X. Non debe, adonque, Padre Santissimo, esser tra li ultimi pensieri di Vostra Santitate, lo haver cura che quello poco che resta di questa anticha madre de la gloria e grandezza italiana …”, in: Exh. Cat., Raffaello 1520–1483 (Scuderie del Quirinale, Rome, 5.3.–2.6.2020), eds. Marzia Faietti and Matteo Lafranconi (Milan: 2020), 68–75 and 113–114. Exh. Cat., Bologna e l’Umanesimo: 1490–1510 (Pinacoteca Nazionale, Bologna, 6.3.1988– 24.4.1988, Graphische Sammlung Albertina, Vienna, 20.5.–26.6.1988), eds. Marzia Faietti and Konrad Oberhuber (Bologna: 1988). Exh. Cat., The Engravings of Marcantonio Raimondi (Lawrence, Spencer Museum of Art, 16.11.1981–3.1.1982, Chapel Hill, The Ackland Art Museum, 10.2.–28.3.1982, Wellesley, The Wellesley College Art Museum, 15.4.–15.6.1982), eds. Elizabeth Broun and Innis Howe Shoemaker (Lawrence, Kansas: 1981). Exh. Cat., Marcantonio Raimondi, Raphael and the image multiplied (Whitworth, The University of Manchester, 30.09.2016–23.4.2017), eds. Edward Wouk, David Morris (Manchester: 2016). Exh. Cat., Raffael und die Folgen. Das Kunstwerk im Zeitalter seiner graphischen Repro­ duzierbarkeit (Staatsgalerie Stuttgart, Graphische Sammlung, 26.05.–22.7.2001), ed. Corinna Höper (Ostfildern-Ruit: 2001). Exh. Cat., Raphael und der klassische Stil in Rom, 1515–1527 (Mantua, Palazzo Te, 20.03.– 30.5.1999 and Vienna, Albertina, 23.06.–05.09.1999), eds. Konrad Oberhuber, Achim Gnann (Milan: 1999). Exh. Cat., Rome and Venice: prints of the High Renaissance (Fogg Art Museum,  Cambridge/ Mass., 05.05.1974–30.05.1974), ed. Konrad Oberhuber (Cambridge/Mass.: 1974). Faietti, Marzia, “Con studio e fantasia”, in Exh. Cat. Raffaello 1520–1483 (Rome, Scuderie del Quirinale, 5.3.–2.6.2020), eds. Marzia Faietti and Matteo Lafranconi (Milan: 2020), 19–41. Eadem, “Un’epica per immagini: Raffaello e l’Eneide”, in Raphael: Drawing and Eloquence, eds. Ben Thomas, Catherine Whistler (Urbino: 2020), 41–59, 233–241. Friedrich, Anne, Das Symposium der XII Sapientes, Kommentar und Verfasserfrage (Munich: 2001). Gramaccini, Norberto, Hans Jakob Meier, Die Kunst der Interpretation. Italienische Reproduktionsgrafik 1485–1600 (Berlin: 2009). Hind, Arthur Mayger, Early Italian engraving: a critical catalogue with complete reproduction of all the prints described (London: 1938–1948), vol. 5, reprint 1978.

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Kleinbub, Christian, “Raphael’s Quos Ego: forgotten document of the Renaissance paragone”, Word & Image 28 (2012), no. 3, 287–301. Knab, Eckhart, Erwin Mitsch, Konrad Oberhuber, Raphael, Die Zeichnungen (Stuttgart: 1983). Knaus, Gudrun, Invenit, incisit, imitavit, Die Kupferstiche von Marcantonio Raimondi als Schlüssel zur weltweiten Raffael-Rezeption 1510–1570 (Berlin: 2016). Landau, David, Peter Parshall, The Renaissance Print 1470–1550 (New Haven: 1994). Lord, Carla, “Raphael, Marcantonio Raimondi and Virgil”, Source: Notes in the History of Art 3 (1984), no. 2, 23–33. Milanesi, Gaetano (ed.), Le opere di Giorgio Vasari, con nuove annotazioni e commenti, (Florence: 1973). Nees, Lawrence, “Le ‘Quos Ego’ de Marc-Antoine Raimondi, L’adaptation d’une source antique par Raphael”, Nouvelles de l’Estampe (1978), nos. 40–41, 18–29. Squire, Michael, The Iliad in a nutshell. Visualizing Epic in the Tabulae Iliacae (Oxford: 2011). Suerbaum, Werner, Handbuch der illustrierten Vergil-Ausgaben, 1502–1840. Biblio­ graphien zur klassischen Philologie, vol. 3 (Hildesheim: 2008). Thode, Henry, Die Antiken in den Stichen Marcantons, Agostino Venezianos und Marco Dentes (Leipzig: 1881). Wright, David, Vergilius Vaticanus, vollständige Faksimile-Ausgabe im Originalformat des Codex Vaticanus Latinus 3225 der Bibliotheca Apostolica Vaticana, Commentarium (Graz: 1984).

Chapter 3

Marcantonio Raimondi and Fragmentary Ancient Statues: Hypotheses on his Working Method and Antiquarian Practice Mandy Richter In her dissertation, Raphael into Print: The Movement of Ideas about the Antique in Engravings by Marcantonio Raimondi and his Shop, Madeleine Viljoen analyzed how the prints by Marcantonio Raimondi and his workshop shaped the way the 16th century understood antiquity.1 The author argued that the prints by Marcantonio and his workshop disseminated and preserved knowledge of the ancient world, highlighting how modernity’s ingegno had come to match that of the ancients.2 Following Viljoen’s line of inquiry, this essay focusses on Marcantonio Raimondi’s early career – from his beginnings in Bologna until his collaboration with Raphael – and the question of the dissemination of a certain understanding of the antique. The key issue will be on the one hand Marcantonio’s antiquarian practice as seen in his early prints and drawings. On the other hand, this essay will trace Marcantonio’s working method when dealing with classical sculpture: From his initial studies on paper to the finished product. The drawings in particular show that his interest in antiquity was much broader than the sole picturing or commercializing of ancient sculptures, a fact which becomes all the more evident when considering his drawings depicting sculptural fragments or partially damaged sculptures. As Leonard Barkan stated “[…] missing pieces […] are the fundamental condition of the vast classical museum that is Renaissance Rome.”3 Fragmentarily preserved sculptures were of particular interest for the Cinquecento artist who could and had to decide whether to complete the missing parts in his work according to a chosen criterion, or to leave them exactly as they were. One could think, for example, of the most famous fragment, the Torso Belvedere, which stimulated artistic imitation at the beginning of the Cinquecento on 1 Viljoen, Raphael into Print. The Movement of Ideas about the Antique in Engravings by Marcantonio Raimondi and his Shop, i. 2 Ibidem, 201. 3 Barkan, Unearthing the Past: Archeology and Aesthetics in the Making of Renaissance Culture. 120.

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numerous occasions and in highly diverging ways.4 Whether this inspiration came mostly from the existing or the missing parts is a topic of its own and falls outside the scope of this essay.5 The opinion that Marcantonio Raimondi is a mere reproductive printmaker who rarely invented designs on his own is no longer valid.6 Since the end of the 1980s, more and more designs for prints executed by him have also been attributed to him. The exhibition catalog Bologna e l’Umanesimo, edited by Marzia Faietti and Konrad Oberhuber, was an important step towards understanding Raimondi’s inventive skills. In the catalog, Oberhuber asserted that the number of prints after Raimondi’s own designs, especially in his early career, is much higher than the number of prints after designs by other artists.7 That Marcantonio had a prolific production of designs is important because it shows that he was a printmaker who often published his own inventions. This change in the way of looking at his work is also connected with the discovery of individual drawings that Raimondi produced in preparation for his prints. In his graphic œuvre, which is still growing today, there are a handful of drawings that show studies of antiquity or ancient fragments that will be presented here as case studies. The essays in Faietti and Oberhuber’s exhibition catalog stressed yet another crucial point when dealing with Marcantonio: his formation within the humanistic milieu of Bologna. In Bologna, writers, philosophers, and artists were in constant exchange. The teachings of Filippo Beroaldo, Codro (Antonio Urceo) and Giovan Battista Pio at the University of Bologna introduced, amongst others, authors like Propertius, Suetonius, Apuleius, Lucretius, Homer, Hesiod, and Virgil. One striking example of the exchange between artists and humanists, is the documented appreciation of Marcantonio Raimondi’s art by Giovanni Achillini called il Filoteo. Within this context, collections of antiquities became even more widespread: Agnolo Poliziano and Pico della Mirandola, who visited 4 To name only a few publications that have dealt with this topic Schweikhart, “Zwischen Bewunderung und Ablehnung. Der Torso im 16. und frühen 17. Jahrhundert”, 111–133.; Exh. Cat. Der Torso. Ruhm und Rätsel; Schwinn, Die Bedeutung des Torso vom Belvedere für Theorie und Praxis der bildenden Kunst vom 16. Jahrhundert bis Winckelmann; Barkan, Unearthing the Past. 5 Ibidem, 124. 6 See for example Pon, Raphael, Dürer, and Marcantonio Raimondi. Copying and the Italian Renaissance Print; Gramaccini and Meier, Die Kunst der Interpretation; Bloemacher, Raffael und Raimondi. Produktion und Intention der frühen Druckgraphik nach Raffael; Faietti, “Questioni di metodo e nuovi disegni” (forthcoming). 7 Exh. Cat. Bologna e l’Umanesimo, 52. For the collaboration of Raphael and Marcantonio Raimondi, see Bloemacher, Raffael und Raimondi as well as Knaus, Invenit, Incisit, Imitavit.

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the city in 1491, recorded the collections of antiquities they visited.8 Bolognese artists, like Amico Aspertini and Francesco Raibolini (called Il Francia), along with Jacopo Ripanda and others, are well known for their interest and study of antiquity.9 Marcantonio Raimondi was part of this antiquarian circle: Not only did he include many references to ancient sculpture in his prints, but he also studied the ancient remains comprehensively in his drawings. For some of his early drawings depicting ancient sculpture it remains unclear whether they represent studies of the originals or copies from works by other artists. One example of a drawing of a fragmented antique sculpture is the study of Jupiter Ciampolini, which is preserved at the Musée Bonnat in Bayonne (fig. 3.1).10 The sheet represents, in rather sketchy lines, the ancient remains of the statue.11 The artist did not prepare a slavish copy, as can be seen in the different details of the throne or the missing foot of the figure, and shows a special interest for the drapery indicated by the increased number of hatchings in that area. A single line indicates a possible upper part of the body and points to a possible completion of the figure in the mind of the artist. On the reverse of the sheet is a variation of the Apollo Belvedere (fig. 3.2), to which the artist added a torch in the figure’s hand justifying in that way the posture of the outstretched arm. This drawing has been put in connection with his print Allegory of Human Life, which was created about 1503/04.12 Another 8

Codex Monacensis lat. 807, see de Maria, “Artisti, ‘antiquari’ e collezionisti di antichità a Bologna fra XV e XVI secolo”, in: Exh. Cat. Bologna e l’Umanesimo, 30. 9 See Faietti, “Paradigma di regole e di sregolatezze. L’antico a Bologna tra Quattrocento e Cinquecento”, 123–157. 10 Musée Bonnat, Bayonne, drawing, 213 × 123 mm, inv. 0704 (verso). See Oberhuber, “Marcantonio Raimondi. Gli inizi a Bologna ed il primo periodo romano”, 70, fig. 24 (verso); Exh. Cat. Laocoonte. Alle origini dei Musei Vaticani, 145f. 11 The Jupiter Ciampolini is preserved in the Museo Archeologico in Naples (white marble, height 1.55 m, without inv.), see Carlo Gasparri (ed.), Le sculture Farnese. Vol. I: Le sculture ideali. Texts by Carmela Capaldi and Stefania Pafumi (Milano: 2009), cat. no. 1, 20. Until 1520, the Jupiter was part of the collections of the Ciampolini family and then stood in the Villa Madama (until the 18th century) where Maarten van Heemskerck studied it (I fol. 24r). For details on the collection of Michele Ciampolini, see Kathleen Christian, Empire Without End. Antiquities Collections in Renaissance Rome, c. 1350–1527 (New Haven/ London: 2010). Bober and Rubinstein mention that the two halves of the statue may have been assembled in the collection of Giulio de’ Medici in Villa Madama. Maarten van Heemskerck has recorded the statue with an upper half, still broken in some parts, but it is unclear when this restoration was removed (Bober and Rubinstein, Renaissance Artists & Antique Sculpture. A Handbook of Sources, 55). 12 Exh. Cat. Bologna e l’Umanesimo, cat. no. 8, 104–105; Oberhuber, “Marcantonio Raimondi. Gli inizi a Bologna ed il primo periodo romano”, 1988, 71. Winner lists the drawing as “Toskanischer Anonymus um 1500”, see Winner, “Zum Apoll vom Belvedere”.

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Figure 3.1 Marcantonio Raimondi, Study of the Jupiter Ciampolini, pen and brown ink, 214 × 124 mm, Bayonne, musée Bonnat-Helleu, inv. 704.2 [or NI 1546], verso) © Bayonne, musée Bonnat-Helleu / photographer: A. Vaquero

drawing in Bayonne, probably from the same period (according to Oberhuber circa 1500–1505), represents the figure of Samson (fig. 3.3).13 It must be seen in connection with a sarcophagus depicting the battle of the Amazons, which was at that time in the Church of Santi Cosma e Damiano in Rome (fig. 3.4).14 13 Oberhuber, “Marcantonio Raimondi. Gli inizi a Bologna ed il primo periodo romano”, 71. 14 Ibid. The sarcophagus was later to be seen in the Belvedere and is today dispersed in various locations (see Bober and Rubinstein, Renaissance Artists & Antique Sculpture, 191, no. 139 as well as Bober, Drawings after the Antique by Amico Aspertini. Sketchbooks in

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Figure 3.2 Marcantonio Raimondi, Study of the Apollo Belvedere, pen and brown ink, 214 × 124 mm, Bayonne, musée Bonnat-Helleu, inv. 704.2 [or NI 1546], recto) © Bayonne, musée Bonnat-Helleu / photographer: A. Vaquero

As was the case for the Apollo Belvedere, Marcantonio Raimondi changed the iconographical context of the represented figure. The ancient sculpture served as a model, which could then be modified according to the artist’s needs.

the British Museum, 63). Bober analyzes the drawing of Amico Aspertini in his London sketchbook I, fol. 19v–20 (fig. 56). For the relationship between Amico Aspertini and Marcantonio Raimondi see note 16.

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Figure 3.3 Marcantonio Raimondi, Samson, pen and brown ink, 235 × 106 mm, Bayonne, musée Bonnat-Helleu, inv. 705 [or NI 1547]) © Bayonne, musée BonnatHelleu / photographer: A. Vaquero

Because of these and similar early drawings after the antique, Oberhuber suggested that Raimondi was in Rome for the first time around 1502/03.15 Another hypothesis would be that he encountered these and other images after the 15 No document has yet proven such an early visit to Rome, see Rebecchini and Wouk, “Biographical Notes on Marcantonio Raimondi and the Publisher Baviera”, ix–xv.

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Figure 3.4 Sarcophagus with the Battle of the Amazons, detail, Roman, first half of 3rd century AD, Vatican City, Vatican, Belvedere © Governatorato S.C.V.- Direzione dei Musei

antique due to the diffusion of ancient motifs via drawings by artists he knew well or through small bronzes or other sculptural models that circulated in Bologna.16 Looking at the drawings and their relationship to the prototypes, it seems possible that the drawings were created without necessarily looking at the originals in situ. A very different case is the drawing which Matthias Winner discovered in the 1960s, made in response to the Laocoon group and today preserved in the Museum of Fine Arts in Budapest, dated to 1509/10 (fig. 3.5).17 It was executed directly after Marcantonio’s arrival in Rome and shows the condition of the group without its later additions (only the foot and ankle of the younger boy, which were found next to the group, were added). In the drawing, the group is probably located on its first site, the “cappella” of the Vatican, as described by Cesare Trivulzio in 1506 (which is not its final destination, in the Cortile delle

16 The relationship between Marcantonio Raimondi and Amico Aspertini has already been underlined in this regard, see Faietti, “Marcantonio sulle tracce di Amico”: “Primo del 1506, data che può in effetti costituire un riferimento più attendibile per il primo soggiorno romano di Marcantonio, l’esperienza delle antichità di Roma doveva invece essere mediata soprattutto da Aspertini.”, 25. The Jupiter Ciampolini does, in fact, appear on fol. 46v–47r within the Codex Wolfegg (see CensusID 48737) and the sarcophagus depicting the battle of the Amazons is represented on London Sketchbook I, fol. 19v–20. Aspertini’s drawings after the antique have been comprehensively analyzed by Bober, Drawings after the Antique by Amico Aspertini. 17 Pen, wash, ink on paper, 473 × 325 mm, Budapest, Museum of Fine Arts, inv. K.58.983. Exh Cat. Laocoonte, cat. no. 33, 145f; Winner, “Zum Apoll vom Belvedere”.

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Marcantonio Raimondi (attributed), Study of the Laocoön Group, ca. 1509/1510, pen, wash, ink on paper, 473 × 325 mm, Budapest, Museum of Fine Arts, inv. K.58.983 © Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest

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Statue).18 It is likely that this study is a drawing after the original, as suggested by the play of light on the group and the shading of the architecture. Even the coils of the snake have been painstakingly copied. Only some details of the drapery and the hair show slight adaptations. A very interesting and singular case of a study after a fragmentarily preserved statue, even though dated to the time of the artist’s collaboration with Raphael, are two almost identical drawings – despite the difference in size – by Marcantonio which are preserved today at the Metropolitan Museum19 and the Gabinetto dei Disegni e delle Stampe degli Uffizi (figs. 3.6, 3.7).20 They show two studies of a fragmentarily preserved female torso. Based on stylistic analysis, Faietti dates the sheet in the Uffizi to about 1515. Sheard21 recognized the Berlin Nymph as a possible model, but it is still questionable whether Raimondi would have seen it at that date, at its former site in Florence, or if he worked after another study which he had drawn a few years prior.22 The Berlin Nymph is one version of the statue type known today as Venus Marina which holds no specific attributes.23 Faietti and Sheard refer to another study of this antique torso, which is attributed to Fra Bartolomeo and preserved at Christ Church (Oxford).24 It could not be determined whether this drawing was a copy of Raimondi or vice versa.25 It is more likely that they are different

18

It is not yet mounted at its final site, the central niche of the southern wall in the Cortile delle Statue. A sheet in Düsseldorf shows an even more provisional placement (Düsseldorf, Museum Kunstpalast, Sammlung der Kunstakademie, inv. KA (FP) 7032, pen and wash, 378 × 280 mm). See Bober and Rubinstein, Renaissance Artists & Antique Sculpture, 76–77, no. 28. For an overview on the history of the Cortile, see Luchterhandt, “Schule der Welt. Der Cortile del Belvedere im Vatikan”. 19 216 × 108 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2003.110. Exh. Cat. Antiquity in the Renaissance; Exh. Cat. Bologna e l’Umanesimo 1490–1510, 207, no. 57. 20 261 × 151 mm, Florence, Gallerie degli Uffizi, Gabinetto dei Disegni e delle Stampe, inv. 1157E. 21 Exh. Cat. Antiquity in the Renaissance, cat. no. 19. 22 Exh. Cat. Bologna e l’Umanesimo, cat. no. 57, 207–208. 23 See LIMC (Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae), II, 1984, 65 no. 554–562; LIMC VIII, 1997, p. 201 no. 66–68 [A. Delivorrias]; Schröder, Katalog der antiken Skulpturen des Museo del Prado in Madrid. Vol. 2: Idealplastik, no. 129, 174. The type is known in 27 Roman replicas and variations and has been connected to statues of Venus as well as of nymphs. See, as well, Gasparri (ed.), Le sculture Farnese, cat. no. 20, 51–53. 24 Oxford, Christ Church College, inv. 0125r. This sheet has been put in connection with the Nymph in the Museo del Prado (Exh. Cat. Antiquity in the Renaissance, cat. no. 19), but the drapery is actually different in this version of the type, see Schröder, Katalog der antiken Skulpturen des Museo del Prado in Madrid, 174, no. 129. 25 See Exh. Cat. Bologna e l’Umanesimo, cat. no. 57, 207–208 (Faietti).

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Figure 3.6

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Marcantonio Raimondi, Study of an Antique Statue, pen and brown ink, 216 × 108 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, inv. 2003.110 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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Figure 3.7

Marcantonio Raimondi, Study of an Antique Statue, pen and brown ink, 261 × 151 mm, Florence, Gallerie degli Uffizi, Gabinetto dei Disegni e delle Stampe degli Uffizi, inv. 1157E © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Gallerie degli Uffizi, Florence

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studies of the same prototype. The existence of two almost identical drawings26 raises many questions about the intended purpose and possible audiences of such highly finished drawings, but their function and significance remain an open problem. These few chosen drawings are all based on more or less fragmentarily preserved antiquities from private and papal collections, with or without intermediate drawings or other works of art. In the case of a supposed direct study of the antique, Raimondi represents missing parts exactly as they were. It seems that posture and motif in general were of principal interest for the draftsman; in only a few (and mostly later dated) drawings, did he study the modeling of the female and male body. In his earlier drawings, the form of depicted statues seems to be more important than the volume created or the play of light on the surface. These aspects come to focus in his Roman drawings, perhaps because of the possible intended commercial use of the print. It can therefore be assumed that these early drawings after ancient sculpture served for his own purposes as an artist, a sort of working material, which he, as far as we can reconstruct today, transformed and processed at a later stage in order to apply these studies of ancient sculptural figures to his prints. I would now like to shift the focus to Marcantonio’s prints, in which fragments or fragmentarily preserved sculptures also played a significant role but in a different way. It has to be said in advance that the relationship of Raimondi’s finished works with antiquity is highly complex as demonstrated by Viljoen’s dissertation.27 This is, at least in part, due to the fact that he approaches antiquity, on the one hand, by referring to existing works of art and on the other hand, by recreating a new antiquity in his prints. In the following, I would like to distinguish two exemplary ways in which Raimondi uses ancient sculptures in his early printed œuvre in order to approach his ideas on antiquity and its visual remains. One of the artist’s approaches to ancient monuments can be defined as the use of ancient sculpture as monumentum. This approach is represented by a group of prints that aim to depict, stage or imitate single sculptural works (with or without reference to their materiality) with the goal of characterizing them as ‘memorable objects.’ Such an approach not only shows the appreciation of the artist and his audience for antiquity but also underlines the demand for the preservation and dissemination of ancient sculpture. Marcantonio creates, 26

For an analysis of autonomous drawings in Italy and Germany, see Bohde and Nova (eds.), Jenseits des disegno. Die Entstehung selbstständiger Zeichnungen in Deutschland und Italien im 15. und 16. Jahrhundert. 27 Viljoen, Raphael into Print, in particular chapter 2.

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for example, one of the earliest versions of the Marcus Aurelius in print around 1506/07 (fig. 3.8).28 He presents the group to the viewer in front of a dark, ruinous wall. In reversing the light and dark hues, the artist almost creates a printed negative version of the original. With the help of the inscription, “ROMAE. AD.S.IO.LAT”, he refers to the position of the statue on the Lateran. Due to the striking similarities between ancient sculpture and print, Marzia Faietti raised the question of whether the artist could have been to Rome before 1509 or if, instead, he had worked from the design of another artist.29 In his print of the Marcus Aurelius, the artist shows a naturalistic representation of the horse by accentuating the equine musculature and by giving the tail dynamic movement. Marcantonio uses about one fourth of the whole sheet for the base of the group even if it is not represented in its entirety. The base acts as a plane for both signature and inscription, as well as a way to stage the artist’s ability to create diversified shadows. Given that the sheet is one of the earliest representations of the group in the medium of printmaking, it is highly probable that Marcantonio is addressing a new market segment: a public interested in purchasing prints illustrating Roman antiquities as a kind of “souvenir”.30 Similar observations, this time in relation to a more naturalistic representation of the figures, apply to the Crouching Venus (fig. 3.9). Within this print, from about 1509, the artist represents the crouching goddess leaning on a sort of socle, or statue base on which Cupid is balanced. There is no known antique version of the statue, either in the Cinquecento or today, which shows both figures together in this position.31 Without a doubt the artist had looked at a (fragmented) version of the Crouching Venus in order to create his engraving, but he goes one step further than merely reproducing the statue group: He animates the goddess in her facial expressions, in her address to the viewer and 28

29 30

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Gramaccini and Meier, Die Kunst der Interpretation, cat. no. 52 (148). Nicoletto da Modena created, around the same time, another printed version, but with much more artistic freedom. For a history of the afterlife of the Marcus Aurelius in the Renaissance, see Gramaccini: “Die Umwertung der Antike – Zur Rezeption des Marc Aurel in Mittelalter und Renaissance”, 51–83. Faietti, “Marcantonio sulle tracce di Amico”, 24. Only much later such “souvenir” prints begin to spread. A first step toward such notions of prints of antiquity and other Roman monuments are Antonio Lafreri’s Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae (1575) or Giovanni Battista Cavalieri’s Antiquarum statuarum urbis Romae (ante 1584). Because of that, it is hard to tell which version the artist studied in preparation of the print. If he executed the sheet around 1510, he had access to at least four different large-scale Crouching Venus in Rome and maybe another one in Mantua, see Richter, Die Renaissance der Kauernden Venus. Ihr Nachleben zwischen Aktualisierung und Neumodellierung von 1500 bis 1570.

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Figure 3.8

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Marcantonio Raimondi, The Equestrian Statue of Marcus Aurelius, engraving, 211 × 144 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. DG1971/459 © Albertina Museum, Vienna

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Marcantonio Raimondi, Crouching Venus, ca. 1510, engraving, 217 × 142 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1949, inv. 49.97.110 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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he places her in an ambiguous relation to the statue base. Should this base be considered as her attribute or is it rather Cupid’s socle? The latter is not copied after a specific ancient or contemporary model but is to be considered as an invention by the artist based on various models.32 If the base were to be considered as Cupid’s, it would then be necessary to identify the invented Cupid as a ‘real’ statue. In any case, this clever visual trick of including a statue base serves to connect the represented subject to the medium of sculpture, even if no such combination originally existed that is similar to what Marcantonio shows us in his own variation on the subject. This play between a depiction of a human being and an ancient statue can be found throughout Marcantonio’s work, especially in his Roman period. Apart from the Apollo Belvedere, which is probably based on a drawing by Jacopo Francia, Marcantonio completes the missing parts of the statues represented in his prints. It seems that he included fragmentarily preserved sculptures as such only when explicitly requested.33 In this context, the statement by Landau and Parshall is fitting; they indicate that a single print which does not depend upon a relationship between maker and patron instead has, “[…] a kind of autonomy that needed to forge a context for itself. In order to do this, prints had either to depend upon existing interests or to generate an interest of their own, […].”34 It is possible that there was a growing market for representations of famous statues in the medium of printmaking and that Marcantonio was responding to such a demand.35 In comparison to Marcantonio’s Marcus Aurelius, the Crouching Venus print shows that the artist’s mode of representing ancient sculpture differed in scope: Whereas with the Marcus Aurelius, the artist aimed to disseminate knowledge of the ancient remains, the Crouching Venus was intended as an artistic recontextualization. 32 Faietti, “A new preparatory drawing by Marcantonio Raimondi for his Kneeling Venus”, 310. 33 In 2010, Bernadine Barnes analyzed the mass of reproductive engravings after Michelangelo’s works and concluded that they are a sort of response to specific interests of the art market. This would explain why some motifs entered the print market and others did not. For example, only one-eighth of prints from the sixteenth-century that explicitly depict Michelangelo’s works were done ‘reproducing’ his sculptural work. Barnes mentions the degree of finish of the sculpture, its location, its ownership, as well as the problematic transferal into print, as reasons, amongst others, for the limited representation of his sculptural œuvre within prints of his century. See Barnes, Michelangelo in Print. Reproductions as Response in the Sixteenth Century as well as Gramaccini’s review of the book (Review of Michelangelo in Print. Reproductions as Response in the Sixteenth Century). 34 Landau and Parshall, The Renaissance Print. 1470–1550, 64. 35 Evelina Borea underlines the artist as new client when discussing Marcantonio’s prints after Michelangelo, see Borea, “Stampa figurativa e pubblico. Dalle origini all’affermazione nel Cinquecento”, 356.

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Another method used by Marcantonio for representing ancient sculpture in his prints can be defined as delectatio. This group of prints does not necessarily depict ancient sculptures iconographically and materially as such, but shows them rather as a harmonious part of the composition due to smaller or larger transformations. The viewer must search to identify the ancient works within the print, and in some cases, also adds a layer of interpretation. One example is the use of the Torso Belvedere in his Mars, Venus, and Cupid of 1508 (fig. 3.10) in which the artist attempted to reconstruct its missing parts.36 He took the Torso as his starting point for the figure of Mars and completed it according to his own taste and needs. Instead, the figure of Venus must be seen in connection to a figure from Michelangelo’s Battle of Cascina, from which a male soldier was transformed into a female goddess.37 It can be argued that the artist intentionally included famous works for an audience that reveled in such a game of identification. Less convincing is the argument that Marcantonio relied on these models merely for practical reasons. One might recall that the artist was formed in Bologna, in a humanistic context that favored erudite games of identification. Since prints are viewed at close proximity, this allows for the viewer to engage with the images for an intense and prolonged period.38 The deliberate recognition of a particular statue must have been intended to engage and entertain the artist’s audience. Another example of an ingenious way of dealing with ancient statues, and in particular with fragments, can be found in Apollo and his Lover (fig. 3.11), around 1506. As Giancarlo Fiorenza has recently demonstrated, Raimondi included a fragmented part of the body on purpose: Apollo’s mutilated male parts.39 Fiorenza lists a different reason for the fragment: It could refer to the 36 Bartsch XIV.257.345. Regarding the two states and various impressions of the print, see Exh. Cat. Changing Impressions. Marcantonio Raimondi & sixteenth-century print connoisseurship. For the connection to the Torso Belvedere, see Exh. Cat. Antiquity in the Renaissance, cat. no. 56, 56–57; Müller, “Ein anderer Laokoon – Die Geburt ästhetischer Subversion aus dem Geist der Reformation”, 403–405. 37 Ibidem, 403–404. Stedman Sheard referred instead to a nude woman leading a child at the tomb of Doge Giovanni Mocenigo in the church of Santi Giovanni e Paolo, Venice, or a common source in antique relief sculpture, see Exh. Cat. Antiquity in the Renaissance, no. 56. 38 See for example Exh. Cat. Die gottlosen Maler von Nürnberg. Konvention und Subversion in der Druckgrafik der Beham-Brüder as well as for theoretical reflexions on the topic Münch and Müller (eds.), Peiraikos’ Erben. Die Genese der Genremalerei bis 1550. 39 I refer to the version in the Metropolitan Museum, New York, inv. 41.1.2, 285 × 225 mm, dated 1506. See Exh. Cat. Bologna e l’Umanesimo, cat. no. 24, 136–137 as well as Exh. Cat. In the Light of Apollo, vol. I, cat. no. XI.24, 468. Regarding the fragmented male parts, see Fiorenza, “Apollo dismembered. Love, initiation, and idolatry in an engraving by Marcantonio Raimondi”, and Idem, “Marcantonio Raimondi’s Early Engravings. Myth and

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Figure 3.10

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Marcantonio Raimondi, Mars, Venus, and Cupid, 1508, engraving, 286 × 207 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1918, inv. 18.84.2 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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Figure 3.11

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Marcantonio Raimondi, Apollo and his Lover, 1506, engraving, 299 × 225 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Felix M. Warburg and his family, 1941, inv. 33.56.35 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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most famous statue of Apollo, the Apollo Belvedere, whose male parts were similarly fragmented.40 Interestingly, a drawing by an anonymous draftsman, today preserved in the British Museum in London, shows almost the same mutilation (fig. 3.12).41 In terms of content, the fragment could be a witty comment on Apollo’s masculinity, represented here with his lover Admetus.42 Apart from this case in which the fragmentation is essential for the interpretation of the print, in other sheets with narrative scenes and for which it is known that Marcantonio executed the design, no fragmentarily preserved ancient sculpture can be found. In comparing Raimondi’s prints to works by his Roman contemporaries, it becomes evident that only in rare cases did other printmakers include fragmented statues in their narrative prints, and in great quantities only later during the Cinquecento. As seen, for example, in Jacopo (Gian Giacomo) Caraglio’s Battle of the Romans and Sabines (begun in 1527, fig. 3.13), which illustrates the revenge of the Sabine men on the Roman people, following the rape as well as the pleas for peace by the Sabine women.43 The

40

41 42

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Imitation in Renaissance Bologna”, as well as Tal, “The Missing Member in Marcantonio’s Apollo and his Lover”. Even though it is well documented that these parts were preserved fragmentarily, it is actually quite difficult to reconstruct how much was actually missing around 1500/1510. In a drawing from the Albertina in Vienna, today attributed to Raphael (inv. 22449r), the strut between Apollo’s right arm and his body is depicted, as well as a small part of his male parts. This may be the actual state of preservation before the restoration by Giovanni Angelo Montorsoli of 1532. The same is true for the drawing attributed to Francesco Francia in the Kupferstichkabinett in Berlin (KdZ 26135 r). In the below mentioned drawing from the British Museum, the strut is also visible but the male parts are depicted in a different state. The question remains whether Marcantonio worked after a drawing (by him or another artist) that showed the actual state of conservation or if instead he decided to remove the remains in order to support his intended meaning of the print. For the sheet in Vienna, see Exh. Cat. Roma e lo stile classico di Raffaello, 1515–1527, cat. no. 29a, 89. Regarding the conservation of the Apollo Belvedere, see Daltrop, “Zur Überlieferung und Restaurierung des Apoll vom Belvedere”, 127–140; Himmelmann, “Apoll vom Belvedere”, as well as in general Winner “Zum Apoll vom Belvedere” and “Paragone mit dem Belvederischen Apoll. Kleine Wirkungsgeschichte der Statue von Antico bis Canova”. Anonymous, Apollo Belvedere, c. 1500, drawing, 261 × 172 mm, London, British Museum, inv. 1946,0713.1262. See also CensusID 43660. Fiorenza “Apollo dismembered” and Idem “Marcantonio Raimondi’s Early Engravings”, 13–25. Regarding Marcantonio’s sense of humour, Patricia Emison commented fittingly in another context: “Marcantonio also had a sense of humour, usually a bit salacious […]”, in: Emison, “The Forest Around the Fir Tree: Looking for Marcantonio Raimondi’s Art”, 16. Jacopo Caraglio (after Rosso Fiorentino), Battle between the Romans and the Sabines, traditionally called the Rape of the Sabines as, for example, by Vasari (1527, incomplete engraving, 358 × 509 mm, Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris, Eb 6b Réserve).

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Figure 3.12 Anonymous, The Apollo Belvedere, ca. 1500, brush in grey-brown wash, heightened with white, on grey prepared paper, 261 × 172 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1946,0713.1262 © The Trustees of the British Museum

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Jacopo Caraglio (after Rosso Fiorentino), Battle between the Romans and the Sabines, traditionally called the Rape of the Sabines, 1527, incomplete engraving, 356 × 502 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1919,0714.2 © The Trustees of the British Museum

engraving was executed by Caraglio in response to a design by Rosso Fiorentino and remained unfinished.44 Only after the Sack of Rome, an unknown engraver, “[…] who did not understand what he was doing […],” finished the plate.45 A first state, from about 1527 and preserved at the Bibliothèque Nationale de Paris, more convincingly shows Rosso’s and Caraglio’s intentions.46 For example, the battle scene, which took place in the city of Rome, was put into 44 It would have been the largest print designed by Rosso Fiorentino, see Exh. Cat. Rosso Fiorentino, Drawing, Prints, and Decorative Arts, cat. 47, 142. For Rosso’s use of prints, see Nova, “Il Rosso e le stampe”. 45 As stated in Exh. Cat. Rosso Fiorentino, cat. 47, 140–143. See, for example, 1873,0510.222 in the British Museum in London. 46 Two impressions, one in the British Museum in London (1919,0714.2) and another in the Albertina in Vienna (Alb.It.I.25), show the second, still unfinished state of the print. The figures in the upper right corner are more refined in comparison to the first state in Paris. See also Exh. Cat. Rosso Fiorentino, cat. 47, 140.

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corresponding surroundings by Rosso as can be seen by the pyramids in the left background or the hexagonal building with an ædicule and the (unfinished) herm. The balustrade in the middle ground is decorated with a female statue, whose arm is fragmented. It is probable that the statue also refers to the location of ancient Rome and is on an iconographical level similar to representations of nymphs or of the Goddess Venus. The statue seems to bear importance not only because of its masterly depiction but also on the level of narrative: A man right below the statue is pointing in its direction with his right finger and is indicating it to the man next to him. Another man, at the left border of the print, is looking in that very direction as well. It remains unclear whether the statue was created in imitation of an existing ancient statue or whether it was an invention by Rosso. Why do ancient fragments and fragmentary sculptures play such a significant role in Marcantonio’s drawings and tend to be less visible in his prints? One hypothesis is that Raimondi regarded fragmentarily preserved sculpture from an artistic point of view and thus used them according to his needs: He seems to be interested in what he could learn by studying them and how he could use them for his own compositions. Even though it is true that fragmentarily preserved sculpture stimulated creative imitation in artists by challenging the artist’s creativity, nonetheless fragmented sculpture did not enter en masse into the print market until the second half of the sixteenth century. Judging from Marcantonio’s existing prints, the artist creates a sort of rebirth of antiquity in the medium of printmaking, while documentary aspects, with a few exceptions, fade into the background.47 His handling of ancient sculptures tells us about his ‘artistic’ antiquarian practice and maybe even about the interests of his potential clientele. However, if Raimondi’s detailed drawings of ancient fragments and sculptures were not intended as direct models for prints, their function remains an open question. In his collaboration with Giulio Romano for the Modi, the inspiration of antiquity is clearly visible even though in most cases no models are explicitly cited.48 Such hidden references or inspirations may be based on the one hand on his drawings after antiquity and on the other hand on prints created in his early or Roman years which either depict ancient sculptures or which modify them according to his own needs (dissimulatio). Hence, 47 Regarding Marcantonio’s individual view towards antiquity, see Viljoen, “Paper Value: Marcantonio Raimondi’s Medaglie contraffatte” and Eadem, “Prints and False Antiquities in the Age of Raphael”. 48 Turner, Eros visible. Art, Sexuality and Antiquity in Renaissance Italy (New Haven/London: 2017); Talvacchia, Taking Positions. On the Erotic in Renaissance Culture.

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my hypothesis is that the drawings after ancient remains reveal insights into his working methods as an artist who was able to study ancient prototypes up close. Raimondi as ‘draftsman’ was particularly interested in antique motifs, but also in the modeling of male and female bodies, masses, and volumes, as well as the play of light and shadow on surfaces. With the help of those study sheets, he refined his own artistic repertoire and skills, which he then applied in his prints. For the early studies of Marcantonio Raimondi, the sculptural fragment was interesting most of all as a study piece and offered various ways to transform such fragments in preparation of a print – a working method completely in accordance with his time. As mentioned, only a few of these drawings can be related directly to his prints; those few can shed light on his working methods when dealing with antique sculpture as, for example, in preparation for his print Woman and Man During the Act of Washing (fig. 3.14).49 The modeling of the female figure recalls his drawings of a female torso preserved in the collections of the Uffizi and the Metropolitan Museum (figs. 3.6, 3.7). The male body is doubly inspired by the Torso Belvedere: The artist combined the view from the front and from the back to model his male figure. But it becomes even more complex when considering the entire composition. The whole sheet is a variation on an ancient relief from a sarcophagus, which is located today in the Villa Borghese and was discovered in the 16th century, as seen on a sheet from the Codex Coburgensis (fig. 3.15).50 The ancient prototype, which can be dated to the first century, shows a man and a woman in the act of washing a cultic image. Next to them are two musicmaking satyrs who add to the ritualistic atmosphere. Marcantonio used a detail of the ancient relief as the basis of his composition and filled it with figures similar in form. In leaving out the cultic image itself, he transformed the chosen section into a mere washing scene. The result of his creative combination of models is a highly complex design in which the artist deals with antique sculpture in his own way. Given the humanistic context in which Raimondi’s prints circulated, it is likely that these kinds of references were desired and appreciated by his audience. His drawings and prints which deal with antiquity demonstrate once more that Raimondi has to be understood as an “Interpretationsgrafiker,” a term that was introduced in 2009 by Norberto Gramaccini and Hans Jakob Meier. 49 Engraving, drypoint and etching(?), 110 × 80 mm, London, British Museum, inv. BM 1850,0525.16. 50 See CensusID: 158035. The sarcophagus is preserved today in Rome, Villa Borghese, inv. VIIIL.

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He does not slavishly copy antiquity, but learns from preserved sculpture and breathes new life into ancient works of art using the medium of printmaking. The analysis of his use of fragments or fragmentarily preserved sculptures proves this time and again.

Figure 3.14 Marcantonio Raimondi, Woman and Man Washing, engraving, drypoint and etching(?), 110 × 80 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1850,0525.16 © The Trustees of the British Museum

Figure 3.15

Anonymous Coburgensis, Bacchic Scene, 1550–55, brown ink, brush with grey wash, 128 × 425 mm, Coburg, Kunstsammlungen der Veste Coburg, inv. HZ 2, Nr. 085 © Kunstsammlungen der Veste Coburg

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Bibliography Barkan, Leonard, Unearthing the Past: Archeology and Aesthetics in the Making of Renaissance Culture. (New Haven/London: 1999). Barnes, Bernadine, Michelangelo in Print. Reproductions as Response in the Sixteenth Century (Farnham 2010). Bloemacher, Anne, Raffael und Raimondi. Produktion und Intention der frühen Druckgraphik nach Raffael (Berlin/München: 2016). Bober, Phyllis Pray, Drawings after the Antique by Amico Aspertini. Sketchbooks in the British Museum (London: 1957). Eadem and Ruth Rubinstein, Renaissance Artists & Antique Sculpture. A Handbook of Sources (London: 20102). Bohde, Daniela and Alessandro Nova (eds.), Jenseits des disegno. Die Entstehung selbstständiger Zeichnungen in Deutschland und Italien im 15. und 16. Jahrhundert (Petersberg: 2018). Borea, Evelina, “Stampa figurativa e pubblico. Dalle origini all’affermazione nel Cinquecento”, in: Storia dell’arte italiana. Vol. 1,2: Materiali e problemi. L’artista e il pubblico, ed. Giulio Bollati (Torino: 1979), 317–411. Christian, Kathleen, Empire Without End. Antiquities Collections in Renaissance Rome, c. 1350–1527 (New Haven/London: 2010). Daltrop, Georg, “Zur Überlieferung und Restaurierung des Apoll vom Belvedere”, in: Rendiconti / Pontificia Accademia Romana di Archeologia 48 (1975–76[1977]), 127–140. Emison, Patricia, “The Forest Around the Fir Tree: Looking for Marcantonio Raimondi’s Art”, in: Investigating Marcantonio Raimondi – Bulletin of the John Rylands Library. Guest Editor: Edward Wouk. Vol. 92, (Autumn 2016), no. 2, 1–24. Exh. Cat. Antiquity in the Renaissance (Smith College Museum of Art, Northampton, 6.4.–6.6.1978), ed. Wendy Stedman Sheard and John Lancaster. Dedicated to Phyllis Williams Lehmann (Northampton, Mass.: 1978). Exh. Cat. Bologna e l’Umanesimo (Pinacoteca Nazionale, Bologna, 6.3.–24.4.1988), ed. Marzia Faietti and Konrad Oberhuber (Bologna: 1988). Exh. Cat. Changing Impressions. Marcantonio Raimondi & sixteenth-century print connoisseurship (Yale University, Art Gallery, New Haven, Conn., 14.12.1999–13.2.2000), ed. Clay Dean, Theresa Fairbanks Harris and Lisa Pon (New Haven, Conn.: 1999). Exh. Cat. Der Torso. Ruhm und Rätsel (Staatliche Antikensammlungen and Glyptothek, München 21.1.–29.3.1998; Musei Vaticani, Città del Vaticano, 19.11.1998–31.1.1999), ed. Raimund Wünsche and Vinzenz Brinkmann (München: 1998). Exh. Cat. Die gottlosen Maler von Nürnberg. Konvention und Subversion in der Druckgrafik der Beham-Brüder (Albrecht-Dürer-Haus, Nürnberg, 31.3.–3.7.2011), ed. Jürgen Müller and Thomas Schauerte (Emsdetten: 2011).

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Exh. Cat. In the Light of Apollo (National Museum, Athens, 22.12.2003–31.3.2004), ed. Mina Gregori (Cinisello Balsamo: 2003–2004). Exh. Cat. Laocoonte. Alle origini dei Musei Vaticani (Musei Vaticani, Città del Vaticano, 18.11.2006–28.2.2007), ed. Francesco Buranelli (Roma: 2006). Exh. Cat. Raffael und die Folgen. Das Kunstwerk im Zeitalter seiner graphischen Reproduzierbarkeit (Stuttgart, Staatsgalerie, Graphische Sammlung, 26.5.–22.7.2001), ed. Corinna Höper (Ostfildern-Ruit: 2001). Exh. Cat. Roma e lo stile classico di Raffaello, 1515–1527 (Mantova, Palazzo Te, 20.3.– 30.5.1999, Vienna, Graphische Sammlung Albertina, 23.6.–5.9.1999), ed. Konrad Oberhuber; cat. Achim Gnann (Milano: 1999). Exh. Cat. Rosso Fiorentino, Drawing, Prints, and Decorative Arts (Washington D.C., National Gallery of Art, 25.10.1987–3.1.1988), ed. Eugene A. Carroll (Washington D.C.: 1988). Faietti, Marzia, “A new preparatory drawing by Marcantonio Raimondi for his Kneeling Venus”, in: Print Quarterly 6 (1989), no. 3, 308–311. Eadem, “Questioni di metodo e nuovi disegni”, in: Marcantonio Raimondi: il primo incisore di Raffaello, ed. Anna Cerboni Baiardi and Marzia Faietti (Urbino: 2021) (forthcoming). Eadem, “Marcantonio sulle tracce di Amico”, in: Festschrift für Konrad Oberhuber, ed. Achim Gnann and Heinz Widauer (Milano: 2000), 23–31. Eadem, “Paradigma di regole e di sregolatezze. L’antico a Bologna tra Quattrocento e Cinquecento”, in: Schede umanistiche 18 (2004), no. 1, 123–157. Fiorenza, Giancarlo, “Apollo dismembered. Love, initiation, and idolatry in an engraving by Marcantonio Raimondi”, in: Renaissance Love, ed. Jeannette Kohl, Marianne Koos, and Adrian W. Randolph (Berlin/München: 2014), 105–120. Idem, “Marcantonio Raimondi’s Early Engravings. Myth and Imitation in Renaissance Bologna”, in: Bologna – cultural crossroads from the Medieval to the Baroque, ed. Gian Mario Anselmi, Angela De Benedictis, and Nicholas Terpstra (Bologna: 2013), 13–25. Gasparri, Carlo (ed.), Le sculture Farnese. Vol. I: Le sculture ideali. Texts by Carmela Capaldi and Stefania Pafumi (Milano: 2009). Gramaccini, Norberto: “Die Umwertung der Antike – Zur Rezeption des Marc Aurel in Mittelalter und Renaissance”, in: Exh. Cat. Natur und Antike in der Renaissance. Liebieghaus, Frankfurt am Main, 5.12.1985–2.3.1986, ed. Herbert Beck and Peter C. Bol (Frankfurt a.M.: 1985), 51–83. Idem, Review of Michelangelo in Print. Reproductions as Response in the Sixteenth Century by Bernadine Barnes, in: The Burlington Magazine 153 (August 2011) no. 1301, 540. Idem and Hans Jakob Meier, Die Kunst der Interpretation (Berlin et al.: 2009). Himmelmann, Nikolaus, “Apoll vom Belvedere”, in: Il Cortile delle Statue, conference proceedings in honor of Richard Krautheimer (Roma, 21.–23.10.1992), ed. by Matthias Winner, Bernard Andreae, Carlo Pietrangeli (Mainz: 1998), 211–225.

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Knaus, Gudrun, Invenit, Incisit, Imitavit. Die Kupferstiche von Marcantonio Raimondi als Schlüssel zur weltweiten Raffael-Rezeption 1510–1700 (Berlin/Boston: 2016). Landau, David and Peter Parshall, The Renaissance Print. 1470–1550 (New Haven et al. 1994). LIMC (Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae) (München/Zürich: 1981–1999). Luchterhandt, Manfred, „Schule der Welt. Der Cortile del Belvedere im Vatikan‟, in: Exh. Cat. Abgekupfert. Roms Antiken in den Reproduktionsmedien der Frühen Neuzeit, Kunstsammlung und Sammlung der Gipsabgüsse, Universität Göttingen, 27.10.2013–16.2.2014, ed. Manfred Luchterhandt, Lisa Roemer, Johannes Bergemann and Daniel Graepler. (Petersberg: 2013), 27–42. de Maria, Sandro, “Artisti, ‘antiquari’ e collezionisti di antichità a Bologna fra XV e XVI secolo”, in: Exh. Cat. Bologna e l’Umanesimo. Pinacoteca Nazionale, Bologna, 6.3.– 24.4.1988, ed. Marzia Faietti and Konrad Oberhuber (Bologna: 1988), 17–42. Müller, Jürgen, “Ein anderer Laokoon – Die Geburt ästhetischer Subversion aus dem Geist der Reformation”, in: Erzählen und Episteme: Literatur im 16. Jahrhundert (conference proceedings “Erzählen und Episteme. Literaturgeschichte des späten 16. Jahrhunderts.” Dresden, Schloss Eckberg, 11.–14.4.2007), ed. Beate Kellner, (Berlin et al.: 2011) 389–414. Münch, Birgit Ulrike and Jürgen Müller (eds.), Peiraikos’ Erben. Die Genese der Genremalerei bis 1550, Trierer Beiträge zu den historischen Kulturwissenschaften 14 (Wiesbaden: 2015). Nova, Alessandro, “Il Rosso e le stampe”, in: Exh. Cat. Pontormo e Rosso Fiorentino. Palazzo Strozzi, Florence, 8.3.–20.7.2014, ed. Carlo Falciani and Antonio Natali (Florence: 2014), pp. 241–247. Oberhuber, Konrad, “Marcantonio Raimondi. Gli inizi a Bologna ed il primo periodo romano”, in: Exh. Cat. Bologna e l’Umanesimo. Pinacoteca Nazionale, Bologna, 6.3.– 24.4.1988, ed. Marzia Faietti and Konrad Oberhuber (Bologna: 1988), 51–210. Pon, Lisa, Raphael, Dürer, and Marcantonio Raimondi. Copying and the Italian Renaissance Print (New Haven/London: 2004). Rebecchini, Guido and Edward Wouk, “Biographical Notes on Marcantonio Raimondi and the Publisher Baviera”, in: Investigating Marcantonio Raimondi – Bulletin of the John Rylands Library. Guest Editor: Edward Wouk. Vol. 92, (Autumn 2016), no. 2, ix–xv. Richter, Mandy, Die Renaissance der Kauernden Venus. Ihr Nachleben zwischen Aktualisierung und Neumodellierung von 1500 bis 1570 (Wiesbaden: 2016). Schröder, Stephan F., Katalog der antiken Skulpturen des Museo del Prado in Madrid. Vol. 2: Idealplastik (Main am Rhein: 2004). Schweikhart, Gunter, “Zwischen Bewunderung und Ablehnung. Der Torso im 16. und frühen 17. Jahrhundert”, in: Gunter Schweikhart. Die Kunst der Renaissance. Ed.

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Ulrich Rehm and Andreas Tönnesmann, with the help of Nicole Birnfeld (Köln: 2001), 111–133. Schwinn, Christa, Die Bedeutung des Torso vom Belvedere für Theorie und Praxis der bildenden Kunst vom 16. Jahrhundert bis Winckelmann, Europäische Hoch­schul­schriften 28/1 (Bern: 1973). Tal, Guy, “The Missing Member in Marcantonio’s Apollo and his Lover”, in: Print Quarterly 6 (2009), 335–346. Talvacchia, Bette, Taking Positions. On the Erotic in Renaissance Culture (Princeton, NJ et al.: 1999). Turner, James Grantham, Eros Visible. Art, Sexuality and Antiquity in Renaissance Italy (New Haven/London: 2017). Viljoen, Madeleine, “Paper Value: Marcantonio Raimondi’s Medaglie contraffatte”, in: Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 48 (2003[2004]), 203–226. Eadem, “Prints and False Antiquities in the Age of Raphael”, in: Print Quarterly 21 (2004), 235–247. Eadem, Raphael into Print. The Movement of Ideas about the Antique in Engravings by Marcantonio Raimondi and his Shop (Princeton, NJ: 2000). Winner, Matthias, “Paragone mit dem Belvederischen Apoll. Kleine Wirkungsgeschichte der Statue von Antico bis Canova”, in: Il Cortile delle Statue, conference proceedings in honor of Richard Krautheimer (Roma, 21.–23.10.1992), ed. by Matthias Winner, Bernard Andreae, Carlo Pietrangeli (Mainz: 1998), 227–252. Idem, “Zum Apoll vom Belvedere”, in: Jahrbuch der Berliner Museen 10 (1968), 181–199.

Chapter 4

Cherubino Alberti’s Engravings after Polidoro da Caravaggio: from Chiaroscuro to Sculpture Maria Gabriella Matarazzo* 1

Introduction: Polidoro through Cherubino (and Vice Versa)

The twenty drawings of the Early Life of Taddeo series by Federico Zuccaro, dated circa 1595 and now at the Getty Museum in Los Angeles, stand out as a precious testimony of the Roman artistic milieu of the late sixteenth century.1 In this peculiar biography in images, Federico Zuccaro represented the comingof-age of his brother Taddeo from his humble beginnings to the blossoming of his style, achieved in his frescoes on the facade of Palazzo Mattei (1548). As is well known, the core of Taddeo’s artistic traineeship in Rome was practicing his drawing skills by sketching antique sculptures and the major artworks by Michelangelo, Raphael, and Polidoro da Caravaggio. The latter particularly fascinated Taddeo, who is portrayed as avidly observing and copying Polidoro’s monochromatic frescoes (a technique at the time called “chiaroscuro”) multiple times throughout the series. One of the sheets is particularly noteworthy, as it shows Taddeo twice in the same scene: in the foreground, he is sketching the carved reliefs of an ancient sarcophagus, while in the background he is copying a draped figure after a facade decorated with Polidoro’s chiaroscuro frescoes (fig. 4.1).2 The connection suggested by this drawing raises a number of questions about the relationship established at the turn of the century between Polidoresque monochromes and ancient sculpture, and about the artists’ engagement in such interplay between real and feigned reliefs, ancient and all’antica motifs.

* I am deeply grateful to Stephen J. Campbell and Lucia Simonato for their insightful reading of the manuscript of this essay and for their precious suggestions. I am also indebted to the editors of this volume for their thoughtful comments and revision. When not specified, the English translations are of the author. 1 Exh. Cat. Taddeo and Federico Zuccaro. See also the broad contextualization of the drawings undertaken by Waźbiński, “Lo Studio – la scuola fiorentina di Federico Zuccari”, 275–346. 2 Exh. Cat. Taddeo and Federico Zuccaro, cat. no. 12, 31–32.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | doi:10.1163/9789004445864_006

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Figure 4.1

Federico Zuccaro, Taddeo drawing after the Antique; In the Background copying a Facade by Polidoro, ca. 1595, pen and brown ink, brush with brown wash over black chalk and touches of red chalk, 423 × 175 mm, Los Angeles, The J. Paul Getty Museum, inv. 99.GA.6.12 © Digital image courtesy of the Getty’s Open Content Program

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Yet, art historical scholarship has mainly focused either on the inclusion of Polidoro in the canon of the models acknowledged as the norm in the early history of the Accademia di San Luca, refounded by Federico Zuccaro in 1593, or on the practice of copying antique statues and reliefs as training for artists in the Renaissance and later.3 Rather, the present study proposes to investigate the relationship between these two established models – Polidoro’s monochromes and antique sculpture – especially through the analysis of reproductive engravings by the painter and printmaker Cherubino Alberti, who engraved more than forty plates after Polidoro during the last quarter of the sixteenth century.4 The choice of Cherubino’s prints as a lens for assessing the position of Polidoro in relation to antique sculpture is indebted to Evelina Borea’s seminal studies on reproductive printmaking. As she claimed as early as 1986 in the introductory remarks to the catalogue of the exhibition on the engravings after Annibale Carracci, and more recently, in her Lo specchio dell’arte italiana, art scholarship has been guilty of overlooking the informative potential about critical reception that reproductive printmaking carries.5 Borea argues that d’après prints should gain credit as a “necessary tool” for art historians in the same way as archival documents, literary sources and the studies on collecting and patronage, especially in regard to questions of reception and canon formation. Taking up Borea’s call, I will undertake a stylistic analysis of Cherubino’s prints in parallel with a survey of contemporary literature of art and archival sources, in order to assess the role of Polidoro’s chiaroscuro painting as a model to visualize and reproduce sculpture on two-dimensional media. By analyzing Polidoro’s mimetic strategies through the filter of Cherubino’s reproductive prints, I will emphasize how the latter tended to highlight the 3 Ibid., 71–93. On the early history of the Accademia di San Luca, see the essays collected in Peter M. Lukehart (ed.), The Accademia Seminars. 4 On Cherubino Alberti and his brother Giovanni, see Würtenberger, “Die manieristiche Deckenmalerei in Mittelitalien”, especially 100–15; Witcombe, Giovanni and Cherubino Alberti, especially 28–30 for an overview of Cherubino’s prints after Polidoro; Matteoli, Gli Alberti. For a list of Cherubino’s plates, see The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 34, 118–303. The original entry of Adam von Bartsch’s Le Peintre Graveur has been republished in Exh. Cat. Cherubino Alberti, 209–228. 5 Exh. Cat. Annibale Carracci e i suoi incisori, XV–XVI. On this point, see also Evelina Borea, Lo specchio dell’arte italiana: stampe in cinque secoli (Pisa: 2009), vol. 1, XVII–XX, especially XIX for her remarks on the terminology and distinction between “reproduction” and “translation”. The author also deals with Cherubino as a reproductive engraver at 191–200, in particular 194–196, with a focus on Polidoro’s facades.

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sculptural appearance of their model, thus enhancing the visual analogy of Polidoro’s monochromes to classical sculpture. In particular, I will investigate how, by applying the representational conventions of antiquarian printmaking to Polidoresque chiaroscuro frescoes, Cherubino deceptively represented them as sculptural, thus fostering their visual assimilation to ancient basreliefs. As I shall demonstrate, since the monochromatic technique lies at the crossroads of painting and sculpture, the reception of Polidoro via Cherubino’s deceptive prints played a key role in the redefinition of two-dimensional and three-dimensional thinking between the late-sixteenth and the earlyseventeenth centuries.6 Within the copious graphic material reproducing Polidoro’s frescoes, most of which weathered away (especially since they had been depicted mainly on facades), Cherubino’s prints are particularly noteworthy for several reasons.7 In fact, Cherubino emerged as the engraver who devoted himself to reproducing Polidoro in an almost systematical manner. Such commitment to recording on paper the memory of Polidoro’s perishing frescoes draws a parallel, I believe, to the request from the Accademia di San Luca, formulated in its 1593 statutes, to the aspiring students (“giovani desiderosi”) to submit drawings after Polidoro’s facades “which are in danger of being lost and by time erased”.8 These drawings would have been stored at the Accademia to establish an archive of Polidoro’s oeuvre. Considering the involvement of Cherubino in the activities of the Accademia di San Luca since the early phase of its history (he was a member since its foundation, lecturer and, between 1611 and

6 For a discussion on the early sixteenth-century printmakers’ deceptive use of their medium to suggest the sculptural and antique appearance of their subjects, see Viljoen, “Prints and False Antiquities in the Age of Raphael”, 235–247. On this point, see also Kleinbub, “Raphael’s Quos Ego: Forgotten Document of the Renaissance Paragone”, 287–301. 7 For an extensive catalogue of drawings after Polidoro, see Ravelli, Polidoro Caldara da Caravaggio. For an overview of Polidoro as a decorator of palace facades, see most recently Franklin, Polidoro da Caravaggio, 39–67, 154–155. 8 Romano Alberti, Origine, et progresso dell’Academia del Dissegno, de pittori, scultori, & architetti di Roma (Pavia: 1604), 7: “li giovani desiderosi prima che siano approbati, siano obligati anch’essi portar’alcun Dissegno à gusto del Sig. Principe nell’Academia, ritratto da qualche opera degli valent’huomini passati, et da quelle particolarmente, che stanno in pericolo di perdersi, e dal tempo annullarsi, di Polidoro”. The English translation is from Brooks, Following in the Footsteps of the Young Taddeo, 71. The 1593 statutes have been republished in Lukehart, The Accademia Seminars, 357–64.

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1614, Principe),9 one could argue that Cherubino’s reproductive prints, all dated between the 1570s and the 1590s, perfectly reflected the means and ends of the nascent Roman academy.10 Indeed, it seems that the critical reception of Polidoro and that of Cherubino go hand in hand, especially in the specialized literature on printmaking: Polidoro’s oeuvre has been transmitted via Cherubino’s reproductive prints while Cherubino’s fame spread for his compelling engravings after Polidoro.11 Just to mention examples of this critical tradition, John Evelyn, in his pioneering Sculptura: Or the History, and Art of Chalcography and Engraving in Copper (London 1662), mentioned Cherubino among his “ample enumeration of the most renowned Masters” for his engravings after Polidoro and Michelangelo, which were “commonly sold at Rome, and universally collected”.12 Two decades later, Filippo Baldinucci featured Cherubino in the preface of his Cominciamento e progresso dell’arte dell’intagliare in rame (The Beginnings and Progression of the Art of Engraving in Copper, Florence 1686) as an interpreter of Polidoro’s inventions.13 The renowned connoisseur of drawings and prints Pierre-Jean Mariette, in the notes of his posthumous Abecedario (Paris 1851), commented right after his annotations on Polidoro: “In general, everything engraved by Cherubino Alberti, who was a good painter, is estimable. He put much spirit in it; he put art and disegno in what he did, and he engraved better after Polidoro than after any other master”.14 9

Belli Barsali, Alberti, Cherubino, 688–89. Concerning the relationship between Cherubino and the Zuccaro brothers, it is noteworthy that Cherubino engraved several of their works; see The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 34, passim; Witcombe, Giovanni and Cherubino Alberti, 25–26. 10 It is no coincidence that Cherubino mainly engraved artworks by Michelangelo, Raphael and Polidoro, the same artists that were estimated in the Zuccaro milieu as the canon of the role models to draw inspiration from, whose portraits were also included in Federico’s design for the decorative scheme of Palazzo Zuccaro (see Waźbiński, “Lo Studio – la scuola fiorentina di Federico Zuccari”, 318–326; Exh. Cat. Taddeo and Federico Zuccaro, cat. nos. 22–24, 36–40). 11 On the critical reception of Polidoro, see Marabottini, Polidoro da Caravaggio, vol. 1, 266– 248; Leone de Castris, Polidoro da Caravaggio, 9–29. 12 Evelyn, Sculptura, 57–58. 13 Baldinucci, Cominciamento e progresso dell’arte dell’intagliare in rame, 7. 14 de Chennevières-Pointel and de Montaiglon, Abecedario de P. J. Mariette et autres notes inédites de cet amateur sur les arts et les artistes. T. 1, A-COL, 255–56: “En général tout ce que Chérubin Albert, qui estoit bon peintre, a gravé d’après Polidore est estimable; il y a mis beacoup d’esprit; il y a, dans ce qu’il a fait, de l’art et du dessein, et il a mieux réussi en gravant d’après Polydor que d’après aucun autre maistre”.

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Nonetheless, the praise of Cherubino’s interpretation has not always been unanimous. In fact, an annotator of Giovanni Baglione’s Vite defined Cherubino as a “poor engraver, who distorted Polidoro’s oeuvre in his prints”.15 The conflicting opinions on Cherubino’s work that shaped his critical reception prevent contemporary scholars from approaching his prints as an “objective record” of Polidoro’s facades, yet encourage us to assess the personal contribution of his “reproductive” strategies, thus shedding new light both on the status of Polidoro at the end of the century and on the visual assimilation of his chiaroscuro frescoes with antique sculpture. 2

Cherubino and the Challenge of Sculpture

Born in Borgo Sansepolcro, Tuscany, on February 24, 1553, Cherubino Alberti was the third of the five sons of the architect and woodcarver Alberto Alberti (1525–1598).16 Besides Cherubino, two more of his brothers practiced painting: Alessandro (1551–1596) and Giovanni (1558–1601). The latter, once in Rome, distinguished himself as a master of perspective and quadratura, especially in the decoration of the Clementine Hall’s ceiling in the Apostolic Palace (1596–1598) and in the decoration of the choir of San Silvestro al Quirinale (1601), both in collaboration with Cherubino.17 In 1566, Alberto Alberti settled in Rome and opened his own workshop in Via della Scrofa. Later the same year, he was followed by Alessandro and Giovanni and, in 1568, by Cherubino. Besides a few journeys to Central Italy and Naples, the career of Alberto’s most renowned 15 “Pessimo Intagliatore, che deformò l’opera di Polidoro nelle sue stampe”, as quoted in Marabottini, Polidoro da Caravaggio, vol. 1, 103; Leone de Castris, Polidoro da Caravaggio, 126. 16 On the Alberti family, see Matteoli, Gli Alberti; Exh. Cat., Disegni degli Alberti. The architectural drawings by Alberto Alberti now preserved at the Istituto Centrale per la Grafica in Rome (hereafter cited as ICG), have been published by Forni, Monumenti antichi di Roma nei disegni di Alberto Alberti. 17 On the Clementine Hall, see Oy-Marra, Profane Repräsentationskunst in Rom von Clemens VIII. Aldobrandini bis Alexander VII. Chigi, 15–46, with bibliography. On the decoration of the vault of San Silvestro al Quirinale’s choir, see Giffi Ponzi, “Cristoforo Roncalli, Matteo Zaccolini e Giuseppe Agellio in San Silvestro al Quirinale”, 99–108; in addition, for the Alberti brothers’ preparatory drawings for the frescoes, see Exh. Cat., Disegni degli Alberti, 10, 93–96. Another major collaboration between Cherubino and Giovanni that was deeply influenced by the model of Polidoro is the decoration of Palazzo Ruggeri (1591), for which see Brugnoli, Palazzo Ruggieri.

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sons, Giovanni and Cherubino, mostly took place in Rome, where they both died, in 1601 and 1615 respectively. Most likely Cherubino learned the principles of drawing and painting from his father, though in the first two decades of his activity he devoted himself primarily to printmaking. It is still unclear where he apprenticed as an engraver and whether he actually attended Cornelis Cort’s workshop in Rome. Although no source or archival evidence has ever proven this apprenticeship, scholars have argued that his use of the burin, so sensitive to textures and tonal transitions, must be owed to Cort’s swelling burin line.18 Yet, the very academy that Cherubino attended in Rome was the artistic patrimony of the city itself. The considerable output of drawings variously attributed to him or to his father and brothers – for the most part preserved in Rome and Florence19 – testifies to the restless practice of copying the classical antiquity and the masters of the Renaissance, in the same way as the above-mentioned Early Life of Taddeo. Indeed, the same masterpieces featured in the Taddeo series (and in the Albertis’ sketchbooks) were reproduced by Cherubino in the early output of his prints: the statues and marble groups of the Belvedere Court in the Vatican, Michelangelo’s Last Judgment, Raphael’s Loggia at the Villa Farnesina and Polidoro’s palace facades. In dealing with sculpural subjects, Cherubino explored opposite representational strategies. On the one hand, his engraving of Michelangelo’s Pietà Bandini is manifestly manipulative (fig. 4.2). He completed the non finito or missing parts by carving in detail the features of the faces or by adding the right leg of Jesus, destroyed by Michelangelo himself in a fit of rage.20 Moreover, 18 Pittaluga, L’incisione italiana nel Cinquecento, 353; Witcombe, Giovanni and Cherubino Alberti, 21–22; Matteoli, Gli Alberti, 27. On the swelling burin line (schwellende Taille in German), a technical improvement introduced by Cort, see Sellink, The New Hollstein Dutch & Flemish Etchings, Engravings and Woodcuts, 1450–1700: Cornelis Cort, vol. 1, XXIV– XXVI; Stijnman, Engraving and Etching, 1400–2000, 179–180. 19 The figure drawings at the ICG have been published by Herrmann-Fiore in Exh. Cat., Disegni degli Alberti. Some of the drawings by the Albertis at the Uffizi are discussed in Witcombe, Giovanni and Cherubino Alberti, passim. For the acquisition of the Alberti family archives by the Uffizi, see ibid., 279. In addition, a notebook of twenty-five sheets from the Alberti workshop is now preserved at the Biblioteca Oliveriana in Pesaro; see Prosperi Valenti Rodinò, “Un taccuino di Cherubino Alberti all’Oliveriana di Pesaro”, 27–38. 20 Barnes, Michelangelo in Print, 145–47; Alberti, Rovetta and Salsi, D’après Michelangelo, cat. no. 337, 228. In Cherubino’s two sketches after the Pietà (Uffizi, Gabinetto dei Disegni e delle Stampe), Christ’s leg appears to be missing in the one on the left side of the sheet, whereas it is supplied in the frontal view of the marble group. Cherubino also engraved Michelangelo’s lost prototype of the St. Gerome locating it in a similar type of landscape; see Alberti, Rovetta, and Salsi, D’après Michelangelo, cat. no. 306, 195–196. On the

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Cherubino Alberti after Michelangelo, The Florentine Pietà set in a Landscape, ca. 1575, engraving, 467 × 310 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1874,0613.600 © The Trustees of the British Museum

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Cherubino Alberti, Flute Playing Apollo, 1577, engraving, 222 × 136 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. BI-1891-3063-73-1 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

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he located the marble group, at the time displayed in the garden of the Villa Bandini in Rome, in an imaginary landscape à la Cort, thus providing a narrative background (one can notice the three crosses of the Calvary, the limestone cave of Jesus on the right, and in the foreground, the holy nails just removed from his body). Ultimately, the mise-en-scène of the group set by Cherubino is so pictorial that it might be defined as Raphaelesque, for it enhances the pyramidal articulation of the group and its relation to the landscape as in a Raphael Holy Family or Madonna and Child. On the other hand, in the plates reproducing ancient statues that are included in Lorenzo Vaccari’s Antiquarum statuarum urbis Romae … icones (Rome 1584), Cherubino adopted a philological method. In engraving the white marble Marsyas (fig. 4.4), then displayed in the cortile of the Palazzo Della ValleCapranica in Rome,21 he placed the statue before a neutral background, hatched with subtle but dense lines, without any intention of restoration, since the left foot and half of the right leg are missing. The materiality of the statue is accurately conveyed, with its shadow cast on the wall and the damage to the marble visibly on display. The different approaches adopted by Cherubino shed light on the difficulties of the transfer of three-dimensional subjects onto the copperplate, whether the subject was an ancient sculpture or a modern one. One of the earliest prints showing such a challenge is the reproduction of the Virgin with the Child carved by Michelangelo and Raffaello da Montelupo on top of the tomb of Pope Julius II in the church of San Pietro in Vincoli in Rome (fig. 4.5).22 Although it is rather precise in the description of the architectural frame and the material consistency of the figures (the feet of the Virgin look barely rough-hewed from the marble block), the use of the burin looks unsteady and lacks plastic force.23 It is noteworthy that a printmaker chose the group of the Florentine Pietà, see the contributions collected in Wasserman, Michelangelo’s Florence Pietà. 21 As the inscription states, when Cherubino engraved the Marsyas statue, it was located “in aedibus Vallansibus”, that is in the Della Valle cortile. The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 34, cat. no. 99, 221; Witcombe, Giovanni and Cherubino Alberti, 31, 216 note 63. The original setting where the statue was displayed is shown in the well-known engraving after a drawing by Maarten van Heemskerck which was published by Hieronymus Cock (1553), representing the statue court of the Palazzo della Valle-Capranica with its conspicuous collection of antiquities; see DiFuria, Maarten van Heemskerck’s Rome, 93, cat. no. 67, 405–06. 22 The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 34, cat. no. 34, 152; Alberti, Rovetta and Salsi, D’après Michelangelo, cat. no. 331, 222. 23 As Cristopher Witcombe pointed out, in his early prints Cherubino “runs into particular trouble with the rendering of light and shade on draperies” (Witcombe, Giovanni and Cherubino Alberti, 24).

134

Figure 4.4

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Cherubino Alberti, Marysas with his Hands tied to a Tree, his Fingers cut off to resemble Pan Pipes, 1578, engraving, 220 × 123 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1873,0712.33 © The Trustees of the British Museum

Cherubino Alberti ’ s Engravings after Polidoro da Caravaggio

Figure 4.5

135

Cherubino Alberti (after Michelangelo), Virgin and Child, from the Tomb of Pope Julius II in the Church of San Pietro in Vincoli, ca. 1575, engraving, 286 × 208 mm, Rome, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, inv. FC30004 © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, Rome

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Virgin rather than the more obvious Moses as a subject to reproduce. Besides the more devotional content of the iconography, one could argue that a statue located in a recess would be easier to reproduce, especially for an engraver in the early stages of his career. In fact, compared to the freestanding sculpture, the figure framed in a niche suggests to the beholder a clear vantage point when observing – and sketching – it. As is well known, the multi-faciality pursued in late sixteenth-century sculpture challenged its beholders to move around and cast a “kinetic” glance on it.24 The most renowned example of the impossibility of limiting Mannerist sculpture to one principle view are the three chiaro­ scuro woodcuts issued by Andrea Andreani after Giambologna’s Rape of a Sabine Woman (1584). This set reproduced three different views of the group in order to convey a complete representation of its rotating progression.25 Such changing points of view would have been impossible for the San Pietro in Vincoli Virgin, located high up on the tomb. In addition, the concave surface enclosing the figure, which generates a dynamic of recession-prominence of the volumes, helped Cherubino to render the mass of the statue with a bold alternation of illuminated and shadowed surfaces.26 For the same reasons that a statue in a niche is easier to portray than a freestanding one (where decisions have to be made on the choice of the point of view, the distribution of the highlights, the interaction with the background), chiaro­scuro painting stood out as a particularly profitable subject for a printmaker, being easier to reproduce in copperplate than three-dimensional sculpture and multi-coloured painting.

24

On the multi-faciality of Mannerist sculpture, see the classic Rudolf Wittkower, Sculpture: Processes and Principles, 147–65; Larsson, Von allen Seiten gleich schön. Studien zum Begriff der Vielansichtigkeit in der europäischen Plastik von der Renaissance bis zum Klassizismus. 25 Van Gastel, “ ‘Hoc Opus Exculpsit Io. Bologna. Andreas Andreanus Incisit’: Andrea Andreani’s ‘Chiaroscuro’ Houtsneden Naar Giambologna”, 14–39; Exh. Cat. The Chiaroscuro Woodcut in Renaissance Italy, cat. nos. 95–97, 224–228, with bibliography. During the same years, northern printmaking was facing similar challenges, as noticeable in the two-sheet reproduction of Adriaen de Vries’ Rape of a Sabine Woman by Jan Muller, or in some particularly sculptural plates by Hendrick Goltzius, whose relationship to bronze statuettes by Willem Danielsz. van Tetrode has been explored in Exh. Cat. Goltzius and the Third Dimension. For a more comprehensive discussion on this topic, see the essay by Anne Bloemacher in this volume. 26 On the function of the niche in the perception of the three-dimensionality of sculpture (with interesting remarks on writings by Wölfflin, Hildebrandt, Wittkover and others), see Van Gastel, “Beyond the Niche. The Many Sides of Baroque Sculpture”, 77–98.

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Notably, in the introduction to the three arts of disegno (the so-called Teoriche), Giorgio Vasari defined the chiaroscuro technique as a painted imitation of sculpture, made of different types of stones and materials: Monochromes according to the painters are a kind of picture that has a closer relation to drawing than to work in colour because it has been derived from copying marble statues and figures in bronze and various sorts of stone; and artists have been accustomed to decorate in monochrome the façades of palaces and houses, giving these a semblance other than the reality, and making them appear to be built of marble or stones, with the decorative groups actually carved in relief; or indeed they may imitate particular sorts of marble, and porphyry, serpentine, and red and grey granite or other stones, or bronze, according to their taste, arranging them in many divisions; and this style is much in use now-a-days from the fronts of houses and palaces in Rome and throughout Italy.27 Later on, Vasari described the “manner of working [chiaroscuro] in fresco”, detailing the technical procedure needed to achieve the most nuanced gradation of tones: “The backgrounds are laid in with potter’s clay, and with this is mixed powdered charcoal or other black for darker shadows, and white of travertine. There are many gradations from light to dark; the highlights are put in with pure white, and the strongest shadows are finished with the deepest black”.28 Accordingly, chiaroscuro painting was seen as a conversion of sculpture into an interplay of lights and shades on the plane surface of the 27 Brown, Vasari on Technique, 240. For the original text, see Vasari, Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, scultori e architettori nelle redazioni del 1550 e 1568, vol. 1, 139–40: “Vogliono i pittori che il chiaroscuro sia una forma di pittura che tragga più al disegno che al colorito, perché ciò è stato cavato da le statue di marmo, contrafacendole, e da le figure di bronzo et altre varie pietre. E questo hanno usato di fare nelle fa[c]ciate de’ palazzi e case in istorie, mostrando che quelle siano contrafatte e paino di marmo o di pietra con quelle storie intagliate, o veramente contrafacendo quelle sorti di spezie di marmo e porfido e di pietra verde e granito rosso e bigio o bronzo o altre pietre – come per loro meglio si sono accommodati – in più spartimenti di questa maniera, la qual è oggi molto in uso per fare le facce delle case e de’ palazzi, così in Roma come per tutta Italia”. Further on chiaroscuro painting in Vasari’s Lives, Latella, “‘Che tragga più al disegno che al colorito’: la pittura a chiaroscuro nella teoria vasariana”, 159–180. 28 Brown, Vasari on Technique, 240–41. For the original text, see Vasari, Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, scultori e architettori, vol. 1, 140: “Di questa sorte, di terretta si fanno i campi con la terra da fare i vasi, mescolando quella con carbone macinato o altro nero per far l’ombre più scure e bianco di trevertino con più scuri e più chiari, e si lumeggiano col bianco schietto e con ultimo nero a ultimi scuri finite”.

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wall, which was easy to turn into a system of hatches and crosshatches on the copperplate.29 Such a pictorializing approach to sculpture was of enduring interest for Cherubino: primarily Polidoro’s facades, but also Andrea del Sarto’s cycle in the Chiostro dello Scalzo in Florence. After the latter, Cherubino engraved the scene of the Baptism of Christ in 1574,30 and in 1580 he issued the Fides (figg. 4.6–4.7), the preparatory drawing of which, outlined in pen and brown ink over traces of black chalk, and finely modeled with brown wash, is now held at the Istituto Centrale per la Grafica in Rome.31 3

On Backgrounds and Cast Shadows

Cherubino’s adhesion to Vasari’s understanding of Polidoresque chiaroscuro technique as feigned sculpture may appear more evident from the “antiquarian” approach he adopted in reproducing it. One of the earliest plates that Cherubino engraved after Polidoro are the two Cupids Bearing Festoons, from a frieze probably to be identified with the one described by Vasari as populated with cupids “painted to look like bronze” (fig. 4.8).32 The inscription at the center of the sheet, printed in elegant roman square capitals, declares the authorship of the invention, “Polidorvs de CARAVAGGIO / invenit”, while the place and date (Romae 1576) are 29

The bibliography on the grisaille and the paragone, a topic which traces back to Giotto’s Arena Chapel, is vast; see, among others, Hamburger, “Seeing and Believing”, 47–69, especially 51–3; Preimesberger, “On Jan van Eyck’s diptych in the Thyssen-Bornemisza Collection”, 23–51; Blumenröder, Andrea Mantegna-Die Grisaillen: Malerei, Geschichte und antike Kunst im Paragone des Quattrocento; Curzi, “Giotto ‘finxit’: figurazione, rappresentazione degli edifici e illusionismo”, 3–38. More recently, on chiaroscuro interpreted both as a pictorial technique and as a principle of the early-modern art theory, see the essays collected in Lehmann, Gramaccini, Rössler and Dittelbach (eds.), Chiaroscuro als ästhetisches Prinzip. 30 The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 34, cat. no. 16, 134; Witcombe, Giovanni and Cherubino Alberti, 25, 209, note 20. 31 The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 34, cat. no. 65, 185. For the preparatory drawing now at the ICG (inv. F.N. 2958), Exh. Cat. Disegni degli Alberti, cat. no. 9, 48–49. Herrmann-Fiore also published a drawing after the Justice from the same cycle at the Chiostro dello Scalzo, probably for an engraving as well (cat. no. 148, 221–223). 32 The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 34, cat. no. 158, 287; Witcombe, Giovanni and Cherubino Alberti, 29, 213, note 47. A more detailed record of this frieze can be found in Hendrick Goltzius’ drawings now preserved at the Teylers Museum in Haarlem (inv. K II 97–98). For the identification of this lost fresco with Vasari’s description of the “fregio bellissimo di fanciulli (…) di bronzo”, see Leone de Castris, Polidoro da Caravaggio, cat. no. F15, 496–97, with bibliography.

Cherubino Alberti ’ s Engravings after Polidoro da Caravaggio

Figure 4.6

139

Cherubino Alberti (after Andrea del Sarto), Allegory of Faith, 1580, engraving, 225 × 148 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. Dg2017/3/9409 © The Albertina Museum, Vienna

140

Figure 4.7

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Andrea del Sarto, Allegory of Faith, from the cycle of The Life of St. John the Baptist in the Chiostro dello Scalzo, 1523, fresco, Florence, Italy © Scala / Art Resource, NY

Cherubino Alberti ’ s Engravings after Polidoro da Caravaggio

Figure 4.8

141

Cherubino Alberti after Polidoro da Caravaggio, Two Cupids carrying a Festoon, 1576, engraving, 146 × 228 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1874,0808.558 © The Trustees of the British Museum

engraved at the bottom, below the author’s monogram. Cherubino seems to have adopted the conventions of representation established in the antiquarian printmaking of the time, in order to accomplish the sculptural intention of the original frieze. I would refer by way of example to the Flute Playing Apollo (fig. 4.3), which was engraved by Cherubino in the following year, and later included in Vaccari’s Antiquarum statuarum urbis Romae … icones.33 By comparing the two sheets, one can notice the adoption of a similar hatching for the background to enclose the contours of the figures and to emphasize the plasticity of the bodies, taking advantage of the white of the paper to accentuate the highlights. Yet, in the Apollo sheet, the position of the base slightly rotated from the pedestal, suggests the encumbrance of the marble object within the space, whereas Polidoro’s cupids do not seem connected to any specific support.

33 The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 34, cat. no. 98, 220; Witcombe, Giovanni and Cherubino Alberti, 31, 216, note 62.

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Indeed, the antiquarian printmaking of the time had not shown much interest in supplying visual information about the elements supporting the reliefs; in this respect, the numerous reproductions of the Trajan Column or Nicolas Beatrizet’s engravings after Roman sarcophagi and relief panels offer a case in point.34 In Beatrizet’s Battle of the Amazons, for instance, the sarcophagus bearing the panel, now at the Casino of the Villa Doria Pamphilj in Rome, is not represented (fig. 4.9). The focus of the French engraver lies on rendering the prominence of the figures, sturdily jutting from the flat surface of the background – which again is made neutral by a dense hatching. The visual strategies to render relief qualities adopted by Beatrizet and by Cherubino are therefore the same, and, consequently, the resemblance of Polidoro’s cupids to a sculptural relief is so strong that it is ambiguous to tell their painted nature. Cherubino’s strategic layout of the background and his calculated display of cast shadows as a means of creating dimension seems to push his sculptural approach to Polidoro even further. In the series of the ten mythological tondi (fig. 4.10), published in 1590 with a dedication to Chiappino Vitelli, the divinities appear to emerge from the hatched background with their lively movements and swaying draperies, casting faint but unequivocal shadows on it and thus appearing to be modeled in a delicate stucco.35 Furthermore, in the Rape of the Sabine Women (fig. 4.11), after a scene then on the facade of Palazzo Milesi, the use of the hatching for the background no longer looks neutral.36 Cherubino distributed the lines in perpendicular directions in order to outline the space and convey a sense of depth where the figures can expand with their corporeality. Indeed, these look particularly voluminous and the movements of the Roman soldiers are so impetuous that their feet stick out of the illusive border of the base in the same way as the drapery of the Sabine on the right, which flutters beyond the frame. In addition, the figures agitating in the foreground cast long shadows on the background, thus suggesting the physical presence of both the figures and the supporting frame. 34

Bury, “Beatrizet and the ‘Reproduction’ of Antique Relief Sculpture”, 111–26. On Beatrizet’s engraving after the Doria Pamphilj panel, see also Bianchi, “Catalogo dell’opera incisa di Nicola Beatrizet (III parte)”, cat. no. 106, 7. 35 The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 34, cat. nos. 78–88, 198–208. For a general discussion on cast shadows and visual perception, see the classic studies by Da Costa Kaufmann, “The Perspective of Shadows: The History of the Theory of Shadow Projection”, 258–287; Baxandall, Shadows and Enlightment; Gombrich, Shadows: The Depiction of Cast Shadows in Western Art; Stoichita, A Short History of the Shadow. 36 The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 34, cat. no. 112, 234; Witcombe, Giovanni and Cherubino Alberti, 29, 215, note 54. On the decoration of the facade of Palazzo Milesi, see Leone de Castris, Polidoro da Caravaggio, cat. no. F18, 497–98, with bibliography.

Cherubino Alberti ’ s Engravings after Polidoro da Caravaggio

Figure 4.9

Nicolas Beatrizet, Battle of the Amazons, 1559, engraving, 310 × 420 mm and 310 × 420 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Bequest of the Rogers Fund, transferred from the Library, 1941, inv. 41.72(2.115) and 41.72(2.116) © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

143

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Figure 4.10

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Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), Apollo pursuing Daphne, set within a Roundel, from a series of ten prints after Polidoro da Caravaggio of mythological scenes, 1590, engraving, 221 × 140 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1874,0808.518 © The Trustees of the British Museum

Cherubino Alberti ’ s Engravings after Polidoro da Caravaggio

Figure 4.11

145

Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), The Rape of the Sabine Women, ante 1591, engraving, 139 × 215 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-1935-163 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

As with a bas-relief, the spatiality between the two extreme planes is at the same time alluded to and limited. Even the treatment of naturalistic elements was not intended by Cherubino as a painterly device to open the perspective of the background, but rather as a strategy for pushing the scene forward. This is evident from a comparison between the woods of Perseus Turning Atlas into a Mountain (fig. 4.12)37 and the imaginary landscape that he engraved for Michelangelo’s Pietà. As Mary Pittaluga argued in her remarks on the influence of Cort on Cherubino, which is particularly noticeable in the landscape, the tree canopies often present in Cherubino’s prints after Polidoro are pictorial in style, but not in function. As these canopies expand like a thick though vibrant mass above and between 37 The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 34, cat. nos. 108–109, 230–231; Witcombe, Giovanni and Cherubino Alberti, 29, 213, note 50. This scene was once painted on the facade of the Casino del Bufalo; see Leone de Castris, Polidoro da Caravaggio, cat. no. F6, 495, with bibliography. For the dedication of these sheets to Cardinal Francesco Barberini in 1628, see infra note 39.

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Figure 4.12

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Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), Perseus turning Atlas into a Mountain with the Head of Medusa and The Taking of the Golden Apples, 1628, engraving, 170 × 610 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Harry Shaw Newman, 1941, inv. 41.97.442a © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

the elements of the composition, their function is to push the figures forward and not to illusively break through the background.38 Without the originals by Polidoro as a touchstone, it is difficult to assess whether this setting of the trees was arranged in the frescoes as well, but certainly the prints appear to deny the illusion that the landscape continues beyond the foreground. Even the trees themselves, on occasion, cast shadows on the background. Moreover, considering that the format is strongly horizontal, with the narration unfolding all on the foreground and across two sheets that were set to be glued together, the appearance of a bas-relief is unquestionable. 4

Polidoro’s Monochromes in the Sixteenth-Century Literature of Art

Undoubtedly, Polidoro’s facades captivated Cherubino for their antiquarian subjects and classicist style. Cherubino himself made a clear statement about this in the frontispiece of the set of the Ten Antique Vases depicted by Polidoro on the facade of Palazzo Milesi (fig. 4.13).39 Declaring Polidoro the inventor 38 Pittaluga, L’incisione italiana nel Cinquecento, 353: “Sentirei [l’influenza di Cort su Cherubino] nel paesaggio. Nel paesaggio considerato a sé, qualitativamente: non nei suoi fini compositivi: infatti, gli sfondi del Cort, sebbene manieristici, hanno sempre, alla fiamminga, intenti di complemento pittorico; mentre quelli dell’Alberti, nonostante la varietà dei chiari e degli scuri, non hanno, il più delle volte, che propositi di indicazione spaziale: talvolta, anzi, essi, concepiti come massa indistinta di tronchi d’alberi, avanzano assai verso il primo piano, costituendo un fondo unito, scuro, su cui le figure artificiosamente risaltano chiare. È, insomma, per lui, il paesaggio un mezzo di espressione formale, anziché pittorico”. 39 The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 34, cat. no. 161, 292 published the second state of the plate that bears a dedication to Cardinal Francesco Barberini from Lattantio Pichi, Cherubino’s

Cherubino Alberti ’ s Engravings after Polidoro da Caravaggio

Figure 4.13

Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), Antique Vase, title page of the Ten Antique Vases series, 1582, engraving, 247 × 180 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-1964-2383 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

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of the vases, Cherubino hails him as an “excellent painter and imitator of antiquities”,40 a rare case of a personal tribute by a printmaker to the painter he is reproducing. Not surprisingly, scholarship has stressed the authority of Polidoro’s chiaroscuro painting mostly as a prolific source of all’antica motifs and indeed this is what we find the most evidence of in the late sixteenthcentury literature of art. In fact, the greater part of the writings on the arts published during Cherubino’s lifetime underscored the accuracy and inventiveness of Polidoro’s (and his fellow Maturino’s) facades in regard to antiquarian iconographies. According to Vasari, they both trained by studying “the antiquities of Rome”, and eventually “there remained no vase, statue, sarcophagus, scene, or any single thing, whether broken or entire, which they did not draw and make use of”.41 Moreover, Giovanni Paolo Lomazzo defined Polidoro as “the true painter of ancient things” in his Idea of the Temple of Painting (Milan 1590).42 Even in the Accademia di San Luca’s statutes, the practice of sketching ancient marbles and that of copying Polidoro’s monochromes were interconnected, as it was prescribed that during the week students should have drawn “after the Antique, [and] after the facades by Polidoro”,43 a parallel visualized in the aforementioned sheet from The Early Life of Taddeo series. Yet, the analysis on Cherubino’s engravings conducted hitherto raises, I believe, more questions about the nature of the exemplarity of Polidoro, especially concerning the imitation of sculpture and the simulation of relief effects –

40 41

42

43

son-in-law. The reissuing of several of Cherubino’s prints by his heirs in 1628, dedicated to members of the Barberini family or their entourage, has been accurately retraced by Witcombe, Copyright in the Renaissance, 173–80. On Cherubino’s set of the ten all’antica vases, see also Witcombe, Giovanni and Cherubino Alberti, 29, 214–215, note 54. Polidoro depicted these vases on the belt course between the second and the third floor of the facade of Palazzo Milesi (on which see supra note 36). The original inscription reads: “Vasa a Polydoro Caravagino PICTORE // Antiquitatisq(ue) Imitatore prestantiss(imo) // inventa Cherubinus Albertus in // aes INCIDIT atq(ue) edidit // Romae anno // MDLXXXII”. Vasari, Lives of the Most Eminent Painters, Sculptors and Architects, vol. 5, 176. For the original text, see Vasari, Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, scultori e architettori, vol. 4, 457: “Non restò vaso, statue, pili, storie, né cosa intera o rotta, ch’eglino non disegnassero e di quella non si servissero”. Lomazzo, Idea of the Temple of Painting, 92. For the original text, see Lomazzo, Idea del tempio della pittura, vol. 1, 149: “Si può dire che solo sia stato il vero pittore delle cose antiche”. Polidoro and Maturino’s mastering the “bellezza della maniera antica” had been praised by Lomazzo already in his Trattato dell’arte della pittura, scoltura et architettura (1584); see Lomazzo, Scritti sulle arti, vol. 2, passim, especially 342. Romano Alberti in Lukehart, The Accademia Seminars, 357: “Chi andrà fra la settimana dissegnando all’antico, alle facciate di Polidoro”.

Cherubino Alberti ’ s Engravings after Polidoro da Caravaggio

Figure 4.14

149

Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), The Creation of Adam who reclines at left and touching the Hand of God, ca. 1590, engraving, 165 × 268 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Joseph Pulitzer Bequest, 1917, inv. 17.50.16-175 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

whether or not these effects were related to antiquarian iconographies (fig. 4.14).44 A survey of the literature of art of the time reveals a number of clues which point to the appreciation for the marmoreal consistency alluded to Polidoresque monochromes. Following Vasari’s definition of chiaroscuro painting as feigned sculpture, Lomazzo stressed the illusive materiality of Polidoro’s frescoes, affirming that he “used and introduced coloring in chiaroscuro, imitating marble, bronze, gold and other metals”,45 while Federico Zuccaro

44

See for example the engravings after the now-lost Biblical scenes from the church of Sant’ Eustachio or after the cupids decorating the dado of the Fetti chapel in the church of San Silvestro al Quirinale (The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 34, cat. nos. 131–34, 257–60). 45 Lomazzo, Idea of the Temple of Painting, 92. For the original text, see Lomazzo, Idea del tempio della pittura, vol. 1, 123: “Ha usato e introdotto prima di tutti il colorire chiaro e scuro, come di marmo, di bronzo, di oro e d’altri metalli, di pietre e di tutto quello insomma che occorre al pittore di fare”.

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praised Polidoro for his ability to reproduce marble in his poem Il lamento della pittura (Lament of Painting, 1605).46 Among the late sixteenth-century writings on the arts, Giovanni Battista Armenini’s On the True Precepts of the Art of Painting (Ravenna, 1587) adds some interesting information about the practice of copying Polidoro and the latter’s relation to sculpture. Armenini’s pragmatic approach to art theory makes his testimony particularly valuable and it demonstrates the fact that Cherubino’s engagement with Polidoro’s relief effects was broadly shared by the artists who were studying or working in Rome at the time.47 In Book One, Armenini describes very precisely the steps of the artistic apprenticeship. Firstly, he discusses the drawing techniques, the very first skill that is necessary to acquire and to become acquainted with.48 Secondly, Armenini mentions the imitation of the models, which he identifies with the masters of the Renaissance (namely Michelangelo, Raphael and his school), and antique statuary. However, as Armenini warns, “it can be of more profit to portray ancient sculptures if one first understands the use of lights and develops a proper style”.49 In this regard, the progression of the approach to models that he suggests is of particular significance (especially concerning ancient sculpture): In Rome, the students usually proceed as follows: first they begin to imitate the works of chiaroscuro, among the first of which are the paintings of Polidoro and of Maturino, who were truly gifted by nature in this art. They learned the true and ancient style from Roman marbles and bronzes. (…) Next, beginners should imitate the best work in color, and these are those of Raphael, Brother Sebastiano, Perino, and others already mentioned. At the same time, they should also start to imitate ancient statues, arches, and columns, a practice more instructive than

46 See Heikamp, Scritti d’arte di Federico Zuccaro, 125: “Figurava egli, e finse veramente un marmo tal / Che in questo egli non hebbe un altro pare”. 47 Armenini’s pragmatic approach to the writing on art has been recognized since Schlosser, Die Kunstliteratur, 340–341. 48 Armenini, On the True Precepts of the Art of Painting, 122–27. 49 Ibid., 127. For the original text, see Armenini, De’ veri precetti della pittura, 73: “Abenché di maggior profitto li sarebbe il ritrarre le scolture antiche, se egli prima intendesse da sé i lumi buoni et avesse convenevole maniera, ch’io non dirò antica”.

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imitation of the object copied previously, for those models are more real and concrete and consequently one perfects one’s style more readily.50 This passage is revealing of how the relationship between Polidoro’s all’antica frescoes and actual ancient sculpture was conceived at the end of the century, in the milieu where Cherubino was active as a printmaker. It states, in fact, that copying Polidoro’s monochromes was a preliminary step to the study of ancient sculpture, and that this was necessary in order to acquire the conventions of shading and highlighting, to be verified at a later stage on three-dimensional marble objects. According to Armenini, marble sculptures are indeed more effective to portray because more “real and concrete”, but also more difficult to deal with, especially regarding the “use of lights”. It follows that Polidoro and Maturino stood out as exemplary in the visualization and representation of sculpture by means of the distribution of light and shade, a device to test out afterwards on physical, three-dimensional models. I would suggest that Armenini’s claims find visual evidence in Cherubino’s prints, which seem to reflect such assessment of chiaroscuro as a key to perceive and reproduce sculpture, all the more so in that chiaroscuro painting is a technique limited to light and shade. The Triumph of Aemilius Paullus serves as a particularly significant case in point (fig. 4.15).51 Portions of the original fresco have survived thanks to the solicitude of Cardinal Antonio Barberini, who rescued this section of the frieze 50 Armenini, On the True Precepts, 127–28. For the original text, see Armenini, De’ veri precetti della pittura, 73–74: “Quivi li studiosi costumano tener questa via: prima si danno a immitar l’opere di chiaro e scuro, e fra le prime vi sono le dipinte da Polidoro e da Maturino, i quali dalla natura furono veramente prodotti a questo fare. Conciosiacosaché essi presero la vera et antica maniera da’ marmi e da’ bronzi di Roma […]. Doppo questa si mettono a ritrarre le migliori che ci sono colorite, le quali sono quelle di Raffaello, di frate Sebastiano, di Perino, e di quelli altri già nominati da noi e, mentre che danno opera a queste, si mettono ancora ad immitare le statue, gli archi, e i pili antichi, il che facendo imparano molto più che dall’altre cose da loro prima immitate, perciò che quelle si imprimono più nella mente per essere più certe e vere, che non son l’altre predette, sì che con più prestezza si viene eccellente”. The usefulness of portraying three-dimensional models in order to learn how to reproduce relief effects in drawings and paintings is recurrent in Armenini’s treatise and touches one of the cores of the paragone debate; see Ragazzi, Os modelos plásticos auxiliares e suas funções entre os pintores italianos; id., “Ancora il paragone tra pittura e scultura: i modelli plastici ausiliari e una possibilità di conciliazione”, 137–150. More broadly, on the multiple layers of meaning of the concept of rilievo, see Freedman, “Rilievo as an Artistic Term in Renaissance Art Theory”, 217–47. 51 The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 34, cat. no. 160, 290–91; Witcombe, Giovanni and Cherubino Alberti, 29, 214, note 53. The Triumph of Aemilius Paullus, based on Plutarch’s description,

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Figure 4.15

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Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), The Triumph of Aemilius Paullus, 1628, engraving, 174 × 406 mm and 169 × 410 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-34.040 and RP-P-OB-34.041 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

in 1633 and located it in the Palazzo alle Quattro Fontane, where it is still held today (fig. 4.16).52 It is much damaged and painted over, but by comparing these fragments to their engraved versions, one can still ascertain Cherubino’s accuracy. In his prints, Cherubino took particular care in rendering the arrangement of the planes, visible in the layering of the legs of the horses and the trumpet players. Following Polidoro, he defined a heightened foreground was depicted on the facade of a palace in Piazza Madama; see Leone de Castris, Polidoro da Caravaggio, 134–35, cat. no. F35, 502, with bibliography. 52 Marabottini, Polidoro da Caravaggio, vol. I, 358; Leone de Castris, Polidoro da Caravaggio, 15; Franklin, Polidoro da Caravaggio, 49–51. For a closer analysis of Polidoro’s fresco technique, see the informative essays collected in Colucci, Masini and Miracola, Dal giardino al museo. Polidoro da Caravaggio nel Casino del Bufalo, focusing on the fragments from the Casino del Bufalo that are now held at the Museo di Roma.

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Figure 4.16

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Polidoro da Caravaggio, Fragments of The Triumph of Aemilius Paullus, ante 1527, fresco, Palazzo Barberini, Rome © Sailko, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index. php?curid=56247600 and https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/ index.php?curid=56247602

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where light flows and then dug into the background by progressively thickening and densifying the lines, thus evoking the diversified incidence of the light on the planes of the illusive bas-relief. The tonal transitions are also enriched by the subtle use of dotting, while the alternation of lights and shadows is livened by the multitude of figures, animals, trophies, weapons and trumpets that crowds the compressed field of the frieze, faithfully reproducing a sense of accumulation on the paper. Even the adoption of the boldly horizontal shape of the two plates, the impressions of which were supposed to be assembled, is so unconventional for the print medium that it convincingly conveys the sense of the horizontal unfolding of the frieze on an architectural scale.53 5

Epilogue: From Prints to Sculpture

With a few exceptions, Cherubino’s engravings after Polidoro boast a long history of favorable reception for being particularly true to the original and able not only to convey the formal qualities of the original, but also to express the terribilità and the fury of Polidoro’s style praised by Lomazzo in his writings.54 Such fortunate critical reception can be traced back to Giulio Mancini’s Discorso di pittura, the first abbreviated version of his renowned Considerazioni sulla pittura, supposedly written between 1617 and 1619.55 In his notes, the Senese doctor and virtuoso complained about the irreversible vanishing of the frescoes by Polidoro, whose glory would have passed down only through written sources (like Apelle’s) if it were not for the “affection and generosity of Cherubino from Borgo […] and Golsio, who both engraved almost all of his artworks for the communal utility of the studious”.56 It is significant that of all the visual records of Polidoro’s works already available on the print market (such as the prints by Giulio Bonasone or Giovanni Battista de’ Cavalieri), Mancini explicitly paid homage to those by Cherubino and Goltzius, who at the time were already acknowledged as the best interpreters of Polidoro. If the 53 The impression of a sculptural frieze was also particularly deceptive in the case of the Stories of the Sabines from the facade of Palazzo Ricci, where Cherubino’s reproductions unfolded in three sheets; see The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 34, cat. no. 159, 288–89. 54 Lomazzo, Idea of the Temple of Painting, 158. 55 Mancini, Considerazioni sulla pittura, vol. 1, 291–332. 56 Ibid., 312: “Ma pure l’affetto et la carità di Cherubino / del Borgo, fratello di Gio. (quell’eminentissimo prospettivo che dipinse la Sala Clementina) et il Golsio, che a comune utilità delli studiosi hanno intagliate quasi tutte le sue opere”.

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analysis conducted hitherto on Cherubino’s prints is compared with previous discussions on Goltzius and the paragone (especially that between sculpture and engraving), what makes the interpretation of Polidoro offered by these two printmakers particularly valuable becomes clear.57 The scholarship on Goltzius, in fact, has already recognized his ability to imitate in print the different media of the originals, and concerning grisaille, his accomplishment in fulfilling Polidoro’s intention of feigning sculpture.58 Like Goltzius, Cherubino achieved the medial overlap pursued by Polidoro in his monochromes by simulating their relief effects and their illusive marmoreal materiality. Yet, Cherubino’s manipulation of Polidoro’s monochromes seems to go even further. An effective element of comparison might be the eight Pagan Deities standing in niches depicted by Polidoro on the facade of a palace on the Quirinal Hill.59 Comparing the two versions of the Neptune, they both are faithful in rendering the plasticity of the figure, firmly standing in the recess and stretching their arm beyond the frame, even though Cherubino’s modeling appears dry compared to the smooth consistency infused by Goltzius’s curved and swelling lines (figg. 4.17–4.18). When it comes to the Pluto, though, Cherubino’s presentation is totally deceptive (fig. 4.19). He got rid of the niche and set the figure on a pedestal, thus visually turning the painted god into a freestanding statue. The copperplate related to this print is mentioned in one

57 On Goltzius’s ability to work across media and imitate the styles and materials of the originals (a skill particularly appraised by Karel van Mander), see Melion, Shaping the Netherlandish Canon, 49. More recently, on Goltzius and the theories of imitation, with particular emphasis on his prints after Polidoro, see Limouze, “Engraving as Imitation: Goltzius and His Contemporaries”. 58 On this point, particularly compelling are Limouze’s observations on Goltzius’s use of the “burin techniques emulative of relief” (Limouze, “Engraving as Imitation”, 445). Recently, Saskia Cohen-Willner has pointed out that Karel van Mander emphasized Polidoro’s “exemplary use of light and darkness” and his ability to manage the “mezzatint” to achieve relief effects. Van Mander also designated this skill as one of the deelen der Consten (parts of art) that Northern painters were encouraged to learn from their Italian peers; see Cohen-Willner, “Between painter and painter stands a tall mountain: Van Mander’s Italian Lives as a source for instructing artists in the deelen der consten”, 348–383. 59 Leone de Castris, Polidoro da Caravaggio, cat. no. F2, 494, with bibliography. On Cherubino’s prints, see The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 34, cat. no. 94(I)–95, 215–17; Witcombe, Giovanni and Cherubino Alberti, 29, 214, note 52. On Goltzius’s version of the Deities, see Leesberg, The New Hollstein Dutch & Flemish Etchings, Engravings and Woodcuts: Hendrick Goltzius, vol. 2, cat. nos. 315–22, 254–67.

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Figure 4.17

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Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), Neptune (erroneously identified as Pluto), ca. 1590, engraving, 201 × 110 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. DG2017/3/9461 © Albertina Museum, Vienna

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Figure 4.18

Hendrick Goltzius (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), Neptune, from the series of the Eight Deities, 1592, engraving, 354 × 215 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-H-OB-101.425 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

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Figure 4.19

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Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), Pluto holding a Torch, 1590, engraving, 241 × 148 mm, Rome, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, inv. FC 30065 © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, Rome

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of the three lists of Cherubino’s plates from the archive of the Alberti family.60 Not surprisingly, in this document, dated supposedly at the end of the seventeenth century, the plate is listed as follows: “one copperplate representing a statue holding a burning ember: invention by Polidoro, engraving by Cherubino”.61 Indeed, the visual analogy to a freestanding statue is so disorienting that it is impossible to discern whether the original is an actual statue or a depicted one, as the archival record exemplifies. At this point, one might wonder whether such sculptural manipulation of Polidoro’s frescoes enabled by the print medium would have attracted the attention of sculptors. In fact, the circulation of prints such as Cherubino’s Pluto and the others discussed in this essay was increasingly replacing the direct confrontation of the artists with the vanishing originals by Polidoro, therefore deeply affecting the visual experience one had of them. Although a comprehensive study on the influence of Polidoro on seventeenth-century artists has not been attempted yet,62 the most promising proposal in this respect is still the one formulated by Luigi Grassi.63 The scholar identified Polidoro’s Quirinal Hill deities as a pivotal source for the early production of Gian Lorenzo Bernini, in particular his Neptune and Triton, The Rape of Proserpina and David, all dated in the 1620s.64 It is unresolved whether Bernini had to hand Cherubino’s engravings or borrowed inspiration from the originals (as Grassi preferred), or more likely both, but still the impetuous stride of Polidoro’s Neptune or the contrapposto of his Pluto as documented by Cherubino’s prints, appear as compelling touchstones for Bernini’s early works, especially for his Neptune and Triton. Moreover, another comparison established in the critical literature on Bernini is related to his Apollo and Daphne, which has been linked to 60

The archive of the Alberti family is mostly preserved at the library of the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. This material has been published by Degli Azzi, Archivio Alberti, 195–255. The three lists of the engraved plates by Cherubino are transcribed at 234–39. 61 Ibid., 238 no. 17: “Rame rappr. una statua con un tizzo acceso in mano: inv. di detto Polidoro; inc. di Cherubino” (emphasis mine). For the print see The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 34, cat. no. 91, 212; Witcombe, Giovanni and Cherubino Alberti, 29, 213, note 48. 62 For instance, in 1675 Ciro Ferri, as the director of the Florentine Academy in Rome, advised the sculptor Giovanni Battista Foggini to sketch Polidoro’s facades, as pointed out by Montagu, Roman Baroque Sculpture, 13. On the reception of Polidoro in Baroque Rome, the most substantial contribution is the study by Merz on Pietro da Cortona’s early production; see Jörg Martin Merz, Pietro da Cortona, passim. 63 Grassi, “Bernini: Two Unpublished Drawings and Related Problems”, 170–181. See also Wittkower, Bernini (Oxford: 1981), 235. 64 Idem., ad indicem.

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Figure 4.20

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Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Neptune and Triton, ca. 1622–23, marble, h. 182.2 cm, London, Victoria and Albert Museum, inv. A.18:1-1950 © Victoria and Albert Museum, London

Cherubino’s sheet illustrating the same subject after the aforementioned tondi by Polidoro.65 Within the same suite, the plate portraying Neptune may well have inspired Bernini when he carved his Neptune and Triton (figs. 4.20–4.21).66 Since the latter has been interpreted as a representation of Virgil’s famous lines on the Quos Ego episode,67 Bernini could have born in mind different solutions.68 Among the others, Leonardo’s lost Neptune drawing has been indicated as a possible model, through paths which are still problematic to prove 65

For a survey of the visual sources of Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne, see Anna Coliva’s entry in the Exh. Cat. Bernini scultore, 252–75 (especially 264–265), with bibliography. 66 Schütze, Nettuno, in ibid., 170–179, especially 175. 67 Wittkower, “Bernini Studies – I. The Group of Neptune and Triton”, 68–76, especially 75–76. 68 For previous representations, see Freedman, “Neptune in Classical and Renaissance Visual Art”, 219–37.

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Figure 4.21

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Cherubino Alberti (after Polidoro da Caravaggio), Neptune rising from the Waters, from a series of ten prints of mythological scenes after Polidoro da Caravaggio, 1590, engraving, 157 × 141 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-1935-204 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

to this day,69 whereas Polidoro’s prototype or Cherubino’s print might have been more likely available to Bernini’s gaze.

69 On Leonardo’s lost Neptune drawing, which is known through the Windsor sketch and several derivations, see Gould, “Leonardo’s ‘Neptune’ Drawing”, 289–294, especially 294.

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In conclusion, the cases enumerated in this essay prove how indubitably Cherubino – before Bernini – foresaw the plastic potential of Polidoro’s feigned sculpture through his engraved reproductions. By weaving together formal and literary evidence, the survey of the visual fortune of Polidoresque chiaroscuro frescoes suggests a broader consideration of their reception and their medial overlap with sculpture at the turn of the sixteenth century and later. Thus Cherubino’s prints, as I have sought to demonstrate, should be regarded as a starting point on the investigation of the intermedial reception of Polidoro’s monochromes. .

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Melion, Walter S., Shaping the Netherlandish Canon: Karel van Mander’s Schilder-boeck (Chicago: 1991). Merz, Jörg Martin, Pietro da Cortona: der Aufstieg zum führenden Maler im barocken Rom (Tübingen: 1991). Montagu, Jennifer, Roman Baroque Sculpture: The Industry of Art (New Haven and London: 1989). Oy-Marra, Elisabeth, Profane Repräsentationskunst in Rom von Clemens VIII. Aldobrandini bis Alexander VII. Chigi: Studien zur Funktion und Semantik römischer Deckenfresken im höfischen Kontext (Munich: 2005). Pittaluga, Mary, L’incisione italiana nel Cinquecento (Milan: 1930). Preimesberger, Rudolf, Paragons and Paragone: Van Eyck, Raphael, Michelangelo, Caravaggio, and Bernini (Los Angeles: 2001). Prosperi Valenti Rodinò, Simonetta, “Un taccuino di Cherubino Alberti all’Oliveriana di Pesaro”, Atti e studi / Accademia Raffaello 2 (2004), 27–38. Ragazzi, Alexandre, “Ancora il paragone tra pittura e scultura: i modelli plastici ausiliari e una possibilità di conciliazione”, Ricerche di Storia dell’arte 110/111 (2013), 137–150. Ravelli, Lanfranco, Polidoro Caldara da Caravaggio: I. Disegni di Polidoro; II. Copie da Polidoro (Bergamo: 1978). Schlosser, Julius von, Die Kunstliteratur. Ein Handbuch zur Quellenkunde der neueren Kunstgeschichte, reprint of the 1924 ed. (Vienna: 1985). Sellink, Manfred, The New Hollstein Dutch & Flemish Etchings, Engravings and Woodcuts, 1450–1700: Cornelis Cort, ed. Huigen Leeflan, 4 vols. (Rotterdam: 2000). Stijnman, Ad, Engraving and Etching, 1400–2000: A History of the Development of Manual Intaglio Printmaking Processes (London and Houten: 2012). Stoichita, Victor I., A Short History of the Shadow (London: 1997). Takahatake, Naoko (ed.), The Chiaroscuro Woodcut in Renaissance Italy, Exh. Cat. (Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Los Angeles, 03.06–16.09.2018; National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C., 14.10.2018–20.1.2019), (Munich, London, New York: 2018). Van Gastel, Joris, “ ‘Hoc Opus Exculpsit Io. Bologna. Andreas Andreanus Incisit’: Andrea Andreani’s ‘Chiaroscuro’ Houtsneden Naar Giambologna”, Bulletin Van Het Rijksmuseum 55 (2007), 1, 14–39. Van Gastel, Joris, “Beyond the Niche: The Many Sides of Baroque Sculpture”, in Joris van Gastel, Yannis Hadjinicolaou and Markus Rath (eds.), Paragone als Mitstreit (Berlin: 2014), 77–98. Viljoen, Madeleine, “Prints and False Antiquities in the Age of Raphael”, Print Quarterly 21 (2004), 3, 235–47. Wasserman, Jack (ed.), Michelangelo’s Florence Pietà (Princeton, N.J.: 2003). Waźbiński, Zygmunt, “Lo Studio – la scuola fiorentina di Federico Zuccari”, Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz 29 (1985), 275–346.

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Witcombe, Christopher L. C. E., Copyright in the Renaissance: Prints and the ‘Privilegio’ in Sixteenth-Century Venice and Rome (Leiden: 2004). Wittkower, Rudolf, “Bernini Studies – I. The Group of Neptune and Triton”, The Burlington Magazine 94 (1952), 588, 68–76. Wittkower, Rudolf, Sculpture: Processes and Principles (New York: 1977). Wittkower, Rudolf, Bernini: The Sculptor of the Roman Baroque, 3rd ed. (Oxford: 1981). Würtenberger, Franzsepp, “Die manieristische Deckenmalerei in Mittelitalien”, Römisches Jahrbuch für Kunstgeschichte 4 (1940), 59–141.

Chapter 5

From Sculpture to Print to Sculpture. Parmigianino, Caraglio and the Mystery of the Barberini Faun Marzia Faietti Shortly before the Sack of Rome devastated the city in 1527, seriously compromising artistic endeavours, Gian Giacomo Caraglio executed the engraving Jupiter and Antiope (B. XV, 73, 10) (fig. 5.1). The production of the engraving cycle to which the print belonged, The Loves of the Gods, was not interrupted by the Sack and achieved great success in various artistic and even scientific circles as early as the first half of the sixteenth century.1 According to Vasari, Rosso Fiorentino had produced the drawings for a pair of engravings, Pluto and Proserpina (B. XV, 76, 22) and Saturn and Philyra (B. XV, 76–77, 23),2 but after the Sack and following a dispute with Ludovico Baviera, the publisher of the series,3 Rosso was replaced by Perin del Vaga.4 Vasari suggests that Perino was responsible for almost all the inventions supplied to Caraglio.5 Modern critics, however, who recognized the themes and compositions of Giulio Romano in some scenes of The Loves of the Gods, have questioned such a claim. I, in turn, in a rather recent article, suggested extending a possible collaboration on the series to other artists active on the Roman scene between 1524 and 1527.6 In this regard, also considering the known work relationship between Caraglio and Parmigianino,7 I proposed the latter was responsible for the invention of 1 For the vast bibliography of the cycle I refer to the detailed summary in Faietti, “Betrayals of the Gods and Metamorphoses of Artists: Parmigianino, Caraglio and Agostino Carracci”, 257–275, speciatim 16, notes 4–6. 2 G. Vasari, Le Vite, IV (1976), 481. 3 Ibidem, V (1984), 17. 4 Ibidem (1550 and 1568), 136. 5 Nonetheless, if the truth be told, there are some inaccuracies between the life of Rosso (see note 2), where it would seem that his work for the drawings of the series was more extensive, and the life of Marcantonio (see note 3), which instead explicitly indicates only the drawings for the two engravings with Pluto and Proserpina and Saturn and Philyra. 6 Faietti, “Betrayals …”, 257–275; see also Ead., “Parmigianino ‘alter Raphael’ ”, 62–109, speciatim 90–93. 7 For a significant case of collaboration between the artist and engraver, with a bibliography on the topic, see Faietti, “Roma 1527, Bologna 1530. Parmigianino, il Papa e l’Imperatore”, 447–463.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | doi:10.1163/9789004445864_007

From Sculpture to Print to Sculpture

Figure 5.1

Gian Giacomo Caraglio, Jupiter and Antiope, ca. 1527, engraving, 214 × 138 mm, Rome, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, inv. FC 5928 © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, Rome

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the figure of Antiope in Jupiter and Antiope on account of rather complex comparisons, of which I limit myself here to a summary of the key points. Despite the vigorous censorship unleashed on Jupiter-satyr, Antiope is certainly the most important figure in the erotic context of the scene. In my opinion, the idea for the mythological heroine must have come from the preparatory studies for The Madonna and Child with Saint John the Baptist and Saint Jerome which Maria Bufalini, the wife of Antonio Caccialupi, had commissioned from Parmigianino on 3 January 1526 for the family chapel in San Salvatore in Lauro, now in the National Gallery of London8 (fig. 5.2a–c). I am referring in particular to the sheets that explore the pose of Saint Jerome; this latter, in the final painting preceded by a red chalk study,9 shows similarities with the posture of Antiope, although the head is turned to the right and the legs are reversed and arranged slightly differently. The similarities between the two figures then extends to the foreshortened face, above all the shape of the nose and lips which are slightly open in sleep.10 According to Vasari, Mazzola was still working on the Bufalini-Caccialupi altarpiece during the Sack of Rome,11 while only after the Sack, that is from May 1527, did Baviera entrust the drawings for The Loves of the Gods to Perino. Therefore, Mazzola’s devising of Saint Jerome must have preceded that of Antiope in Jupiter and Antiope and consequently the engraved figure should be seen as deriving from the painted one and not vice versa. The origin of Caraglio’s Antiope from Saint Jerome conceived in the context of Parmigianino’s sole Roman public commission, carried out just before work on the engraved series resumed, provides an eloquent example of the recurring intersection between religious topics and erotic subjects, and of the frequent contamination between sacred and profane figures. The mix of different models within the same work, adapted and contextualised in new compositions, was all part of the work method of the printers; in this regard it is significant that in the same engraving Caraglio had reworked Adam of the Original Sin in the Sistine chapel to bring his Jupiter-satyr to life.12 8 Vasari, Le Vite, IV (1976), 537–538. For a summary entry on the painting see Vaccaro, Parmigianino. I dipinti, 154–157, no. 18. 9 Paris, musée du Louvre, département des Arts graphiques, inv. 6423: see Gnann, Parmigianino. Die Zeichnungen, I, 159 and 442, no. 579, with previous bibliography. 10 For the links between the religiousness of the patron and the erotic imagery of the period in the painting by Parmigianino read Nova, “Erotismo e spiritualità nella pittura romana del Cinquecento”, 149–169, speciatim 161–162. 11 Vasari, Le Vite, IV (1976), 538 (1550 and 1568). 12 As convincingly observed by Fabiański, “Correggio’s Venus, Cupid and a ‘Satyr’. Its Form and Iconography”, 163; Id., Correggio. Le mitologie d’Amore, 159–173, speciatim 61 (the scholar in any case considered the mediation of the Michelangelesque model through drawings by Perino).

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Figure 5.2a Francesco Mazzola called Parmigianino, Madonna and Child with Saint John the Baptist and Saint Jerome, ca. 1526–27, oil on panel, 342.9 × 148.6 cm, London, The National Gallery, inv. NG 33 © The National Gallery, London

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Figure 5.2b Francesco Mazzola called Parmigianino, Madonna and Child with Saint John the Baptist and Saint Jerome, detail, ca. 1526–27, oil on panel, 342.9 × 148.6 cm, London, The National Gallery, inv. NG 33 © The National Gallery, London

Figure 5.2c Gian Giacomo Caraglio, Jupiter and Antiope, detail, ca. 1527, engraving, 214 × 138 mm, Rome, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, inv. FC 5928 © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, Rome

From Sculpture to Print to Sculpture

Figure 5.3

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Antonio Allegri called Correggio, Venus, Cupid and a Satyr, ca. 1528, oil on canvas, 188.5 × 125.5 cm, Paris, musée du Louvre, département des Peintures, inv. 42

According to some scholars, San Jerome’s pose in the London altarpiece derives from the Venus in Correggio’s painting Venus, Cupid and a satyr, now in the musée du Louvre (fig. 5.3). This opinion, which consequently led to the belief that Correggio’s composition was known to Mazzola before his departure for Rome in 1524, has been met with consensus and disagreement over time.13 I agree with those who find the figure of the satyr in the Paris painting 13

Among the dissenting voices cf. ivi, 61, with a summary of the other hypotheses in note 89, 172.

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by Antonio Allegri to have drawn on the Jupiter-satyr engraved by Caraglio.14 I am therefore inclined to accept that both the Bufalini-Caccialupi altarpiece by Parmigianino and the print by Caraglio came before the painting Venus, Cupid and a Satyr by Correggio,15 or, at least, that all three were planned at the same time. Furthermore, it cannot be excluded that it was Allegri who drew inspiration from the Roman works by Parmigianino and Caraglio, either through the circulation of prints or personal experience of the Roman artistic context. In addition, I would like to note that the Venus by Correggio could betray knowledge of Mazzola’s ideas for his Jerome, for example in the study in the J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles16 (fig. 5.4). But let us return to Caraglio’s Antiope, the creation of which has been carefully examined by scholars: some have considered that the position of the bent arm above the head is reminiscent of the Sleeping Ariadne in the Vatican (Bober-Rubinstein 79), but also of the sleeping Maenad on a sarcophagus in the Museo Nazionale of Naples. The sarcophagus is reproduced several times in engravings by Marcantonio Raimondi17 and provided inspiration for Position 11 in I modi, the controversial cycle of erotic prints engraved by Marcantonio from drawings by Giulio Romano.18 Certainly, a more appropriate comparison can be made with a sculpture similar to the current appearance of the so-called Barberini Faun, now in the Glyptothek in Munich; its overall pose is in fact very close to that of Antiope, despite being reversed, with the right arm placed over the head19 (fig. 5.5a–b). The fact remains, however, that this statue, which was 14

Fabiański, “Correggio’s Venus …”, 163; Id., Correggio. Le mitologie, 61. The comparison between the Paris painting by Correggio and the engraving by Caraglio is also highlighted by Turner, “Profane Love: The Challenge of Sexuality”, 178–184, speciatim 183, although in his view “the circumstances and direction of the influence remain a mystery”. 15 Béguin, in Exh. Cat. Correggio, 318–319, catalogue III.28, dates the Louvre painting to after 1530 and takes up the hypothesis of his trip (or trips) to Rome raised for the first time by Roberto Longhi, Il Correggio e la Camera di San Paolo a Parma, 861. For a later chronology of Correggio’s painting see also Fornari Schianchi, Correggio, 64 (around 1528); Nova, “Correggio’s ‘Lascivie’ ”, 121–130. 16 The sheet, inv. No. 84. GA. 9, was published in 1988 by Goldner, The J. Paul Getty Museum Malibu – California, Disegni europei, 72–73, no. 26, while Popham, Catalogue of the Drawings of Parmigianino, I, 255, no. O. R. 83, only knew of it through a facsimile by Francesco Rosaspina; it then appears in the last monograph on the drawings of Parmigianino by Gnann, Parmigianino, I, 159, 185 and 442, no. 583, with the previous bibliography. See now Faietti, in Exh. Cat. The Renaissance Nude, 224–226, no. 67. 17 On Raimondi’s use of the Naples sarcophagus see Faietti, “… carte belle, più che oneste …”, 90–107, speciatim 90–94. 18 Talvacchia, Taking Positions, 153. 19 On the Barberini Faun, in addition to the studies indicated by Haskell, Penny, Taste and the Antique, 202–205, no. 33, see the bibliographic update under “Barberini Faun” on the website Census of Antique Works of Art and Architecture Known in the Renaissance.

From Sculpture to Print to Sculpture

Figure 5.4

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Francesco Mazzola called Parmigianino, Figure study for the ‘Madonna and Child with Saint John the Baptist and Saint Jerome’, ca. 1526–1527, pen and brown ink with brown wash, heightened with white, 216 × 243 mm, Los Angeles, The J. Paul Getty Museum, inv. 84. GA. 9 © The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles

only discovered in the mid-1620s, can certainly not be the reference model. To explain the undoubted closeness to the Barberini Faun of figures in paintings and prints produced roughly a century before its discovery, scholars have long assumed that there existed a very similar ancient prototype disseminated through small bronze statues or casts. I too accepted this speculation initially, but, at the time, my research aim only marginally touched on the issue as it was focused on claiming Mazzola’s paternity of Caraglio’s Antiope.20 On this occasion, by contrast, I focused on the story of the Barberini Faun to propose a new hypothesis and overturn the interpretation outlined thus far. 20

Faietti, “Betrayals …”, 257–275.

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Figure 5.5a

Faietti

Hellenistic sculpture from the second half of the third century BC (with subsequent restoration), Barberini Faun, marble, h. 215 cm, Munich, Glyptothek, inv. 218 © Glyptothek, Munich

From Sculpture to Print to Sculpture

Figure 5.5b

Gian Giacomo Caraglio, Jupiter and Antiope, detail, ca. 1527, engraving, 214 × 138 mm, Rome, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, inv. FC 5928 © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, Rome

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The first author to conjecture that a figure similar to the Faun was already known in the 16th century was Kurt Cassirer, who in 1921–1922 focused on a print belonging to the Apocalypse series by Jean Duvet.21 This hypothesis, accepted by Rudolf Wittkower in 1955,22 was taken up again recently and further strengthened by a comparison with sixteenth-century paintings. I shall limit myself to mentioning the partial and very free interpretation recognisable in the personification of Vice in the Allegory of Vice now in the Louvre,23 which Correggio created after 1530, that is, after the period in which Parmigianino painted his Roman altarpiece.24 Just short of forty years later, Girolamo Macchietti made more obvious use of it in the figure of Exon in the tondo Medea rejuvenates Exon for the Studiolo of Francesco I in Palazzo Vecchio25 (fig. 5.6). The mediation of small bronze statues, casts and perhaps also reliefs was long hypothesised, as mentioned, to justify the similarities between the Barberini Faun and some sixteenth-century works, but did not produce concrete results. Since there is no trace of similar models today, at least as far as I am aware, it is legitimate to ask whether antique sculptures similar to both Caraglio’s Antiope and the Barberini Faun ever really existed, given that the latter appeared after the mid-seventeenth century. With the aim of providing the engraver with a useful starting point for his Antiope, Parmigianino, who at the time was studying the posture of Saint Jerome for the Bufalini-Caccialupi altarpiece, would certainly have been able to draw inspiration from different models of antiquity to give life to an autonomous female figure who sensually lies backwards in abandon. The montage of disparate elements combined in a highly original way was a normal working practice for Mazzola, brought about by his association with printers and his 21

Cassirer, “Eine Replik des Barberinischen Fauns”, 90–97 (this is the engraving that illustrates Chapter XXI). 22 Wittkower, Gian Lorenzo Bernini. The Sculptor of the Roman Baroque, 180, no. 11 (2). 23 See Improta, in Exh. Cat. In the Light of Apollo. Italian Renaissance and Greece, I, 375, under no. VIII.12. 24 I would also like to add the position of Saint Roch in the Madonna di San Sebastiano, now in the Gemäldegalerie in Dresden, a painting that scholars have for the most part assigned to the first half of the 1520s: see in particular Ekserdjian, Correggio, 181–182. Ekserdjian (ivi, 181) is among those who consider the Saint Jerome of the Bufalini-Caccialupi altarpiece to be inspired by the Venus (previously identified as Antiope) in the painting with Venus, Cupid and satyr by Correggio in the Louvre (see note 13). 25 See Privitera, Girolamo Macchietti. Un pittore dello Studiolo di Francesco I, 48, who in turn mentions Cassirer, Eine Replik, 90–97. For an entry on the tondo read Conticelli, “Guardaroba di cose rare et preziose”: lo studiolo di Francesco I de’ Medici, 208–210, no. 4.

From Sculpture to Print to Sculpture

Figure 5.6

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Girolamo Macchietti, Medea rejuvenates Exon, ca. 1570–72, oil on panel, 152 × 83 cm, Florence, Palazzo Vecchio, Studiolo of Francesco I, inv. 1890, 3772 © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Gallerie degli Uffizi, Florence (in storage at the Museo di Palazzo Vecchio, Comune di Firenze)

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personal practical experience of prints, as well as his habit of engaging with ancient artefacts. The artist’s antiquarian interests and his ties to collectors, such as Cavaliere Francesco Baiardi, are topics very well known to critics,26 but nonetheless susceptible to further developments. I would not be surprised, therefore, if the restorations of the Barberini Faun carried out in 1679 (which I will discuss shortly) were in some way inspired by Caraglio’s Jupiter and Antiope engraving and, indirectly, by an invention by Parmigianino for Antiope. Especially as the history of the statue does not contradict this hypothesis, and in fact seems to corroborate it,27 it is worth going over in broad terms. In a document from the Barberini Archive dated 6 June 1628 and conserved at the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Arcangelo Gonnelli described the Barberini Faun as, “[…] un torso di figura trovato nei fossi di Castello […]”.28 Gonnelli, who was in charge of the restoration, was just preparing to undertake the work (“al q’le sono attorno adesso”) and therefore did not specify in the text which parts he was to focus on. Twelve years later, on 2 August 1640, “Nicolo Mengini” (Niccolò Menghini), who between 1632 and 1640 wrote the Inventory of Sculptures of Cardinal Francesco Barberini senior (1597–1679), described the statue as “Un fauno a sedere più grande del Naturale quale sta dormendo et tiene un bracio in testa et fu trovato alli fossi di Castello […]”.29 A long and very laudatory commentary was provided two years later by the Perugian scholar Girolamo Tezi (Hieronymus Tetius), who lived at the court of Cardinal Antonio Barberini, in his description of Palazzo Barberini on the Quirinale.30 The sculpture, affirmed Teti, was admired by the most 26 See Faietti, “Parmigianino …”, 83–89, with an extended bibliography in notes 137–138, 105. 27 I briefly outlined the statue’s history in a talk entitled Statues and Engravings: Metamorphosis of Ideas in Caraglio, Parmigianino, and Correggio, given at the conference Sculpture in Rome: Rethinking Classicism and Questioning Materiality, organised by Marta Ajmar, Claudia La Malfa and Alessandro Scafi in London, at the Warburg Institute (25 October 2013). 28 The document has been published by Aronberg Lavin, Seventeenth-Century Barberini Documents and Inventories of Art, 19, Doc. 156. [III. Gius. 821–1100. 1073]. Montagu, Roman Baroque Sculpture, 102, believes that the torso can be identified with the one transferred from Castel Sant’Angelo to Palazzo Barberini on 15 May 1627. 29 Aronberg Lavin, Seventeenth-Century, 133, c. 6v, 82) [III. Menghini. 32–40]. 30 “[…] Videmus equidem omnium pulcherrimum simulacrum, scalpro depromptum ex marmore, mollissimum simul ac robustissimum, nudato corpore, viro dormienti simile, dexterum brachium hederacea corona redimito capiti supponens ad occipitium, tam insigniter omni ex parte elaboratum, ut universi qua pingendi, qua sculpendi celebriores artifices in eius admirationem convolantes, unanimi consensione aestiment, laudatissimo id saeculo a celeberrima antiquitatis manu efformatum; nec prae illo quotquot in Urbe atque orbe ipso statuae visuntur, maiorem exhibere artis praestantiam, aut documenta

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famous contemporary painters and sculptors who believed it had been created by one of the most famous artists in the period when ancient art underwent the greatest artistic growth, to the point that none of the statues in Rome or meliora; adeo ut illi nihil ad opus undique absolutissimum ipsa ad arte addi possit. Porro vivum in eo spirantemque, primo intuitu, ex primariis diis aliquem credas expressum: verum induant vitia quantumvis amabilis pulchritudinis speciem, perfidiae tamen nota aliqua detegit fallacem aspectum; etenim, si attentius intuearis, aures more bestiarum acutas, inter hederas comamque, invitas quodammodo erumpere videas, caudamque, sub ipso femine quasi compressam, sese motare interdum agnoscas; quam quidem primo aspectu descendere dixeris ab ipsis hyrcanae tigridis exuviis, ex sinistro brachio pendentibus, et veluti culcitra adhibitis; quae haud habenda crediderim superatae feritatis spolia, sed ipsius feritatis arma, quibus ille facile, cùm opus sit, sese obvolvere promptus valeat ad feritatem. Iam mentitus homo, detectaque fraus apparet; iam, quod antiquitas finxit agreste seminumen appellavitque Faunum, habemus, impuris affectibus plenum, quales sunt cornigeri, corniger et ipse, ut poeta testator: cornigerumque caput pinu praecinctus acuta/ Faunus, in immensis qua tumet Ida iugis (Ovid. Oenon) castae venationis praesidi deae inimicus, aversusque ab ipsa venatione, quae Venerem avertit. Hoc autem certum est, superioribus annis, Summo URBANO Pontifice iubente, Aelia dum arx praemunitur, fossaeque altiores et ampliores redduntur, hanc Fauni statuam, ingenti gleba cum ipsa olim impietate alte defossam, in lucem novam ad ipsius veteris superstitionis contemptum, et in artificii venustatem et elegantiae pompam esse eductam.” (transcription derived from Hieronymus Tetius. Aedes Barberinae ad Quirinalem descriptae. Descrizione di Palazzo Barberini al Quirinale. Il palazzo, gli affreschi, le collezioni, la corte, 482–487, with parallel Italian text). [We see in fact the most beautiful simulacrum of all, extracted from marble by a chisel, at the same time very languid and very strong, naked, like a sleeping man, in the act of placing his right arm under his head surrounded by a crown of ivy, near the nape, each part created with such excellence, that all the most famous artists in both painting and sculpture hasten to admire it, esteem it in unanimous agreement, of the most precious period, and created by one of the most famous hands of antiquity and believe that in comparison to that none of the statues that can be seen in Rome, or in the world, reveal a greater excellence of art or better examples, to such an extent that nothing can be added by art itself as each part of the work is as perfect as it can be. You would certainly believe at first sight that this represents one of the most important gods, alive and pulsating: but as much as vices clothe the appearance of beauty all the more lovable, some signs of perfidy however reveal the deception of the vision; in fact, if you look more closely, you can see the pointed ears like those of an animal appearing almost unwittingly between the head of hair and the ivy, and you can recognize the tail which moves from time to time, almost crushed under the thigh; you would certainly say at first sight it hangs from the remains of the Caspian tiger that fall from the left arm and are used as a mattress. I would not have believed them to be the spoils of vanquished ferocity, but weapons of the same wildness with which he, when necessary, could easily wrap himself up in without hesitation to assume a feral appearance. At this point the simulated man and the discovered deception have been revealed, now we have the rustic demigod that antiquity has created and called Faun, full of impure affection, such are animals with horns, and he also has horns, as the poet testifies: Faun, having encircled the horned head of a pointed pine garland in the immense mountaintops where the Ida swells (Ovid. Oenon).

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even throughout the world could demonstrate greater artistic excellence.31 The printed illustration accompanying the text shows the statue no longer sitting but stretched out on a rock32 (fig. 5.7). A reflection on this arrangement, at first thought to be imaginative,33 can be identified in the young inebriated man lying in the centre of a composition of the Triumph of Silenus which Poussin, a great admirer of the Barberini Faun, had developed between 1635 and 1636.34 The seated Faun appears once again in the Inventario della Guardarobba of Cardinal Carlo Barberini (1630–1704) and relating to Palazzo Barberini alle Quattro Fontane, drawn up between 1692 and 1704 by Girolamo Gianni and Carlo Antonio Maganini; here, in fact, it is described as: “Un fauno grande a sedere che dorme con coscie, e gambe et un braccio di stucco con base a

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32

33 34

Enemy of the chaste goddess who presides over hunting, hostile to the same chase that drives Venus away. But one thing is certain, that this statue of the Faun, once deeply buried by a huge clod along with impiety itself, has been brought to light by the ridicule of ancient superstition, for the pleasure of art and the ostentation of elegance, in the past, while the Elia Fortress was fortified by order of the Supreme Pontiff URBAN, and the deepest and widest ditches were made.] See also Aedes Barberinae ad Quirinalem à comite Hieronymo Tetio Perusino descriptae, 181–183. On the fortune of the statue in the 17th century read Faedo, “ ‘Un torso di un Fauno, non inferiore al torso di Belvedere’. Note sulla ricezione critica del ‘Fauno Barberini’ nel Seicento”, 323–329, with bibliography; Ead, “Sguardi sul Fauno e i suoi compagni. Precisazioni sulla fortuna del Fauno Barberini”, 299–321. See also the online publication by Sprigath, Andrea Sacchis Gemälde “Die Trunkenheit Noahs”- zur Säkularisierung eines alttestamentarischen Themas, 1–25. Aedes Barberinae, pl. L. Pierguidi, “Sui restauri seicenteschi del ‘Fauno Barberini’ ”, 59–64, speciatim 60, states that due to the change in position of the figure, from seated to lying down, a second restoration is thought to have been carried out by Gonnelli himself, who in 1635 appeared to have received an advance to restore a torso. To support his claim however, the scholar mistakenly indicated, in note 8, 64, a document published by Aronberg Lavin (Aronberg Lavin, Seventeenth-Century, 19–20, doc. 157) which instead dates to 1628 and follows that of 6 June of the same year mentioned earlier; therefore, it must refer to the first intervention. Pierguidi, op. cit., 60 and 64, note 9, then recalls a drawing by Bernini’s circle in which the Faun is lying down, published as an authentic work of Bernini by Grassi, “Bernini: Two Unpublished Drawings and Related Problems”, 170–178, speciatim 178. Walter, “Der schlafende Satyr in der Glyptothek in München”, 91–122, speciatim 98, sees in the outstretched Faun a reference to the Punishment of Tythus drawn by Michelangelo for Tommaso de‘ Cavalieri, now in the Royal Library of Windsor Castle. Wittkower, Gian Lorenzo Bernini, 180, no. 11 (2). Montagu, Roman Baroque Sculpture, in particular 165 (the composition is known through a copy in the National Gallery of London). Poussin’s admiration for the statue was also identified in a previous painting depicting a Landscape with figures, now at the Musée Fabre in Montpellier. The hypothesis, formulated some time ago, has recently been taken up by Pierguidi, “Istanze di rinnovamento nel restauro dell’antico intorno al 1675–1680. Il caso del ‘Fauno Barberini’ ”, 63–64.

From Sculpture to Print to Sculpture

Figure 5.7

183

‘The Barberini Faun’, by Aedes Barberinae ad Quirinalem à comite Hieronymo Tetio Perusino descriptae, Rome 1642, pl. L © Bibliotheca Hertziana, Max-Planck-Institut für Kunstgeschichte

modo di Scoglio”35 (A large seated sleeping faun with thighs, and legs and a stucco arm with a rock-like base). Thus, the rock replaced the pallet and the eagle on which the sleeping Antiope lies in the engraving by Caraglio. In the meantime, the restoration of 1679 was carried out by the sculptors Giuseppe Giorgetti and Lorenzo Ottoni who concentrated primarily on the new right leg (while the ancient left leg was repaired) and the drooping left arm, both in stucco, and on a complex support comprised of three tree branches, which enabled the Faun to assume a seated position.36 Giorgetti, together with his more famous brother Antonio, belonged to a family of sculptors; his father, the carver Giovanni Maria, had provided Gian Lorenzo Bernini with a number of 35

Aronberg Lavin, Seventeenth-Century, 454, c. 267v, 662) (VI. Inv. 92-04); also conserved in the Barberini Archive of the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana. 36 Montagu, “Antonio and Giuseppe Giorgetti, Sculptors to Cardinal Francesco Barberini”, 278–298, speciatim 293–294; Haskell – Penny, Taste and the Antique, 202–205, no. 33; Montagu, Roman Baroque Sculpture, speciatim 163–169; Ead., “The Influence of the Baroque on Classical Antiquity”, 85–108.

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wooden models, while Antonio in turn had worked on Berninian projects. It is therefore not by chance that Bernini’s name was mentioned in relation to the restoration of the Faun in an eighteenth-century inventory of Cardinal Carlo Barberini’s assets: Una statua alta pal. 10, rappresentante un Fauno a sedere sopra un scoglio in atto di dormire, con un braccio appoggiato sopra un sasso e l’altro sopra una testa con pelle di tigre, la cui testa pende sul braccio sinistro, con ornamento d’ellera e cerque con ghiande, e fistola da sonare, opera insigne antica con gambe ristorate di stucco dal Bernini, sopra base di marmo bianco, stimata scudi quattromila.37 For a long time, Bernini was a possible candidate for the restoration of the Faun, at least for the design if not for its execution. Afterall, the artist is known to have used a mixture of ancient models and prints38 and this very method may have exerted a strong influence on the artists gravitating within his orbit. Giorgetti and Ottoni must have been encouraged by Bernini’s paradigmatic example, in turn making use of engravings with the intention of ‘restoring’ an incomplete figure in an effortless and integrative way, sometimes even determining the iconography, as in this case. The erotic value of the Barberini Faun is very clear, so much so that those who believed it had been “putatively” restored by Bernini saw in it the echo of images laden with the subtle potential of Eros such as Danaë by Correggio.39 On the other hand, Allegri knew of and used The Loves of the Gods,40 while the particular pose of the Munich statue seems to derive in the first place from the provocative attitude of Caraglio’s Antiope. The price evaluation of the Faun, which was very high, indicates the great esteem in which it was held. Identified with Bacchus by Paolo Alessandro Maffei in his Raccolta di statue antiche e moderne published in Rome in 1704,41 it was so entitled by Robert van Audenaerd in a print (fig. 5.8) which bears 37 Documenti inediti per servire alla storia dei Musei d’Italia pubblicati per cura del Ministero della Pubblica Istruzione, IV, 1880, 41–42; on p. VI there is a mention of the two protocols containing the inventory: Rome, Archivio Storico Capitolino, sec. V. no. 11–12. 38 See for example, among the most recent contributions, Leuschner, “The Role of Prints in the Artistic Genealogy of Bernini’s ‘Anima beata’ and ‘Anima damnata’ ”, 135–146. 39 Lavin, Bernini and the Unity of the Visual Arts, I, 123, note 59, with bibliography (the scholar developed his considerations starting with the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa by Bernini in Santa Maria della Vittoria in Rome and by comparing the saint’s pose with the painting by Correggio in the Borghese Gallery). 40 See note 14. 41 Maffei, Raccolta di statue antiche e moderne, 87.

From Sculpture to Print to Sculpture

Figure 5.8

185

Robert van Audenaerd, ‘Bacchus’, in Paolo Alessandro Maffei, Raccolta di statue antiche e moderne, Rome, Stamperia alla Pace 1704, pl. XCIV © Bibliotheca Hertziana, Max-Planck-Institut für Kunstgeschichte

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witness to its condition after the stucco restorations.42 Here the Barberini Faun undoubtedly appears rather similar to Caraglio’s engraving and clearly very different from the torso Gonnelli was faced with. Some twentieth-century studies have focused on distinguishing the original parts from those that were added over time to the statue discovered in the “fossi di Castello”.43 On the one hand a first reconstruction of the original fragmentary figure was proposed by Giovanni Volpato and Raffaello Morghen in Principi del disegno tratti dalle più eccellenti statue antiche from 1786.44 Of the parts of the Faun identified as missing, the right leg is the most indicative of the use of Caraglio’s engraving in the integrations made in 1679. The right leg, the posture of which is highly faithful to Antiope, except for the foot which is extended rather than raised, is highly characteristic and therefore its affinity with the print could hardly be a simple coincidence. In summary, I do not wish to entirely deny the possibility that Caraglio’s Antiope and Parmigianino’s Saint Jerome drew from lost small bronze statues, casts or reliefs and that the statue now in Munich was not in turn restored in 1679 in the wake of similar works. The fact is that so far not one model, with the necessary requirements to be considered credible, has come to light. For example, a bronze satyr in the Museo Nazionale in Naples, a Roman copy from a Hellenistic work, must be ruled out as a possible prototype, despite some similarities, as it was only discovered in Herculaneum in 1756.45 The compelling resemblance of the Barberini Faun to the engraving by Caraglio instead remains too strong and should not be undervalued. Based on current knowledge, it is more likely that the statue was restored with the help of the engraving and as a consequence interpreted as a faun along the lines of the erotic meaning of Antiope. The story reconstructed thus far (of Saint Jerome transformed into Antiope and Antiope into a faun) lacks one final explanatory piece, which is provided by an ancient model that has not undergone the contaminations of the Munich

42 Ibidem, pl. XCIV. 43 I refer to at least Jürgen, “Antikenergänzung und Ent-Restaurierung. Bericht über die am 13. und 14. Oktober 1971 im Zentralinstitut für Kunstgeschichte abgehaltene Arbeitstagung”, 85–102, speciatim 90–93; Walter, Satyrs Traum. Ein Gang durch die griechische Satyrlandschaft, above all 97. For the de-restoration of the statue carried out between 1963 and 1967 see Fendt, “Il de-restauro di antiche statue marmoree nei musei tedeschi nel XIX e XX secolo”, 173–178. 44 On this reconstruction see Faedo, “Un torso di un Fauno …”, 324–326, with bibliography. 45 Inv. 5624: see Winckelmann, Geschichte der Kunst des Alterthums, Katalog der antiken Denkmäler Erste Auflage Dresden 1764–Zweite Auflage Wien 1776, 232, no. 502.

From Sculpture to Print to Sculpture

Figure 5.9

187

Agesander, Athenodoros and Polydorus (I century BC), Laocoon, marble, h. 242 cm, Vatican City, Musei Vaticani, Museo Pio Clementino, Octagonal Courtyard, inv. 1059 © Governatorato S.C.V.- Direzione dei Musei

Faun: the Laocoon (fig. 5.9), discovered in Rome in early 1506,46 less than twenty years before Mazzola’s arrival to the city. In my opinion, the starting point for the solution of Saint Jerome in the Bufalini-Caccialupi altarpiece can be traced specifically to that sculptural group. We know that Parmigianino spent a long time in front of the famous group and that he studied the expression of pain on the three figures – the old priest and the young sons – enveloped by the coils of

46

As regards the rich bibliography on the Laocoon I limit myself here to mentioning Brilliant, My Laocoön: Alternative Claims in the Interpretations of Artworks; Settis, Laocoonte. Fama e stile; Il Laocoonte dei Musei Vaticani 500 anni dalla scoperta; Wiggen, Die Laokoon-Gruppe. Archäologische Rekonstruktionen und künstlerische Ergänzungen; Exh. Cat. Laokoon. Auf der Suche nach einem Meisterwerk; Schmälzle, Laokoon in der Frühen Neuzeit. See Pierguidi, “La ‘Furia’ di Rosso Fiorentino e il ‘Laocoonte’ di Bandinelli: l’antitesi tra ‘notomia’ e antico”, 2–10. We can find an example, chronologically close to Jupiter and Antiope, of a reworked version of the figure of the priest in a burin by the same Caraglio (B.XV, 92, 58), inspired by a drawing by Rosso Fiorentino, 2–10.

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Figure 5.10

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Francesco Mazzola called Parmigianino, Two Studies of the same Head of a young Man in Profile (after Laocoon), ca. 1524–27, brush and brown ink with brown wash, white lead, charcoal, pricked outlines on the left figure, light blue paper, 119 × 143 mm, Florence, Gallerie degli Uffizi, Gabinetto dei Disegni e delle Stampe, inv. 743 E recto © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Gallerie degli Uffizi, Florence

the gigantic snakes.47 In a sheet in the Uffizi48 (fig. 5.10) he twice repeated the profile of the son desperately trying to break free, with the intent of obtaining faces and poses to use in other works for example in the young man on the right of the Deposition of Christ (B. XVI, 8, 5) which he etched and engraved.49 In a drawing traditionally described as Venus and Mars surprised by Vulcan in the Galleria Nazionale of Parma (fig. 5.11), we find the figure of the priest, this

47 See the drawings in Gnann, Parmigianino, I, 99 and 387–388, nos. 254–256, with bibliography. 48 Florence, Gallerie degli Uffizi, Gabinetto dei Disegni e delle Stampe, inv. 743 E recto: see L. Da Rin Bettina, in Exh. Cat. Raffaello Parmigianino Barocci, 238, cat. II.22, with bibliography. 49 Florence, Gallerie degli Uffizi, Gabinetto dei Disegni e delle Stampe, inv. 2884 st. sc.: see L. Da Rin Bettina, in Exh. Cat. Raffaello Parmigianino Barocci, 218, cat. II.2, with bibliography.

From Sculpture to Print to Sculpture

Figure 5.11

189

Francesco Mazzola called Parmigianino, so-called Venus and Mars surprised by Vulcan, ca. 1531–34, pen and brown ink, brush with brown wash, 200 × 192 mm, Parma, Galleria Nazionale, inv. 510/18 © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Galleria Nazionale, Parma

time rather reworked.50 Despite the fact that it was produced in a late period of Parmigianino’s life, more or less at the time when, between 1531 and 1533–1534, he was defining his ideas in some preparatory studies for the decoration of the 50 Inv. 510/18: see I. Rossi, in Exh. Cat. Raffaello Parmigianino Barocci, 295, cat. III.13, with bibliography. On the complex iconography of the drawing see the summary and considerations of Faietti, “The Primacy of the Line over the Word in Leonardo, Mantegna, and Parmigianino”, 186–205, speciatim 195–198.

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ceiling of Santa Maria della Steccata in Parma, the sheet shows in the figures on the right, the supposed Mars and Venus, a reference to the mythological couples from The Loves of the Gods. In particular, the pose of the young seated man recalls that of Antiope in the engraving by Caraglio, and at the same time seems to stem, as said, from an interpretation of Laocoon. It could therefore be said that Parmigianino, starting with the aching figure of the priest and imagining it in slow movement as in a slow-motion film sequence, would have gradually changed the posture with slight but constant deviations; the final result was Saint Jerome in the Roman painting and, through new changes, Antiope printed by Caraglio (fig. 5.12a–d). Therefore, the crossover between the Christian visionary nature of Saint Jerome in the Bufalini-Caccialupi altarpiece and the patheticism of the Laocoon gave rise to the erotic figure of Antiope which Parmigianino then entrusted to Caraglio’s burin for his Jupiter and Antiope. The print in turn seems to have guided the integrative restoration of the fragmentary statue later known as the Barberini Faun, contributing to the fortune of one of the most famous models of classicism, at least among those who preferred it with the incomplete parts completed. Not everyone, however, was of this view. There were, in fact, those who soon expressed reservations; among them, Winckelmann offered a rather remarkable testimony. According to the German scholar and archaeologist, that Faun did not in fact stand comparison with the two famous Belvedere statues, the Apollo and the Torso, nor with the Laocoon,51 even though its head was definitely worthy of appreciation: “In dem Kopf ist die wahre Land- und WaldEinfalt, welche durch den Schlaf noch einen stärkeren Character erhält”.52 And it was certainly no coincidence since that head had remained intact from the past up until his time. This contribution is the English version, with some integrations, of an Italian text published for the ‘Festschrift’ in honour of a colleague and circulated in a very limited number of copies: Marzia Faietti, “Parmigianino, Caraglio e il mistero del Fauno Barberini”, Scritti per Eugenio. 27 testi per Eugenio Riccòmini, ed. Marco Riccòmini, Forlì-Cesena, Graphic design by Filippo Nostri and Giovanni Piazza, Tipografia Fabbri, (Modigliana: 2017), 42–53.

51 52

Haskell, Penny, Taste and the Antique …, 204; Faedo, “Un torso di un Fauno …”, 323. Faedo, “Un torso di un Fauno …”, 323; Ead., “Sguardi sul Fauno …”, 319–321.

From Sculpture to Print to Sculpture

Figure 5.12a Agesander, Athenodoros and Polydorus (I century BC), Laocoon, detail, marble, h. 242 cm, Vatican City, Musei Vaticani, Museo Pio Clementino, Octagonal Courtyard, inv. 1059 © Governatorato S.C.V.- Direzione dei Musei

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Figure 5.12b Francesco Mazzola called Parmigianino, Madonna and Child with Saint John the Baptist and Saint Jerome, detail, ca. 1526–27, oil on panel, 342.9 × 148.6 cm, London, The National Gallery, inv. NG 33 © The National Gallery, London

Figure 5.12c Gian Giacomo Caraglio, Jupiter and Antiope, detail, ca. 1527, engraving, 214 × 138 mm, Rome, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, inv. FC 5928 © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo, Istituto Centrale per la Grafica, Rome

From Sculpture to Print to Sculpture

193

Figure 5.12d Hellenistic sculpture from the second half of the third century before Christ (with subsequent restoration), Barberini Faun, marble, h. 215 cm, Munich, Glyptothek, inv. 218 © Glyptothek, Munich

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Abbreviations B. Bartsch, A., Le peintre graveur, 21 vols., Vienna 1803–1821 Bober-Rubinstein Bober, Ph. P. – R. Rubinstein, Renaissance Artists & Antique Sculpture. A Handbook of Sources, London – Turnhout 2010

Bibliography Aedes Barberinae ad Quirinalem à comite Hieronymo Tetio Perusino descriptae (Rome: 1642). Aronberg Lavin, Marilyn, Seventeenth-Century Barberini Documents and Inventories of Art (New York: 1975). Bartsch, Adam von, Le peintre graveur, 21 vols (Vienna: 1803–1821). Bober, Phyllis Pray and Ruth Rubinstein, Renaissance Artists & Antique Sculpture. A Handbook of Sources (London: 20102). Brilliant, Richard, My Laocoön: Alternative Claims in the Interpretations of Artworks (Berkeley: 2000). Cassirer, Kurt, „Eine Replik des Barberinischen Fauns‟, Münchner Jahrbuch der Bildenden Kunst 12 (1921–1922), 90–97. Conticelli, Valentina, “Guardaroba di cose rare et preziose”: lo studiolo di Francesco I de’ Medici: arte, storia e significati (Lugano: 2007). Documenti inediti per servire alla storia dei Musei d’Italia pubblicati per cura del Ministero della Pubblica Istruzione (Florence, Rome: 1878–1880). Ekserdjian, David, Correggio (Cinisello Balsamo (Milan): 1997). Exh. Cat. Correggio (Galleria Nazionale, Parma, 20.09.2008–25.01.2009), ed. Lucia Fornari Schianchi (Genoa, Milan: 2008). Exh. Cat. In the Light of Apollo. Italian Renaissance and Greece (Ethnikē Pinakothēkē kai Museio Alexandru Sutzu, Athens, 22.12.2003–31.03.2004), ed. Mina Gregori, 2 vols (Cinisello Balsamo (Milan): 2004). Exh. Cat. Laokoon. Auf der Suche nach einem Meisterwerk (Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin, Berlin, 19.10.2016–31.07.2018), ed. Susanne Muth (Rahden/Westf.: 2017). Exh. Cat. Raffaello Parmigianino Barocci. Metafore dello sguardo (Musei Capitolini and Palazzo Caffarelli, Rome, 02–10.2015–10.01.2016) ed. Marzia Faietti (Rome: 2015). Exh. Cat. The Renaissance Nude (J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, 30.10.2018– 27.01.2019 and Royal Academy of Arts, London, 02.03.–02.06.2019) ed. Thomas Kren with Jill Burke and Stephen John Campbell (Los Angeles: 2018).

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Fabiański, Marcin, “Correggio’s Venus, Cupid and a ‘Satyr’. Its Form and Iconography”, Artibus et historiae 17 (1996), 33, 159–173. Fabiański, Marcin, Correggio. Le mitologie d’Amore (Cinisello Balsamo (Milan): 2000). Faedo, Lucia, “ ‘Un torso di un Fauno, non inferiore al torso di Belvedere’. Note sulla ricezione critica del ‘Fauno Barberini’ nel Seicento”, in “Conosco un ottimo storico dell’arte …”. Per Enrico Castelnuovo. Scritti di allievi e amici pisani, ed. Maria Monica Donato and Massimo Ferretti (Pisa: 2012), 323–329. Faedo, Lucia, “Sguardi sul Fauno e i suoi compagni. Precisazioni sulla fortuna del Fauno Barberini”, in Dosis d’oligē te philē te. Studi per Antonella Romualdi, ed. Stefano Bruni and Giuseppina Carlotta Cianferoni, with the collaboration of Barbara Arbeid (Florence: 2013), 299–321. Faietti, Marzia, “Betrayals of the Gods and Metamorphoses of Artists: Parmigianino, Caraglio and Agostino Carracci”, Artibus et historiae 34 (2013), 68, 257–275. Faietti, Marzia, “Parmigianino ‘alter Raphael’ ”, Exh. Cat. Raffaello Parmigianino Barocci. Metafore dello sguardo, ed. Marzia Faietti (Rome: 2015), 62–109. Faietti, Marzia, “Roma 1527, Bologna 1530. Parmigianino, il Papa e l’Imperatore”, Synergies in Visual Culture. Bildkulturen im Dialog. Festschrift für Gerhard Wolf, ed. Manuela De Giorgi, Annette Hoffmann, Nicola Suthor, in collaboration with Laura Veneskey (Paderborn, Munich: 2013), 447–463. Faietti, Marzia, “… carte belle, più che oneste …”, in Exh. Cat. Mythologica et Erotica. Arte e Cultura dall’antichità al XVIII secolo (Museo degli Argenti, Florence, 01.10.2005– 15.01.2006), ed. Ornella Casazza and Riccardo Gennaioli (Livorno: 2005), 90–107. Faietti, Marzia, “The Primacy of the Line over the Word in Leonardo, Mantegna, and Parmigianino”, in Linea III. The Power of Line, ed. Marzia Faietti and Gerhard Wolf (Munich: 2015), 186–205. Fendt, Astrid, “Il de-restauro di antiche statue marmoree nei musei tedeschi nel XIX e XX secolo”, in La cultura del restauro. Modelli di ricezione per la museologia e la storia dell’arte, ed. Maria Betarice Failla, Susanne Adina Meyer, Chiara Piva, Stefania Ventra (Rome: 2013), 173–178. Fornari Schianchi, Lucia, Correggio (Antella (Florence): 1994). Gnann, Achim, Parmigianino. Die Zeichnungen, 2 vols (Petersberg: 2007). Goldner, George, in collaboration with Lee Hendrix and Gloria Williams, The J. Paul Getty Museum Malibu – California, Disegni europei (Milan: 1988). Grassi, Luigi, “Bernini: Two Unpublished Drawings and Related Problems”, The Burlington Magazine 106 (1964), 733, 170–178. Haskell, Francis and Nicholas Penny, Taste and the Antique. The Lure of Classical Sculpture 1500–1900 (New Haven, London: 1981). Hieronymus Tetius. Aedes Barberinae ad Quirinalem descriptae. Descrizione di Palazzo Barberini al Quirinale. Il palazzo, gli affreschi, le collezioni, la corte, ed. Lucia Faedo, Thomas Frangenberg (Pisa: 2005).

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Il Laocoonte dei Musei Vaticani 500 anni dalla scoperta, ed. Giorgio Bejor (Milan: 2007). Jürgen, Paul „Antikenergänzung und Ent-Restaurierung. Bericht über die am 13. und 14. Oktober 1971 im Zentralinstitut für Kunstgeschichte abgehaltene Arbeitstagung‟, Kunstchronik 25 (1972), 4, 85–102. Lavin, Irving, Bernini and the Unity of the Visual Arts, 2 vols (New York, London: 1980). Leuschner, Eckhardt, “The Role of Prints in the Artistic Genealogy of Bernini’s ‘Anima beata’ and ‘Anima damnata’ ”, Print Quarterly 33 (2016), 2, 135–146. Longhi, Roberto, Il Correggio e la Camera di San Paolo a Parma (Genoa: 1956). Maffei, Paolo Alessandro, Raccolta di statue antiche e moderne (Rome: 1704). Montagu, Jennifer, “Antonio and Giuseppe Giorgetti, Sculptors to Cardinal Francesco Barberini”, Art Bulletin, 52 (1970), 278–298. Montagu, Jennifer, Roman Baroque Sculpture. The Industry of Art (New Haven, London: 1989). Montagu, Jennifer, “The Influence of the Baroque on Classical Antiquity”, in Antikenrezeption im Hochbarock, ed. Herbert Beck and Sabine Schulze (Berlin: 1989), 85–108. Nova, Alessandro, “Erotismo e spiritualità nella pittura romana del Cinquecento”, Francesco Salviati et la Bella Maniera (conference proceedings of Rome and Paris, in 1998), ed. Catherine Monbeig Goguel, Philippe Costamagna, Michel Hochmann (Rome: 2001), 149–169. Nova, Alessandro, “Correggio’s ‘Lascivie’ ”, Renaissance Love. Eros, Passion, and Friendship in Italian Art around 1500, ed. Jeannette Kohl, Marianne Koos, Adrian W. B. Randolph (Berlin, Munich: 2014), 121–130. Pierguidi, Stefano, “Sui restauri seicenteschi del ‘Fauno Barberini’ ”, Ricerche di Storia dell’arte 94 (2008), 59–64. Pierguidi, Stefano, “La ‘Furia’ di Rosso Fiorentino e il ‘Laocoonte’ di Bandinelli: l’antitesi tra ‘notomia’ e antico”, grafica d’arte, 24 (2013), 2–10. Pierguidi, Stefano, “Istanze di rinnovamento nel restauro dell’antico intorno al 1675– 1680. Il caso del ‘Fauno Barberini’ ”, Kermes 29 (July–September 2016), 103, 61–69. Popham, Arthur Ewart, Catalogue of the Drawings of Parmigianino, 3 vols (New Haven, London: 1971). Privitera, Marta, Girolamo Macchietti. Un pittore dello Studiolo di Francesco I (Firenze 1535–1592) (Milan: 1996). Schmälzle, Christoph, Laokoon in der Frühen Neuzeit (Frankfurt a.M.: 2018). Settis, Salvatore, Laocoonte. Fama e stile (Rome: 2006). Sprigath, Gabriele K., Andrea Sacchis Gemälde “Die Trunkenheit Noahs”- zur Säkularisierung eines alttestamentarischen Themas (Heidelberg: 2011). Talvacchia, Bette, Taking Positions. On the Erotic in Renaissance Culture (Princeton: 1999).

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Turner, James Grantham, “Profane Love: The Challenge of Sexuality”, Exh. Cat. Art and Love in Renaissance Italy (The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, 11.11.2008– 16.02.2009 and The Kimbell Art Museum, Fort Worth, 15.03.–14.06.2009), ed. Andrea Bayer (New Haven, London: 2008). Vaccaro, Mary, Parmigianino. I dipinti (Turin, London, Venice, New York: 2002). Vasari, Giorgio, Le Vite de’ più eccellenti pittori scultori e architettori (1550 and 1568), ed. Rosanna Bettarini and Paola Barocchi (Florence: 1966–1988). Walter, Hans, „Der schlafende Satyr in der Glyptothek in München‟, in Studien zur klassischen Archäologie. Festschrift zum 60. Geburtstag von Friedrich Hiller am 12. März 1986, ed. Karin Braun and Andreas Furtwängler (Saarbrücken: 1986), 91–122. Walter, Hans, Satyrs Traum. Ein Gang durch die griechische Satyrlandschaft (Munich: 1993). Wiggen, Maria, Die Laokoon-Gruppe. Archäologische Rekonstruktionen und künstlerische Ergänzungen (Ruhpolding, Mainz: 2011). Winckelmann, Johann Joachim, Geschichte der Kunst des Alterthums, Katalog der antiken Denkmäler Erste Auflage Dresden 1764–Zweite Auflage Wien 1776, ed. Adolf Heinrich Borbein, Thomas W. Gaethgens, Max Kunze, Mathias René Hofter, Stephanie-Gerrit Bruer, Marianne Gross, Sascha Kansteiner (Mainz: 2006) (Johann Joachim Winckelmann, Schriften und Nachlass 4, 2). Wittkower, Rudolf, Gian Lorenzo Bernini The Sculptor of the Roman Baroque (London: 1955).

Part 2 Contemporary Sculpture

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Chapter 6

The Reproduction of Sculpture as Sculpture in 16th Century Prints: Baccio Bandinelli, Giambologna, and Adriaen de Vries Anne Bloemacher The following essay tackles two hitherto neglected aspects of sculpture in print: it analyzes the translation of 16th century sculptures by contemporary engravers or woodcutters into print who, at the same time, render these sculptures as sculptures in their engravings and woodcuts. Beginning with Agostino Veneziano’s engravings after Baccio Bandinelli, followed by Andrea Andreani’s chiaroscuro woodcuts after Giambologna and leading finally to Jan Muller’s engravings after Adriaen de Vries, I will identify the modes of “reproduction” or translation – for example, how the materiality of sculpture is rendered in print or which point of view is chosen – to elaborate the printmaker’s intention for the sculpture’s representation in print. Generally, the prints after Michelangelo’s Dusk and Dawn for the Medici Chapel in San Lorenzo in Florence attributed to Battista Franco and dated to around 1537/38, are considered to be among the very first engravings after contemporary sculpture.1 Perhaps even earlier, though, is a print by Agostino Veneziano depicting Hercules and Cacus after Baccio Bandinelli (fig. 6.1). Regarding the reproduction of three-dimensional objects, Agostino is best known for his engravings of antique architectural elements and vases. The aforementioned engraving after Bandinelli, however, can with certainty be linked to a contemporary sculpture or, in this case, a wax bozzetto for a sculpture, which was never executed in this form. Bartsch attributed the engraving 1 I would like to thank Michael Cole, Gerd Blum, Claudia Echinger-Maurach, Angelika Marinovic, Johannes Myssok and Raphael Rosenberg for valuable advice. Battista Franco after Michelangelo, Dusk, 1537/38, engraving and etching, 30.7 × 44.3 cm, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett, inv. 65-102; and Battista Franco after Michelangelo, Dawn, 1537/38, etching, 30.5 × 45.1 cm, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett, inv. 64-102. Rosenberg was the first to publish these prints and to attribute them to Battista Franco. He dates them to the latter’s early career (ca. 1536) because the printmaker experiments with engraving and etching in both these works: Rosenberg, “The Reproduction and Publication of Michelangelo’s Sacristy”, 115–117. See as well Exh. Cat. Der Göttliche, cat. nos. 138 and 139, 205 (Satzinger).

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | doi:10.1163/9789004445864_008

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Agostino Veneziano (after Baccio Bandinelli), Hercules and Cacus, after 1523, engraving, 123 × 86 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-36.672 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

to Agostino and named Bandinelli as the designer, but without identifying the topic. He classified the print under “Sujets de fantaisie”, with the title “Un homme frappant un autre homme”.2 Eike Schmidt, Francesco Vosilla, and Johannes Myssok, however, have connected it to Bandinelli’s Hercules and Cacus model in Berlin of 1525, while in the most recent contribution to this 2 Bartsch 1813, t. 14, no. 455, 339. Bartsch apparently regarded four engravings after Michelangelo and Bandinelli, which have approximately the same size, as a series, one of them dated 1515 and signed by Agostino. Yet the identification of Bandinelli’s Hercules and Cacus as a model for one of the prints shows that the prints must date to quite different times.

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question Angelika Marinovic, in this volume, dates the print to 1515. Schmidt identified the model of 1525, described by Vasari in the Guardaroba of Palazzo Vecchio, with the wax model in Berlin, which had previously been attributed to Pierre Puget (fig. 6.2).3 Schmidt points out that there is only one deviation from Vasari’s detailed description. While Vasari says that Cacus’s head is stuck in the rocks, the modello shows it in between the rock and Cacus’s arm.4 The latter detail, though, matches Agostino’s engraving. This leads to the assumption that modello and engraving must date to the same time, around 1525. Agostino’s print is not conceivable without the modello, although Agostino did not succeed in combining the figures as Bandinelli did in his wax model. Schmidt, therefore, argues that Agostino’s engraving is based on an early drawing of the model.5 The context of the sculpture’s creation, which was supposed to complement Michelangelo’s David on Piazza della Signoria in Florence, is too complex to give a full account of here. The commission went back and forth from Michelangelo to Bandinelli.6 In 1525 Baccio presented the wax model to Pope 3 Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell”, 101. According to Schmidt, both Francesco Vosilla and Johannes Myssok identified the Berlin model with the engraving, all independently from each other: ibid., 58, n. 108. On the relationship between modello and sculpture, see further: Myssok, Bildhauerische Konzeption und plas­tisches Modell in der Renaissance, 240–249; Heikamp, “Zum Herkules und Kakus von Baccio Bandinelli”, 998–1003; Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli, cat. no. VI, 572 (Zikos). For Marinovic’s earlier dating see her essay in this volume: “The Young Baccio Bandinelli and the Role of Prints at the Beginning of a Sculptor’s Career”, 240–271. 4 Vasari: “Baccio, ottenuto il marmo, fece un modello grande di cera, che era Ercole, il quale avendo rinchiuso il capo di Cacco con un ginocchio tra due sassi, col braccio sinistro lo strigneva con molta forza, tenendoselo sotto fra le gambe rannicchiato in attitudine travagliata: dove mostrava Cacco il patire suo e la violenza e ‘l pondo d’Ercole sopra di sé, che gli faceva scoppiare ogni minimo muscolo p(er) tutta la persona. Parimente Ercole con la testa chinata verso il nimico oppresso e digrignando e strignendo i denti, alzava il braccio destro e con molta fierezza rompendogli la testa, gli dava col bastone l’altro colpo”: Barocchi/ Bettarini-Vasari, Le vite, vol. 5, 248. 5 See Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell”, 101. 6 When Michelangelo’s David was erected on the Piazza in 1504, the need for a pendant on the other side of the staircase was immediately noticed. At first, the commission for this second statue was given to Michelangelo. The subject had not been defined a priori. But Michelangelo was busy in Rome, and then the political situation in Florence changed: Piero Soderini and the republican council, which had commissioned the David to commemorate the victory over the Medici, were brought down and the Medici returned to power in 1512. Vasari recounts that in the beginning of the 1520s Michelangelo was again working on the commission and wanted to carve a Hercules and Cacus group (some drawings remain), but, due to the death of Leo X, the project was canceled. After Giulio de’ Medici was elected pope in 1523, Michelangelo was assigned the New Sacristy of San Lorenzo and the church’s facade. Baccio Bandinelli took over the commission of the statue for Piazza Signoria and presented his wax model in 1525. Several letters prove that Michelangelo tried to regain the commission, and he succeeded in 1528 after the fall of the Medici. According to Vasari, he then changed

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Figure 6.2

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Baccio Bandinelli, Hercules and Cacus, ca. 1525, bozzetto, colored wax with wooden socle, h. 73 cm, Berlin, Bode Museum, inv. 2612 © Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz – Max-Planck-Institut

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Clement VII (Giulio de’ Medici) in Rome. The print can accordingly be dated to this time, when Agostino was also still in Rome.7 At that point in his career, he had been regularly producing engravings after Bandinelli’s inventions for about ten years, as had his colleagues Marcantonio Raimondi and Marco Dente.8 Agostino’s engraving after Bandinelli’s Cleopatra, for example, is dated 1515 and names the engraver as well as Baccio in the inscriptions (fig. 6.3).9 In the case of the Cleopatra, Agostino must have worked after a drawing, as there are no sculptures or wax models with this subject by Bandinelli known. Furthermore, it is not clear if this drawing was a design for sculpture at all – Vasari’s remark about the print points rather to the fact that it was drawn specifically to be printed.10 7

the subject of the statue, preferring to design a Samson. When the Medici returned to power in 1530, Michelangelo was reassigned the completion of San Lorenzo and Baccio was reassigned the figure group. Baccio’s Berlin bozzetto was never executed. Myssok, Bildhauerische Konzeption und plastisches Modell in der Renaissance, 246; Greve, Status und Statue, 127; Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli, cat. no. 39, 392 (Zurla). 8 Baccio Bandinelli returned to Rome in mid-1519, went back to Florence for a brief interlude in 1522–23 during the papacy of Adrian VI (1522–23), and then returned to Rome in 1523 after the election of his protector Giulio de’ Medici (Baccio received the commission for the decorations of the papal coronation in November 1523 and continued his copy of the Laocoon). In 1519/20 he designed a Massacre of the Innocents, B.XIV.24.21, to be engraved, ca. 1520–21, by Marco Dente (signed “Bacius Florentinus” and Dente’s monogram “SR”) and a Martyrdom of St. Laurence, B.XIV.89.104, engraved ca. 1520 by Marcantonio Raimondi (signed “Bacius Brandin inven” and Raimondi’s monogram “MAF”). Bandinelli, therefore, had contact with Raimondi’s workshop in Rome. This contact might have been established by Agostino Veneziano who had already made engravings after Baccio’s inventions in 1515, such as Cleopatra and Apollo and Daphne. At this point, Baccio must have been in Rome. 9 Agostino Veneziano after Baccio Bandinelli, Cleopatra, B.XIV.158.193, 1515, engraving, 22.2 × 13.4 cm, signed with the monogram “A.V.” on the amphora and inscribed “BACIO FIORENTINO. INVENTOR.” on the base, British Museum, London, inv. 1863,1114.749. The print is mentioned by Vasari: “Continovando addunque l’amore e lo studio, non solamente mandò fuora gran numero di carte disegnate in varii modi di sua mano, ma, per tentare se ciò gli riusciva, s’adoperò ancora che Agostino Viniziano, intagliatore di stampe, gl’intagliasse una Cleopatra ignuda […]”: Barocchi/Bettarini-Vasari, Le vite, vol. 5, 243. 10 The exact model drawing for the print is not preserved, but there are several others that relate to this invention (a first idea is preserved in a drawing in the Musée du Louvre, inv. no. 155; a further drawing is in Berlin); see Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli, cat. no. 36, 386 (Zurla). The drawing in the British Museum, formerly connected to the print, has been identified with a different subject by more recent research: see Ward, Baccio Bandinelli, 47. Zurla argues on good grounds for a direct collaboration between Bandinelli and Agostino Veneziano in 1515; Zurla, “ ‘Bacio fiorentino inventor’,” 50–55.

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Figure 6.3

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Agostino Veneziano (after Baccio Bandinelli), Cleopatra, dated 1515, engraving, 222 × 134 mm, signed with the monogram “A.V.” on the amphora, inscribed “bacio fi/orenti/no. i/vento/r” on the socle, 2nd state, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1863,1114.749 © The Trustees of the British Museum

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In comparison to the Cleopatra, the Hercules print is of minor quality. Perhaps in this case Agostino did not rely on a model drawing by Bandinelli, but worked after the bozzetto and made his own drawing.11 He slightly simplified the complexity of the figure group, but without changing the essence of the composition. As Eike Schmidt has pointed out, Agostino chose the pivotal view of the wax sculpture which shows the culmination of the storia: Hercules strikes out with his club to finally slay Cacus, while pushing him down onto the rock with his knee.12 Agostino’s rendering of the materiality of the sculpture is interesting as well. The differentiated hatching and cross-hatching without leaving white for highlights would, in fact, seem to imitate the rough texture of the wax modello. His earlier Cleopatra, on the contrary, shows a very different treatment of the body’s surface. Although Baccio apparently never executed this invention as a sculpture, Agostino uses a strong chiaroscuro with patches of light and shadow as if he wanted to reproduce the shimmering light effects of a shiny, smooth marble or bronze statue. The distribution of light and shadow is awkward. In some regards it even contradicts the perspective: the left lower leg, for example, is completely shaded, whereas the right one has strong highlights – which is not consistent with the fact that the left leg is placed well before the right one. Apart from the stylistic features that point to the engraver’s aim to render his models as sculptures, the setting in both prints proves to be ambivalent: architectural elements, such as the arcade with drapery in the case of Cleopatra or the arcade and niche in the Hercules and Cacus print, allude to sculptures and their frequent location in niches. Yet the landscapes in which the figures are placed, the grassy mounds and other details of nature also give them a lifelike quality: they seem to act like figures in a pictorial space. Especially in the case of Hercules and Cacus, the placing of the figure group in front of the pillar that stands between a decidedly empty niche and the arcade that opens onto a landscape reflects the ambivalence between a reproduction of sculpture and breathing figures in a storia. It could well have been in Baccio’s interest to publish his invention of Hercules and Cacus. He used prints extensively for self-promotion and must have been especially proud of his victory over his archrival Michelangelo.13 As Greve points out, the figure group must have appeared revolutionary to Baccio’s contemporaries: the extreme torsion of Cacus’s body, the blurring of figure group and base, with the figures seemingly growing out of the rock, and 11 12 13

See Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli, cat. no. 39, 392 (Zurla). Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell”, 101. Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell”, 101. See Zurla, “Dal disegno alla pittura”, 483.

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the extreme dynamic and entanglement of the bodies so singular in Baccio’s œuvre.14 Vasari’s rather lengthy description of the model speaks for a larger “public” interest in it. According to Greve, Baccio must also have known from the beginning that his invention was not destined to be executed in a monumental sculpture group, not only due to technical reasons but also because of the political implications of the topic and its brutal representation – it would have been conceived as a Medici challenge to the Florentines.15 Thus, dissemination via the medium of a print was a highly successful way of promoting his design to a larger audience. I have dwelt on Bandinelli at some length because it was only much later in the century that sculptors and printmakers would come back to the concept of rendering contemporary sculpture as sculpture in prints and using the print medium for self-promotion. Instead, for virtually all prints made in the intervening period, we observe what Bernadine Barnes has put forward regarding the prints after Michelangelo’s sculptures: the sculpture is transferred into a fully worked-up landscape; however, a finished composition and the rendering of the sculpture do not actually convey that the model is a sculpture. This is the case, for example, in Giulio Bonasone’s print after the Vatican Pietà, 1547 (fig. 6.4).16 Raphael Rosenberg also observes this in Battista Franco’s prints after Michelangelo’s Dusk and Dawn: they do not show that the figures are made of 14 Greve, Status und Statue, 128–129. Greve explains the singularity of “Hercules and Cacus” in Baccio’s oeuvre with his contemporary work on a copy of the Laocoon which he finished in 1524: ibid. Myssok had already seen the references to the Laocoon in Bandinelli’s “Hercules and Cacus”: Myssok, Bildhauerische Konzeption und plastisches Modell in der Renaissance, 240–241. 15 Vasari explains that the marble block was too small for Bandinelli’s ambitious invention, which Greve does not find convincing. According to Greve, the artist must have known the size of the block: Greve, Status und Statue, 130. 16 Barnes, Michelangelo in Print, 145–148; Giulio Bonasone after Michelangelo, Vatican Pietà, 1547, engraving, 26.9 × 17.1 cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, inv. RP-P-OB-36.606. Other examples are: Antonio Salamanca after Michelangelo, Vatican Pietà, 1547, engraving, 37.5 × 26.3 cm, Fine Arts Museum of San Francisco, inv. 1963.30.36150; and Cherubino Alberti after Michelangelo, Florence Pietà, ca. 1575, 46.7 × 31 cm, engraving, British Museum, London, inv. 1874,0808.598. In some cases, though, as Salamanca’s and Cherubino’s prints show, the inscription at least refers to the fact that the depicted figures are made out of stone. Regarding Michelangelo and the reproduction of his art in print, see Barnes, Michelangelo in Print. Notable exceptions are prints that represent contemporary sculpture in the same way in which antique sculpture was represented: the background is left white, the figure stands on an unobtrusive plinth which is the only hint that the depicted body is a sculpture; see, for example, Nicolas Beatrizet after Michelangelo, Risen Christ, after 1558, engraving, 44.1 × 21.4 cm, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York inv. 2001.29. Barnes calls this print an “archeological” engraving: Barnes, Michelangelo in Print, 160.

Sculpture as Sculpture in 16th Century Prints

Figure 6.4

Giulio Bonasone (after Michelangelo), Vatican Pietà, 1547, engraving, 269 × 171 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-36.606 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

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marble nor that they are sculptures, and their placement in a completely different context even leads to another interpretation of their subject.17 The first prints of contemporary sculptures in their actual setting seem to be the engravings by Cornelis Cort after Michelangelo’s Medici Tombs of 1570.18 In this case, however, it is rather the whole site that interests him, the architecture of the tombs rather than the quality of the single sculptures, which have not been executed with greater care in comparison to the surrounding architecture (fig. 6.5).19 Bernadine Barnes has convincingly established that Cort’s aim was to honor the Medici family with his suite of prints after the chapel decoration and to secure funding for his production.20 Priority given to the overall site also holds true for the print by Domenico Tibaldi after Giambologna’s Neptune Fountain on Bologna’s most important square, Piazza Maggiore, which was completed in 1566 (figs. 6.6–6.7).21 The 17 Rosenberg, “The Reproduction and Publication of Michelangelo’s Sacristy”, 130. 18 Cornelis Cort after Michelangelo, Tomb of Giuliano de’ Medici, dated bottom left 1570, engraving, 43,8 × 28,3 cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, inv. RP-P-BI-6403B, and Tomb of Lorenzo de’ Medici, dated 1570, engraving, 55.9 × 40.6 cm, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1945, inv. 45.47.3(5). The prints belong to a series of four. Cort also engraved the older tomb (without statues) by Andrea del Verrocchio of 1472: Tomb of Giuliano and Pietro de’ Medici, engraving, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1957, inv. 57.572.30, and the sculpture group of the altar: Madonna and Child between St Comas and St Damian, after Michelangelo Buonarroti, Raffaello da Montelupo, Giovanni Angelo da Montorsoli, 1570, engraving, 46 × 31.7 cm, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Anne and Carl Stern Gift, 1959, inv. 59.642.81. What appears to be the first series of prints made after sculptures belonging to one and the same architectural structure deserves more attention than is possible here. For prints after Michelangelo’s Sacristy, see Rosenberg, “The Reproduction and Publication of Michelangelo’s Sacristy”, 114–136. Satzinger stresses that Cort did convey Michelangelo’s scrupulously calculated lighting conditions: Exh. Cat. Der Göttliche, cat. no. 136, 204 (Satzinger). 19 Rosenberg characterizes the prints as “orthogonal views”: Rosenberg, “The Reproduction and Publication of Michelangelo’s Sacristy”, 128. He suggests that Cort used Giovanni Battista Naldini’s drawings of the separate sculptures as models and combined them with another drawing of the architecture, which would explain why the sculptures in the print are seen from different viewpoints: ibid., 129. Heisterberg points out that Cort (or the draughtsman of Cort’s model drawings) complements Michelangelo’s unfinished parts of the sculptures; Exh. Cat. Schatten der Zeit, cat. no. 10, 140 (Heisterberg). 20 Barnes, Michelangelo in Print, 153–154. Documents prove that Cosimo paid Cort for his engraving of the Medici family tree in 1569, one year before Cort made his prints of the tombs: Meijer, “Una commissione Medicea per Cornelis Cort”, 168–176; Barnes, Michelangelo in Print, 54. 21 Domenico Tibaldi, Neptune Fountain, 1570, engraving, 38.4 × 50.8 cm, British Museum, London, inv. 1873,0809.922. For the sources relating to the fountain and a summary of its genesis, see Morét, Der italienische Figurenbrunnen, 225–239.

Sculpture as Sculpture in 16th Century Prints

Figure 6.5

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Cornelis Cort (after Michelangelo), Tomb of Giuliano de’ Medici, 1570, engraving, 425 × 278 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-BI-6403B © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

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Jean de Boulogne called Giambologna, Neptune Fountain, 1566, marble, bronze, Bologna, Piazza Maggiore

engraving, which is dated to 1570, was probably commissioned by Tommaso Laureti, as he had obtained a privilege for prints after the fountain in 1569.22 22 Bury, Print in Italy, 204. The privilege allowed Laureti to print and sell images of the fountain for ten years (it is written in small letters in the bottom left corner: “inventor

Sculpture as Sculpture in 16th Century Prints

Figure 6.7

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Domenico Tibaldi, Neptune Fountain, 1570, engraving, 384 × 508 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1873,0809.922 © Trustees of the British Museum

Laureti was the inventor of the fountain’s architecture and the print praises this overall concept. It alludes to the importance of the fountain for the city of Bologna in providing water to the inhabitants for daily life (represented by the woman) and in strengthening the city’s defense preparations (represented by the lansquenet with halberd), as Kurt Zeitler has pointed out.23 Moreover the patron, Pope Pius IV (Giovanni Angelo de’ Medici), his Vice-Legate Pier Paolo

23

et architectus fuit / thomas lauretus panormitanus / Domi: Tibal: incidit: Bono:com privilegio MDLXX”); cf. Tuttle, “Per l’iconografia”, 442. That Laureti is named inventor on the engraving is supposedly meant to designate him as the designer of the fountain, but also of its reproduction (“Inventor et architectus fuit / Thomas Lauretus Panormitanus”), while Giambologna’s share is defined in the right-hand bottom corner (perhaps rather derogatively) as having “made” the statues (“Aereas statuas fecit Ioannes / Bologna Flandrius”): Zeitler, “Die frühesten druckgraphischen Wiedergaben der Fontana del Nettuno”, 511, n. 4; and Exh. Cat. Giambologna, Ein Wendepunkt, 283. Zeitler, “Die frühesten druckgraphischen Wiedergaben der Fontana del Nettuno”, 506.

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Cesi, who oversaw the commission as well as its execution, and the Bolognese senate are praised by the coats of arms and the flag-like cloths placed dominantly in the print, hanging from the upper edge of the picture.24 The sculptures themselves, on the contrary, are not the main concern of the print’s depiction.25 Giambologna’s name is given in an inscription, but it is unlikely that he had anything to do with the print, which Zeitler adequately described as a “document” of the project, sealed by the coats of arms.26 A different strategy can be deduced from the prints after the sculptor’s famous Rape of a Sabine (fig. 6.8).27 Three chiaroscuro woodcuts by the Mantuan artist Andrea Andreani after the figure group are known (figs. 6.9–6.11).28 The statue had been unveiled in Florence in Piazza della Signoria in January 1583 and created a sensation. Not only was its erotic subject matter discussed, but Giambologna did not clearly identify the topic at all. Instead, for the artist, it was a conceptual rather than a narrative composition, as the poet Raffaello 24

The fountain was erected between 1563 and 1567. Cesi contracted the painter Tommaso Laureti as “architetto dell’opera la quale si farà intorno la fontana”. The artist was committed to provide a model for the fountain as well as the sculptures and decoration. Laureti then travelled to Florence and secured Giambologna as sculptor for the figures; cf. Schreurs, Pirro Ligorio, 123–124. On the collaboration of Laureti and Giambologna and the debated question of Laureti’s share in the invention of the fountain, see Tuttle, The Neptune Fountain, 55–103. 25 For a similar interpretation, see Tuttle, “Per l’iconografia”, 442. He argues that the print does not complement Giambologna’s sculptures: they lack force of expression and nobility; Neptune’s tension is missing and so is the pointed eroticism of the sirens’s and putti’s grace. In my opinion, though, this was probably not intentional: it might just not have been the print’s focus to showcase Giambologna’s sculptures. 26 For the inscriptions, see note 22. 27 For the complex history of the genesis of this sculpture see Dhanens, Jean Boulogne; Avery, Giambologna, 112–114. 28 Andrea Andreani (*1540 or 1560 in Mantua; 1623 in Rome or Mantua); for Andreani’s life and career (and the relevant documents), see Boscarelli, “Contributi per Andreani” and Boscarelli, “Andrea Andreani incisore”. The woodcuts are: Andrea Andreani, Rape of a Sabine, after Giambologna, ca. 1583, chiaroscuro woodcut from three blocks, with dedication to Giovanni de’ Medici (“Hoc opus exculpsit / Io:Bologna Andreas / Andreani incisit atq’ / dicavit. Ad illustriss. / & Eccel: Ioanne Medice”), 44.8 × 20.4 cm, Harvard Art Museums, inv. G7510; Andrea Andreani, Rape of a Sabine, after Giambologna, dated 1584, chiaroscuro woodcut from four blocks, with dedication to Bernardo Vecchietti (“Rapta[m] Sabinam a / Io: Bologn. Marm: excul / Andreas Andrean[us] Ma[n]t / incisit atq. Bernard / Vecchiett[um] dicavit, a[n]no / M.D.L.XXXIIII”), 45 × 20.2 cm, Harvard Art Museums, inv. M9760; and Andrea Andreani, Rape of a Sabine Woman, after Giambologna, dated 1584, chiaroscuro woodcut from four blocks, with dedication to Niccolò Gaddi (“Rapta[m] Sabina[m] a Ioa: /Bolog. Marm: exculpta[m] / Andreas Andrean[us] Mant i[n]cid / atque Equiti Nicc: Gaddio / dicauit. M.D.LXXXIIII. Flor.”), 44.7 × 20.9 cm, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Rogers Fund, 1922, inv. 22.73.3-70.

Sculpture as Sculpture in 16th Century Prints

Figure 6.8a

Jean de Boulogne called Giambologna, Rape of a Sabine, 1583, marble, h. 410 cm, Florence, Loggia dei Lanzi, Piazza della Signoria © Photo: Charles Avery

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Figure 6.8b Jean de Boulogne called Giambologna, Rape of a Sabine, 1583, marble, h. 410 cm, Florence, Loggia dei Lanzi, Piazza della Signoria © Photo: David Finn

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Borghini recounts.29 The statue’s embodiment of the aesthetic principles that dominated contemporary artistic theory sparked debate as well.30 This one quote by Gian Paolo Lomazzo in his Treatise of 1584 should suffice to document this art critical discussion that will be elaborated in more detail further on: “And so they say that Michelangelo once gave this advice […] one should always make the figure pyramidal, serpentine, and multiplied by one, two or three. […] For the greatest grace and comeliness a figure can have is that it would seem to move, which painters call ‘fury of the figure’ ”.31 Hinterding and Gnann consider the print with the dedication to Giovanni de’ Medici as the first one of the three, to be dated to around 1583 (fig. 6.9).32 In my opinion this makes sense. Apart from stylistic considerations which researchers have advanced and which I will address in a moment, there are two more – and to my knowledge new – arguments for this chronology of the prints. First of all, one chiaroscuro is dedicated to a Medici, one to Bernardo Vecchietti, diplomat and advisor to Francesco de’ Medici, and another one 29

“[…] e così finse, solo per mostrar l’eccellenza dell’arte, e senza proporsi alcuna historia, un giouane fiero, che bellisima fanciulla à debil vecchio rapisse”, Borghini, Il Riposo, 72. (“[…] Thus he depicted, only to show the excellence of art, and without intending any storia, a fierce youth abducting a most beautiful maiden from a weak old man” (trans. Cole, Ambitious Form, 94). For other contemporary poems suggesting that the action centers on nothing but art, see ibid., 98. Giambologna himself had written in a letter of 1579 on an earlier variant of the subject that the figures were “chosen to give the field to the knowledge and study of art” (“eletto per dar campo alla sagezza et studio dell’arte”; trans. Goldfarb, “Chiaroscuro Woodcut Technique”, 319). On the sculpture’s naming or rather not-naming see also Cole, “Giambologna and the Sculpture with no Name”. 30 On the reactions and commentaries of Giambologna’s contemporaries see Cole, Ambitious Form, 94–99. 31 “Dicesi adunque che Michelangelo diede una volta questo avvertimento a Marco da Siena pittore suo discepolo, che dovesse sempre fare la figura piramidale, serpentinata, e moltiplicata per una, due, e tre. […] La maggior grazia, e leggiadria che possa avere una figura è, che mostri di muoversi, il che chiamano i pittori furia della figura”, Lomazzo, Trattato dell’arte, vol. 1, 33–34 (trans. Cambon, Michelangelo’s Poetry, 182). 32 Exh. Cat. Chiaroscuro Woodcuts, cat. no. 64 (Hinterding); Exh. Cat. In Farbe!, 392 (Gnann). To my knowledge the dedication to Giovanni, rather than Francesco de’ Medici, has never been elucidated in research on the prints or on Giambologna. Giovanni was born in 1567 outside marriage but a legitimatized son of Cosimo I de’ Medici, thus half-brother of Grand Duke Francesco. He was educated at the Florentine court and highly erudite. Since 1581 he was a member of the Accademia Fiorentina and since 1587 of the Accademia degli Alterati under the name of “Il Saldo”. He published several books. His letters to members of the court, even though of a private nature, were appreciated in Florence and often read in public: he was regarded as an “esempio del ben parlare e del ben scrivere” (Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale, Magl., IX.124: Abbozzi, c. 56r). Moreover, he was an engineer and architect: Volpini, “Medici, Giovanni de’ ”. See as well Daddi-Giovannozzi, “Untersuchungen über Don Giovanni de’ Medici”.

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Figure 6.9 Andrea Andreani (after Giambologna), Rape of a Sabine, ca. 1583, chiaroscuro woodcut from two blocks in green and dark gray, 448 × 204 mm, Cambridge, MA, Harvard Art Museums/ Fogg Museum, Gray Collection of Engravings Fund, inv. G7510 © President and Fellows of Harvard College

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to Niccolò Gaddi, art collector and influential personality (figs. 6.10–6.11).33 While the latter are both important figures for Giambologna and belong to Florence’s elite, it would have been strange not to honor his foremost patrons, the Medici, first.34 Secondly, the print dedicated to Giovanni de’ Medici refers to “hoc opus”, whereas the other two chiaroscuros identify the subject as “Rape of a Sabine” (“Rapta[m] Sabinam”). When the figure group was first presented on the piazza, the vagueness of the topic was much debated, as has already been stated. Raffaello Borghini wrote that the precise subject was of little importance to the artist when he made the group, although a great deal of effort went into giving it a suitable name after it was made.35 The debate is also reflected in Michelagnolo Sermatelli’s Alcune composizioni di diversi autori in lode del ritratto della Sabina. Scolpito in marmo dall’Eccellentissimo M. Giovanni Bologna (…), a book of poems, one of the first to be dedicated to a single work of art.36 It was published in October 1583, only months after the statue had been unveiled. Bury points out that most probably Giambologna’s patron and friend Vecchietti was involved with the publication, as five of the 23 vernacular poems are by him.37 Several poems reflect the discussion about the subject matter of the sculpture group. Bernardo Davanzati’s sonnet, for example, begins with a generalized narrative description, but then admits the importance of a narrative framework while denying its value for learned men.38 Two of Vecchietti’s sonnets suggest that labeling it with a name and thus endowing it with a narrative context was a way of giving every beholder the opportunity to understand the sculptor’s achievement of lifelikeness, liveliness, and the expression of the

33 For the inscriptions, see n. 28. For Bernardo Vecchietti and Niccolò Gaddi, see Bury, “Bernardo Vecchietti”, and Acidini Luchinat, “Niccolò Gaddi”. The dedications to Giambologna’s patrons suggest that the sculptor commissioned Andreani with the prints. In 1551 he had already dedicated a wooden statuette of Julius Caesar (Private Coll., Belgium) to Vecchietti; cf. Kryza-Gersch, “Die Dresdner Tageszeiten”, 28. 34 Cole states that most of the poems on the sculpture group were published with the Medici imprimatur – this highlights their position as Giambologna’s foremost patrons; Cole, Ambitious Form, 100. 35 Borghini purportedly suggested the name for the figure group himself: Cole, Ambitious Form, 100; Bury, “Print in Italy”, 29; Borghini, Il Riposo, 72–75. 36 For this text, the exemplar of Harvard’s Houghton Library was consulted (Typ 525 83.781). For a selection of the poems, see Barocchi, Scritti d’arte, vol. II, 1211–1242 and Bury, “Bernardo Vecchietti”, Appendix III, 43–46. Bury mentions one earlier book on a contemporary sculpture (Blosio Pallacio, Coryciana, 1524); ibid., 55, n. 91. On the poems, see, as well, Cole, Ambitious Form, 96–99 and Cole, “Giambologna and the Sculpture with No Name”. 37 Bury, “Bernardo Vecchietti”, 28. 38 Ibid.

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Figure 6.10 Andrea Andreani (after Giambologna), Rape of a Sabine, ca. 1584, chiaroscuro woodcut printed in black and three shades of gray, 450 × 202 mm, Cambridge, MA, Harvard Art Museums/Fogg Museum, Bequest of Horace M. Swope, Class of 1905, inv. M9760 © President and Fellows of Harvard College

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Figure 6.11 Andrea Andreani (after Giambologna), Rape of a Sabine Woman, ca. 1584, chiaroscuro woodcut, 447 × 209 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1922, inv. 22.73.3-70 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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Woodcut illustrations of Giambologna’s Rape of a Sabine Woman. From Alcune composizioni di diversi autori in lode del ritratto della Sabina, ed. M. Sermartelli (Florence, 1583), Typ 525.83.781, Cambridge, MA, Harvard University, Houghton Library © Houghton Library, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA

“affetti”.39 Bearing this in mind, it appears to be quite logical that one of the other two chiaroscuro prints is dedicated to Vecchietti and that, in this case, the sculpture on the print is identified by its inscription as the rape of a Sabine. My hypothesis, therefore, is that the prints, being a medium that allowed a fast response, were adjusted to ongoing critical discussion of the statue. That the two later Sabine chiaroscuros are related to the publication of the poems can also be deduced from the fact that they reflect two rather crude woodcuts used to illustrate the book (fig. 6.12). The relation between them is still disputed: Goldfarb saw a strong connection, even suggesting that the 39 Ibid., 29. Rosenberg points out that Borghini’s Il Riposo essentially reflects Vecchietti’s ideas about art and also in this text Vecchietti criticizes the absence of identifying attributes in works of art, namely Michelangelo’s Times of the Day for the Medici Chapel; Borghini, Il Riposo, 65–66; cf. Rosenberg, “Michelangelos Neue Sakristei”, 47–48.

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book illustrations might be by Andreani himself, whereas for van Gastel they cannot have been more than an inspiration for the printmaker as they differ in important details.40 In my opinion, Goldfarb’s hypothesis is not farfetched: Andreani’s chiaroscuros are in reverse to the woodcuts and, while some details differ, there are also conspicuous analogies; see, for example, how the fingers of the Sabine’s outstretched hand are splayed. If he was not the author himself, Andreani might have followed the illustrations regarding the viewpoint because they show the aspects highlighted in the laudatory poems, such as the beauty of the female body and the male’s desire; see, for example, the Roman’s hand on the nude woman’s backside or his direct gaze at her breasts. As examples for these poems, it suffices to cite Pietro di Gherardo Capponi and Vincenzo Alamanni: He (the sculptor) wanted to show there a charming and beautiful woman; he put her in a graceful pose, and made her nude and seductive, so that every heart would burn for her. Gherardo Capponi; trans. Michael Cole41

As I gaze at the beautiful marble, and as I perceive how, in it, the youthful desire of the great progeny becomes inflamed to ravish the chaste lady, I, too, feel myself ravished inside, and outside I feel like I am made of the marble itself. Vincenzo Alamanni; trans. Michael Cole42

Both the woodcuts and the chiaroscuros were even more interesting for the reader of the book as they showed views which, as Michael Cole has pointed out, were not possible “in situ” in the piazza where the figure group had been erected: one of the views featured in the prints is, in actual fact, blocked by a pier; another, by a wall.43 In contrast to the woodcuts in Sermartelli’s book, Andreani purposefully set out to produce prints that rendered the sculptural qualities of Giambologna’s 40 Goldfarb, “Chiaroscuro Woodcut Technique”, 319; van Gastel, “Hoc opus exculpsit”, 21. 41 “Non questo ratto o quello il fabro elesse in marmo rassembrar, ma vaga e bella donna mostrarne e ‘n leggiadri atti fella, nuda e lasciva, ond’ogni cor n’ardesse”, Sermartelli, Alcune composizioni, 13; cf. Cole, Ambitious Form, 98. 42 “Mentre io miro il bel Marmo, et scorgo in esso, D’alta prole infiammar giovin desio Casta Donna a rapir, rapirmi anchi’io Sento dentro e di fuor dal Marmo istesso”, Sermartelli, Alcune composizioni, 4; cf. Cole, Ambitious Form, 96–97. 43 Cole, Ambitious Form, 96; Cole, “Giambologna and the Sculpture with no Name”, 345, 349, 350.

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figure group. His exceptionally large chiaroscuros are works that match the sculpture’s aesthetic quality. The latter is also an aspect that the poems stress. As Cole has stated: “Repeatedly, the writers remind the reader that what they are looking at is a marble sculpture”.44 In contrast to Andreani’s first print after the group, the latter two, especially the one showing the female body frontally, reproduce Giambologna’s mastership in the treatment of the stone regarding the male versus the female body: the soft, smooth flesh of the Sabine is contrasted by the strong muscularity of the Roman. As Achim Gnann and Joris van Gastel both point out, in the first print, which was made of three plates, the line plate plays a much more important role than the tonal one.45 In Gnann’s opinion, the plasticity and sculptural effect is stronger in this print than the other two.46 I would question that. As Kolloff has emphasized, the three-plate print reminds us of a heightened pen drawing.47 It is true that the muscularity is much more stressed in the first print than in the other two, and that the roundness of the body, as for example in the Sabine’s right thigh, is more successful in the first print. Yet these effects are achieved through lines that are extensively repeated. In the two later prints of four blocks, Andreani works more with tonal values to model the figures. By doing so, Andreani renders the materiality and effects of light and shadow on a sculpture standing outside much more convincingly. We get an impression of the smooth and shiny surfaces of marble.48 The shadows in the prints are rather strong and natural. A painter would most certainly not have depicted them like that out of aesthetic considerations: see, for example, in the print dedicated to Vecchietti, the Roman’s face, which is exactly half in the shadow, or the large uniform shadow on his leg (fig. 6.10). As there is no internal modeling with lines in the latter two prints, the contouring appears quite strong. However, the strong contour lines reflect the sharp outline of the sculpture against its surroundings. Thus, Andreani develops a chiaroscuro technique that adapts to the needs of rendering sculpture, and not, as for example, earlier chiaroscuros by Ugo da Carpi that render the painterly effects of wash drawings.49

44 Ibid., 99. 45 Exh. Cat. In Farbe!, 392 (Gnann); van Gastel, “Hoc opus exculpsit”, 21. 46 Exh. Cat. In Farbe!, 392 (Gnann); Boscarelli, on the other hand, characterizes all three prints as sculptural and pictorial at the same time: Boscarelli, “Contributi per Andreani”, 63. 47 Kolloff, Andreani, cat. no. 30, 727. 48 Gnann stresses as well that the rendering of light in the prints aims to imitate marble: Exh. Cat. In Farbe!, 392 (Gnann). 49 See Bloemacher, “Von der Virtuosität zum System”, 199.

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Andreani’s desire to reproduce the sculptural quality of Giambologna’s works is also transferred by his chiaroscuro after the bronze relief, which was installed on the base of the figure group in 1584 to clarify the subject matter once and for all: it shows the abduction of the Sabine women by Romans on foot and on horseback in a perspectival city prospect representing the city of Rome.50 The large woodcut printed in the same year has approximately the same size as the relief and imitates its bronze color. The Metropolitan Museum’s impression, which was consulted for this essay, is printed on light pink paper used for the highlights which perfectly imitates the shimmering bronze.51 As Gnann points out, Andreani uses highlights only for the figures in the foreground, so that the background appears rather flat, as in Giambologna’s “rilievo schiacciato”.52 As some details differ from the relief, Goldfarb states that the model for the chiaroscuro was the cartoon rather than the executed relief.53 Yet I believe, especially when considering the material quality of the bronze and the way it reflects light, which is successfully rendered in Andreani’s print, he must have known the finished relief as well. This is supported by van Gastel’s analysis of Andreani’s woodcut after Giambologna’s Handwashing of Pilate, which is dated to 1585 as well. In this case the wax bozzetto is preserved (Victoria and Albert Museum) and there are details that conform in bozzetto and print, but also in print and relief, so that both must have been known to the draftsman of Andreani’s model.54 This speaks for a close cooperation between Giambologna, the draftsman, and Andreani. The latter, even if he did not himself draw after the sculptor’s works, must have had access as well, because he still had to translate the materiality of the work into his technique. 50

While the general theme of the figure group might be clarified by the relief, Cole is absolutely right in pointing to the fact that it eventually encouraged uncertainties as well: none of the men is central, all of them are nude, and there is no one commanding all of them. Giambologna does not disclose whether one of the men is Talassius or whether any of the characters shown also appear in the marble above: Cole, Ambitious Form, 100. 51 Andrea Andreani after Giambologna, The Rape of the Sabines, 1585, chiaroscuro woodcut in three sections (joined), each printed from four blocks; sheet (left panel, trimmed to block line) 74.6 × 26 cm; sheet (center panel, trimmed to block line) 74.9 × 32.4 cm; sheet (right panel, trimmed to block line) 75.6 × 35.2 cm, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, inv. 22.73.3-73,74,75. See van Gastel, “Hoc opus exculpsit”, 21. 52 Exh. Cat. In Farbe!, 393 (Gnann). 53 Goldfarb, “Chiaroscuro Woodcut Technique”, 325. 54 Giambologna, Handwashing of Pilate, bronze, 1579–85, 47 × 71 cm, University Chapel, Genoa. This was an important commission from a Genoese patrician, Luca Grimaldi, to adorn a chapel in Genoa with bronze statues of Christian virtues, putti, and reliefs of the Passion. The bronzes were produced in Florence within the next five years (Borghini describes the work as “in hand” [fra mano] in 1583); see van Gastel, “Hoc opus exculpsit”, 23–25. A chiaroscuro woodcut of one of the bronze reliefs is dated 1585.

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To conclude, I would like to have a quick look at Adriaen de Vries and his engraver Jan Muller who took up some of the strategies used by Giambologna and Andreani of translating sculpture into print, but developed them even further. De Vries, born in The Hague, had worked in Giambologna’s workshop in the early 1580s and had definitely seen the prints by Andreani.55 Most probably he was also aware of the collaboration between the two artists as he seems to have built up a similar cooperation with Muller (b. 1569) who was related to him and based in Amsterdam.56 Muller’s two engravings after Adriaen’s Hercules Fountain in Augsburg, for example, are an interesting case in point (figs. 6.13–6.15). The fountain was important for Adriaen’s career: it launched the sculptor’s international acclaim, certainly supported by the edition of two prints after the fountain produced in 1602, the year of its erection.57 One print shows the complete structure with the fountain’s architecture (fig. 6.14).58 The model for this endeavor was surely Tibaldi’s print after Giambologna’s Neptune Fountain, with which de Vries definitely aimed to compete. Comparable in the two prints are the slight view from above, the abundance of inscriptions, the placement of the coats of arms, and the lack of any urban context.59 Yet not only was the fountain as a whole 55

For Adriaen de Vries’s career and his stay in Italy, see Scholten, “Adriaen de Vries”, 15–16. The author proposes that de Vries might have worked on the relief of Giambologna’s Rape of the Sabines: ibid., 15. For de Vries’s training as a caster in Florence, specifically see Zikos, “Die Ausbildung von Adriaen de Vries”. 56 De Vries had been in contact with Muller since the summer of 1594. The engraver actually began working for De Vries in 1597. Muller was a pupil of Hendrick Goltzius or at least closely associated with him: see Riggs, “Graven Images”, 113. 57 De Vries had begun work on the fountain in cooperation with the caster Wolfgang Neidhart in 1596: Kommer/Johanns, “Die Augsburger Brunnen”, 136. 58 Jan Muller, Hercules Fountain of Augsburg, 1602, engraving from two plates, 57.5 × 52.0 cm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, inv. OB-32234a,b, signed (“Joannes Muller scupsit”) and dated (“Ano 1602”). 59 The inscriptions read as follows: (above center) “Fons ex marmore e aurichalco cum imaginibus Herculis / et charitum AUGUSTAE vindel: in foro vinario, opus stipendum”; below this inscription on the left- and right-hand sides there are putti with the double-headed eagle of the Holy Roman Empire and the cedar nut of the city of Augsburg; (left center) “Ioannes.Velserus.Octavian.Sec.Fuggerus./ II viri locaverunt.an.P.Chr.N.MDXCVI”; (right center) “Quirinus.Rehlingerus. Marcus.Velserux./ II viri probaverunt. An.p. Chr.n.MDCII”. Johannes Welser and Octavian Secundus Fugger had finalized the commission in 1596; Quirinus Rehlinger and Marcus Welser were magistrates. To continue: (on the left below the fountain) “Adriaen de Vries Hagien. Caes. Mtis. Scultor/ huius fontis, cum sculpturae tum Architecturae, inventor”; (on the right below the fountain) “Joannes Muller sculpsit. Ano. 1602”; (in the cartouche below the fountain) “Delineavit et OBSERVANTIAE artisque testimonium dedicavit ii viris reliquisque reipublicae augustanae /

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Figure 6.13

Adriaen de Vries, Hercules slaying Hydra (Hercules Fountain), 1596–1602, bronze, Augsburg, Maximilianmuseum © Hochbauamt Augsburg (Achim Bunz) 

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Figure 6.14

Jan Muller, Hercules Fountain of Augsburg, 1602, engraving from two plates, 575 × 520 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. OB-32234a,b © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

senatoribusque inclytis heroibus maximis viris / ioannes ab ach caes mtis. Pictor cubic”. According to the inscription, the monumental print was made after a drawing by Hans von Aachen, who was friends with both of the artists and stayed in Augsburg several times when de Vries was working on the fountain. The drawing is lost, but must have been made after a preliminary invention, not the final one, as there are some differences in comparison to the original. Kommer and Johanns hypothesize that a red-chalk drawing in Vienna is a workshop copy of Hans von Aachen’s original, which was transferred via counterproof to the plate: Kommer/Johanns, “Die Augsburger Brunnen”, 137; for the drawing, see Exh. Cat. Adriaen de Vries 1556–1626. Augsburgs Glanz, cat. no. 51, 346–347 (Johanns). Even the two plates are singled out in the drawing by a thin, central, horizontal line.

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published in a print, contrary to the case of Giambologna’s Neptune Fountain, but so, too, was the crowning figure group of Hercules and the Hydra. In the case of Adriaen’s Hercules Fountain, not only its overall structure, its grandeur, and – via the inscription – the people responsible for this achievement were praised, but also the sculptor for his masterwork, the figure group, which can be much better appreciated when singled out for a separate reproduction (fig. 6.15).60 For the latter engraving, Kommer and Johanns have pointed out that the view was chosen to highlight the eminent features of the composition: the base is shown parallel to the picture edge, so that we see it slightly obliquely.61 The Hydra’s upward diagonal movement from left to right is stressed, as well as the hero’s unstable, agitated pose. We also see that Hercules’s eyes are fixed on one of the monster’s heads, which he has clenched by the throat, so that he can hit it with his club in the next instance. But the engraving not only highlights the sophisticated system of movements but also perfectly renders the plasticity of the figure group. Regarding Muller’s technique, Timothy Riggs points out that the print “turns the sculptural quality of the engraver’s line to the rendition of an actual piece of sculpture […]”.62 Another series of engravings by Muller after de Vries is clearly related to Andreani’s chiaroscuros after Giambologna’s Rape of a Sabine. The prints interpret de Vries’s Mercury and Psyche, a bronze sculpture in the round (fig. 6.16).63 Muller not only shows two views of the figure group, but represents its multiple perspectives in three engravings (figs. 6.17–6.19).64 The owner of the three prints could combine them ad libitum: with or against the clockwise direction, 60

Jan Muller after Adriaen de Vries, Hercules Fights the Hydra (from the Hercules Fountain), ca. 1602, engraving, 505 × 365 mm, Washington, D.C., National Gallery of Art, inv. 1971.36.3. The print names Adriaen de Vries as sculptor of the emperor, so that it must date after his appointment in 1601. The bronze figure group had already been cast in 1597. 61 Kommer/Johanns, “Die Augsburger Brunnen”, 137. 62 Riggs, “Graven Images”, 113. 63 The bronze sculpture with a height of 250 cm was made in Prague in 1593. Today it is conserved in the Louvre, Paris, inv. M.R.3270. 64 Jan Muller after Adriaen de Vries, Mercury and Psyche (Mercury in Profile), ca. 1597, engraving, 50.5 × 25.8 cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, inv. RP-P-OB-32.228 (inscription: “Ivssv rhvdolphi. II. caesaris avgvsti, / adrianvs de vries hagiensis faciebat pragae, / opvs altitudinis pedvm octo EX AERE. 1593./ In gratiam D: Adriani de Vries, Cognati sui chariß:mi / Sculpebat Iohannes Mullerus. Harman: Muller: excudebat”); Jan Muller after Adriaen de Vries, Mercury and Psyche (Mercury in Frontal View), ca. 1597, engraving, 51.2 × 26.1 cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, inv. RP-P-OB-32.230 (same inscription as above); Jan Muller after Adriaen de Vries, Mercury and Psyche (Mercury in Rear View), ca. 1597, engraving, 50.3 × 25.6 cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, inv. RP-P-OB-32.232 (same inscription as above except for the names of the printmaker and editor which are written in italic to the left (“Joan Muller sculp.”) and right (“Harman Muller excudebat”) of the base).

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Jan Muller (after Adriaen de Vries), Hercules Slaying the Hydra (from the Hercules Fountain), ca. 1602, engraving, 505 × 365 mm, Washington, D.C., National Gallery of Art, inv. 1971.36.3 © National Gallery of Art, Washington

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Figure 6.16

Adriaen de Vries, Mercury and Psyche, 1593, bronze, h. 250 cm, Paris, musée du Louvre, département des Sculptures, inv. M.R. 3270 © Musée du Louvre, Paris (Thierry Ollivier) 

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Jan Muller (after Adriaen de Vries), Mercury and Psyche, ca. 1597, engraving, 505 × 258 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-32.228 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

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Figure 6.18

Jan Muller (after Adriaen de Vries), Mercury and Psyche, ca. 1597, engraving, 512 × 261 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-32.230 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

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Jan Muller (after Adriaen de Vries), Mercury and Psyche, ca. 1597, engraving, 503 × 256 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-32.232 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

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the beholder would always get a correct sequence. In a way the prints simulate a walk around the sculpture. Moreover, the figure group is clearly represented as a sculpture, as a work of art standing on a base, and the viewer is informed about all the facts concerning this work of art: artist, size, technique, origin, commission, and date.65 Muller’s perfectionism in terms of simulating walking around more than life-size sculptures is all the more remarkable as he himself never went to Prague, so that he must have made his prints after drawings or a wax model of the sculpture.66 De Vries developed his Mercury and Psyche out of his slightly earlier Psyche Carried by Cupids.67 For the latter sculpture, the artist not only competed with Giambologna’s Flying Mercury, but was, according to Buchwald, also inspired by Raphael’s similar depiction of Psyche in the Villa Farnesina, known to him via a print made by a follower of Marcantonio Raimondi.68 The sculpture was, therefore, not only translated into print, but also developed out of a print. But the intriguing issue of prints as models for sculptures is another subject that has to be dealt with elsewhere. Bibliography Acidini Luchinat, Cristina, “Niccolò Gaddi collezionista e dilettante del Cinquecento”, Paragone. Arte 31 (1980), 359/361, 141–175. Avery, Charles, Giambologna: The Complete Sculpture (Oxford: 1987). Barnes, Bernadine, Michelangelo in Print. Reproductions as Response in the Sixteenth Century (Farnham: 2010). Barocchi, Paola, Scritti d’Arte del Cinquecento (Milan, Naples: 1973), 3 vols, vol. 2. Barocchi, Paola and Rosanna Bettarini, Giorgio Vasari, Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, scultori ed architettori nelle redazioni del 1550 e 1568 (Florence: 1966–87), 6 vols., vol. 5. Bloemacher, Anne, “Von der Virtuosität zum System. Das Scheitern des malerischen Kupferstichs im frühen 16. Jahrhundert”, in Technische Innovationen und

65 66 67

See the inscription in n. 64 above. Veldman, “Greek Gods and Heroes in Prints”, 129–147. Adriaen de Vries, Psyche Carried by Cupids, 1590–92, bronze, h. 187 cm, National Museum, Stockholm, inv. NMSk 352. 68 Giambologna, Flying Mercury, 1580, bronze, height 180 cm, Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence. Circle of Marcantonio Raimondi, Psyche Carrying Waters of the Styx (from the Farnesina frescoes), engraving, 29.4 × 22 cm, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, inv. 2012.136.92. De Vries first travelled to Rome only in 1594, so that he would have known of Raphael’s Farnesina most probably via prints: Buchwald, Adriaen de Vries, 37.

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künstlerisches Wissen in der frühen Neuzeit (Interdependenzen, Die Künste und ihre Techniken, t. 1), eds. Magdalena Bushart and Henrike Haug (Cologne: 2015), 189–204. Borghini, Raffaello, Il Riposo (Florence: 1584) [Facsimile Hildesheim: Olms, 1969]. Boscarelli, Maria Elena, “Contributi per Andrea Andreani”, Rassegna di Studi e di Notizie 11/12 (1985), 59–73. Boscarelli, Maria Elena, “Andrea Andreani incisore mantovano”, Grafica d’Arte 1 (1990), 9–13. Buchwald, Conrad, Adriaen de Vries (Leipzig: 1899). Bury, Michael, “Bernardo Vecchietti. Patron of Giambologna”, I Tatti Studies 1 (1985), 13–56. Idem, The Print in Italy 1550–1620 (London: 2001). Cambon, Glauco, Michelangelo’s Poetry. Fury of Form (Princeton: 1985). Cole, Michael W., “Giambologna and the Sculpture with no Name”, Oxford Art Journal 31 (2008), no. 3, 337–360. Idem, Ambitious Form. Giambologna, Ammanati, and Danti in Florence (Princeton: 2011). Daddi-Giovannozzi, Vera, “Untersuchungen über Don Giovanni de’ Medici und Alessandro Pieroni”, Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz 5 (1937), no. 1, 58–70. Dhanens, Elisabeth, Jean Boulogne Giovanni Bologna Fiammingo. Douai 1529–Florence 1608 (Brussels: 1956). Exh. Cat., Adriaen de Vries 1556–1626. Augsburgs Glanz – Europas Ruhm (Maximilianmuseum, Augsburg, 11.3–12.6.2000), ed. Björn R. Kommer (Augsburg [i.a.]: 2000). Exh. Cat., Adriaen de Vries 1556–1626. Imperial Sculptor (Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, 12.12.1998–14.3.1999, National Museum Stockholm, 15.4.1999–29.8.1999, J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, 12.10.1999–9.1.2000), ed. Frits Scholten (Zwolle: 1998). Exh. Cat., Baccio Bandinelli. Scultore e maestro (1493–1560) (Florence, Museo Nazionale del Bargello, 9.4.–13.7.2014), eds. Detlef Heikamp and Beatrice Paolozzi Strozzi (Florence: 2014). Exh. Cat., Chiaroscuro Woodcuts from the Frits Lugt Collection in Paris (National Museum of Western Art, Tokyo, 2005), eds. Akira Kofuku and Shinsuke Watanabe (Tokyo: 2005). Exh. Cat., Giambologna 1529–1608. Ein Wendepunkt der europäischen Plastik (Royal Scottish Museum, Edinburgh, 19.8–10.9.1978, Victoria and Albert Museum, London, 5.10–16.11.1978, Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien, Vienna, 2.12.1978–28.1.1979), eds. Charles Avery, Anthony Radcliffe, and Manfred Leithe-Jasper (Vienna: 1978). Exh. Cat., Der Göttliche. Hommage an Michelangelo (Kunst- und Ausstellungshalle der Bundesrepublik Deutschland, Bonn, 6.2–25.5.2015), ed. Georg Satzinger (Munich: 2015).

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Exh. Cat., Graven Images. The Rise of Professional Printmakers in Antwerp and Haarlem, 1540–1640 (Mary and Leigh Block Gallery, Northwestern University, Evanston, 6.5– 27.6.1993 and Ackland Art Museum, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, 15.8– 26.9.1993), eds. Timothy A. Riggs and Larry Silver (Evanston: 1993). Exh. Cat., In Farbe! Clair-obscur-Holzschnitte der Renaissance. Meisterwerke aus der Sammlung Georg Baselitz und der Albertina in Wien (Albertina, Vienna, 29.11.2013– 16.2.2014), ed. Achim Gnann (Vienna: 2013). Heikamp, Detlef, “Zum Herkules und Kakus von Baccio Bandinelli”, in Le parole e i marmi. Studi in onore di Raniero Gnoli nel suo 70o compleanno, ed. Raffaele Torella (Rome: 2001), 983–1006. van Gastel, Joris, “Hoc opus exculpsit Io. Bologna. Andreas Andreanus incisit. Andrea Andreani’s ‘chiaroscuro’ houtsneden naar Giambologna”, The Rijksmuseum Bulletin 55 (2007), no. 1, 14–39 and 98–102. Goldfarb, Hilliard T., “Chiaroscuro Woodcut Technique and Andrea Andreani”, The Bulletin of the Cleveland Museum of Art 76 (1981), no. 9, 307–330. Greve, David, Status und Statue. Studien zu Leben und Werk des Florentiner Bildhauers Baccio Bandinelli (Berlin: 2008). Karpinsky, Caroline, The Illustrated Bartsch 48, Italian Chiaroscuro Woodcuts (New York: 1983). Kolloff, Eduard, “Andrea Andreani”, in Meyer’s Allgemeines Künstler-Lexikon, vol. 2 (Leipzig: 1872), 715–727. Kommer, Björn R. and Markus Johanns, “Die Augsburger Brunnen des Adriaen de Vries in Zeichnung und Druckgraphik des 17. und 18. Jahrhunderts”, in Exh. Cat. Adriaen de Vries, 1556–1626. Augsburgs Glanz – Europas Ruhm (Maximilianmuseum, Augsburg, 11.3–12.6.2000), ed. Björn R. Kommer (Augsburg: [i.a.] 2000), 133–146. Kryza-Gersch, Claudia, “Die Dresdner Tageszeiten nach Michelangelo – Frühwerke Giambolognas?”, in Exh. Cat. Schatten der Zeit. Giambologna, Michelangelo und die Medici-Kapelle (Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden, 23.6.–7.10.2018), ed. Stephan Koja and Claudia Kryza-Gersch (Munich: 2018), 16–37. Lomazzo, Giovan Paolo, Trattato dell’arte della pittura, scoltura, et architettura … diviso in sette libri [Venice: 1584], 3 vols (Rome: 1844). Meijer, Bert W., “Una commissione Medicea per Cornelis Cort”, Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz 31 (1987), no. 1, 168–176. Morét, Stefan, Der italienische Figurenbrunnen des Cinquecento (Oberhausen: 2003). Myssok, Johannes, Bildhauerische Konzeption und plastisches Modell in der Renaissance (Münster: 1999). Riggs, Timothy A., “Graven Images. A Guide to the Exhibition”, in Exh. Cat. Graven Images. The Rise of Professional Printmakers in Antwerp and Haarlem, 1540–1640 (Mary and Leigh Block Gallery, Northwestern University, Evanston, 6.5–27.6.1993

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and Ackland Art Museum, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, 15.8–26.9.1993), eds. Timothy A. Riggs and Larry Silver (Evanston: 1993), 101–118. Rosenberg, Raphael, “The Reproduction and Publication of Michelangelo’s Sacristy. Drawings and Prints by Franco, Salviati, Naldini and Cort”, in Reactions to the Master, Michelangelo’s Effect on Art and Artists in the Sixteenth Century, eds. Francis Ames-Lewis and Paul Joannides (Aldershot: 2003), 114–136. Idem, “Michelangelos Neue Sakristei und Vecchiettis Kritik an den fehlenden Attributen der Tageszeiten”, in Exh. Cat. Schatten der Zeit. Giambologna, Michelangelo und die Medici-Kapelle (Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden, 23.6.–7.10.2018), ed. Stephan Koja and Claudia Kryza-Gersch (Munich: 2018), 38–55. Schmidt, Eike D., “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell”, Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz 40 (1996), no. 1–2, 78–147. Scholten, Frits, “Adriaen de Vries. Imperial Sculptor”, in Exh. Cat. Adriaen de Vries. 1556– 1626. Imperial Sculptor (Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, 12.12.1998–14.3.1999, National Museum Stockholm, 15.4–29.8.1999, J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, 12.10.1999– 9.1.2000), ed. Frits Scholten (Zwolle: 1998), 13–45. Schreurs, Anna, Antikenbild und Kunstanschauungen des neapolitanischen Malers, Architekten und Antiquars Pirro Ligorio (1513–1583) (Cologne: 2000). Sermartelli, Michelagnolo, Alcune composizioni di diversi autori in lode del ritratto della Sabina, scolpito in marmo dall’Eccellentissimo M. Giovanni Bologna (…) (Florence: 1583). Tuttle, Richard J., “Per l’iconografia della fontana del Nettuno”, Il carrobbio. Tradizioni, problemi, immagini dell’Emilia Romana 3 (1977), 435–445. Tuttle, Richard J., The Neptune Fountain in Bologna. Bronze, Marble, and Water in the Making of a Papal City (Turnhout: 2015). Veldman, Ilja, “Greek Gods and Heroes in Prints”, in Exh. Cat. Greek Gods and Heroes in the Age of Rubens and Rembrandt (National Gallery/Alexandros Soutzos Museum, Athens, Netherlands Institute, Athens, 28.9.2000-8.1.2001, Dordrechts Museum, Dordrecht, 3.2.-8.5.2001), eds. Peter Schoon and Sander Paarlberg (Dordrecht: 2000), 129–147. Volpini, Paola, “Medici, Giovanni de’ ”, Dizionario Biografico dei Italiani, vol. 73 (2009), online at: http://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/giovanni-de-medici_(Dizionario -Biografico). Ward, Roger, Baccio Bandinelli, Drawings from British Collections (Cambridge: 1988). Zeitler, Kurt, “Die frühesten druckgraphischen Wiedergaben der Fontana del Nettuno in Bologna”, in Gedenkschrift für Richard Harprath, eds. Wolfgang Liebenwein and Anchise Tempestini (Munich: 2005), 505–512. Zikos, Dimitrios, “Die Ausbildung von Adriaen de Vries zum Bronzeplastiker in Florenz (ca. 1581–1586)”, in Neue Beiträge zu Adriaen de Vries. Vorträge des Adriaen-

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de-Vries-Symposiums vom 16. bis 18. April 2008 in Stadthagen und Bückeburg, eds. Sigmund Adelmann and Dorothea Diemer (Bielefeld: 2008), 179–193. Zurla, Michela, “Dal disegno alla pittura. ‘Invenzioni’ di Baccio Bandinelli per dipinti e incisioni”, in Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli. Scultore e maestro (1493–1560) (Florence, Museo Nazionale del Bargello, 9.4–13.6.2014), eds. Detlef Heikamp and Beatrice Paolozzi Strozzi (Florence: 2014), 470–497. Eadem, “ ‘Bacio fiorentino inventor’: la produzione incisoria di Bandinelli tra il 1515 e il 1525,” Commentari d’arte 16 (2010), 48–73.

Chapter 7

The Young Baccio Bandinelli and the Role of Prints at the Beginning of a Sculptor’s Career Angelika Marinovic* Soon after the technique of engraving was introduced in 15th century Italy, the medium’s suitability to reproduce and to distribute artistic creations was recognized.1 Prints became an important means to make – real as well as invented – antique sculptures known to the public.2 Starting in the late 15th century, painters like Andrea Mantegna or Raphael commissioned professional engravers to reproduce their drawings for widespread dissemination, thereby capitalizing on the new technology to increase their visibility.3 Unlike * This essay is the result of research for my PhD thesis on the engraver Agostino Veneziano, which is supervised by Achim Gnann and Raphael Rosenberg at the University of Vienna. For suggestions and corrections, I would like to thank in particular Anne Bloemacher, Julia Jarrett, Vicko Marelic, Marianne Marinovic, Veronika Marinovic, Çiğdem Özel, Claudia Pitnik, Mandy Richter, and Raphael Rosenberg. 1 On the development of Italian engraving as a means to distribute artistic inventions, see among many others: Landau/Parshall, The Renaissance Print 1470–1550, 103–168; Büttner, “Thesen zur Bedeutung der Druckgraphik in der italienischen Renaissance,” 11–15; Borea, Lo specchio dell’arte italiana. Stampe in cinque secoli. Vol. 1, 3–62; Gramaccini/Meier, Die Kunst der Interpretation. Italienische Reproduktionsgrafik 1485–1600, 9–52. 2 Some of these real and fictive engraved sculptures and the transmission from sculpture to print are discussed in: Bury, “Beatrizet and the ‘Reproduction’ of Antique Relief Sculpture,” 111–126; Exh. Cat. Raphael und der klassische Stil, cat. no. 30, 90, cat. no. 56, 117, cat. no. 58, 120, cat. no. 60, 122–123, cat. nos. 132–133, 198–199 (Gnann); Viljoen, “Raphael and the Restorative Power of Prints,” 379–395; Richter, Die Renaissance der “Kauernden Venus”. Ihr Nachleben zwischen Aktualisierung und Neumodellierung von 1500 bis 1570, 153–164. 3 Andrea Canova could prove that Andrea Mantegna commissioned an engraver for at least part of the engravings after his designs. Canova, “Gian Marco Cavalli incisore per Andrea Mantegna e altre notizie sull’oreficeria e la tipografia a Mantova nel XV secolo,” 149–179. For a summary of the debate on the authorship of engravings after inventions by Mantegna see: Marini, “Mantegna, la grafica e la diffusione dei modelli tramite le stampe,” 91–93; Boorsch, “Mantegna and Engraving: What we know, what we don’t know, and a few hypotheses,” 415–437. Raphael’s use of printmaking has been reported by Giorgio Vasari: “Avendo dunque veduto Raffaello lo andare nelle stampe d’Alberto Durero, volenteroso ancor egli di mostrare quel che in tale arte poteva, fece studiare Marco Antonio Bolognese in questa pratica infinitamente; il quale riuscì tanto eccellente, che gli fece stampare le prime cose sue: la carta degli Innocenti, un Cenacolo, il Nettunno e la Santa Cecilia quando bolle nell’olio.” Barocchi/

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painters, Italian sculptors of the early 16th century seemed to have hesitated in using the medium of engraving to introduce their works to a larger audience. As the most esteemed sculptor of the Cinquecento, Michelangelo, for example, had little interest in commissioning prints of his sculptural artworks.4 As early as 1515, however the first Italian sculptor that we know of who took heed of the engraving’s capacity to spread one’s inventions was the ambitious emulator of Michelangelo, the Florentine artist Baccio Bandinelli.5 In his volume on prints by Marcantonio Raimondi and his school, Adam von Bartsch lists five engravings dated to the years 1515 and 1516 cut after inventions that he assigned to Baccio Bandinelli.6 His catalogue includes 16 more engravings, allegedly after inventions by Bandinelli, that are partly undated, partly dated to the years 1518 and later.7 The vast majority of those prints – and all

4

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Bettarini-Vasari, Le vite, vol. 4. Testo, 190. Cfr. Bettarini/Barocchi-Vasari, Le vite, vol. 5. Testo, 9–11. The literature that discusses the relationship between Raphael and Marcantonio Raimondi has recently multiplied, among many others: Oberhuber, “Raffaello e l’incisione,” 333–342; Höper, “ ‘Mein lieber Freund und Kupferstecher’: Raffael in der Druckgraphik des 16. bis 19. Jahrhunderts,” 51–58; Pon, Raphael, Dürer, and Marcantonio Raimondi; Talvacchia, “Raphael’s Workshop and the Development of a Managerial Style,” 167–185; Paul Joannides, “Drawings by Raphael and his Immediate Followers made for or employed for engravings and chiaroscuro woodcuts,” 149–166; Bloemacher, Raffael und Raimondi; Exh. Cat. Raphael and the Image Multiplied. In her diploma thesis on prints after Michelangelo’s sculptures, Ruth Baljöhr tries to explain why contemporary sculpture, unlike painting, was hardly reproduced in prints in the early 16th century. Yet she does not discuss how Michelangelo contributed to the production of engravings after his sculptures. Baljöhr, Die Skulptur Michelangelos in der Druckgraphik, 2–6. See also: Rosenberg, “The reproduction and publication of Michelangelo’s Sacristy,” 117. Any involvement of Michelangelo in the production of prints after his sculptures has been denied in the further literature: Moltedo, “Gli affreschi sistini di Michelangelo nelle stampe antiche,” 31; Büttner, “Thesen zur Bedeutung der Druckgraphik in der italienischen Renaissance,” 10; Barnes, Michelangelo in Print, 2–3. Alessia Alberti assumed that Michelangelo was interested in the medium of print for distributing his pictorial inventions from 1508 onward. Alberti, “Michelangelo nel gusto delle stampe del Cinquecento,” 14. Prints after his sculptures, however, were executed much later and were executed mostly by engravers that did not have a close relationship with the sculptor. The only earlier known engraving after a contemporary sculpture is the engraving of the so-called “Master NA·DAT with the Mousetrap” after Andrea Sansovino’s Virgin and Child enthroned with Saint Anne, dated by Konrad Oberhuber to c.1512–13. Coll. Cat. Early Italian Engravings from the National Gallery of Art, cat. no. 183, 504–505 (Oberhuber); Zucker, Early Italian Masters, 454. Bartsch 1813, t. 14, no. 193, 158 (Agostino Veneziano (AV), Cleopatra, 1515); no. 197, 161 (AV, Diogenes, 1515); no. 241, 193 (AV, The News Brought to Olympus, 1516); no. 317, 238 (AV, Apollo and Daphne, 1515); no. 454, 338 (AV, Male Nude with a Book (wrongly described as Man with a Lyre), 1515). Bartsch 1813, t. 14, no. 21, 24 (Marco Dente da Ravenna (MdR), The Massacre of the Innocents); no. 104, 89 (Marcantonio Raimondi (MA), The Martyrdom of St. Lawrence); no. 194, 158

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those that are dated to the years 1515/16 – are executed by Agostino de’ Musi, called Veneziano. So far, no complete study of the prints after inventions by Bandinelli has been published, Bartsch’s catalogue of 1513 is therefore still the most extensive compilation of early engravings after Bandinelli’s compositions, some of which, however, have been discussed in different contributions.8 In an article on Bandinelli’s engraving production between 1515 and 1525, Michela Zurla provided documentary and artistic evidence that suggest a direct collaboration between Bandinelli and the engraver Agostino Veneziano in 1515.9 Her contribution, however, deals only with four of the early engravings by Agostino Veneziano after Baccio Bandinelli, none of which refers directly to a sculptural work.10 The engraving described by Bartsch as “un homme frappant un autre homme” and attributed to Agostino Veneziano11 (fig. 7.1), has not yet been considered part of the early print production of Baccio Bandinelli. In 1996, Eike Schmidt recognized the connection of this print to the wax model of Hercules vanquishing Cacus in the Bode Museum in Berlin (fig. 7.2).12 For Schmidt, the print served as an argument for the re-attribution of the wax (AV, Iphigenia); no. 201, 164 (AV, Camille, 1531); no. 261, 209 (AV, Young Hercules); no. 272, 356 (MA, Man with Two Trumpets); no. 400, 302 (AV, Ancora Imparo); no. 418, 314 (AV, The Academy of Baccio Bandinelli, 1530/31); no. 424, 320 (AV, Skeletons, 1518); no. 425, 321 (MdR, Skeletons); no. 439, 330 (AV, Two Philosophers); no. 440, 331 (AV, A Man Helping Another to His Feet); no. 447, 335 (AV, Philosopher Seated near a Window); no. 449, 336 (AV, Man with a Lyre); no. 455, 339 (AV, One Man Striking Another); no. 467, 348 (MA, Seated Man Holding a Flute). Bartsch seems to be mistaken in some of these attributions (for instance regarding the print Ancora Imparo), which are, however, not to be discussed here. 8 A selection of the early engravings after Bandinelli that were cut by Agostino Veneziano has been discussed in: Borea, “Stampe da modelli fiorentini nel Cinquecento,” 242; Swoboda, Baccio Bandinelli (1494–1569). Die Zeichnungen der Albertina, 11, 29, 45; Exh. Cat. Raphael und der klassische Stil, cat. nos. 31–32, 92–93 (Gnann); Hegener, Divi Iacobi Eqves, 58, 73–76; Borea, Lo specchio dell’arte italiana, 52; Zurla, “ ‘Bacio fiorentino inventor’,” 48–73; Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli, cat. nos. 36–39, 386–393, nos. 79–82, 532–539 (Zurla); Zurla, “Dal disegno alla pittura,” 471–497. 9 Zurla, “ ‘Bacio fiorentino inventor’,” 50–55. 10 The article considers the following engravings: Cleopatra, Diogenes, Apollo and Daphne and Skeletons. The attribution of the composition of the so-called Diogenes and the Skeletons has historically been discussed rather controversially. On the Diogenes, see Moltedo, La sistina riprodotta, no. 3, 47; for references on the Skeletons, n. 26 in this article. 11 Bartsch 1813, t. 14, no. 455, 339. 12 Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell,” 100–101. For further clarification on the relationship between wax modello and marble sculpture see: Myssok, Bildhauerische Konzeption und plastisches Modell in der Renaissance, 240–249; Heikamp, “Zum Herkules und Kakus von Baccio Bandinelli,” 998–1003; Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli, cat. no. VI, 572 (Zikos), and the essay by Anne Bloemacher in this publication, “The Reproduction of Sculpture as Sculpture in 16th Century Prints: Baccio Bandinelli, Giambologna, and Adriaen de Vries”.

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Figure 7.1

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Agostino Veneziano (after Baccio Bandinelli), Hercules and Cacus, here dated to ca. 1515–16, engraving, 114 × 84 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-36.672 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

model to Bandinelli and its identification as the “modello grande di cera”13 that – according to Giorgio Vasari – the sculptor made in 1525, after receiving 13

“Baccio, ottenuto il marmo, fece un modello grande di cera, che era Ercole, il quale avendo rinchiuso il capo di Cacco con un ginocchio tra due sassi, col braccio sinistro lo strigneva con molta forza, tenendoselo sotto fra le gambe rannicchiato in attitudine travagliata: dove mostrava Cacco il patire suo e la violenza e ‘l pondo d’Ercole sopra di sé, che gli faceva scoppiare ogni minimo muscolo per tutta la persona. Parimente Ercole con la testa chinata verso il nimico oppresso, e digrignando e strignendo i denti alzava il braccio destro e, con molta fierezza rompendogli la testa, gli dava col bastone l’altro colpo.” Barocchi/Bettarini-Vasari, Le vite, vol. 5. Testo, 248.

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Baccio Bandinelli, Hercules and Cacus, ca. 1525, wax, 73 cm, Berlin, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Skulpturensammlung, inv. 2612 © Photo: Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz – Max-Planck-Institut

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the marble block which would be used for the execution of the monumental Hercules and Cacus group for the Piazza della Signoria (fig. 7.3).14 Despite their strong differences, the print, hereinafter referred to as Hercules and Cacus, has since been regarded as a direct or indirect transmission of the wax model and has therefore been dated to 1525 or later.15 In providing a stylistic examination of Agostino Veneziano’s engraving Hercules and Cacus – for the first time within the context of the engraver’s technical development – the present paper argues that the print must be dated earlier than 1525. This date as well as the attribution of the design to Baccio Bandinelli can be further confirmed by a stylistic comparison of the Hercules and Cacus print to drawings attributed to the sculptor, which are dated to the second decade of the 16th century. Thus, the engraving serves as an argument that already around 1515 Bandinelli worked on the topic of Hercules and Cacus. Yet this earlier date does not affect the dating of the wax model, since the engraving, as will be shown, does not depend directly on the modello but reflects a different stage in the engagement with the subject. Using the example of Bandinelli’s designs for Hercules and Cacus that have survived in sculpture and two-dimensional media, drawing as well as print, this paper will demonstrate how Bandinelli consciously adapted his compositions for the respective medium of representation.

14 The wax model in Berlin had first been connected with Vasari’s description of Bandinelli’s modello for the Piazza della Signoria by Albert E. Brinckmann. Brinckmann, Barock-Bozzetti. Vol. 1. Italienische Bildhauer, 44–45. Michael Knuth suggested an alternative attribution to Pierre Puget. Knuth, Herkules tötet Kakus. For a detailed history of the attribution of the modello: Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell,” 133, n. 105 and 106; Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli, cat. no. VI, 572 (Zikos). For the ordering of the marble block in 1523 and its transport in 1525 see the documents cited in: Waldman, Baccio Bandinelli and Art at the Medici Court. A Corpus of Early Modern Sources, nos. 66–68, 128, no. 73, 140, and nos. 78–79, 147–148; Heikamp, “Zum Herkules und Kakus von Baccio Bandinelli,” 990. 15 Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell,” 101; Myssok, Bildhauerische Konzeption und plastisches Modell in der Renaissance, 246; Exh. Cat. Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and the Renaissance in Florence, cat. no. 97, 272– 374 (Waldman); Greve, Status und Statue, 127; Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli, cat. no. 39, 392 (Zurla); see also Bloemacher, “The Reproduction of Sculpture as Sculpture in 16th Century Prints: Baccio Bandinelli, Giambologna, and Adriaen de Vries”.

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Baccio Bandinelli, Hercules and Cacus, ca. 1523–34, marble, h. ca. 505 cm, Florence, Piazza della Signoria

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Towards a New Date of the Print Hercules and Cacus

From 1515 onwards, the engraver Agostino Veneziano produced engravings after compositions by Baccio Bandinelli, among them the Suicide of Cleopatra (fig. 7.4), which is identified by an inscription as invention of “Bacio fiorentino”. This unusually prominent reference to the inventor makes it seem likely that Agostino Veneziano worked on commission and under supervision of Bandinelli, especially since the sculptor and the engraver both are documented in Florence in 1515.16 Zurla suggested that Baccio Bandinelli imitated the model of cooperation with an engraver that he had got to know in Rome with Raphael and Marcantonio Raimondi.17 Like Raphael did with Raimondi, Baccio Bandinelli probably provided Agostino Veneziano with a drawn model to cut the Suicide of Cleopatra.18 Translating this invention into print, the engraver continued to use the techniques he had acquired before, during his first artistic training in Venice, where he copied not only the compositions but also the various techniques from engravings and woodcuts of Giulio Campagnola and Albrecht Dürer.19 In his early copies of Campagnola’s prints, Agostino uses very thin and parallel lines that have a slightly curved form, but do not follow the shape of the body.20 The same thin and densely set lines are also used in the Suicide of Cleopatra as 16 17

18 19

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Zurla, “ ‘Baccio fiorentino inventor’,” 51–54; the document that Zurla refers to as evidence of Agostino’s presence in Florence, is transcribed in: Waldman, “Two foreign artists in Renaissance Florence. Alonso Berruguete and Gian Francesco Bembo,” 29, no. 43. Zurla could show that two of the early prints by Agostino Veneziano after an invention of Baccio Bandinelli, The Suicide of Cleopatra (fig. 7.4) and Apollo and Daphne (23.4 × 17.6 cm), both dated 1515, might have been a reaction to two engravings by Marcantonio Raimondi and Raphael, The Suicide of Lucretia (21.2 × 13.0 cm) and Adam and Eve (23.9 × 17.6 cm) – corresponding in size as well as in the placement and in the posture of the protagonists and even in the topic chosen. She assumed that engraver and sculptor first met in Rome in 1515 and then continued their collaboration in Florence. Zurla, “ ‘Bacio fiorentino inventor’,” 49–53. See also: Exh. Cat. Raphael und der klassische Stil, cat. no. 31, 92 (Gnann). The technique of Agostino’s early engravings, however, differs greatly from the prints of the Roman collaboration between Raphael and Raimondi, making it more probable that the impetus came from the inventor Bandinelli. Anne Bloemacher gives an account of the known drawings that Bandinelli possibly made in preparation of the print. Bloemacher, “Reproduction of Sculpture,” p. 205, n. 10. Since there are no known documents relating to Agostino de’ Musi dating before 1515, the engraver’s first years in Venice can only be reconstructed on the basis of the date and style of his engravings. On the early works of Agostino Veneziano see: Kuhrmann, “Frühwerke Agostino Venezianos,” 173–176; Sampson, Agostino Veneziano. Seine venezianische Zeit und das Weiterwirken venezianischer Elemente in seinen späteren Werken. In particular, Agostino Veneziano seems to have appropriated the engraving technique of Campagnola’s Astrologer, which he copied in 1514 (B.XIV.309.411).

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Agostino Veneziano (after Baccio Bandinelli), Cleopatra, 1515, engraving, 222 × 134 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1863,1114.749 © The Trustees of the British Museum

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well as in Hercules and Cacus. In those two engravings, unlike in his copies of Campagnola’s prints, Agostino emphasizes the contour line; thereby, running around the entire body of the figures depicted, it serves to separate the figures from the ground. The contour line is similarly accentuated in Albrecht Dürer’s Peasant Couple Dancing, an engraving Agostino Veneziano had just copied in 1515 (fig. 7.5).21 Just like in this print by Dürer, in the Cleopatra and – even more – in Hercules and Cacus, the engraver uses shorter and more often straight hatches that run in different directions to create dark areas of shadows. Those shadows on the bodies’ surface that are differing in darkness and alternating with white areas give an impression of plasticity. Yet the bodies do not appear to be three-dimensional because – in all the three aforementioned prints – the hatches do not follow the shape of the body. Three busts of Roman emperors (fig. 7.6) that Agostino cut in 1516,22 might be among his first engravings in which the direction of the hatching indicates the shape of the muscles and of the drapery, making their plasticity more legible. After his arrival in Rome that same year, to cut drawings by Raphael, Agostino starts to use a more regular line system.23 The lines for modelling the body of a dancing faun cut after a design by Raphael in 1516 (fig. 7.7), for instance, are fewer in number, thicker than before and set more consciously. In all his later engravings, Agostino did not return to the unsystematic engraving technique of his early career.24 The engraver’s stylistic development as outlined in this section demonstrates that the print in question, Hercules and Cacus, should be definitively dated sometime between 1515 or early 1516. 2

Bandinelli disegnatore i: The Print in Context of Bandinelli’s Early Drawings

Yet which model could Agostino Veneziano have used for his engraving in 1515/16? Eike Schmidt and Michela Zurla assert that a drawing, now lost, based 21

Not mentioned by Bartsch, the print by Agostino Veneziano is dated 1515 and signed AV on the upper left-hand corner. For the print by Dürer see Schoch, Mende, Scherbaum, Albrecht Dürer, vol. 1, no. 77, 195–196. 22 Not mentioned by Bartsch. Passavant, Le peintre-graveur, nos. 184–186, 66. 23 In this year, Agostino starts to mainly engrave designs based on drawings by Raphael; therefore his travel to Rome is generally assumed, although no trace of it has been found in the archives. 24 In some prints that are not done after designs by Raphael – for example the Skeletons of 1518 (B.XIV.320.424) – Agostino returns to this pictorial style developed during the beginning of his career, which he predominantly employed after Raphael’s death in 1520. However, these later prints show a more conscious use of hatching to shape the bodies.

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Figure 7.5

Agostino Veneziano (after Albrecht Dürer), Peasant Couple Dancing, 1515, engraving, 115 × 80 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1873,0809.781 © The Trustees of the British Museum

on the wax model formed the basis for the engraving. While Schmidt made no suggestions as to who could have made this alleged drawing, Zurla considered that perhaps Agostino himself might have drawn from the wax model.25 Before his migration to Florence in 1515, Agostino seems to have used prints 25

Schmidt, “Michelangelos verlorenes Samson-Modell,” 101; Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli, cat. no. 39, 392 (Zurla).

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Figure 7.6

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Agostino Veneziano, Bust of the Roman Emperor Vitellius, 1516, engraving, 207 × 152 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. It/I/23/83 DG2017/3/7377 © Albertina Museum, Vienna

252

Figure 7.7

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Agostino Veneziano (after Raphael), Dancing Fauns and Bacchants, detail, 1516, engraving, 176 × 255 mm (total), Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-36.631 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

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by others as prototypes for his engravings, not yet having developed the skills to depict the spatial relationship of figures to each other. Therefore, it is not very likely that he would have been capable of translating a sculpture that was as complex as the Berlin modello into the two-dimensional composition of a print as early as 1515.26 Further, there are many differences between the engraving and the modello: In the print, Hercules seems to be standing behind Cacus, whereas in the wax model, the hero is pressing his knees on the giant’s back. In order to beat the thief in the print, Hercules raises his left arm and bends his torso over the kneeling Cacus.27 In contrast, not only does Hercules turn his arm upwards, but also turns the entire right-hand side of his torso upwards in the wax model. In combining the rotated torso and the raised right arm bent behind his head, the modello appears to reference the then recently restored Laocoon group with its 16th century additions.28 Since Bandinelli was assigned to sculpt a copy of the Laocoon in 1520 and did not finish it before 1523,29 this connection further evinces that the wax model was not executed before the 1520s.30

26 Throughout his entire career, Agostino Veneziano seems to have made his engravings mainly on the basis of drawings or prints by other artists. Yet only a small percentage of possibly preliminary drawings have been preserved; for example a possible modello drawing for the Skeletons by Agostino Veneziano in red chalk (Rosso Fiorentino or Baccio Bandinelli, Skeletons, red chalk, 49.8 × 31.8 cm, Florence, Uffizi, Gabinetto dei disegni e delle stampe, inv. 6499 F) that has been alternatively attributed to Rosso Fiorentino and Baccio Bandinelli. Exh. Cat. Rosso Fiorentino, cat. no. 2, 54–55 (Carroll); Ciardi/Mugnaini, Rosso Fiorentino, 19–20; Exh. Cat. Raphael und der klassische Stil, cat. nos. 126–127, 190– 191 (Gnann); Zurla, “ ‘Baccio fiorentino inventor’,” 55–56; Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli, cat. nos. 79–80, 532–535 (Zurla). 27 The fact that Hercules is not holding the club in his right hand is most likely due to the inversion of the image that takes place during the printing process. 28 This has already been noticed by Myssok, Bildhauerische Konzeption und plastisches Modell in der Renaissance, 240–241. 29 Baccio Bandinelli, Laocoon, 1520–24, marble, 186.6 cm (without pedestal), Florence, Galleria degli Uffizi. See the sources published in: Waldman, Baccio Bandinelli and Art at the Medici Court, no. 113, 56–57, no. 133, 69. Vasari, Le vite, vol. 5. Testo, 246; Capecchi, “Superare l’antico: Il Laocoonte ‘perfetto’,” 129–131. 30 In the same decade, the torsion of Laocoon also seems to have been exemplary for Michelangelo’s competitive designs for the Piazza della Signoria, as they are preserved in the copies of the Samson group in the Bargello (inv. 286, inv. 2389). Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell,” 100. Francesco Vossilla stressed the similarities between the wax model and the torsion of the body of some soldiers that appear in the Massacre of the Innocents, an engraving by Marco Dente da Ravenna after a design by Baccio Bandinelli dated to c.1525 (B.XIV.21.24). Vossilla, “Baccio Bandinelli’s Colossus in the Piazza della Signoria,” 22–24.

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In its conception of the human body, the engraving of Hercules and Cacus comes closer to drawings that Bandinelli made in the second decade of the 16th century. In the case of this print and in Bandinelli’s early drawings, the necessary skills and understanding of anatomy necessary to convincingly render a rotation as shown in the wax model are lacking: there is no stretching of the upper body that would have to correspond with the raised left arm, the head of Hercules conceals the fact that the anatomical connection between chest and his left shoulder is not clarified. It is probable that the prototype of the print was a lost drawing by Bandinelli, having much in common with his supposedly very early pen drawing of Leda with the Swan preserved in the Uffizi (fig. 7.8), dated by Roger Ward between 1510 and 1516.31 The pedantic technique of the pen drawing is reminiscent of studies after some sculptures that are presumably among the sculptor’s first drawings as the Virgin with Child that Françoise Viatte dates to approximately 1510.32 In the Leda drawing, the movements are smoother, the pen strokes thicker and more lively, anticipating a tendency that can be seen in the designs for the reliefs in Loreto made from 1518 onwards,33 thus suggesting it was executed at a slightly later date. Although Agostino sets more lines in his engraving Hercules and Cacus than Bandinelli does in his early pen drawings, these works share similarities in their use of parallel, mostly straight and short hatches, which flatten the figures. Unable to render the appearance of three-dimensionality on a two-dimensional surface, 31

This is one of the few drawings by the sculptor that has been dated within his early oeuvre: Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli, cat. no. 3, 268 (Ward), and literature cited. See also Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli, cat. no. 2, 264–266 (Zurla). Ward in his PhD thesis – the only attempt so far to consider the entire drawn oeuvre by Baccio Bandinelli – refused to establish a chronology of the corpus of drawings that he attributed to Baccio Bandinelli and provides very few stylistic criteria that could help to date the drawings. Ward, Baccio Bandinelli as a Draughtsman. The dating of Bandinelli’s drawings is complicated by the fact that the sculptor often reused motifs, some such examples are extensively discussed by Swoboda, Baccio Bandinelli. 32 Baccio Bandinelli, Virgin with Child, c.1510, pen and brown ink, 28.8 × 27.4 cm, Paris, Louvre, Département des Arts graphiques, inv. 104. Viatte, “Dessins originaux par Baccio Bandinelli,” cat. no. 1, 102–104; Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli, cat. no. 1, 262 (Viatte). As another example, see the drawing of a Nude child (Baccio Bandinelli, c.1515, pen and brown ink, 19.0 × 16.0 cm, Paris, Louvre, Département des Arts graphiques, inv. 76), which is considered as a copy after a statuette from Verrocchio’s studio or after an antique model. Viatte, “Dessins originaux par Baccio Bandinelli,” cat. no. 5, 109–110. 33 For example: Baccio Bandinelli, Annunciation, c.1518, pen and brown ink, 28.6 × 41.5 cm, Florence, Uffizi, Gabinetto dei disegni e delle stampe, inv. 540 F. On the commission for Loreto: Waldman, Baccio Bandinelli and Art at the Medici Court, no. 102, 47–53. On the drawing and its relationship to the Annunciation relief in Loreto: Viatte, “Dessins originaux par Baccio Bandinelli,” 175–176.

The Young Baccio Bandinelli

Figure 7.8

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Baccio Bandinelli, Leda with the Swan, here dated to ca. 1515, pen and brown ink, 282 × 192 mm, Florence, Gallerie degli Uffizi, Gabinetto dei Disegni e delle Stampe, inv. 509F © Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali e per il Turismo – Gallerie degli Uffizi, Florence

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the relationship between figure and ground remains unconvincing. The source of light cannot be located in Bandinelli’s Leda drawing or in the print because dark and light areas are evenly distributed. In the print as well as in the drawing, antique architecture is used to divide the composition: the nudes are each posing on a pedestal – which is architectonically or organically shaped – behind which a column is situated to accentuate the central axis of the action, and a semicircle – a round niche or the remnants of an antique arch – frames the raised arm. The date of the Leda drawing places the invention for the Hercules and Cacus print within the early oeuvre of Baccio Bandinelli from the second decade of the 16th century, further serving as evidence in favor of an earlier date for the print. The differences between the print and the wax model show that the print reflects a different, earlier stage of the conception of the human body’s movement in general and of the inventive process of Hercules and Cacus in particular. Thus, the earlier dating of the engraving does not allow any conclusions about the dating of the wax model. If Agostino’s engraving precedes the modello, i.e. does not depend on it, one important argument supporting the attribution of the Berlin wax model to Bandinelli is invalidated.34 Yet, the engraving gives evidence that the sculptor worked on The Battle of Hercules and Cacus already in 1515 and dealt with this subject until he finished his Florentine monumental sculpture in 1534. 3

Baccio Bandinelli Sculpting Hercules in and before 1515

The year of 1515 was an important one for the 22-year-old sculptor: he played a significant role among the many Florentine sculptors who were awarded to design ephemeral architecture and sculptures for the enormous triumphal procession that took place on November 30, 1515 on the occasion of the first visit of Giovanni de’ Medici as Pope Leo X to his native city.35 For the first arch of the Loggia dei Lanzi, one of Bandinelli’s contributions included a giant 34 Recognizing the connection between the modello and Agostino Veneziano’s print, Eike Schmidt supposed that the print would depend on the sculpture. Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell,” 100–101. Since, however, the engraving was most probably made before the wax model, it should be considered whether the modello in Berlin, so dynamic in comparison to other works by Bandinelli, could have been executed by another artist who was inspired by Agostino Veneziano’s engraving and Vasari’s description. 35 On the entrata of Leo X: Ciseri, L’ingresso trionfale di Leone X in Firenze nel 1515; Ciseri, “ ‘Con tanto grandissimo e trionfante onore’,” 237–249.

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statue of Hercules, now lost.36 The Florentine historiographer Giovanni Cambi describes this Hercules as a pendant of Michelangelo’s David and thus asserts that Bandinelli tried to compete with Michelangelo as early as 1515.37 The fresco in the Palazzo Vecchio, where Vasari would depict the triumphal procession of Leo X forty years later, provides evidence of the lost sculpture’s appearance.38 Here, too, the two statues of David and Hercules are related to each other by their poses. Bandinelli’s intense early work on the topic of Hercules is further documented in the Young Hercules (fig. 7.9), an engraving Agostino Veneziano realized after an invention that has been attributed to the sculptor and that this paper would date to 1515 for stylistic reasons.39 The posture of the demigod as well as the lion’s fur covering the left shoulder resembles the Hercules of the Florentine Porta della Mandorla. As with the statue for the Loggia dei Lanzi, the print can be interpreted as a pendant of David since Michelangelo had adopted the contrapposto and the head’s posture of the Hercules relief that decorates the Porta della Mandorla. The spectator in early 16th century

36 37

Ciseri, “ ‘Con tanto grandissimo e trionfante onore’,” 241–242. “[E] alla porta del Palazzo de‘ Signori, a rischontro al Davitte di marmo feciono un‘ altra fighura di legniame interato, e dipinto, della medesima grandezza […],” Ildefonso di San Luigi-Cambi, Istorie di Giovanni Cambi, vol. 3, 83. See also the confrontation of both sculptures – in favor of Michelangelo’s David – made by Giuglielmo de’Nobili, Scritti e canzoni in lode di Papa Leone X, B.N.C.F., Landau Finaly 183. Cited in Ciseri, L’ingresso trionfale di Leone X, 300–313, esp. 305 and 312–313. 38 Giorgio Vasari, Triumphant entry of Leo X into Florence, 1556–62, fresco, Florence, Museo del Palazzo Vecchio, Sala di Leone X. For the fresco: Ciseri, “ ‘Con tanto grandissimo e trionfante onore’,” 237; Cecchi, “Leone X a Firenze. Il papa e il suo seguito nella decorazione vasariana in Palazzo Vecchio,” 251–257. 39 Heikamp identified similarities between this print and a drawing by Bandinelli (Baccio Bandinelli, Andrea Doria in the guise of Neptune, pen and brown ink, 42.7 × 27.5 cm, London, British Museum, inv. 1895,0915.553) that was probably drawn in preparation of the monument of Andrea Doria commissioned in 1528. Heikamp, “In margine alla ‘Vita di Baccio Bandinelli’ del Vasari,” no. 191, 54–55. Those similarities served as a reasoning for why Zurla dated this print to approximately 1530. Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli, cat. no. 37, 388 (Zurla). By dating the print as having been executed the same year as the Academy of Baccio Bandinelli (B.XIV.314.418), Zurla does not consider stylistic criteria. While in the Academy engraving, three-dimensionally modelled figures detach themselves from the consistently designed ground, only a hesitantly drawn line separates the Young Hercules from the undetailed background; the hatching composed of very delicate lines does not give plasticity to the body of the hero. Both the small format and the engraving technique – comparable to the Male Nude with a Book of 1515 (B.XIV.338.454) – makes a stronger argument to date the print to the year 1515.

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Figure 7.9

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Agostino Veneziano (after Baccio Bandinelli), Young Hercules, here dated to ca. 1515–16, engraving, 114 × 79 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. It/I/23/69, DG2017/3/7343 © Albertina Museum, Vienna

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Florence, could therefore perceive Bandinelli’s Young Hercules as a brawny opponent of Michelangelo’s slim hero.40 As early as the 13th century, Florence has been identified with Hercules.41 This long tradition is the reason why maybe already in 1504 – the year when Michelangelo’s David was installed on Piazza della Signoria – or shortly afterwards, a statue of Hercules was also planned to serve as the counterpart to Michelangelo’s sculpture.42 However, the conflict between Hercules and Cacus was rarely chosen as a subject for representation. There is documentation of at least one instance before the execution of Bandinelli’s sculpture in which this subject was invoked in Florence. In Andrea Pisano’s relief for the Campanile of Santa Maria del Fiore (fig. 7.10), the corpse of Cacus lies lifelessly next to a triumphant Hercules.43 As described in Vasari’s Vita of Bandinelli, Hercules and Cacus for the first time appeared as a possible subject in the context of the quarrying of marble for the façade of San Lorenzo. According to Vasari, Michelangelo produced designs and models to persuade the pope to commission a giant statue featuring Hercules combatting Cacus around 1516.44 Nevertheless, there are indications that Hercules and Cacus was the subject for 40 On Bandinelli’s lifelong competition with Michelangelo’s David: Tempesta, “Il David di Michelangelo nella tradizione grafica bandinelliana,”, nos. 2–3, 19–25. Perhaps, the engraving even echoes the ephemeral sculpture that Bandinelli designed for the entry of Leo X: the architectural framing of Hercules by two pillars carrying an arch – overlapped by the edge of the print – suggests a reference to the arcades of the Loggia dei Lanzi. 41 Already in the 13th century Hercules was depicted on the seal of the city. Passerini, “Il sigillo fiorentino con l’Ercole,” Marzi, La cancelleria della repubblica fiorentina, 378–381. 42 Ettlinger, “Hercules Florentinus,” 127 and 137–139; Bush, “Bandinelli’s Hercules and Cacus and Florentine Traditions,” 167–170. For the pairing of David and Hercules in the Palazzo Vecchio in the 15th century: Donato, “Hercules and David in the Early Decoration of the Palazzo Vecchio”. 43 On the relief, Trachtenberg, The Campanile of Florence Cathedral, 94–95. 44 “Era fino al tempo di Leone X stato cavato a Carrara, insieme co’ marmi della facciata di S. Lorenzo di Firenze, un altro pezzo di marmo alto braccia nove e mezzo e largo cinque braccia da piè. In questo marmo Michelagnolo Buonarroti aveva fatto pensiero di far un gigante in persona d’Ercole che uccidesse Cacco per metterlo in piazza a canto al Davitte gigante […]: e fattone più disegni e variati modelli, aveva cerco d’avere il favore di papa Leone e del cardinale Giulio de‘ Medici […]”; Barocchi/Bettarini-Vasari, Le vite, vol. 5. Testo, 247. Vossilla interprets this passage as evidence that the subject of Hercules and Cacus had been chosen by Bandinelli. Vossilla, “Baccio Bandinelli’s Colossus in the Piazza della Signoria,” 22. On the competition between Michelangelo and Bandinelli regarding the order for the second colossus in the Piazza della Signoria, Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell,” 81–103, for further literature, 131, n. 89; Echinger-Maurach, “ ‘Una figura graziata’ ”; Bloemacher, “Reproduction of Sculpture,” 203, n. 6.

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Figure 7.10

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Andrea Pisano, Hercules and Cacus, ca. 1337–43, marble, 83 × 69 cm, Florence, Museo dell’Opera del Duomo 

an earlier sculpture. Vasari asserts that the young Bandinelli made small marble sculptures, among them “un Ercole che si tiene sotto fra le gambe un Cacco morto” around 1512.45 The model for Agostino Veneziano’s print might originate 45 Barocchi/Bettarini-Vasari, Le vite, vol. 5. Testo, 241.

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from Bandinelli’s early interest in the topic of the combat between Hercules and Cacus. Rather than proposing that the print is merely a two-dimensional repetition of an early sculptural portrayal of Hercules fighting Cacus, the relationship between the two-dimensional and three-dimensional media in Bandinelli’s oeuvre should be reconsidered. 4

Bandinelli disegnatore ii: Bandinelli’s Self-Portrait and His Depiction of Hercules and Cacus

In his self-portrait at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum (fig. 7.11) of 1529 or later, Bandinelli is presenting a drawing in red chalk of victorious Hercules, at whose feet lies the vanquished Cacus.46 Locating this painted drawing within Bandinelli’s oeuvre, Detlef Heikamp and Roger Ward have asserted that the self-portrait provides an early design of the artist’s monumental sculpture.47 This paper would challenge this assessment on two grounds. Firstly, none of the preserved drawings shows the lifeless corpse of Cacus lying on the floor behind Hercules. Most of the drawings either depict Hercules or Cacus alone. Moreover, in the drawings that do feature both men,48 Cacus is portrayed crouching between the legs of Hercules rather than behind the hero. Secondly, the composition in the painted drawing indicates that Bandinelli had no intention of translating the work into a three-dimensional medium. To sculpt the lifeless body of Cacus lying on the ground, the sculptor would have needed an enormous pedestal to accommodate the giant’s dimension. Rather than representing Cacus kneeling on the pedestal, the strategy employed at the Piazza della Signoria (fig. 7.3), Bandinelli used the entire width of the drawing paper to accentuate the massive size of the beaten giant. In addition, rather than portraying Hercules standing over the lifeless corpse, Bandinelli located Hercules in front of Cacus, whose upper body descends to the ground only next to the hero’s legs – an arrangement corresponding to the Campanile relief 46 On this portrait and its dating: Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli, cat. no. 69, 510–512 (Tostmann). 47 Heikamp, “Zum Herkules und Kakus von Baccio Bandinelli,” 998–1003; Ward, “I disegni di Bandinelli: alcune aggiunte al corpus,” 343–344; Mozzati, “ ‘Dicendo come scultore non lo meritassi’,” 459. See also Hegener, Divi Iacobi Eqves, 316. The possibility to execute this drawing in marble has only been doubted by Oliver Tostmann, Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli, cat. no. 69, 510. 48 Baccio Bandinelli, Male nude passing over a nude soldier, pen and brown ink over traces of black chalk, 38.3 × 23.9 cm, Florence, Uffizi, Gabinetto dei disegni e delle stampe, inv. 715 E; Circle of Baccio Bandinelli, A nude man (head and feet truncated) with a sword, standing astride a prone nude man, pen and brown ink, over red chalk, 29.7 × 21.8 cm, London, British Museum, inv. 1946,0713.1449.b.

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of Andrea Pisano (fig. 7.10). If the drawing were intended to be made into a sculpture, the composition would offer a main view only, instead of encouraging the spectator to walk around it – as the marble colossus does.49 Perhaps the painting chooses this composition to increase the legibility of the figures in the two-dimensional representation. Furthermore, contrary to the sculpture, the composition of the drawing does not develop around a central axis. In order to make the composition appear symmetrical, the painter used an optical trick that would not work translated into a three-dimensional medium: He rotated the paper in the painting eleven degrees, resulting in an overlapping with the frame so that the head of Hercules, situated at the top of the group, still appears to be on the central axis. As this close analysis shows, the composition is successfully executed in the painted drawing but is not convincingly translatable as a three-dimensional sculpture and, most probably, was never meant to be one. In fact, the drawing is a re-interpretation by Bandinelli of his own invention, which he – conscious of the requirements of different pictorial media – tries to adapt to the twodimensionality of a drawing presented in a painting.50 Apparently even the wax model was not planned as a prototype for the monumental sculpture on Piazza della Signoria. Greve showed various reasons that speak against a possible realization of the modello in large scale and its display on a public place.51 Also, the composition of the engraving (fig. 7.1) might not reflect a particular view of the sculpture Bandinelli had in mind at the time, but rather a composition developed exclusively for the flat surface.

49 On the “visual continuity” of Bandinelli’s marble colossus: Vossilla, “Baccio Bandinelli’s Colossus in the Piazza della Signoria,” 28; cfr. Holderbaum, The Sculptor Giovanni Bologna, 80–81. Using Michelangelo’s designs for the Piazza della Signoria as examples, Raphael Rosenberg has shown how the multi-vision reception of sculpture’s medium functions as part of its narrative function. Rosenberg, “ ‘Le vedute della statua’,” 231–235. 50 Even in comparison to the sculpturally modelled forms in the chalk drawings of Bandinelli, the figures in the drawings appear unusually sculptural. In this respect, too, the sculptor seems to play with the qualities of different media of representation. 51 Greve, Status und Statue, 129–130 and 132–133. For Greve, statically, the right arm and the raised club would have needed a support when transmitted to the dimensions of the colossus. Furthermore, neither the dramatic scene featuring fighting, exhausted, and sweating bodies would have suited the decorum, nor would its brutality serve as an appropriate identification of Hercules with the Medici, especially after they had re-established their power in 1512.

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Figure 7.11

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Baccio Bandinelli, Self-Portrait, after 1529, oil on panel, 142.5 × 113.5 cm, Boston, Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, inv. P26e22

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The Background as Context

In 1516, Agostino Veneziano engraved three busts of Roman emperors, among them the Vitellius (fig. 7.6), probably on the model of an antique bust from the Grimani collection.52 Although he does not stick strictly to this antique model, the engraver depicts light and shadow on the polished surface as if he were translating an antique marble bust into print. Just like real bust portraits the engraved head rests on a small pedestal that in its inscriptions identifies the emperor. This accentuation of sculptural qualities is characteristic for the many engravings of the early 16th century that are based on real or fictive antique sculpture.53 In contrast, the group of the two fighters Hercules and Cacus is not presented as an isolated sculpture, but placed in front of a niche, behind which a landscape opens up with a river, ancient ruins and mountains. It has been shown that whenever the drawn modello for one of his prints did not provide a background, Agostino Veneziano copied architectural elements from other prints, for instance by Albrecht Dürer or Lucas van Leyden.54 This might be the explanation behind why Veneziano portrayed the Queen of Egypt committing suicide in front of some examples of north Alpine architecture with pointed gabled roofs and half-timbered buildings (fig. 7.4). Instead of going back to his reserve of tried and tested architectural forms, in his print of Hercules and Cacus, Agostino Veneziano depicts a complex architectural setting that incorporated antique elements which he had never used before. As a new element, the fragments of antique architecture may be a link to ancient Roman mythology. The battle between Hercules and Cacus had been adopted by the Romans and had been told to precede the consecration of the temple of Hercules on the Foro Boario, one of the oldest surviving Roman sanctuaries.55 This episode, which had been of little interest within the Hercules vita before, thus gained more importance. The print does not communicate the whole story of the theft of cattle by Cacus but provides the most important setting details – the mountains where Cacus resided, the river where Hercules quenched his thirst after the battle and the sanctuary that would be founded in his honor. The architectural remnants are obviously not exact representations of the original sites of the Foro Boario or the Aventine hill, but the 52 Portrait of a man (so-called “Vitellius”), marble, 48 cm, Venice, Museo Archeologico, inv. 20. Bailey, “Metamorphoses of the Grimani ‘Vitellius,’ ” 207. 53 See for instance Agostino Veneziano’s and Marcantonio Raimondi’s engravings of the Apollo Belvedere (B.XIV.248.328, 248.329, 249.330) or Raimondi’s engraving of the sculpture of Apollo in the background of Raphael’s School of Athens (B.XIV.251.334). 54 Exh. Cat. The Engravings of Marcantonio Raimondi, cat. no. 67, 196 (Shoemaker). 55 Galinsky, The Herakles Theme, 126–166.

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Roman temple of Hercules has Corinthian columns, a detail Bandinelli may have known and is, in fact, depicted in the engraving.56 The fact that the architectural context responds to the action, leads to the assumption that the young Bandinelli not only provided the invention for the two fighters but also a very detailed drawing for the whole composition, most likely something similar to the pen drawing of Leda with the Swan (fig. 7.8).57 In locating the plot in ancient Rome, as indicated by the details in the background, Hercules is not only presented as the victor over vice, embodied by Cacus – as expressed in the relief of the Florentine Campanile – but also as a co-founder of the Roman cult. Hercules was not only patron of the city of Florence since the Duecento and claimed as a personal hero by the Medici,58 but also the Medici pope Leo X was identified with Hercules from the beginning of his pontificate.59 The emphasis on the Roman setting – which could be communicated in the print but not in a sculpture – was a possible means to make a rare subject more appealing for a prospective patron such as Leo X. 6 Conclusion Due to its connection to the Medici and to the inception of Rome, the subject of Hercules and Cacus became an appropriate counterpart to Michelangelo’s David once Giovanni de’ Medici was elected pope in 1513. Through the ephemeral Hercules sculpture, which Bandinelli had made for the Loggia dei Lanzi on the occasion of the ingresso of Pope Leo X, the artist had distinguished himself as the sculptor who – apart from Michelangelo himself – was able to 56

The first representation, which inscribed the temple as such, seems to be an etching of the “Minoris Templi Herculis” dated 1568 (Anonymous, Minoris Templi Herculis vel ut aliis placet Portumni in Foro Boario graphica delineatio, 1568, etching, 41.7 × 23.6 cm, London, British Museum, inv. 1871,0812.791). Before the frescoes of the Villa Giulia, created in the 1550s, there seems to be no other evidence of representations that explicitly associate Hercules and Cacus with Roman settings. 57 Gnann argued similarly to show that Raphael, although he was not responsible for the Northern architecture in the background of the engravings after compositions of the Stufetta of Cardinal Bibbiena, prepared the setting for the Massacre of the Innocents, which is structured by the Ponte dei Quattro Capi. Exh. Cat. Raphael und der klassische Stil, cat. nos. 39–40, 101–102, cat. no. 43, 104, cat. no. 46, 107; Exh. Cat. Raffael, cat. no. 51, 182 (Gnann). 58 Ettlinger, “Hercules Florentinus,” esp. 121; Hessert, Zum Bedeutungswandel der HerkulesFigur in Florenz; Wright, “The Myth of Hercules,” 323–339; Tartuferi, “Ercole nell’arte fiorentina dei secoli XIV e XV,” 84–91. 59 Shearman, Raphael’s Cartoons, 89–90.

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realize such a grandiose project. Since Bandinelli made designs for a sculpture of Hercules from the very beginning of his artistic career, his contemporaries and potential patrons could have interpreted the print as a statement of intention, expressing his ambitions for the Piazza della Signoria, even without alluding to the name of the sculptor. Already in 1515, Bandinelli was aware of the possibility to promote one’s inventions via print medium, and no other early engraving has such an obvious strategic benefit for Bandinelli as Hercules and Cacus. Based on this assertion, it is thus likely that Agostino engraved a drawing that was originally intended to be a prototype for a print. As the first sculptor who had an engraver at his disposition and knew about the potential of prints as a means to distribute his inventions, Bandinelli did not use engravings to reproduce his sculptures. Bandinelli’s early designs were neither suited nor intended to be smaller respectively two-dimensional previews of possible sculptures. Instead the “gran disegnatore”60 designed compositions for sculptural and graphic presentation of the same subject separately, taking advantage of the different modi of representation. As a result, this example proves that the medium of print, although sometimes neglected in the field of art history, may precede the painted, drawn or sculptural version of a certain subject. Bibliography Alberti, Alessia, “Michelangelo nel gusto delle stampe del Cinquecento,” in D’après Michelangelo, vol. 2. La fortuna di Michelangelo nelle stampe del Cinquecento, ed. Alessia Alberti (Milan: 2015), 13–17. Bailey, Stephen, “Metamorphoses of the Grimani ‘Vitellius’. Addenda and Corrigenda,” The J. Paul Getty Museum Journal 8 (1980), 207–208. Baljöhr, Ruth, Die Skulptur Michelangelos in der Druckgraphik, Diploma thesis (University of Cologne: 1990). Barnes, Bernadine, Michelangelo in Print. Reproductions as Response in the Sixteenth Century (Farnham: 2010). Bartsch, Adam von, Oeuvres de Marc-Antoine, et de ses deux principaux élèves Augustine de Venise, et Marc de Ravenne. Vol. 14. Le peintre graveur (Vienna: 1813). Bloemacher, Anne, Raffael und Raimondi. Produktion und Intention der frühen Druckgraphik nach Raffael (Berlin: 2016). Boorsch, Suzanne, “Mantegna and Engraving: What we know, what we don’t know, and a few Hypotheses,” in Andrea Mantegna. Impronta del Genio. Convegno

60 Barocchi/Bettarini-Vasari, Le vite, vol. 5. Testo, 241.

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internazionale di studi. Padova Mantova Verona. 8, 9, 10 novembre 2006. Tomo 1, eds. Rodolfo Signorini, Viviana Rebonato, and Sara Tammaccaro (Florence: 2010), 415–437. Borea, Evelina, “Stampe da modelli fiorentini nel Cinquecento,” in Exh. Cat. Firenze e la Toscana dei Medici nell’Europa del Cinquecento. Il primato del disegno (Palazzo Strozzi, Florence, 1980), eds. Claudia Beltramo Ceppi and Nicoletta Confuorto (Florence: 1980), 225–302. Borea, Evelina, Lo specchio dell’arte italiana. Stampe in cinque secoli. Vol. 1 (Pisa: 2009). Brinckmann, Albert E., Barock-Bozzetti. Vol. 1. Italienische Bildhauer (Frankfurt am Main: 1923). Bury, Michael, “Beatrizet and the ‘Reproduction’ of Antique Relief Sculpture,” Print Quarterly 13 (1996), no. 2, 111–126. Bush, Virginia, “Bandinelli’s Hercules and Cacus and Florentine Traditions,” Studies in Italian Art and Architecture 15th through 18th Centuries 1 (1980), 163–189. Büttner, Frank, “Thesen zur Bedeutung der Druckgraphik in der italienischen Renaissance,” in Druckgraphik. Funktion und Form. Vorträge beim Symposium zur Ausstellung „Es muß nicht immer Rembrandt sein … – Die Druckgraphiksammlung des Kunsthistorischen Instituts München‟ vom 2. bis 3. Juli 1999, ed. Robert Stalla (Munich: 2001), 9–15. Cambi, Giovanni, Istorie di Giovanni Cambi […], ed. Ildefonso di San Luigi (Florence: 1783), vol. 3. Canova, Andrea, “Gian Marco Cavalli incisore per Andrea Mantegna e altre notizie sull’oreficeria e la tipografia a Mantova nel XV secolo,” Italia medioevale e umanistica 42 (2001), 149–179. Capecchi, Gabriella, “Superare l’antico: Il Laocoonte ‘perfetto’,” in Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli scultore e maestro (Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence, 9.4.2014– 13.7.2014), ed. Detlef Heikamp (Florence: 2014), 128–155. Cecchi, Alessandro, “Leone X a Firenze. Il papa e il suo seguito nella decorazione vasariana in Palazzo Vecchio,” in Exh. Cat. Nello splendore mediceo. Papa Leone X e Firenze (Cappelle Medicee, Casa Buonarroti, Florence, 26.03.2013–6.10.2013), eds. Nicoletta Baldini and Monica Bietti (Livorno: 2013), 251–257. Ciardi, Roberto Paolo and Alberto Mugnaini, Rosso Fiorentino. Catalogo completo dei dipinti (Florence: 1991). Ciseri, Ilaria, L’ingresso trionfale di Leone X in Firenze nel 1515 (Florence: 1990). Eadem, “ ‘Con tanto grandissimo e trionfante onore’. Immagini dall’ingresso fiorentino di papa Leone X nel 1515,” in Exh. Cat. Nello splendore mediceo. Papa Leone X e Firenze (Cappelle Medicee, Casa Buonarroti, Florence, 26.03.2013–6.10.2013), eds. Nicoletta Baldini and Monica Bietti (Livorno: 2013), 237–249. Coll. Cat. Early Italian Engravings from the National Gallery of Art, eds. Jay A. Levenson, Konrad Oberhuber, and Jacquelyn L. Sheehan (Washington, DC: 1973).

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Donato, Maria Monica, “Hercules and David in the Early Decoration of the Palazzo Vecchio: Manuscript Evidence,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 54 (1991), 83–98. Echinger-Maurach, Claudia, “ ‘Una figura graziata’. Entwürfe Michelangelos für die verlorene Gruppe ‘Samson mit zwei Philistern’,” Marburger Jahrbuch für Kunst­ wissenschaft 44 (2017), 7–38. Ettlinger, Leopold David, “Hercules Florentinus,” Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz 16 (1972), no. 2, 119–142. Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli scultore e maestro (Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence, 9.4.2014–13.7.2014), ed. Detlef Heikamp (Florence: 2014). Exh. Cat. Hochrenaissance im Vatikan. Kunst und Kultur im Rom der Päpste I. 1503–1534 (Kunst- und Ausstellungshalle der Bundesrepublik Deutschland, Bonn, 11.12.1998– 11.4.1999) (Ostfildern-Ruit: 1998). Exh. Cat. Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and the Renaissance in Florence (National Gallery of Canada, 29.5.–5.9.2005), ed. David Franklin (Ottawa: 2005). Exh. Cat. Raffael (Albertina, Vienna, 29.9.2017–7.1.2018), ed. Achim Gnann (Vienna: 2017). Exh. Cat. Raphael and the Image Multiplied (Whitworth Art Gallery, Manchester, 30.6.2016–23.4.2017), eds. Edward H. Wouk and David Morris (Manchester: 2016). Exh. Cat. Raphael und der klassische Stil in Rom 1515–1527 (Mantua, Palazzo Te, 20.3.1999–30.5.1999, Vienna, Graphische Sammlung Albertina, 23.6.1999–5.9.1999), ed. Konrad Oberhuber (Milan: 1999). Exh. Cat. Rosso Fiorentino. Drawings, prints, and decorative arts (National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC, 25.10.1987–3.1.1988), ed. Eugene Albert Carroll (Washington, DC: 1987). Exh. Cat. The Engravings of Marcantonio Raimondi (The Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas, Lawrence, 16.11.1981–3.1.1982, Ackland Art Museum, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Chapel Hill, NC, 10.2.1982–28.3.1982, Wellesley College Museum, Wellesley, Mass., 15.4.2981–15.6.1982), eds. Innis H. Shoemaker and Elizabeth Broun (Lawrence, KS: 1981). Forlani Tempesti, Anna, “Il David di Michelangelo nella tradizione grafica bandinelliana,” Antichità viva 28 (1989), nos. 2–3, 19–25. Galinsky, Karl, The Herakles Theme. The Adaptations of the Hero in Literature from Homer to the Twentieth Century (Oxford, Eng.: 1972). Gramaccini, Norberto and Hans Jakob Meier, Die Kunst der Interpretation. Italienische Reproduktionsgrafik 1485–1600 (Berlin: 2009). Greve, David, Status und Statue. Studien zum Leben und Werk des Florentiner Bildhauers Baccio Bandinelli (Berlin: 2008). Hegener, Nicole, Divi Iacobi Eqves. Selbstdarstellung im Werk des Florentiner Bildhauers Baccio Bandinelli (Munich: 2008).

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Heikamp, Detlef, “In margine alla ‘Vita di Baccio Bandinelli’ del Vasari,” Paragone 17 (1966), no. 191, 51–62. Idem, “Zum Herkules und Kakus von Baccio Bandinelli,” in Le parole e i marmi. Studi in onore di Raniero Gnoli nel suo 70o compleanno, ed. Raffaele Torella (Rome: 2001), 983–1006. Heinecken, Karl Heinrich von, Dictionnaire des artistes, dont nous avons des estampes avec une notice detaillée de leurs ouvrages gravés, vol. 1 (Leipzig: 1778). Hessert, Marlis von, Zum Bedeutungswandel der Herkules-Figur in Florenz. Von den Anfängen der Republik bis zum Prinzipat Cosimos I. (Cologne: 1991). Holderbaum, James, The Sculptor Giovanni Bologna (New York: 1983). Höper, Corinna, “ ‘Mein lieber Freund und Kupferstecher’: Raffael in der Druckgraphik des 16. bis 19. Jahrhunderts,” in Exh. Cat. Raffael und die Folgen. Das Kunstwerk in Zeitaltern seiner graphischen Reproduzierbarkeit (Staatsgalerie Stuttgart, 26.05.2001–22.06.2001), ed. Corinna Höper (Ostfildern: 2001), 51–119. Joannides, Paul, “Drawings by Raphael and his Immediate Followers made for or employed for Engravings and Chiaroscuro Woodcuts,” in Raffael als Zeichner. Die Beiträge des Frankfurter Kolloquiums, eds. Joachim Jacoby and Martin Sonnabend (Frankfurt am Main: 2015), 149–166. Knuth, Michael, Herkules tötet Kakus. Ein Bozzetto von Pierre Puget (Berlin: 1991). Kuhrmann, Dieter, “Frühwerke Agostino Venezianos,” in Munuscula discipulorum. Kunsthistorische Studien. Hans Kauffmann zum 70. Geburtstag 1966, eds. Tilmann Buddensieg and Matthias Winner (Berlin: 1968), 173–176. Landau, David and Peter Parshall, The Renaissance Print 1470–1550 (New Haven: 1994). Marini, Giorgio, “Mantegna, la grafica e la diffusione dei modelli tramite le stampe,” in Exh. Cat. Mantegna e le arti a Verona 1450–1500 (Palazzo della Gran Guardia, Verona, 16.9.2006–14.1.2007), eds. Sergio Marinelli and Paola Marini (Venice: 2006), 91–93. Marzi, Demetrio, La cancelleria della repubblica fiorentina (Rocca S. Casciano: 1910). Moltedo, Alina, “Gli affreschi sistini di Michelangelo nelle stampe antiche,” in Exh. Cat. La sistina riprodotta (Calcografia, Rome, 28.5.1991–14.7.1991), ed. Alina Moltedo (Rome: 1991), 31–42. Mozzati, Tommaso, “ ‘Dicendo come scultore non lo meritassi’: ritratto, autoritratto e conformismo sociale nella carriera di Baccio Bandinelli,” in Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli scultore e maestro (Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence, 9.4.2014– 13.7.2014), ed. Detlef Heikamp (Florence: 2014), 452–469. Myssok, Johannes, Bildhauerische Konzeption und plastisches Modell in der Renaissance (Münster: 1999). Oberhuber, Konrad, Marcantonio Raimondi and his School. Vols. 26 and 27. Formerly Volume 14 (part 1 and 2). The Illustrated Bartsch, ed. Walter L. Strauss (New York: 1978).

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Oberhuber, Konrad, “Raffaello e l’incisione,” in Exh. Cat. Raffaello in Vaticano (Museo Vaticano, Vatican City, 15.10.1984–16.1.1985), ed. Fabrizio Mancinelli (Milan: 1984), 332–342. Passavant, Johann David, Le peintre-graveur, vol. 6 (Leipzig: 1864). Passerini, Luigi, “Il sigillo fiorentino con l’Ercole,” Periodico di numismatica e sfragistica per la storia d’Italia 1 (1868), 276–285. Pon, Lisa, Raphael, Dürer, and Marcantonio Raimondi. Copying and the Italian Renaissance Print (New Haven: 2004). Richter, Mandy, Die Renaissance der “Kauernden Venus”. Ihr Nachleben zwischen Aktualisierung und Neumodellierung von 1500 bis 1570 (Wiesbaden: 2016). Rosenberg, Raphael, “ ‘Le vedute della statua’. Michelangelos Strategien zur Betrachterlenkung,” in Benvenuto Cellini. Kunst und Kunsttheorie im 16. Jahrhundert, eds. Alessandro Nova and Anna Schreurs (Cologne: 2003), 217–235. Idem, “The reproduction and publication of Michelangelo’s Sacristy: drawings and prints by Franco, Salviati, Naldini and Cort,” in Reactions to the Master, Michelangelo’s Effect on Art and Artists in the Sixteenth Century, eds. Francis Ames-Lewis and Paul Joannides (Aldershot: 2003), 114–136. Sampson, Elisabeth, Agostino Veneziano. Seine venezianische Zeit und das Weiterwirken venezianischer Elemente in seinen späteren Werken, Diploma thesis (University of Vienna: 1994). Schmidt, Eike D., “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell,” Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz 40 (1996), no. 1–2, 78–147. Schoch, Rainer, Matthias Mende and Anna Scherbaum, Albrecht Dürer. Das druckgraphische Werk. Vol. 1. Kupferstiche, Eisenradierungen und Kaltnadelblätter (Munich: 2001). Shearman, John K. G., Raphael’s Cartoons in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen and the Tapestries for the Sistine Chapel (London et al.: 1972). Swoboda, Gudrun, Baccio Bandinelli (1494–1560). Die Zeichnungen der Albertina, Diploma thesis (University of Vienna: 1994). Talvacchia, Bette, “Raphael’s Workshop and the Development of a Managerial Style,” in The Cambridge Companion to Raphael, ed. Marcia Hall (Cambridge, Eng. et al.: 2005), 167–185. Tartuferi, Angelo, “Ercole nell’arte fiorentina dei secoli XIV e XV: alcuni esempi e una proposta per il Maestro del 1441 a Signa,” in Exh. Cat. Ercole il fondatore dall’antichità al Rinascimento (Museo di Santa Giulia, Brescia, 11.02.2011–12.06.2011), eds. Marco Bona Castellotti and Antonio Giuliani (Milan: 2011), 84–91. Thomas, Ben, “The Academy of Baccio Bandinelli,” Print Quarterly 22 (2005), no. 1, 3–14. Trachtenberg, Marvin, The Campanile of Florence Cathedral. ‘Giotto’s Tower’ (New York: 1971).

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Vasari, Giorgio, Le vite de’più eccellenti pittori scultori e architettori nelle redazioni del 1550 e 1568, eds. Rosanna Bettarini and Paola Barocchi. 7 vols. (Florence: 1966–1987). Viatte, Françoise, “Dessins originaux par Baccio Bandinelli,” in Inventaire général des dessins italiens. Tome IX. Baccio Bandinelli. Dessins, sulptures, peinture, eds. ­Françoise Viatte et al. (Paris: 2011), 101–200. Viljoen, Madeleine, “Raphael and the Restorative Power of Prints,” Print Quarterly 18 (2001), no. 4, 379–395. Vossilla, Francesco, “Baccio Bandinelli’s Colossus in the Piazza della Signoria,” in Baccio Bandinelli’s Hercules and Cacus, eds. Carlo Francini and Francesco Vossilla, trans. Anne T. Rocchiccioli (Florence: 1999), 9–45. Waldman, Louis A., “Two foreign artists in renaissance Florence. Alonso Berruguete and Gian Francesco Bembo,” Apollo 155 (2002), 22–29. Idem, Baccio Bandinelli and Art at the Medici Court. A Corpus of Early Modern Sources (Philadelphia: 2004). Ward, Roger, Baccio Bandinelli as a Draughtsman, PhD thesis (University of London, Courtauld Institute: 1982). Idem, “I disegni di Bandinelli: alcune aggiunte al corpus,” in Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli scultore e maestro (Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence, 9.4.2014–13.7.2014), ed. Detlef Heikamp (Florence: 2014), 332–347. Wright, Alison, “The Myth of Hercules,” in Lorenzo il Magnifico e il suo mondo. Convegno internazionale di studi (Firenze, 9–13 giugno 1992), ed. Gian Carlo Garfagnini (Florence: 1994), 323–339. Zucker, Mark, Early Italian Masters. Vol. 25 (Commentary). Formerly Volume 13 (part 2). The Illustrated Bartsch, ed. Walter L. Strauss (New York: 1984). Zurla, Michela, “ ‘Bacio fiorentino inventor’: la produzione incisoria di Bandinelli tra il 1515 e il 1525,” Commentari d’arte 16 (2010), 48–73. Eadem, “Dal disegno alla pittura. Invenzioni di Baccio Bandinelli per dipinti e incisioni,” in Exh. Cat. Baccio Bandinelli scultore e maestro (Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence, 9.4.2014–13.7.2014), ed. Detlef Heikamp (Florence: 2014), 471–497.

Chapter 8

Considering the Viewer in Prints of Michelangelo’s Risen Christ: The Cases of Beatrizet and Matham Bernadine Barnes The challenges of reproducing a three-dimensional work of art in a print medium are many: which view to emphasize, how to create threedimensionality through chiaroscuro, whether to emphasize the material and color of the work. Printmakers need to decide on a setting: whether in a niche, on a pedestal, or in a landscape. Some of these choices will make the sculpture look more like a work carved of stone; others might make it seem like something that is alive. Almost always printmakers would work from intermediary drawings (which they may or may not have made themselves), and sometimes the model was another reproduction: another artist’s drawing, a bronze copy or even another print. A more conceptual choice is whether to show the sculpture as a viewer might see it, which may be high overhead, in a ruined condition, or blocked by other structures. In these cases, the real decision is whether to present to the purchasers of the print a document of the sculpture in its perfected, ideal state, or to present it as if the viewer of the print is actually in the presence of the sculpture itself. Photographers of art sculpture today still confront these choices, and usually they opt for the “ideal” view, carefully lit and taken from scaffolding with all distracting objects and people removed. However, the other option – to capture the viewers’ experience – has its advantages as well, and making this choice speaks to other motivations. The decision to capture the viewers’ experiences seems especially important when there is reason to think that it truly mattered to the sculptor how his work would be seen by individuals. I have argued (and I am not first to do so) that the viewer was almost always in Michelangelo’s mind as he made his works.1 Early in his career he was especially concerned about the viewer’s position, and many unusual aspects of the Vatican Pietà and the David, for example, can be explained by reconstructing the movement of viewers before the sculpture, or (in the case of the David) the 1 Barnes, Michelangelo and the Viewer in his Time. Some examples of other scholars who have taken a similar approach are Amy, “Imagining Michelangelo’s St. Matthew in its Setting”; and Wallace, “Michelangelo’s Risen Christ”.

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distance and viewing angle.2 Later he must have been aware that whatever the originally planned location might be, the finished sculpture would very likely be set elsewhere.3 Printmakers who reproduced Michelangelo’s work may or may not have understood how important the viewer’s position was, since they had their own motives for producing the print. Unlike his rival, Raphael, Michelangelo himself did not collaborate with printmakers; there is very little reason to think that any of them was aware of Michelangelo’s intentions.4 We must assume then that the decisions of the printmakers about how to represent his sculpture reflect a response to the source, as well as a projection of an anticipated audience’s desires. The engraved reproductions of Michelangelo’s Risen Christ present a particularly interesting case study to examine these variables, because here we have strong evidence that Michelangelo himself took into account the viewers’ position. The Risen Christ (Fig. 8.1) is a sculpture that was both designed for a specific space and eventually positioned in another. That change happened with Michelangelo’s and the patrons’ consent, and the lighting and height of the sculpture were carefully considered. The Risen Christ was originally conceived as part of a memorial chapel for Marta Porcari, a widow who died childless in 1512.5 Porcari’s will only asks that a chapel be constructed for her in Santa Maria sopra Minerva in Rome near the burial place of her ancestors; the sculpture seems to have been the idea of her nephews, Metello Vari (ca. 1448– 1554) and Pietro Paulo Castellani (1494–1519), who were her heirs. A contract for the sculpture survives, as does an extensive correspondence with the heirs, the executor of the will, Michelangelo’s banker, and others involved with transporting and installing the sculpture. The contract calls for Michelangelo to make a life-sized standing nude statue of Christ holding the Cross, in whatever pose the artist deemed best. The contract only states that the statue should be placed in the church of the Minerva in the place the patrons wished – this

2 Barnes, Michelangelo and the Viewer in his Time, 34–50. 3 Keizer, “Site-Specificity”, 27–8, has argued that as early as 1506, when he carved the St. Matthew, Michelangelo knew that his work would be relocated, and that his contemporaries continued to value it in its displaced state. Nevertheless, it is highly probable that Michelangelo considered the exact position of the St. Matthew when he began it. See Amy, “Imagining Michelangelo’s St. Matthew”, 161–2. 4 Barnes, Michelangelo in Print: Reproductions as Response in the Sixteenth Century, 2–3. 5 Most of the documents related to the commission are discussed in Hirst, Michelangelo. I: The Achievement of Fame 1475–1534, 115–16 and 169–75; the contract of 1514 is quoted on 307, n. 22. Its full text is in Contratti di Michelangelo, no. XXIII, 54–5. Porcari’s will is discussed in Panofsky-Soergel, Michelangelos “Christus” und sein römischer Auftraggeber, 43–4 and 131.

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Figure 8.1 Michelangelo, Risen Christ, 1519–21, marble, Rome, Santa Maria sopra Minerva © Alinari / Art Resource NY

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would surely still be in the Porcari family chapel on the left aisle of the church.6 Michelangelo began work on the figure soon after the contract was signed, but in 1516 he discovered an unsightly vein in the marble that was visible on Christ’s face. He abandoned that partially finished block; it has been identified as the sculpture that is now in the church of San Vincenzo Martire in Bassano Romano (Fig. 8.2). This statue was finished by another sculptor in the seventeenth century, but the pose itself would have been established before it was abandoned.7 The second version was begun in 1519 when Michelangelo was starting to design the Medici Chapel, and he worked on it in Florence, not Rome. At that point, the place for Porcari’s memorial would still have been on the left side aisle of the church. In March 1520, Michelangelo asked his friend, the stone carver Federigo Frizzi to build a base and tabernacle for the statue. Very wisely, Frizzi visited Santa Maria sopra Minerva to assess the situation; he was accompanied by the patrons. In a letter to Michelangelo, Frizzi advised them “to consider placing it in on one of the columns or pilasters in the middle of the nave because there is good light there, and they [the patrons] were pleased about that.”8 In order to make the statue more visible [più veduta], Frizzi proposed that the figure be set before a shallow niche [pocco chavato]. It would still be a full year before the sculpture was shipped to Rome, and another six months before Frizzi could actually see the statue and assess the visual effect of its setting. By then, the location had changed again.9 It was now set to left of the main chancel, close to where it is seen today. However, another problem had arisen: Frizzi realized when he actually saw the sculpture, that Michelangelo had left a large block of stone below the figure’s feet, so that it would stand too high on the base – Christ’s feet were above the viewer’s line of sight. Although we are missing Michelangelo’s response, it must have been critical to the artist that the feet be visible, since Frizzi proposed carving out some material from his base to lower the statue to the appropriate height. The Risen Christ was finally installed in October 1521. Frizzi’s pedestal was simple – partly 6 On the probable intended location, see Frommel, “Michelangelos ‘Auferstandener Christus’, seine erste Version, und der junge Bernini”, 15–17. 7 See Baldriga, “The First Version of Michelangelo’s Christ for S. Maria Sopra Minerva”, 740–45. A recent discussion of the circumstances surrounding the two versions of the sculpture is in Danesi Squarzina, “The Risen Christ”, 173–81. The possibility that Bernini finished the statue is proposed by Frommel, “Michelangelos ‘Auferstandener Christus’ ”, 15–34. Danesi Squarzina responds to his hypothesis on 179. 8 Carteggio di Michelangelo, vol. 2, no. CDLIX, 222–3. See Hirst, Michelangelo I: Achievement of Fame, 173 and 330, n. 20. 9 Frizzi’s later letter, dated 19 October 1521, is Carteggio, vol. 2, no. DXXXVII, 324–5. Danesi Squarzina (“The Risen Christ”, 174) summarizes the changed locations.

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Figure 8.2 Michelangelo, Risen Christ, first version, 1514–16, with later modifications, Bassano Romano, Church of San Vincenzo Martire, Monastero dei Silvestrini, Viterbo © Photo: Roberto Sigismondi, courtesy of Bibliotheca Hertziana, Rome

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because the patrons did not want to spend more money – but it did include an inscription that is recorded in early guidebooks.10 Those same guidebooks show the statue standing before a niche that gives some sense of its original setting. A drawing from the early 19th century shows the statue before a more elaborate tabernacle, with a shallow niche behind it and a canopy above.11 Even though this complex surround was a later construction, the drawing demonstrates that the height of the statue would still have been set so that a worshipper’s head would be just above the base of the sculpture. He or she would look down on Christ’s forward foot, but would need to look up at an oblique angle to see his face. Unfortunately, the entire tabernacle was destroyed in the 19th century when the church was remodeled. Today, the statue is in approximately the same location, although it stands in front of a plain pilaster. Visitors today are able to approach the statue just as closely as early visitors, and from about the same height. I emphasize these details about the pose, as well as the intended location, height and surround of the sculpture to give some context to the decisions printmakers needed to make in creating engravings of this sculpture. For some printmakers – and I think Nicolas Beatrizet and Jacob Matham are two such printmakers – the experience of the material presence of the sculpture mattered a great deal, and both took pains to make sure their own viewers appreciated that presence. William Wallace has pointed out that Michelangelo’s sculpture has multiple aspects that present different meanings to viewers as they approach and move beyond it.12 In the original location on the side aisle, visitors walking toward the main altar would have seen first the cross and instruments of the passion held by Christ, then his forward right leg. From the front, Christ’s face, which turned sharply to the viewer’s right, would direct attention to the main altar. This was also true of the first version of the sculpture, but the fact that Michelangelo had to start over meant that he could reconsider the pose and give it much more complexity and movement. The frontal view in the second version gives greater emphasis to the Christ’s right foot and to the cross, which is somewhat smaller, but toward which Christ more emphatically directs our attention with both his right and left hands. The cross itself is tilted so that his action is necessary simply to balance it, lending additional dynamism to the 10 See below, nn. 16 and 17 and Figure 8.3. 11 The drawing in Casa Buonarroti, Florence, is reproduced in Frommel, “Michelangelos ‘Auferstandener Christus’ ”, fig. 5. The canopy was probably made in the 18th century. 12 Wallace, “Michelangelo’s Risen Christ”, 1251–80. Hirst, on the other hand, has insisted that the sculpture has only a single view because it was meant to be seen in a niche; Hirst, Michelangelo and his Drawings, 68. A shallow niche would not prevent a more oblique view as the visitor approached it.

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composition. The forward leg is still given strong emphasis, perhaps to suggest movement out of the tomb or, as Wallace has argued, to call attention to Christ’s foot pressing into the earth – a reference to footprints found on the Appian Way, which are said to have been left by Christ himself when he appeared to St. Peter.13 Although the Minerva Christ is not the most popular of Michelangelo’s works today, it enjoyed great fame in the 16th century. Soon after it was installed, Sebastiano del Piombo said the “knees of that figure are worth all of Rome.”14 In 1546, Francis I, the king of France, requested copies of the Risen Christ and the Vatican Pietà, which he wanted to be set in his private chapel at Fontainebleau. In a letter written in 1549, Anton Francesco Doni recommended it to a friend who was going to visit Rome, and in his 1550 edition of the Lives Vasari praised The Risen Christ as “very miraculous”.15 Later in the century, guidebooks to the churches of Rome pointed out the statue, and woodcut illustrations of it appeared beginning in 1588, although at first without mention of the artist’s name.16 Another version of this guidebook, published by Pietro Martire Felini in 1610 (Fig. 8.3) reuses the same woodcut, but copies out the inscription on the base of the statue and adds this commentary: “[This is] the incomparable statue of our lord Jesus Christ, … by the immortal Michel’Angelo Buonarroti.”17 Such an illustration of a specific sculpture was by no means a common occurrence. These guidebooks are based upon Palladio’s Churches of Rome, and almost all the woodcuts depict the facades of churches; Michelangelo’s Risen Christ is the only work of art illustrated. Several sculpted copies were also made, including one by Taddeo Landini for Santo Spirito in Florence, dated 1579. It is set opposite a copy of Michelangelo’s Vatican Pietà as if the two created a thematic set in addition to serving as an homage to the artist. The engravings that I will focus on in this essay, must be seen in the context of a wider interest in this sculpture, an interest that is both aesthetic 13 Wallace, “Michelangelo’s Risen Christ”, 1251–80. 14 Carteggio, vol. 2, no. DXXVIII, 314. Letter to Michelangelo dated 6 September 1521. 15 Giorgio Vasari, Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori scultori e architettori nelle redazioni del 1550 e del 1568, vol. 6, 55. 16 Franzini, Le Cose Maravigliose dell’alma Città di Roma, Flavia Cantatore, fol. 35v. In this edition the caption only says it is “Il Christo di Santa Maria, sopra la Minerva”, and there is no further description of the sculpture in the text. 17 Felini, Trattato nuovo delle cose maravigliose dell’alma città di Roma …, 93–4. In the version cited, the inscription reads: METELLVS VARVS ET P. PAVL. CASTELLANVS / ROMANI MARTIAE PORCIAE TESTAMENT / HOC ALTARE EREXERVNT / CVM TERTIA PARTE IMPENSARVM ET DOTIS/ QVAE METELLVS DE SVO SVPPLENS / DEO OPT. MAX. DICAVIT. On these guidebooks, see Howe’s essay in Andrea Palladio, The Churches of Rome, 42–3.

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Figure 8.3 Michelangelo’s Risen Christ, from Pietro Martire Felini, Trattato nuovo delle cose maravigliose dell’alma città di Roma, woodcut, Rome, 1610

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(and perhaps elite) and popular, related perhaps to indulgences or more likely legends about how touching the foot would bring luck in love.18 The first engraved copy of Michelangelo’s Risen Christ (Fig. 8.4) is by Nicolas Beatrizet, a printmaker from Lorraine who settled in Rome in 1540.19 No date is inscribed on the print, but it is almost certainly from around 1558–62, since the inscription below the image proudly gives the name of the printmaker and states that he incised and published it himself in Rome: NICHOLAVS BEATRICIVS LOTHARINGVS INCIDIT ET FORMIS SVIS EXC. ROMAE. Beatrizet’s publishing activity is associated with the death of his father in 1558, when he inherited enough money to set up his own print publishing business.20 All other similarly self-published prints that bear dates are from 1558–62. The descriptive inscription to the left of the image furthermore states that the sculpture itself may be visited in the church of Santa Maria sopra Minerva: HIC . DE . MARMOREA . CH/RISTI . STATVA . MICH /AELIS ANGELI . BONAROTI . MANV~/SCVLPTA . QVAE . IN . AEDE./ DIVAE . MARIAE . SVPRA MINERVAM VISITVR EFFIGIATVS /EST. Beatrizet may have returned to France around the time this print was made; whether or not he did, the way that the inscription is phrased suggests that it is meant to encourage a site visit. It is conceivable that the print was made to be distributed to people in France or elsewhere who might eventually travel to Rome. Other aspects of the print suggest that it was meant to fit within a collection of prints that depicted classical sculpture. Another engraving from around this time by Beatrizet depicts a sculpture of the river god Ocean that was then in the home of Giovanni Battista and Giovanni Vicenzo Fabii in Rome; it entered the Farnese collections after 1585, and it is now in the archeological museum in

18 Zöllner, Thoenes and Pöpper, Michelangelo, 1475–1564: The Complete Works, 426, citing Schwedes, “Historia” in “Statua”: Zur Eloquenz plastischer Bildwerke Michelangelos im Umfeld des Christus von Santa Maria sopra Minerva zu Rom, n. 71. 19 The engravings by Beatrizet and Matham discussed in this essay are the only 16th-century prints after the sculpture found with any regularity in museum collections; see Barnes, Michelangelo in Print, 200, nos. 116 and 117. Two other rare prints have come to my attention since that publication appeared. The first is an engraving dated 1571 that shows the sculpture with a halo and loincloth similar to those seen in the Matham engraving, however it is independent of it; another is a frontispiece by Juan Navarre, dated 1598 that appears to be copied from Beatrizet’s engraving. See Alberti, Rovetta, and Salsi, D’après Michelangelo: La fortuna di Michelangelo nelle stampe del Cinquecento, vol. 2, 215–17, no. 321 and 323. Matham’s engraving (or a preparatory drawing for it) was the source for an etching by Jan de Bisschop in the Paradigmata Graphices Variorum Artificum, 1672–89. 20 Bianchi, “Contributi per l’opera incisa di Nicolas Beatrizet”, 47–8. On Beatrizet’s selfpublishing activities, see Witcombe, Print Publishing in Sixteenth-Century Rome, 242–7.

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Figure 8.4

Nicolas Beatrizet (after Michelangelo, reversed), Risen Christ, after 1558, engraving, 441 × 214 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. no. RP-P-2003.10. © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

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Naples.21 The visual form of the inscription is quite similar to that seen on the Risen Christ, and its tone is even more welcoming – it is addressed to ‘friends’ and ends with good wishes. Beatrizet may have been imagining that he would create his own self-published set of reproductions of the great sculpture of Rome. These prints would offer visitors an enticement to make the journey, and they would be souvenirs once they had returned home. This of course would be similar to the collections of prints published by Antonio Lafrery, which were bound together as the Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae. By 1558 Beatrizet had already created engravings of classical reliefs, full-round sculpture, and architecture that were published by Lafrery for exactly this purpose. Beatrizet probably had a special relationship with Lafrery, since they were both from the same region of France (and may have been related), but other prints by Beatrizet of classical subjects were published by Antonio Salamanca, Tommaso Barlacchi and Michele Tramezzino. Even in his early work in the competitive environment of Rome, Beatrizet operated as a kind of free agent. When he took up publishing his own prints around 1560 he may have had in mind a collection even more extensive that those gathered together in the Speculum, one that would include magisterial works by ancient sculptors, as well as modern artists, like Michelangelo. The Risen Christ engraving (as well as the Ocean engraving) may have been among his first attempts to create such a collection. However, Beatrizet apparently did not get very far in this self-published collection, and it seems Lafrery acquired the plates for both the Risen Christ and Ocean, since these engravings were offered for sale in Lafrery’s stocklist of 1573. Printmakers like Beatrizet devised several techniques that helped to convey the three-dimensionality and material qualities of sculpture. Michael Bury has carefully analyzed the techniques that Beatrizet used to depict relief sculpture.22 His observations can be adapted and expanded to apply them to the standing figure. In order to convey the three-dimensionality of a statue, some engravers included a shaded niche or pedestal. In the Risen Christ, Beatrizet depicts 21

22

Reproduced in Boorsch, Italian Masters of the Sixteenth Century. Vol. 29. Formerly Vol. 15 (part 2). The Illustrated Bartsch, 360. On the Oceanus Fabii, see the Ph.D. dissertation by Bülow Clausen, “The Flavian Isea in Beneventum and Rome”. Beatrizet’s print of Ocean is 307 mm high by 418 mm wide – comparable to the Risen Christ print (441 × 214 mm for the British Museum impression, which is probably trimmed). Two other similar engravings of river god sculptures, the Tiber and the Nile, are given more elaborate borders and are addressed more impersonally to “the reader” (“lector”); these too were included in Lafrery’s Speculum, but they are not signed by Beatrizet even though traditionally attributed to him. Bury, “Beatrizet and the ‘Reproduction’ of Antique Relief Sculpture”, 115–19.

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a block of stone beneath Christ’s feet drawn in perspective and shaded to emphasize its three-dimensionality; perhaps he replaced the more irregular, naturalistic “ground” of the sculpture in order to more clearly create this perspective construction. Beatrizet eschews the niche that is mentioned in the documents and was probably similar to that recorded in the later woodcut; instead he sets the statue before a neutral background. However, including the niche would have allowed Beatrizet to depict cast shadows and confirm the three-dimensionality of the work. Emphatic chiaroscuro on Christ’s body, as well as a strongly cast shadow of Christ’s arm on the cross may be a substitute for this effect. The shadow cast by the pole near the crossbeam of the crucifix was perhaps created for the same reason, but its logic is unclear. Beatrizet’s choice to isolate the figure is in keeping with his approach to documenting architectural works, as for example, in his engravings of the Farnese Palace. The work is presented as an object of study, with the viewer’s attention focused on it alone. Conveying the materiality of the marble was more problematic. For ancient sculpture, showing broken limbs helped. When such damage did not exist, the engraver could avoid coloristic effects on hair for example, or emphasize the different tones on details that were not actually made of marble, such as parts that were gilded or additions made of bronze or fabric. In his print of the Risen Christ Beatrizet does this to some extent on the loincloth, which would likely have been made of fabric. Beatrizet goes beyond giving these visual cues and ensures that the viewer of the print will know this is a sculpture by doing the most obvious thing: the inscription states “This is sculpted by the hand of Michelangelo from marble.” Beatrizet does not show the Risen Christ from a human vantage point, but rather he takes an elevated point of view to present a clear image of the statue itself, without distortions of perspective. The adjustments he makes can be seen best when comparing his engraving to a photograph taken by someone standing in front of the sculpture (Fig. 8.5). Even though the base is drawn as if it is close to the viewer’s eye level, Christ’s arm does not block his upper torso, nor do we see his head from a low angle. Beatrizet also makes sure that Christ’s forward foot extends beyond the edge of the block, an indication, I believe, that the foot was important to the visitors. The fact that the foot no longer presses into the earth suggests that the particular connection to the miraculous appearance of Christ to St Peter in Rome may have been unclear or unimportant to Beatrizet. Whomever Beatrizet may have thought would be the buyer of such a print, he did not exploit a controversy about its nudity – I am not convinced there was such a controversy, although the question may be moot since

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Figure 8.5 Michelangelo, Risen Christ, 1519–21 Photo taken from viewer’s position

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it was covered with a loincloth by at least 1534.23 The contract does specify that Christ be shown nude, perhaps to emphasize the perfected human body that Christ had after the resurrection.24 Michelangelo did carve both versions of Christ fully nude with fully articulated genitalia, but all the copies (whether in print or sculptural) show the figure with a loincloth (at least seven different types have been used over the years).25 On the other hand, the physicality and the swaggering pose of the figure certainly were noticed, and a tradition started of touching the foot of Christ. Whether this was done out of devotion or because people thought this would bring them good luck in finding a spouse as an 18th-century source says,26 it did have the effect of wearing down the foot, and it was eventually fitted with a bronze “shoe”. That covering has now been removed although a small sign still warns people not to touch the statue. Written responses to Renaissance sculpture play on the trope ‘it only lacks life’, and writing poetry about sculpture was one of the most common ways of “reproducing” contemporary sculpture in the late 16th century.27 Often writers would make sculptures speak to each other or awaken and move. Beatrizet’s print of the Risen Christ is a skillfully engraved work that captures well the monumentality and pose of the original, but it seems static and rather cold: It does little to go beyond the appearance and materiality of the sculpture to convey a sense of life. I believe that Jacob Matham in his engraving (Fig. 8.6) was much more successful at producing a lively figure, and he does so by presenting an intentionally less accurate view of the statue.28 When compared to Beatrizet’s more “archeological” engraving, Matham takes certain liberties with the sculpture in order to convey a powerful sense of upward movement. Matham achieved the effect by taking a lower point of view, but there is more 23 The earliest indication that Christ’s nudity caused a negative reaction comes from Pirro Ligorio who reported that Christ’s genitals were vandalized during the lifetime of Clement VII, that is, before September 1534. See Hirst, Michelangelo I, 331, n. 30. Figure 8.1 shows the damage, while Figure 8.5 shows the sculpture with its current loincloth. 24 See Nagel, The Controversy of Renaissance Art, 142–3, who also emphasizes how the sculpture unites classical and Christian ideals about the body. The Man of Sorrows tradition, which is alluded to by Christ holding the Instruments of the Passion, also emphasizes the nude body of Christ; see the essay by Kren, “Christian Imagery and the Development of the Nude in Europe,” 19–23. 25 Greist, “Jacob Matham’s ‘The Savior with the Cross, Standing’ ”, 118–19. 26 See Zöllner, et al., Michelangelo, 426. 27 See, for example, Leuschner, “Francesco Villamena’s ‘Apotheosis of Alessandro Farnese’ and Engraved Reproductions of Contemporary Sculpture around 1600”, 147–51. 28 Widerkehr and Leeflang, Jacob Matham [The New Hollstein], pt. 2, 137–8 (Hollstein no. 63). Part 1 of this publication contains an excellent overview of Matham’s life and career.

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Jacob Matham (after Michelangelo, reversed), Risen Christ, ca. 1600, engraving, 365 × 242 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. no. RP-P-OB-27.076 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

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to it than that. Christ’s gaze is made to look upward – more so than in the original – as if he is looking toward heaven where he will soon ascend. He also seems to step forward more forcefully, twisting to hold the cross that leans out at a more dramatic angle. The cross itself is more substantial than Beatrizet’s – closer to the original – but now the horizontal beam is slightly asymmetrical and seems angled upward more sharply. Like Beatrizet, Matham felt no need to record the actual appearance of the base, inscription, or setting. He does show Christ standing on the ground, but the rough marble below Christ’s feet is much less deep than on the sculpture itself. He creates a rather refined two level base for the statue, but instead of recording the inscription referring to the patrons he substitutes an inscription that gives information about the creator (“Michelangelo Buonarroti made [this in] Rome”), the material (“of white marble”) and the printmaker (“copied, engraved and printed by J. Matham”).29 In the lower margin, Matham dedicates the print to Hendrick de Keyser, sculptor and architect, while he notes the publication privilege awarded to him on the cross beam of the crucifix. Rather than showing a niche in the background, he creates a flat wall seen from a corner, so that the molding on the receding wall angles upward dramatically. This line, along with the steeper angle of the beam of the cross and the shadows on the wall (which are not the result of light striking the sculpture itself), help to create a greater sense of movement in the entire image. Some details, like the halo that would have adorned the statue by at least 1571, and the loincloth – here very clearly of a different material than the sculpture – add to the authenticity of the image.30 Even though he makes some modifications, Matham records what a pilgrim might see. He presents the sculpture from the pilgrim’s point-of-view and emphasizes the detail that was most present and meaningful to the viewer: Christ’s foot that presses into the earth. Matham, a Dutch printmaker, may have felt empowered to create a more lively reproduction of the Risen Christ because he came from a background that valued modification over precisely holding to a model. His adoptive father, the famous printmaker Hendrik Goltzius, certainly believed in this approach, as we know from Van Mander’s description of his ideas.31 Goltzius’s engravings 29

The privilege on the cross reads: “Cum privil. Sa. Cæ. M.” The inscription on the base of the pedestal is: “MICHELANGELO BUONARRUOTI. FECIT ROMÆ” and “Ex candida marmoreà statuà sic I. Maetham effigiavit, sculpsit et excudit”. Lettered in a cartouche is a dedication to Hendrick de Keyser: “Henrico de Keiser Sculptori et Architecto urbis / Amstelodamensis eximio Jacobus Maetham meritó lubens / DD.” 30 The halo is shown in an engraving dated 1571. See n. 19 above. 31 See Melion, “Karel van Mander’s ‘Life of Goltzius’: Defining the Paradigm of Protean Virtuosity in Haarlem around 1600”, 112–33 and Brandt, “Goltzius and the Antique”, 143–7.

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and drawings after classical sculpture show a profound respect for his sources, along with a desire to present these ancient works from a fresh point-of-view. However, Goltzius only made three engravings of classical works, one of which is his remarkable engraving of the Farnese Hercules seen from behind (Fig. 8.7). Of special note in this print is the presence of two viewers who see the statue from below; the fictive spectators would themselves see the sculpture from the front although we, as viewers of the print, see it from behind.32 This double inclusion of the viewers is an ingenious way to convey the three dimensionality as well as the scale of the work. On his trip to Rome, Goltzius also copied Michelangelo’s Moses, which he apparently considered equal to the greatest classical sculpture, since the drawing was part of a series otherwise dedicated to classical works.33 But these two viewers in the Hercules engraving are more than a clever device. They very likely represent Goltzius himself and Jacob Matham.34 The two men in the engraving bear a striking resemblance to drawings by Goltzius, the one a self-portrait, the other a portrait of his adopted son.35 The drawings are dated 1592, the probable date when the Hercules print was begun, although it was not published until 1617, after Goltzius died. The Hercules engraving must be an imagined or hoped for encounter with the sculpture. It cannot be a record of Matham’s own presence before the statue, since Matham did not accompany Goltzius to Italy in 1590–1; the twenty-year old stayed behind in Haarlem to maintain operations of the shop. But a few years later Matham made his own trip to Rome, staying about four years. It was during that time that Matham revisited the works that his stepfather had admired, including the Farnese Hercules and Michelangelo’s Moses. Matham himself was a kind of pilgrim, not journeying to see works because of their religious or magical properties, but because they represented the best sculpture available to a young artist from the north. It was surely during this trip to Rome that he studied the Risen Christ in Santa Maria sopra Minerva. Even more than giving the figure a sense 32 33

Goddard and Ganz, Goltzius and the Third Dimension, 35–6. Brandt, “Goltzius and the Antique”, 135. The drawings are in the so-called Roman portfolio in the Teylers Foundation in Haarlem (K 200–253). They are reproduced in Reznicek, Die Zeichnungen von Hendrick Goltzius: mit einem beschreibenden Katalog, vol. 2 plates 142– 196; the drawing of Michelangelo’s Moses is reproduced on plate 185. 34 This identification of the two observers was already made in the 18th century by the Dutch collector Cornelis Ploos van Amstel, however the identification of the younger man has been questioned. See Reznicek, Die Zeichnungen von Hendrick Goltzius, vol. 1, 419–20. 35 The portrait of Matham is in the Albertina in Vienna, Inv. 8070 (Reznicek, Die Zeichnungen von Hendrick Goltzius, no. 279); the self-portrait of Goltzius is in Stockholm, Nationalmuseum, Inv. Nr. 1867/1863 (Reznicek, Die Zeichnungen von Hendrick Goltzius, no. 255).

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Hendrick Goltzius, Farnese Hercules, ca. 1592, dated 1617, engraving, 421 × 304 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Henry Walters, 1917, inv. 17.37.59 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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of life, I believe that Matham attempted to capture the experience of viewing – of standing at the feet of Michelangelo’s sculpture and looking upward. Unlike Beatrizet, Matham was not engaged in preparing records of antiquities for collections like the Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae, or even trying to complete Goltzius’ series. Of his more than four hundred prints, only a handful reproduce sculpture, including the two that copy Michelangelo’s sculpture. Goltzius must have conveyed to Matham his admiration of Michelangelo: Matham himself paid homage to Michelangelo in a portrait of the artist that he engraved in the last year of his life (Fig. 8.8): its inscription says that the “incomparable” Michelangelo was always kept in his memory.36 His admiration of Michelangelo was more personal, just as years before, his view of Michelangelo’s Risen Christ reflected his view of the sculpture. Bibliography Alberti, Alessia, Alessandro Rovetta, and Claudio Salsi, D’après Michelangelo: La fortuna di Michelangelo nelle stampe del Cinquecento (Milan: 2015). Amy, Michaël J. “Imagining Michelangelo’s St. Matthew in its Setting,” in Santa Maria del Fiore and Its Sculpture, ed. Margaret Haines, Acts of the International Symposium for the VII Centenary of the Cathedral of Florence (Fiesole: 2001), 149–66. Baldriga, Irene, “The First Version of Michelangelo’s Christ for S. Maria Sopra Minerva,” The Burlington Magazine 142 (2000), 740–45. Barnes, Bernadine, Michelangelo and the Viewer in his Time (London: 2017). Barnes, Bernadine, Michelangelo in Print: Reproductions as Response in the Sixteenth Century (Farnham: 2010). Bianchi, Silvia, “Contributi per l’opera incisa di Nicolas Beatrizet”, Rassegna di studi e di notizie Castello Sforzesco Milano 9 (1981), 47–48. Boorsch, Suzanne, Italian Masters of the Sixteenth Century. Vol. 29. Formerly Vol. 15 (part 2). The Illustrated Bartsch, ed. Walter L. Strauss (New York, 1982). Brandt, Aurelia, “Goltzius and the Antique”, Print Quarterly 18 (2001), 135–49. Bülow Clausen, Kristine. “The Flavian Isea in Beneventum and Rome”, Ph.D. Diss.: University of Copenhagen, 2014. Bury, Michael “Beatrizet and the ‘Reproduction’ of Antique Relief Sculpture”, Print Quarterly 13 (1996), 111–26. Carteggio di Michelangelo, 5 vols., Paola Barocchi and Renzo Ristori, eds. (Florence: 1965). Contratti di Michelangelo, ed. Lucilla Bardeschi Ciulich (Florence: 2005). 36

Widerkehr and Leeflang, Jacob Matham, pt. 2, 226 (Hollstein no. 249).

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Jacob Matham, Portrait of Michelangelo, 1630, engraving, 257 × 198 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-27.030 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

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Coonin, Arnold Victor, From Mable to Flesh: The Biography of Michelangelo’s David ([Florence], 2014). Danesi Squarzina, Silvia, “The Risen Christ,” Exh. Cat. Michelangelo and Sebastiano. London, National Gallery, London, 15.3.2017–25.6.2017, ed. Matthias Wivel (London: 2017), 173–81. Felini, Pietro Martire, Trattato nuovo delle cose maravigliose dell’alma città di Roma … Rome, Bartolomeo Zannetti, 1610. Reprint with foreword by Stephan Waetzoldt (Berlin: 1969). Franzini, Girolamo, Le Cose Maravigliose dell’alma Città di Roma, Flavia Cantatore, ed. (Venice/Rome: 1588/2012). Frommel, Christoph Luitpold, “Michelangelos ‘Auferstandener Christus’, seine erste Version, und der junge Bernini”, Artibus et Historiae 31 (2010), 15–34. Goddard, Stephen H., and James A. Ganz, Goltzius and the Third Dimension (Williams­ town: 2001). Greist, Alexandra, “Jacob Matham’s ‘The Savior with the Cross, Standing’ ”, Yale University Art Gallery Bulletin (2012), 116–19. Hirst, Michael, Michelangelo and His Drawings (New Haven and London: 1988). Hirst, Michael, Michelangelo. I: The Achievement of Fame 1475–1534 (New Haven and London: 2011). Keizer, Joost, “Site-Specificity”, in Michelangelo in the New Millennium, ed. Tamara Smithers (Leiden: 2016), 27–8. Kren, Thomas, “Christian Imagery and the Development of the Nude in Europe,” in The Renaissance Nude (Exh. Cat. J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, 2018), 19–23. Leuschner, Eckhard, “Francesco Villamena’s ‘Apotheosis of Alessandro Farnese’ and Engraved Reproductions of Contemporary Sculpture around 1600”, Simiolus: Netherlands Quarterly for the History of Art 27 (1999), 145–67. Melion, Walter S., “Karel van Mander’s ‘Life of Goltzius’: Defining the Paradigm of Protean Virtuosity in Haarlem around 1600”, Studies in the History of Art 27 (1989), 112–33. Nagel, Alexander, The Controversy of Renaissance Art (Chicago, 2010). Palladio, Andrea, The Churches of Rome, commentary and trans. by Eunice D. Howe (Binghamton: 1991). Panofsky-Soergel, Gerda, Michelangelos “Christus” und sein römischer Auftraggeber. Römische Studien der Bibliotheca Hertziana, Bd. 5. (Worms: 1991). Reznicek, E. K. J., Die Zeichnungen von Hendrick Goltzius: mit einem beschreibenden Katalog (Utrecht: 1961). Schwedes, Kerstin, “Historia” in “Statua”: Zur Eloquenz plastischer Bildwerke Michelangelos im Umfeld des Christus von Santa Maria sopra Minerva zu Rom (Frankfurt: 1998).

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Vasari, Giorgio, Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori scultori e architettori nelle redazioni del 1550 e del 1568, ed. Rosanna Bettarini and Paola Barocchi (Florence: 1987). Wallace, William E., “Michelangelo’s Risen Christ”, Sixteenth Century Journal 28 (1997), 1251–80. Weddigen, Tristan, “Italienreise als Tugendweg: Hendrick Goltzius’ ‘Tabula Cebetis’ ”, Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek, 54 (2003), 90–139. Widerkehr, Léna, and Huigen Leeflang, Jacob Matham [The New Hollstein] 3 vols. (Ouderkerk aan den IJssel, 2007). Widerkehr, Léna, “Jacob Matham Goltzij Privignus: Jacob Matham graveur et ses rapports avec Hendrick Goltzius”, Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek, 41/42 (1991), 219–60. Witcombe, Christopher L. C. E., Print Publishing in Sixteenth-Century Rome (London: 2008). Zöllner, Frank, Christof Thoenes and Thomas Pöpper, Michelangelo, 1475–1564: The Complete Works (Cologne, 2007).

Chapter 9

On the Genesis of Antonio Tempesta’s Print of Henry ii on Horseback Claudia Echinger-Maurach* The etching attributed to Antonio Tempesta, which shows the equestrian monument of the French king Henry II, seems to be the first representation in a reproductive print of a modern equestrian statue (Fig. 9.7).1 But in contrast to Tempesta’s etchings of the Marcus Aurelius monument (Fig. 9.8), and, later, of Giambologna’s equestrian statue of Cosimo I de’ Medici (Fig. 9.11), Tempesta’s etching shows a lost work of art. The statue had been destroyed in the French revolution in August 1792.2 Newly discovered drawings by Edmé Bouchardon provide us, however, with more exact information concerning the appearance of the horse in bronze than does Tempesta’s etching.3 Thus, the question arises: What are we being shown in the print? Moreover, what can we deduce from the print, as enlightening as it is, about the statue? To answer these questions, I shall first quickly review the history and the original projects for the monument to Henry II and the plans for its form.4 I will then turn to the characteristics concerning the kind of representation that was intended. The figure of a mighty and lively horse upon which sits Henry II, in a modern suit of armour, fill Tempesta’s sheet. The King holds in his left hand a * It is a pleasure for me to thank Maggie Daly Davis and Bernadine Barnes for translating and correcting this text. 1 The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 35: Antonio Tempesta, 365, no. 635; Liedtke, The Royal horse and rider, 68, 194–95, plate 58; Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, 159 and footnote 121; Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, TIB Commentary 35, Part II, 261, cat. 584. 2 Montaiglon, Notice, 66; Steinmann, “Die Zerstörung der Königsdenkmäler in Paris”, 340–343. 3 Echinger-Maurach, “Michelangelos und Daniele da Volterras Reiterdenkmal”, 256–261, figgs. 11–14. 4 Vasari, La Vita di Michelangelo nelle redazioni del 1550 e del 1568, vol. 4, 1946–1952; Campbell/ Corti, “A Comment on Prince Francesco de’ Medici’s Refusal”, 507–512; Boström, “Daniele da Volterra and the equestrian monument to Henry II of France”, 809–820; Id., “Daniele da Volterra, Ruberto Strozzi and the equestrian monument to Henry II of France”, 201–220; Starn, “Daniele da Volterra, Michelangelo, and the equestrian monument for Henry II of France: new documents”, 199–209; Exhib. Cat. Vita di Michelangelo, 137 (Marcella Marongiu); Exhib. Cat. Daniele da Volterra. Amico di Michelangelo, 158–159 (Alessandro Cecchi); Ciardi/ Moreschini, Daniele Ricciarelli. Da Volterra a Roma, 266–269, cat. 29 (Benedetta Moreschini); Echinger-Maurach, “Michelangelos und Daniele da Volterras Reiterdenkmal”, passim.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | doi:10.1163/9789004445864_011

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Figure 9.1

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Antonio Tempesta, Henry II on Horseback, ca. 1600, etching, 509 × 335 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1951, inv. 51.639.22 © Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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broken lance. Above, to the left, the artist represented the King’s coat of arms surrounded by the Collar of the Order of St. Michael. Above, to the right, the coat of arms of Nicolaus van Aelst’s protector, Cardinal Charles of Lorraine, is printed, to whom the editor dedicated the sheet, as is stated in the inscription to the right of the base. As Charles of Lorraine died in 1607, the print can be dated to before this year.5 A small, round face in the upper part of the volute looks upward, perhaps a signature of the editor? In the inscription to the left we read: “Effigies equi aenei operis Danielis Riccii Volterrani fieri iussit Reg(ina) Maria ob mem(oriam) reg(is) Henrici II felici memoria sui viri qui obiit in torniamentis”, which translates as “The figure of the bronze horse which Daniele Ricciarelli da Volterra at the behest of Queen Maria had had created in memory of her husband, King Henry II, who died in a tournament.” Maria de’ Medici, instead of Henry II’s former wife, Caterina, as commissioner of the work is incorrect.6 At the same time, however, this error provides evidence that the inscription cannot date to before 1600 since it was in that year that Maria de’ Medici became queen of France.7 All other declarations are verifiable through innumerable written testimonies and images.8 In other words, for his image Tempesta had before him only the horse in bronze, not the rider and not the base, in the Palazzo Rucellai in Rome: “Visitur Romae in Palatio ex Familia Rucellaia.” Recent research has shown that the horse was in the possession of Luigi Rucellai and in 1622 exported to France; Cardinal Richelieu acquired it, completed it with the statue of Louis XIII and erected this new monument on the Place Royale.9 Are we really dealing here with the representation of the horse in the courtyard of Palazzo Rucellai that according to reliable evidence came from the workshop of Daniele da Volterra and to which the figure of the King was added? Or do we have before us a pastiche assembled from differing models? We learn of this project first in a letter of Caterina de’ Medici to Michelangelo of 14 November 1559 subsequent to the death of her husband in the jousting tournament. The 84-year old Michelangelo accepted the commission and was able to secure, for the execution, the aid of Daniele.10 According to the contract the “statua della sacra Maestà” of the French King and his horse was to be executed 5 6 7 8 9 10

Montaiglon, Notice, 26; Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, TIB Commentary vol. 35, 261. Echinger-Maurach, “Michelangelos und Daniele da Volterras Reiterdenkmal”, 236–37. Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, 159 and footnote 121. Echinger-Maurach, “Michelangelos und Daniele da Volterras Reiterdenkmal”, passim. Boström, “Daniele da Volterra”, 809, footnote 7. Vittoria Romani, “Daniele da Volterra amico di Michelangelo”, in: Exhib. Cat. Daniele da Volterra. Amico di Michelangelo, 15–54, here 44–50. For the beginning of Daniele’s career as a sculptor see Vasari/Milanesi, Le opere, vol. 7, 62.

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in bronze “alquanto maggiore della grandezza di quello del Campidoglio” and to be completed within two years at the cost of 4,000 gold ducats; the casting workshop as well as “il cartone del disegno” are both documented as to being finished by the end of February, 1561.11 After some delays, the casting of the horse seems to have been completed before September 8, 1565. Daniele da Volterra died shortly thereafter on 4 April 1566.12 What pictorial documentation has survived? Rather surprisingly, Michelangelo’s design in the Rijksprentenkabinett offers us less a pure equestrian monument than a tomb crowned by a horse, an idea that Michelangelo himself developed independently (Fig. 9.2).13 The lower structure shows halfround niches for figures, flanked by termini, in the middle a rectangular field for relief sculpture. The smaller sides of the upper register show seats enframed by C-shaped arches in which figures are enthroned. Above the sarcophagus, the giant horse rises up in a lifelike forward stride. The artist defined the lines of the horse’s body at first slender and low, then markedly larger and fuller, in order that he be in better proportion to the powerful lower structure of the monument and, at the same time, to allow his energetically elaborated musculature to be better perceived. After this first draft, Michelangelo must have produced a second, more complete rendering of which the queen mother did not approve in all its parts. She informed the artist, through Bartolomeo del Bene on 30 October 1560, that the head of the statue of Henry should bear no locks and that the king be shown as realistically as possible. He should wear a modern suit of armour and the horse should bear a correspondingly modern harness.14 11 Il carteggio di Michelangelo, vol. 5, 243; Boström, “Daniele da Volterra”, 818–19, doc. 4; Starn, “Daniele da Volterra”, 207, doc. 4. Cfr. Gasparoni, “La casa di Michelagnolo Buonarroti”, 158–64, 177–80, 204–07, here 180: “Nella stanza di san Pietro: … Un disegno in cartone del cavallo …”. 12 Der literarische Nachlaß Giorgio Vasaris, vol. 2, 128–29. 13 Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. 1953:140, black chalk, white heightening; 125 × 124 mm. See Regteren Altena, Vereeniging Rembrandt, Verslag over de Jaren 1952 en 1953; Wilde, “Cartonetti by Michelangelo”, 378, 381; Dussler, Die Zeichnungen des Michelangelo, 149, cat. 244; Frerichs, Keuze van tekeningen, 26, no. 23; Tolnay, Michelangelo, V., 228–229, no. 265; Hartt, The Drawings of Michelangelo, 371, no. 534; Tolnay, Corpus, vol. 3, 84–85, Cat. 435 r; Echinger-Maurach, Studien zu Michelangelos Juliusgrabmal, vol. 1, 227–228; Exh. Cat. Maestri dell’invenzione. Disegni italiani del Rijksmuseum, 99–100, cat. 9 (Bert W. Meijer); Boström, “Daniele da Volterra”, 814; Ciardi/Moreschini, Daniele Ricciarelli, 269 (Benedetta Moreschini); Echinger-Maurach, “Michelangelos und Daniele da Volterras Reiterdenkmal”, 238–43; Bambach, Michelangelo, 235–36. 14 Il carteggio di Michelangelo, vol. 5, 237. Bartolomeo del Bene writes here on behalf of the former queen Caterina to Michelangelo: “[…] mi comandò di farvi intendere che vuole che voi ordiniate che la testa della statua del Re sia fatta senza ricci, et più simile al ritratto che sia possibile. Vuole l’armatura di qualche bella foggia alla moderna, et il fornimento

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Figure 9.2 Michelangelo, Sketch for the monument of Henry II, 1559, black chalk, white heightening, 125 × 124 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-T-1953-140 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

There are several chalk studies by Michelangelo in the Casa Buonarroti that fit with this phase of the monument’s realization, among which is a drawing del cavallo similmente. Hammi per due repliche imposto per la presente di pregarvi di haver l’occhio che la testa simigli più il detto signore che sia possibile […]”. For an important discussion of the problem of similitudo in equestrian monuments see Poeschke, Die Skulptur der Renaissance in Italien, vol. 1: Donatello und seine Zeit, 34–38.

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Figure 9.3

299

Vincenzo Borghini (attr.), Sketches after the model for the monument of Henry II, detail, ca. 1564 (?), pen, 181 × 253 mm, Munich, Staatliche Graphische Sammlung, inv. 35343b, no. 141 recto © Staatliche Graphische Sammlung, Munich

of a horse’s head with a similar harness and a right hand reaching forward.15 Taddeo Zuccari seems to have re-used similar designs in Caprarola.16 A further, more comprehensive testimonial are two drawings in the Graphische Sammlung in Munich, which Rudolf Wittkower has published (Fig. 9.3).17 We see a lower structure similar to that on the Amsterdam sheet 15 Echinger-Maurach, “Michelangelos und Daniele da Volterras Reiterdenkmal”, 261–63. 16 Ibid., 263–64. 17 Munich, Staatliche Graphische Sammlung, Inv.-Nr. 35343b, no. 141 recto (Bibiena Klebeband II, no. 141 verso); pen and brown ink, 181 × 253 mm. Recto and Verso are today attributed to Vincenzo Borghini. At least the Recto has to be dated before July, 14th 1564, when the exequies for Michelangelo were celebrated; see Zeitler, Architektur als Bild und Bühne, 264–265, cat. 147 (with further bibliography); Kusch-Arnhold, “Solcher Tugend gebührte nicht weniger! Die Exequien Michelangelo Buonarrotis und das Grabmal des Künstlers”, 70–71 and footnote 32 (attribution to Zanobi Lastricati or the circle of Benvenuto Cellini); Echinger-Maurach, “Michelangelos und Daniele da Volterras Reiterdenkmal”, 243–45.

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though somewhat changed. More important, however is the view of the rider on his horse. The artist evidently had before him a three-dimensional model. Not only Vasari speaks of a “modelletto” but the inventory of possessions drawn up at the death of Daniele da Volterra lists in his bedroom “dua cavalli con li huomini di cera”.18 How do these drawings differ from Michelangelo’s? Apart from the more refined lower structure the horse now appears ambling though still possessing the same stature as that in Michelangelo’s drawing. A helmet fills the space beneath the upraised foreleg.19 The ruler, turning outwards towards his right, is nude and without a headpiece but with a cloak blowing out behind him. Looking more closely one sees further lines, which seem to define the contours of a modern suit of armour. His face and left arm turn forward, upon his lower right arm lies a scepter. On the whole the idea seems ever more persuasive that the two sketches in Munich represent Daniele da Volterra’s rendering of the model carried out according to Michelangelo’s specifications, that as a cartoon and also as a bozzetto were to be seen in the workshop. Of these, the second of both “cavalli con li huomini di cera”, represents possibly the statues adjusted to the desires of the Queen, which show her consort in a modern suit of armour.20 What do we really know about the further fate of the monument, that is, about the cast horse? In the first half of the year 1567 Caterina de’ Medici attempted (through the graces of Cardinal Giovanni Ricci and later by means of a letter she wrote directly to Francesco de’ Medici) to encourage the Prince to allow his sculptor, Giambologna, to finish the monument to her consort. Francesco’s responses were negative.21 A statement in Vasari’s life of Daniele da Volterra of 1568, and a letter by the Secretary of the Duke of Savoy of December 1583, show that Daniele’s collaborators and heirs to his artistic works, Michele Alberti und Feliciano di San Vito, executed after Daniele’s death a life-size model of the figure of the King in order to complete the commission on their own. Why this 18 Gasparoni, “La casa di Michelagnolo Buonarroti”, 179. Since the artist had worked as a sculptor only for a few years and created no other equestrian monument, it is likely that these models were made for the monument in France. Vasari had also known of a modelletto di terra, created by Daniele “secondo il consiglio e giudizio di Michelagnolo”, which was much esteemed by Roberto Strozzi (Vasari/Milanesi, Le opere, vol 7, 66). 19 Cfr. the engraving after the lost monument of Henry de Montmorency; cfr. Evelyn, “The equestrian bronzes of Hubert Le Sueur”, 143, fig. 2; Minning, Giovan Francesco Rustici, 185–206. 20 According to a document from February 1566 Catherine wanted to send or sent through the Grand Écuyer Claude Gouffier a “harnois de guerre” of king Henry II to Rome; cfr. Adhémar, “Le cheval blanc de Fontainebleau”, 298, footnote 3. 21 Campbell/Corti, “A Comment”, 511–12.

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came to naught remains unclear.22 Perhaps the Queen mother was not inclined to employ ‘third rate’ artists to complete the monument. The clay model of the King was already in a ruinous state23 by 1583 when Carlo Emanuele I, Duke of Savoy, sought to acquire the bronze horse by Daniele for a monument to his father Emanuele Philiberto.24 This attempt would never have been made had Caterina not already in some way distanced herself from finishing the monument to her consort, seeking in this case to find some reasonable ‘placement’ for the horse, a possibility hitherto not discussed. Caterina’s plan was either to present the work as a gift to the Tuscan Duke (which would have been then of some importance for Giambologna’s equestrian statue of Cosimo) or else to erect it in front of San Luigi dei Francesi in Rome, or at the palace of the Medici next to the church.25 According to a report of Girolamo Ferrucci (which, parenthetically, contains numerous errors),26 Henry III of France had presented the horse to Orazio Rucellai, which would seem surprising, inasmuch as the King was in no way the owner of the work.27 Caterina died only in 1589.28 Since the Palazzo Rucellai was still under construction in 1584 it is likely that the bronze 22 Documenti inediti …, vol. 2, 401: Jacomo Corte to the duke of Savoy: “Che dopuo [sic] la morte di M.ro Danielle detti due giovini soi compagni feccero all’instanza del Ruccelai hora Vescovo di Carcassona [i.e. Annibale Rucellai], che pur si trova qui di presente, alcune cose per compir il Cavallo, cioè la coda et altre minutie co’l modello de la statua del predetto Re che pur anche adesso si trova sopra detto cavallo; Ma per quello viddi avant’hieri, parmi che se ne vaddi in roina”. For Michele Alberti see Pugliatti, Giulio Mazzoni e la decorazione a Roma, 301–02. 23 Cfr. fn. 21. 24 Cfr. Documenti inediti …, 401–04; Schede Vesme, L’arte in Piemonte dal XVI al XVII secolo, vol. 3, 926–927, s.v. Ricciarelli Daniele (Alessandro Baudi di Vesme); Kliemann, “Federico Zuccari e la Galleria grande di Torino”, 317–346, here 334–335. For duke Emanuele Philiberto of Savoy see Cloulas, Henri II, 407–593. 25 Documenti inediti …, 403: Jacomo Corte to the duke of Savoy on January 1st 1584. 26 Fulvio, L’antichità di Roma …, fol. 320 r–321 r; Lanciani, Storia degli scavi di Roma, vol. 4, 102–03. Ferrucci’s notes on Daniele’s work contain some errors: The horse was neither cast in 1563 or 1564, nor was King Henry II himself the commissioner, and his death as well as the war within France were hardly the reasons that the monument was not completed. To these erroneous statements that Ferrucci will have learned from Michele Alberti might be added the assertion that the horse weighed 25000 pounds. 27 For a biography of Orazio Rucellai see Zaccaria, “I Rucellai da Firenze a Roma”, 67–79, here 72–76. After Daniele’s death the Rucellai saw to having an inventory drawn up by a notary; see Gasparoni, “La casa di Michelagnolo Buonarroti”, 178. They had met the artist probably through his patron, their uncle Giovanni Della Casa; cfr. Romani, “Daniele da Volterra”, 44–48. 28 It is supposed, based on this very uncertain statement, that this might have been the reason for the gift; cfr. Adhémar, “Le cheval blanc”, 300, fn. 7. An indication to a debt of the King (cfr. Bertolotti, Le arti minori alla corte di Mantova, 70–71), can in no way be seen in connection with Daniele’s bronze horse.

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statue was transferred in the year of its completion, 1586, making this a first terminus post quem for dating Tempesta’s etching.29 The latest research about the Palazzo Rucellai, today Palazzo Ruspoli in the Via del Corso, allows us to show where the bronze horse was erected, namely in Ammannati’s vaulted portico which opens onto to the palace garden.30 The first modern aemulatio of the monument to Marcus Aurelius was admired here by many Italian and foreign visitors.31 How might we imagine, however, the genesis of Tempesta’s representation? The etching originated evidently as a commission by Nicolaus van Aelst who was active as a printer in Rome in the years between 1585 and 1613.32 According to Eckhard Leuschner, van Aelst assembled prints representing the topography of Rome and the ancient as well as single modern monuments – the Roman she-wolf for example (Fig. 9.4) – which the publisher sold as omnibus volumes or loose, i.e. unbound, albums in the hopes of achieving the same success as had Lafrery with his Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae.33 The technique with which one produced the folio pages was new, however: instead of copper plate engravings, van Aelst produced etchings.34 Among these evidently was the somewhat clumsy folio with the projected new disposition of the Horse Tamers on the Quirinal by Sixtus V. dated 1589 (Fig. 9.5).35 Tempesta copied an engraving by Natale Bonifacio after a design for the erection and reconstruction of the horses by Giovanni Guerra.36 Leuschner, quite correctly, emphasised 29 30

Sandro Benedetti, “L’architettura”, 150–151. Ibid., 164–167. Still in May 1611 the horse in bronze is listed in the inventory of the Casa Rucellai; cfr. Fiorani, “I Caetani nel Palazzo al Corso” 81 (Inventory of 1606), 83, footnote 13. Contrary to what one often reads, the horse did not come to France owing in any way to Richelieu but rather it was inherited by one of the sons of Horatio Rucellai, Luigi, who lived in Paris; cfr. Boström, “Daniele da Volterra”, 809, fn. 7; Boström, “Ruberto Strozzi”, 211, fn. 4: “1622 16 février. – Monseigneur Russellai (sic), clerc de la chambre, importe en France le cheval de bronze qui se trouve dans son palais situé au Corso …”. 31 Armenini, De’ veri precetti della pittura, 14; Lomazzo, Scritti sulle arti, vol. 2, 548; Felini, Trattato nuovo delle cose maravigliose dell’alma città di Roma …, 345; cfr. Gasparoni, “La casa di Michelagnolo Buonarroti”, 205, fn. 4. Concerning the report of Heinrich von Pflaumern (published in 1625), which is, in essence, based on the statements of Girolamo Ferrucci, see Montaiglon, Notice, 26–28. Ferrucci also illustrated in his new edition of Andrea Fulvio’s L’antichità di Roma a small but successful woodcut of the bronze shown in reverse; see Fulvio, L’antichità di Roma, fol. 320 r; Lanciani, Storia degli scavi, 102. 32 Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, 155–163. 33 Ibid., 155–61. 34 For the origins of this technique see ibid., 246–74. 35 The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 35: Antonio Tempesta, 285, no. 557; Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, TIB Commentary 35, 99, cat. 494. 36 Ibid.; Haskell/Penny, Taste and the Antique, 136. The new erection of the horses took place in 1589–91 and in accord with a differing concept by Domenico Fontana.

On the Genesis of Antonio Tempesta ’ s Print

Figure 9.4

Anonymous (ed. N. van Aelst), Signum Lupae, ca. 1585–90, engraving and etching, Wolfenbüttel, Herzog August Bibliothek © Photo: Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, 157, fig. 5.30

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Antonio Tempesta, Alexander and Bucephalus, 1589, etching, 362 × 468 mm © Photo: The Illustrated Bartsch, Antonio Tempesta, Italian Masters of the Sixteenth Century, vol. 35, 285

the orthogonal disposition of both antiquities against a white background as well as the overly rich record of information regarding the sculptures as if the explanatory text should be integrated in some way into the print.37 With this observation, several characteristics of Tempesta’s representations of the equestrian monument of Marcus Aurelius as well as that of Henry II are established. I suspect also that Tempesta’s model was his own copy after Beatrizet’s engraving of Marcus Aurelius of 1548 (Fig. 9.6, 9.7).38 The 37 Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, 157; Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, TIB Commentary 35, 99, cat. 494; Rubach, Ant. Lafreri, 35–36. 38 For Beatrizet’s print of the Marcus Aurelius see The Illustrated Bartsch, The Italian Masters of the Sixteenth Century, vol. 29, 348, no. 87; Landau/Parshall, The Renaissance Print, 305–307; Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, TIB Commentary 35, 101, no. 495 (The dating accords with the stemma of Odoardo Farnese, who became cardinal in 1591). For Tempesta’s print of the statue of Marc Aurel see The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 35, 286, no. 558; Exh. Cat. Il Campidoglio e Sisto V, 100; Bury, “Beatrizet and the ‘Reproduction’ ”,

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Nicolas Béatrizet, Equestrian statue of Marc Aurel, 1548, engraving, 360 × 243 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, inv. 53.600.855 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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Antonio Tempesta, Equestrian statue of Marc Aurel, ca. 1591, etching, 466 × 337 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-H-H-350 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

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comparison is illuminating particularly concerning Tempesta’s approach: Béatrizet’s representation is somewhat simplified; at the same time, however, it is brought up to date and enriched with information and decorative forms. Aside from many details, the stance of the horse and the turning of its head and neck – so obvious in Beatrizet’s image – are also simplified and somewhat flattened out in Tempesta’s representation. The same may be noted regarding the base. Béatrizet shows the base that Michelangelo had originally planned; Tempesta represents the base that is truly to be seen on the Capitol, namely the base with the “membretti”, or corner pieces between the sides and the rounding of the pedestal, necessary to lend a greater stability of the construction.39 As well as he had noticed this particularity, however, Tempesta neglected the actual height and proportion of the base and he added in the front and back of the pedestal the coats of arms. In comparison, one can only admire Béatrizet’s ability to show the curving forms of both the pedestal itself and the horse. Tempesta on the other hand renders the representation in an unclear manner by means of his inconsistent shading of the pedestal as well as the faulty foreshortening of the profiles of the plate above the base. These observations should forewarn us then when examining Tempesta’s rendering of Henry II. The equestrian monument shows itself as symmetrical to the Marcus Aurelius monument as if it had been planned from the beginning as a companion piece in the album.40 The larger format of the print may be due to the fact, that the size of Daniele’s horse is about 30 cm larger than that of Marcus Aurelius (Fig. 9.8).41 The statue base, decorated with rhythmically arranged termini and a central relief are reminiscent – not in the form but in the motives – of Michelangelo’s and Daniele da Volterra’s designs. Tempesta had evidently informed himself with the two above-mentioned heirs to the Daniele da Volterra workshop. The base is now – in comparison to that of Marcus Aurelius – completely square-edged, the appearance of the upper plate on the base very reduced. A wide strip of shadow underlines the light, which 122; Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, TIB Commentary 35, 101, no. 495; Barnes, Michelangelo in Print, 126–128; Rubach, Ant. Lafreri, 320, cat. 310. 39 For the base of the Marc Aurel and the question of the “membreti” see Künzle, “Die Aufstellung des Reiters vom Lateran durch Michelangelo”, passim; De Angelis d’Ossat/ Pietrangeli, Il Campidoglio di Michelangelo, 32–33; James S. Ackerman, “The Capitoline Hill”, in Distance Points, 385–416; Thies, Michelangelo. Das Kapitol, 151–52; Parisi Presicce, “Michelangelo e la decorazione scultorea della piazza Capitolina”, 143–146. 40 Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, TIB Commentary 35, 261. Thus, Leuschner also suspects that the engraving of Henry II might have been done before 1600 and published only after 1600. 41 This I conclude from Bouchardon’s measurements; see Echinger-Maurach, “Michelangelos und Daniele da Volterras Reiterdenkmal”, 261.

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Figure 9.8

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Edmé Bouchardon, Equestrian statue of Louis XIII, black crayon, 600 × 460 mm, Paris, musée du Louvre, département des Arts graphiques, inv. 24349, recto © Musée du Louvre, dist. RMN-Grand Palais – Photo L. Chastel

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arrives at the sculpture from the right. The relief in the center shows a battle, the troops armed with lances and the powerful commander, who springs forward, bearing the same weapon. The fallen enemies on the ground leave no doubt concerning his victory. The scene is so similar to other battle scenes by Tempesta that it completely (just as the form of the base) may be considered his own invention.42 A comparison of the horse with Michelangelo’s sketch in Amsterdam (Fig. 9.2), while showing some similarities, also reveals great differences. Michelangelo sketched his horse in a natural forward movement. Even though the rider is not visible, he is suggested by the reaction of the horse to the pressure exerted upon him by the rider’s thighs and by his pulling on the reins. Thus constrained to endure his rider’s biddings, the horse holds his head high and inclined slightly to one side. Bouchardon’s drawings of the horse seen from the front, which attempt to capture the graceful contraposition of head and raised gait forward, indicate this in an unmistakeable fashion.43 Nonetheless precisely this elegant contrapposto, with which Michelangelo attempts to emulate the statue of Marcus Aurelius, cannot be perceived in Tempesta’s etching. The motive is diffused flatly over the surface. In Bouchardon’s rendering the horse also appears less strong in the musculature and less affected in the bending of his limbs (Fig. 9.8). Tempesta had evidently drawn the joints of the raised hind leg bent in an exaggerated way. Moreover, he strengthened, in naturalistic manner, the joints of the raised foreleg of Marcus Aurelius’s steed in respect to the actual work. One must keep in mind that Tempesta, thanks to his training in the studio of Giovanni Stradano, was well-instructed in the study of horses: He was a specialist in horse hunts and became famous for his series of “Horses of different peoples”, of 1590.44 In the series of the “First twelve Roman Emperors” Tempesta continued his monumentalizing compositions of the rulers on horseback placed against a white background (Fig. 9.9).45 Yet how did he design the figure of the king? One can hardly accept the thesis that Tempesta had seen a plaster model of the king on the bronze steed

42 Cfr. Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, 226, fig. 7.9. 43 Echinger-Maurach, “Michelangelos und Daniele da Volterras Reiterdenkmal”, 257–261 and fig. 14. 44 The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 36: Antonio Tempesta, 184–212, no. 941–968. Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, 111–14, 388–89. These studies of horses were made close to Galle’s reproductions of Giovanni Stradano’s “Equile Johannis Austriaci” of 1578. For Tempesta’s horse hunts see Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, 392–95, 399–400, 402–27. 45 The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 35, 326–337, no. 596–607; Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, 369–72.

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Figure 9.9

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Antonio Tempesta, Sergius Galba, ca. 1596, etching, 292 × 227 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1951, inv. 51.501.3480 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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since no visitor to the Palazzo Rucellai mentions such a model.46 There is, however, no lack of drawings and paintings of the French rulers of the 16th century on horseback, which might have served him.47 The inventory made after the death of Daniele da Volterra also notes “Due ritratti del Re di Francia, uno di gesso, et uno pitto in un quadro”.48 We also possess, in a drawing, an equestrian portrait of Henry II by an unknown artist and the same sitter in a painting executed by François Clouet.49 In contrast to the French examples, however, Tempesta shows us the King without a saddle and bridle; he sits on a saddlecloth decorated with lilies. As is the case with Marcus Aurelius, the horse responds simply to the pressure exerted by the rider’s thighs – that is, without the employment of stirrups holding him to his horse and this despite the fact that he is armoured from head to foot. The suit of armour – Henry II was interested in the art of armoury50 – is noticeably plain und without ornament. Only around his shoulders does the King bear the collar of the Order of St. Michael. Thus the remarkable engraved portrait by Nicolas Béatrizet, executed around 1558, will have served as a model not only for the portrait head of Henry II but also for his unadorned armour (Fig. 9.10).51 Should the figure of the King, however, turn out to be a pastiche of Béatrizet’s portrait and that of Marcus Aurelius, it seems that the etcher had only something that was not very clear from which to work. In the drawing in Munich the King is also seated on a blanket, not on a saddle. Stirrups and bridle are lacking as they are in Tempesta’s etching (Fig. 9.3). The poses of both figures correspond to one another. In both cases, the rider turns outwards to the right with his left arm held forward. Nonetheless, there are differences. Daniele da Volterra’s rider bends his legs less strongly and he looks ahead. He is dressed in a cloak, which blows out behind him, a motive, which as on ancient coins serves as a transition to the horse’s croup. Furthermore, he does not possess a broken tournament lance in his right hand but rather he seems to be holding a long scepter as the emperor on the reverse of a coin of Antoninus Pius.52

46 Bresc-Bautier, “La statue de Louis XIII (1559–1639)”, 102. Cfr. supra fn. 30. 47 See Adhémar, Le dessin français au XVIe siècle, 131, fig. 54, 130, fig. 62, 132, fig. 70, 134; Zerner, “Le portrait de Henry II”, 21–30. 48 Gasparoni, “La casa di Michelagnolo Buonarroti”, 179. 49 Adhémar, Le dessin français, 131, no. 54; Boström, “Ruberto Strozzi”, fig. 11.2; EchingerMaurach, “Michelangelos und Daniele da Volterras Reiterdenkmal”, 249. 50 Ibid., 250–51. 51 The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 29, 245, no. 3-II.; Grivel, “La répresentation du pouvoir”, 36–7. 52 Bergemann, Römische Reiterstatuen, Plate 93 b.

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Figure 9.10

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Nicolas Béatrizet, Second Portrait of Henry II, 1558, engraving, 480 × 322 mm, Melbourne, National Gallery of Victoria, Everard Studley Miller Bequest, 1959, inv. 417–5 © National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne

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Tempesta thus seems to have chosen a pictorial appearance for the King, who as in many equestrian portraits of French kings, looks out in an amiable fashion, not an image of the King riding forward. Tempesta could have chosen as a model Béatrizet’s first portrait of Henry II, which showed him in profile.53 Instead, however, he decided upon the three-quarter view (Fig. 9.10) and thus gained the possibility of additionally filling the pictorial space between the two coats of arms by means of the significant attribute of the raised lance. What might we conclude from this? The drawings, which we have discussed in connection with Michelangelo and Daniele da Volterra, do not show a splintered lance. First of all that would not have been a particularly tactful attribute. Caterina de’Medici would remember forever the terrible event, which brought about her consort’s death. She had even ordered to have the Hôtel des Tournelles, where the accident occurred, torn down.54 The folio therefore can only have been elaborated after her death in 1589.55 Was the lance at least an appropriate attribute for the King of France? In fact, the answer must be no. It was fitting for a condottiere like Giovanni delle Bande Nere.56 Was the attribute then a free invention of Tempesta? His aim was to create a modern counterpart to the etching of Marcus Aurelius, which might be sold as a pair to travellers to Rome. Thus, he could in no case portray the steed without a rider. By means of the fictive relief on the base Tempesta showed Henry II as a victorious warrior in battle. The raised lance in the hand of the rider was therefore a suitably chosen attribute. It recalled to the purchaser of the etching at the same time also the tournament casualty when the King lost his life, an event recorded by Tempesta in the inscription on the left.57 Up until this time, only works serving Huguenot propaganda represented, as one might imagine, the death of Henry II at the jousts and his death were interpreted as an intervention of the Lord.58 Tempesta created in his etching a work for viewers which, in this fiction, they might understand as the first modern equestrian monument in emulation of the monument to Marcus Aurelius; they might delight in the portrait 53 The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 29, 244, no. 3-I. 54 For the Hotel des Tournelles see Baudouin-Matuszek, “L’hôtel des Tournelles”, 27–38; Pérouse de Montclos, Philibert De l’Orme, 232–33; to Catherine’s tearing down of the Hotel des Tournelles see ibid., 233 (with bibliography). 55 This leads to a dating of the etching to around or after 1591 and a publishing date between 1600 and 1607. 56 Echinger-Maurach, “Michelangelos und Daniele da Volterras Reiterdenkmal”, 264. 57 Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, 197, fn. 121. After Catherine’s death in 1589, her feelings were also no longer hurt. The two etchings, however, did not sell very well. 58 Pérouse de Montclos, Philibert De l’Orme, 239.

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of the King and, through the relief on the base and the attribute of his military success, also be painfully touched by the memory of his death. Historicizing additions and the emotional overlay beyond the representation of the statue itself anticipate the imbedding of the equestrian monument of Cosimo de’Medici in a landscape with an undulating battle scene in the background, which Tempesta will create in 1608 (Fig. 9.11).59 It is worthwhile observing in this later print how the single elements of this print are granted a life of their own. The larger size of the leaf permits winged puttoes to bring over the grand-ducal coat of arms and device into the upper corners. The double socle of the monument is narrower and considerably higher than that of the original. In this way, the commander on horseback is elevated not only above the battle-scene, nay, even above the mountains of the landscape high up into the sky. The bronze embellishments on the socle Tempesta discarded; instead, inscriptions on the white surfaces praise the represented person and the artist, who created the whole, Giambologna. The changes, which the equestrian, his horse as well as the equipment underwent, need to be mentioned. Tempesta chose the view from the right from which side the original exhibits the important commander’s staff, but hardly the archduke’s face which he turns towards the Piazza and which the etching shows in profile in order to make it recognizable. The equestrian sets his foot into a stirrup, the reins however Tempesta omitted, as being to petty a detail, on this print like on that for Henry II. The horse’s mane raised like a row of little flames and the long and rich tail attracted Tempesta’s special attention. He further made the horse stand on two hoofs only, a fact which the original does not show, but which points out to the looker-on that Giambologna by this ruse mastered a special problem of statics. The glorification of the grand duke as a field-marshal reaches a hight that prompts one to say that Tempesta exempted him from all temporal restrictions and made him dwell in eternity. This impression, however, is created by the etching only and not by the sight of the monument on the Florentine Piazza.60 One realizes by means of such a comparison with the print of the monument for Henry II how independently the artist makes facts fit his personal aims and also how greatly he enhanced and enlarged his means of expression when working on the later print of 1608.

59 The Illustrated Bartsch, vol. 35, 367, no. 637; Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, 359–60; Leuschner, Antonio Tempesta, TIB Commentary 35, 265, cat. no. 586. 60 Cfr. Leuschner, “Francesco Villamena’s Apotheosis of Alessandro Farnese”, 167.

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Antonio Tempesta, Equestrian Statue of Cosimo I., 1608, etching, 495 × 377 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-37.733 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

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Bibliography Ackerman, James S., “The Capitoline Hill”, in Distance Points. Essays in Theory and Renaissance Art and Architecture (Cambridge, Mass.: 1991), 385–416. Adhémar, Jean, “Le cheval blanc de Fontainebleau”, Gazette des Beaux-Arts 36 (1949), 297–300. Adhémar, Jean, Le dessin français au XVIe siècle (Lausanne: 1954). Armenini, Giovanni Battista, De’ veri precetti della pittura (Ravenna: 1587). Bambach, Carmen, Michelangelo. Divine Craftsman and Designer, Exh. Cat. Metropolitan Museum, New York (New Haven and London: 2017). Barnes, Bernadine, Michelangelo in Print. Reproductions as Response in the Sixteenth Century (Farnham: 2010). Baudouin-Matuszek, Marie-Noëlle, “L’hôtel des Tournelles”, in De la place Royale à la place des Vosges, ed. Alexandre Gady (Paris: 1996), 27–38. Benedetti, Sandro, “L’architettura”, in: Fondazione Memmo. Palazzo Ruspoli, ed. Carlo Pietrangeli (Rome: 1992), 139–184. Bergemann, Johannes, Römische Reiterstatuen. Ehrendenkmäler im öffentlichen Bereich (Beiträge zur Erschließung hellenistischer und kaiserzeitlicher Skulptur und Architektur, vol. 11) (Mainz: 1990). Bertolotti, Antonio, Le arti minori alla corte di Mantova nei secoli XV, XVI e XVII (Milan: 1889), 70–71. Boström, Antonia, “Daniele da Volterra and the equestrian monument to Henry II of France”, The Burlington Magazine 137 (1995), 809–20. Boström, Antonia, “Daniele da Volterra, R. Strozzi and the equestrian monument to Henry II of France”, in: The Sculpted Object, 1400–1700, ed. Stuart Currie and Peta Motture (Aldershot: 1997), 201–20. Bresc-Bautier, Geneviève, “La statue de Louis XIII (1559–1639)”, in De la place Royale à la place des Vosges, ed. Alexandre Gady (Paris: 1996), 100–105. Bury, Michael, “Beatrizet and the ‘Reproduction’ of Antique Relief Sculpture”, Print Quarterly 13 (1996), 111–126. Campbell, Malcolm, and Gino Corti, “A Comment on Prince Francesco de’Medici’s Refusal To Loan Giovanni Bologna to the Queen of France”, The Burlington Magazine 115 (1973), 507–12. Ciardi, Roberto Paolo, and Benedetta Moreschini, Daniele Ricciarelli. Da Volterra a Roma (Milan: 2004). Cloulas, Ivan, Henri II (Paris: 1985). Daniele da Volterra. Amico di Michelangelo, Exh. Cat., ed. Vittoria Romani (Florence: 2003). De Angelis d’Ossat, Guglielmo, and Carlo Pietrangeli, Il Campidoglio di Michelangelo (Milan: 1965).

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Chapter 10

Sculpture’s Narrativity in Northern Renaissance Prints Franciszek Skibiński In Northern Renaissance prints, images of sculptures were frequently used as a tool in building complex pictorial and semantic structures. In particular, depictions of sculptures served as a device enhancing the narrative potential of these prints. To serve that purpose they were often detached from their original referents, turning into simulacra capable of invoking various associations in commenting or complementing the represented narrative. Their importance lied in the encounter with a different type of object whose identity resulted from its artistic, cultural, and historical properties. The use of images of sculpture as a narrative device and their recontextualization were closely linked phenomena as depictions of sculpture had to acquire a degree of modality to become a useful tool in the building of a pictorial narrative. In what is to follow, I will draw attention to several examples illustrative of this phenomenon in an attempt to show the different strategies applied by the print creators, and, in a broader perspective, also to enhance our understanding of the complexity of a cross-cultural encounter in Renaissance Europe. The problem of narrativity in the visual arts is a complex one, engaging scholars from many disciplines taking diverse methodological approaches. One of the key problems is the fact that narrativity is a structure that has temporality as its ultimate referent.1 In the visual arts, however, it is usually the one event which is elaborated on. A work of visual art would typically show a moment or moments crucial for the story – by which I mean all possible narratives including biblical and mythological ones – intended to impact the viewer. Extending the temporal dimension of the event is therefore crucial for shaping a narrative in the visual arts. At the same time an event, or a succession of events visualized in an artwork must retain cohesivity in order to convey its intended meaning. Here, a reference to Paul Ricoeur’s analysis of narrative time may be helpful: “following the story is less important than apprehending the well-known end as implied in the beginning and the well-known episodes as leading to this end. 1 Ricoeur, “Narrative Time”, 169.

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Here again, the time is not abolished by the teleological structure of the judgment which grasps together the events under the heading the end”.2 The act of “grasping together” and comprehending the story based on the homogeneous and instantly available object plays the key role in the reception process in the visual arts. As relatively small items designed to handle and to contemplate, prints were particularly prone to this kind of response. As meaningful items that could be easily inserted into a scene and had a potential of evoking various associations, images of sculptures offered pictorial artists a convenient tool to enrich and expand narrative structures. To serve that purpose, images of sculptures, especially those of ancient statues, were often detached from their original referents. The process of decontextualization of sculpture images in Northern Renaissance prints is represented by works depicting isolated antique-inspired statues, such as the series of etchings by Antonio Fantuzzi published around 1540–45.3 (Fig. 10.1) Another example is a series of nine engravings by an anonymous artist published in Antwerp probably by Hieronymus Cock in the mid-16th century.4 Such images were likely inspired by drawings after ancient sculptures brought from Italy, such as the studies taken to France by Francesco Primaticcio in 1540 and used by Fantuzzi.5 Nonetheless, even if most images in Fantuzzi’s series were based on actual ancient pieces, they can hardly be described as reproductive. While the use of drawings after genuine sculptures should enhance the link with their printed images, geographical distance and cultural difference resulted in a considerable level of detachment from the realities of the original sculptural referents. In this, Northern prints differ considerably from contemporary Italian printed images of Roman antiquities which fulfilled the informative function to a much greater extent.6 A short text informing of the theme, localization, or material of each sculpture appears already in the series by Giovanni Battista de’ Cavalieri, issued around the same time as Fantuzzi’s series. Similarly, the great majority of prints published by Antonio Lafreri which belong to the category of Antichità di Roma show clearly defined ancient pieces, usually captioned and provided with basic information. This approach, with the focus gradually shifting towards major collections, was later promoted by such important series as Lafreri’s Speculum romanae magnificentiae and Lorenzo Vaccari’s 2 Ricoeur, “Narrative Time”, 179. 3 Zerner, Ecole de Fontainebleau, figs. A.F.84–A.F.109. 4 Van Grieken, “Female Antique Statues”. 5 Cooper, Roman Antiquities, 136. See also Pressouyre, “Les Fontes de Primatice”, and Boucher, “Leone Leoni”. 6 See, for instance, Rubach, “Rom als Kategorie”, and Kuhn-Forte, “Römische Antikensammlungen”.

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Figure 10.1 Antonio Fantuzzi (after Francesco Primaticcio), Woman Turned to the Right, 1540–45, etching, 259 × 103 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1959, inv. 59.596.19 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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Antiquarum statuarum urbis Romae. In contrast, the abovementioned French and Netherlandish series lack any direct references to original sculptures. Fantuzzi refers to Rome only by inscribing the name of Latino Giovenale, Paul III’s commissioner of antiquities, who facilitated Primaticcio’s work in the eternal city.7 Without accompanying written descriptions, a viewer would experience difficulties to determine the figures’ identity. Decontextualized from their viewing context and physical materiality, images of ancient statues become largely independent of their actual, material referents. Re-entering the discourse in a new environment, such images could be variously perceived by the receivers, who applied their own cultural experience. Absorbed by a different culture, images of sculptures gained new connotations, their impact extending beyond artistic and humanistic interests. Their meaning could thus fluctuate, as the relation between the signifier and the signified depended on many variables, most importantly the cultural formation of the viewer. As noted for instance by W. J. T. Mitchell, in no epoch was there a single, or even a dominant, type of observer.8 In the simplest form, images of sculptures were used as symbolic devices complementing the main subject. This is well demonstrated by Maarten van Heemskerck’s “meaningful allegories” – to quote Karel van Mander – from the The Vain Hope for Worldly Gain series of 1550.9 (Fig. 10.2) One of the etchings executed by Dirck Volckertsz. Coornhert shows a man assisted by a devil, putting a large statue standing on a plinth and holding an anchor on a sack of money.10 The figure, which stands in a classicizing contrapposto and is clad in antique garment, was certainly based on Heemskerck’s studies of ancient sculpture he made in Rome in the 1530s.11 Making these drawings, the artist did not intend to create simply a typical repertory of ready-to-use motifs that could be easily inserted into his painting upon his return to the North to boost his career.12 Instead, Heemskerck’s Roman drawings bear testimony to his creative faculty stimulated by the intimate encounter with ancient sculptures. In this particular print, Heemskerck transformed ancient statuary to a traditional personification of hope as it was depicted in paintings as well as in architectural décor, ephemeral architecture, and tombs. In the result, the print’s subject was easily readable to the viewers as a misplacement of the theological virtue. 7 8 9 10 11 12

Cooper, Roman Antiquities, 136. Mitchell, Picture Theory, 20–21. Van Mander, The Lives, vol. 1, 245 (fol. 246v). Veldman, Netherlandish Artists. Dirck Volkertsz. Coornhert, 213. On these drawings see, among others, Veldman, “Maarten van Heemskerck”; Bartsch, “Praktiken”, Veldman, “The Roman Sketchbooks”, Bartsch, “Von Gossaert bis Goltzius”. Veldman, “Roman Sketchbooks”, 19.

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Figure 10.2

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Dirck Volckertsz. Coornhert (after Maarten van Heemskerck), Man placing Hope on Money, from the series The Vain Hope for Worldly Gain, 1550, etching and engraving, 275 × 198 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-1984–8 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

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In this print the image of sculpture does not engage with the temporal dimension of the scene depicted. However, representations of fictive sculptures often served as a narrative device reaching into the structure of time, contextualizing a scene and enhancing its narrative potential. A fine example illustrative of this capacity is provided by another print executed by Coornhert after a design by Maarten van Heemskerck which presents the Elders trying to seduce Susanna.13 (Fig. 10.3) Susanna is shown from behind, her pose reminiscent of one of the Three Graces appearing on the walls of the Farnesina, which were certainly known to the artist, who made a drawing after them.14 Next to her stands a large figure of Diana, clearly designated as a sculpture by the plinth and by its diminished size as compared to the other figures. The statue of the virgin goddess, like the prominently staged fountain, indicate Susanna’s unyielding chastity. It transcends the narrative limitations inherent to visual arts and extends the temporal dimension of the scene, abating the drama and informing the viewer of its ultimate outcome. As such, it provides a moralistic synopsis to the biblical story. A similar use of sculptural representations appears in a large horizontal etching showing the Biblical Story of Ruth and Boaz, also designed by Maarten van Heemskerck.15 (Fig. 10.4) In the background the artist introduced a panoramic view with ancient ruins, a feature reappearing in many of his prints and paintings.16 Among the ruins and next to an ancient colossus stands a large statue depicting Moses holding a tablet of ten commandments which provides a theological context for the events unfolding on the first plan. The statue of Moses fits the subject perfectly, as the Book of Ruth focuses on the loyalty based on the covenant derived from the commandments. As observed by Arthur DiFuria, Heemskerck used the panorama to portray “multiple temporalities within in a single frame” and to “accommodate the times and places of the narrative’s key actions”.17 Maarten van Heemskerck further explored the narrative potential of representations of sculptures in the series of Old Testament Heroes, published in 1550. There, figures of key characters have been juxtaposed against statues of pagan gods or goddesses.18 (Fig. 10.5) The very nature of the sculptural medium sets the crippled statues aside from the main subject, signaling their role as a 13 14 15 16

Veldman, Netherlandish Artists. Dirck Volkertsz. Coornhert, 86. See, for instance, Veldman, “Maarten van Heemskerck”. Veldman, Netherlandish Artists. Dirck Volkertsz. Coornhert, 56. Heemskerck’s interpretation and use of landscape has recently been thoroughly analyzed in DiFuria, Maarten van Heemskerck’s Rome. 17 DiFuria, “Timeless Space”, 405, 408. 18 Veldman, Netherlandish Artists. Dirck Volkertsz. Coornhert, 43–54.

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Figure 10.3

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Dirck Volckertsz. Coornhert (after Maarten van Heemskerck), The Elders trying to seduce Susanna, from the series The Story of Susanna, 1551, engraving and etching, 247 × 195 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. DG44705 © Albertina Museum, Vienna

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Figure 10.4

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Dirck Volckertsz. Coornhert (after Maarten van Heemskerck), The Story of Ruth and Boaz, 1550, etching, 298 × 862 mm, London, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, inv. 1949,0709.43 © The Trustees of the British Museum

commentary on the main scene and putting them on a different spatial and chronological level. As observed by Larry Silver, enriching images with “discursive prompts” was a common tendency in Netherlandish art.19 In this case the collocation of the figures of biblical heroes and the statues of pagan gods indicate the oppositional and yet complementary relation between pagan and Christian antiquity, a subject that was thoroughly discussed across Renaissance Europe and was often addressed by Heemskerck.20 As far as the narrative structure of these prints is concerned, the usefulness of the representation of the statues lies in their association with time. Setting biblical heroes against the statues of pagan gods served to broaden the temporal dimension by suggesting time segmented, yet continuous.21 To use a phrase 19 Silver, Peasant Scenes, 26–29; see also DiFuria, “Timeless Space”, 407–408. 20 Sickel, “Maria Mater Dei”, 40–41. 21 Compare with Von Alphen, “Narrative of Perception”, 492, who quotes Forge, “About Bacon”, 31.

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Figure 10.5

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Dirck Volckertsz. Coornhert (after Maarten van Heemskerck), Naphtali, from the series The Twelve Patriarchs, 1550, etching, 215 × 273 mm, New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, inv. 194949.95.122 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

by Arthur DiFuria, they allowed to augment the Old Testament story with “a non-linear web of historical associations”.22 To define the structure of these prints we may also refer to the concept of a configurational dimension or a configurational act. As observed by Paul Ricoeur, “every narrative combines two dimensions in various proportions, one chronological and the other nonchronological. The first may be called episodic dimension, which characterizes the story as made out of events. The second is the configurational dimension according to which the plot construes significant wholes out of scattered events”.23 Considering the figures of biblical heroes and the statues of pagan 22 DiFuria, “Timeless Space”, 407. 23 Ricoeur, “Narrative Time”, 178. Ricoeur admits to borrowing his concept of “configurational dimension” from Mink, “Interpretation”, 735–737.

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gods as “scattered events”, combining them allowed to communicate the significant whole instead of a series of instants. As indicated by the Old Testament Heroes series by Maarten van Heemskerck, in the changing cultural context images of sculpture could refer to disturbingly present idols. The semantic ambiguity of sculptural images resulting from the cross-cultural encounter – at both its geographical and chronological dimension – is illustrated by a composition by Barthel Beham dating from around 1526–29, later engraved also by Hans Sebald Beham.24 (Fig. 10.6) It features Adam and Eve with the tree of knowledge transformed into a potent symbol of death. The poses of both figures were modeled on well-known and highly appreciated ancient sculptures, including the Belvedere Apollo, the Apollo Citharoedus, and the Aphrodite of Knidos by Praxiteles (known today only in copies as for example the one in the Vatican Museums). As a result, Adam and Eve in the Beham print count among the most classical figures in German art of that period. The new formal language and learned allusions to ancient figures included in the fine print designed as a collectible item aimed at elite viewers were likely recognizable by its recipients. Nonetheless, sculptural referents have been reworked and redefined to fit a different subject and build a new narrative. For instance, the tree trunk of the Belvedere Apollo was replaced by the flaming sword by which a cherub expelled the first couple from the Paradise. The question arises therefore whether these images were considered solely on aesthetic and humanistic grounds. Ernst Gombrich and David Freedberg, among others, noted that interest taken in the ancient statues during the Renaissance was not purely archeological.25 As Gombrich put it, adherence to the humanistic movement does not need to exclude a certain ambivalence to ancient figures.26 The antique-inspired figures of Adam and Eve in the Beham print were likely associated with sin and the ominous presence of the devil and death so prominently articulated in the composition. It seems therefore to question the status of ancient sculptures, whose aesthetic appeal is juxtaposed with a wariness resulting from their pagan origins. Such bipolar approach towards the ancient sculptures was present already in the Middle Ages, as illustrated by the famous poems by Hildebert of Lavardin.27 Even if crippled or transformed, the statues of pagan gods retain their potency and significance. By combining the biblical idea of original sin 24 Koch, Early German Masters: Barthel Beham, Hans Sebald Beham, 41; and Zschelletzschky, Die “drei gottlosen Maler” von Nürnberg, 189–191. 25 Gombrich, “Hypnerotomachiana”; Gombrich, “Archaeologists”; Freedberg, Power of Images. 26 Gombrich, “Archaeologists”, 254. 27 On Hildebert see, among others, Von Moos, “Par tibi, Rom, nihil” and Gibson, “Hildebert of Lavardin”.

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Figure 10.6

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Hans Sebald Beham (after Barthel Beham), Adam and Eve, 1543, engraving, 80 × 54 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Bequest of Grace M. Pugh, inv. 19851986.1180.15 © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

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with the form of ancient statues the artist extended the temporal dimension of the subject and, at the same time, enriched its semantic structure. The Beham print and the series of images of antique-inspired figures lead us to the last issue to be addressed here, namely the vaguely drawn distinction between images of sculptures and living figures. While in the prints such as Susanna and the Elders and the Old Testament Heroes by Maarten van Heemskerck, the sculptural character of the figures is clearly defined, in other compositions the distinction is much less obvious. This is well illustrated by the difference between depictions of sculptures in the already mentioned series of prints by Antonio Fantuzzi and in the series linked to the publishing house of Hieronymus Cock. Whereas the figures depicted in the former retain their sculptural character, the ones appearing in the Netherlandish series have their sculptural qualities partly removed. As an example, the print with “Female Antique Statues” presents a pair of interacting figures, posed as women meeting or engaged in a discussion. As such, they become animated figures rather than marble sculptures. (Fig. 10.7) This is contrasted with the fact that most of them have been presented in a crippled state, with their arms broken off, as was usually the case with ancient pieces found in Rome and elsewhere. The nature of ancient statues was negotiated by many Northern artists. This is best illustrated by the famous set of drawings by Maarten van Heemskerck which show the density of his experience while discovering Roman antiquities. Preoccupied with the physical presence of sculpture, Heemskerck explored the tension between the sculptural materiality of marble statues and “the appeal and vigor of living flesh” – to quote Vasari.28 His drawings emphasize the tangible presence of disconnected figures and bodily fragments, stressing the ambiguity of their status and drawing attention to the shifting identity of the ancient pieces, being at the same time fragments of broken stone, embodiments of artistic principles, and disturbingly present idols. (Fig. 10.8) Uncertainty about the nature of sculptural representations is reflected in many of Heemskerck’s published compositions, such as the aforesaid series of biblical heroes. It originates in his personal encounter with ancient figures as well as the dispute on idolatry raging in the Low Countries and other parts of northern Europe for much of the century.29 Ontological ambiguity of ancient

28 Vasari, Le vite de’piu eccellenti pittori, scultori e architettori, 10. 29 It is a well-known fact that Heemskerck took part in this dispute by offering visual commentaries, such as the plates of the History of Bel and the Dragon and the plates of the Story of Josiah, see for instance Freedberg, “Problem of Images”, 35–37, and Bangs, “Maerten van Heemskerck’s Bel and the Dragon”.

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Figure 10.7

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Anonymous engraver (after Lambert Lombard (?)), Female Antique Statues, mid-16th century, engraving, 194 × 150 mm, Brussels, Royal Library of Belgium, inv. SV 88686 © Brussels, Royal Library of Belgium, Print Room

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Figure 10.8

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Maarten van Heemskerck, Study after Antique Sculpture, Van Heemskerck’s Roman Sketchbook, fol. 60v, 1532–36, red chalk, 134 × 211 mm, Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett, inv. 79 D2 xviii © bpk / Kupferstichkabinett, SMB / Volker-H. Schneider

sculptures appears to have been a major factor that added to their modality and, in the result, facilitate their transformations in contemporaneous prints. As we have seen, in Northern European prints images of sculptures could pass into a visual discourse in many ways, retaining their former character or being transformed into autonomous figures, largely independent of their actual referents. As such, they were often used as narrative devices reaching into the structure of time. Images of sculptures thus helped to contextualize a scene and to augment narrative potential by extending its temporal structure. At the same time, they were adapted to new contexts and profoundly transformed, not only aesthetically, but above all in their capacity as signifiers. As such, they could invoke various associations beyond illustrative or commentary functions. These associations were based on the temporal dimension – images of sculptures often visualized a different time period – and on their cultural affiliation. In the highly historicized culture of Renaissance Europe, these two fields were in fact closely related. In every case images of sculpture were an object of negotiation and thus a convenient tool in building a complex semantic structure characterizing Northern prints.

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Bibliography Alphen, Ernst von, “The Narrative of Perception and the Perception of Narrative”, Poetics Today 11 (1990), no. 3, 483–509. Bangs, Jeremy D., “Maerten van Heemskerck’s Bel and the Dragon and Iconoclasm”, Renaissance Quarterly 30 (1977), no. 1, 8–11. Bartsch, Tatiana, “Praktiken des Zeichnens „drinnen‟ und „draußen‟. Zu van Heems­ kercks römischem Itinerar”, in Rom zeichnen. Maarten van Heemskerck 1532–1536/37, ed. Tatiana Bartsch, Peter Seiler (Berlin: 2012), 25–48. Bartsch, Tatiana, “Von Gossaert bis Goltzius. Zur Rezeption antiker Plastik auf den Zeichnungen niederländischer Künstler der Renaissance”, in Exh. Cat. Abgekupfert. Roms Antiken in den Reproduktionsmedien der Frühen Neuzeit, Kunstsammlung und Sammlung der Gipsabgüsse, Universität Göttingen, 27.10.2013–16.2.2014, ed. Manfred Luchterhandt, Lisa Roemer, Johannes Bergemann, Daniel Graepler (Petersberg: 2013), 13–26. Boucher, Bruce, “Leone Leoni and Primaticcio’s Moulds of Antique Sculptures”, The Burlington Magazine 123 (1981), no. 934, 23–26. Cooper, Richard, Roman Antiquities in Renaissance France, 1515–1565 (London: 2013). DiFuria, Arthur, “The Timeless Space of Maerten van Heemskerck’s Panoramas: Viewing Ruth and Boaz”, in The Primacy of the Image in Northern European Art, 1400–1700, ed. Debra Cashion, Henry Luttikhuizen, Ashley West (Brill’s Studies in Intellectual History) (Leiden-Boston: 2017), 405–418. DiFuria, Arthur, Maarten van Heemskerck’s Rome. Antiquity, Memory, and the Cult of Ruins (Leiden-Boston: 2019). Forge, Andrew, “About Bacon”, in Francis Bacon, ed. Dawn Ades, Andrew Forge (New York: 1985), 25–31. Freedberg, David, “The Problem of Images in Northern Europe and its Repercussions in the Netherlands”, Hafnia. Copenhagen Papers in the History of Art 4 (1976), 25–45. Freedberg, David, The Power of Images: Studies in the History and Theory of Response (Chicago: 1991). Gibson, Bruce, “Hildebert of Lavardin on the monuments of Rome”, in Word and Context in Latin Poetry. Studies in memory of David West, ed. Anthony John Woodman, Jakob Wisse, 131–154 (Cambridge: 2017). Gombrich, Ernst H., “Hypnerotomachiana”, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 14 (1951), no. 1–2, 122–125. Gombrich, Ernst H., “Archaeologists or Pharisees? Reflections of a Painting by Maarten van Heemskerck”, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 54 (1991), 253–256. Koch, Robert A., Early German Masters: Barthel Beham, Hans Sebald Beham. Vol. 15. Formerly volume 8 (part 2). The Illustrated Bartsch, ed. Walter L. Strauss (New York: 1978).

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Kuhn-Forte, Brigitte, “Römische Antikensammlungen in Stichen und Druckausgaben des 16. und 17. Jahrhunderts”, in Exh. Cat. Abgekupfert. Roms Antiken in den Reproduktionsmedien der Frühen Neuzeit. Kunstsammlung und Sammlung der Gipsabgüsse, Universität Göttingen, 27.10.2013–16.2.2014, ed. Manfred Luchterhandt, Lisa Roemer, Johannes Bergemann, Daniel Graepler (Petersberg: 2013), 75–100. Mander, Karel van., The Lives of the Illustrious Netherlandish and German Painters, from the first edition of the Schilder-boeck (1603–1604), vol. 1, ed. Hessel Miedema (Doornspijk: 1994). Mink, Louis O., “Interpretation and Narrative Understanding”, The Journal of Philosophy 69 (1972), no. 9, 735–737. Mitchell, W. J. T., Picture Theory. Essays on Verbal and Visual Communication (Chicago: 1994). Moos, Peter von., “Par tibi, Rom, nihil – eine Antwort”, Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 14 (1979), 118–126. Müller, Jürgen, and Thomas Schauerte (eds.), Die gottlosen Maler von Nürnberg – Konvention und Subvention in der Druckgraphik der Beham-Brüder, Exh. Cat., Gra­phisches Kabinett, Albrecht-Dürer-Haus, Nuremberg, 31.3.2011–3.7.2011. (Nurem­­berg: 2011). Pressouyre, Sylvia, “Les Fontes de Primatice à Fontainebleau”, Bulletin Monumental 127 (1969), 223–239. Ricoeur, Paul, “Narrative Time”, Critical Inquiry 7 (1980), no. 1, 169–190. Rubach, Birte, “Rom als Kategorie in der italienischen Druckgraphik des 16. Jahrhunderts”, in Exh. Cat. Abgekupfert. Roms Antiken in den Reproduktionsmedien der Frühen Neuzeit. Kunstsammlung und Sammlung der Gipsabgüsse, Universität Göttingen, 27.10.2013–16.2.2014, ed. Manfred Luchterhandt, Lisa Roemer, Johannes Bergemann, Daniel Graepler (Petersberg: 2013), 61–74. Sickel, Lothar, “ ‘Maria Mater Dei’ und die Antiken Roms, Anmerkungen zu einem Kupferstich nach Maarten van Heemskerk”, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 61 (1998), no. 1, 40–54. Silver, Larry, Peasant Scenes and Landscapes: The Rise of Pictorial Genres in the Antwerp Art Market (Philadelphia: 2006). Van Grieken, Joris, “Female Antique Statues”, in Exh. Cat. Hieronymus Cock. The Renaissance in Print, Royal Library of Belgium, Brussels, Fondation Custodia – Collection Frits Lugt, Paris, ed. Jan van der Stock, Joris van Grieken, Ger Luijten (New Haven/London: 2013), 108–111. Vasari, Giorgio, Le vite de’più eccellenti pittori, scultori e architettori. Con nuove annotazioni e commenti di Gaetano Milanesi, vol. 4 (Florence: 1879). Veldman, Ilja M., Netherlandish Artists. Dirck Volkertsz. Coornhert. Vol. 55 (Supplement). The Illustrated Bartsch, ed. John T. Spike (New York: 1991).

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Veldman, Ilja M., “Maarten van Heemskerck en Italië”, Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek 44 (1993), 125–141. Veldman, Ilja M., “The Roman Sketchbooks in Berlin and Maarten van Heemskerck’s Travel Sketchbook,” in Rom zeichnen. Maarten van Heemskerck 1532–1536/37, ed. Tatiana Bartsch, Peter Seiler (Berlin: 2012), 11–23. Zerner, Henri, École de Fontainebleau. Gravures (Paris: 1969). Zschelletzschky, Herbert, Die “drei gottlosen Maler” von Nürnberg. Sebald Beham, Barthel Beham und Georg Pencz. Historische Grundlagen und ikonologische Probleme ihrer Graphik zu Reformations- und Bauernkriegszeit (Leipzig: 1975).

Chapter 11

Models for Sculptures in Print: Michelangelo’s Samson and Two Philistines in Lucas Kilian’s Engravings Claudia Echinger-Maurach* From the sixteenth century on models for sculptures were collected,1 yet prints after them are extremely rare. Exceptions are seen in the prints depicting Baccio Bandinelli’s Accademia in Agostino Veneziano’s early engraving from 15312 and in his portraits, where Baccio is represented surrounded by a large number of small figurines or partial models in clay, wax or wood.3 In these examples, so I believe, he shows his endeavor not only to study antique sculpture, but also to renew antique art in a very personal and lively way. Equally exceptional is Agostino Veneziano’s print after a group of Hercules and Cacus by Bandinelli, whose earlier dating has been argued by Angelika Marinovic.4 Bandinelli’s later model in wax is conserved today in the BodeMuseum in Berlin.5 That this model – rather short and broad in the base – would not be well accommodated in the slim block which Bandinelli himself had ordered around 1525 is clear from the beginning; but it enabled the sculptor to win pope Clement’s VII interest, and to receive the commission.6 To adapt a new conception, less narrative and more statuary, to the height of his block was no problem for him. In the literature on this much-condemned sculpture, little attention has been given to Bandinelli’s ability to form a true counterpart * I thank Bernadine Barnes for her corrections and valuable suggestions. 1 See Avery, “Bernardo Vecchietti and the wax models of Giambologna”, 461–77, esp. 466–68; Myssok, Bildhauerische Konzeption und plastisches Modell, 33–37. 2 Thomas, “The Academy of Baccio Bandinelli”, 3–14; Hegener, Divi Jacobi Eques, 624, cat. 49; Exh. Cat. ‘Abgekupfert’, 253–257, cat. III.10 (Manfred Luchterhandt/Katharina Westerhoff); Mozzati, “ ‘Dicendo come scultore non lo meritassi’ ”, 457, and 528–529, cat. 77 (Tommaso Mozzati). 3 Fiorentini and Rosenberg, “Baccio Bandinelli’s Self-Portrait”, 34–44; Hegener, Divi Jacobi Eques, 616–618, cat. 14–17; Exh. Cat. Bandinelli, 524–527, cat. 75, 76, 530–531, cat. 78 (Tommaso Mozzati). 4 See Exh. Cat. Bandinelli, 392, cat. 39 (Michela Zurla), and the article by Angelika Marinovic in this volume. 5 Myssok, Bildhauerische Konzeption und plastisches Modell, 274–75. 6 Echinger-Maurach, “ ‘Una figura graziata’ ”, 27 (with bibliography).

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to his companion piece, Michelangelo’s David, taking account of the movements of Hercules’s body, head and limbs: In his stride, Hercules mirrors that of the David, turning his head fittingly to the right. The subdued Cacus alone looks up to the victor.7 Bandinelli began in 1525 to block out his new design and to carve the upper part of Hercules’s body, but after the flight of the Medici from Florence in 1527, the gonfaloniere Niccolò Capponi entrusted the marble again to Michelangelo. He envisaged at first a two-figure group, as we know from a contract drawn up in August 1528, but after studying closely Bandinelli’s blocked out figures, he changed his mind and prepared an admirable model, according to Vasari, of a Samson with two Philistines, of which one attacking the biblical hero, the other already dead. So far, scholars have attempted to connect a variety of works to this bozzetto, including small bronze casts, numerous drawings especially by Tintoretto and his circle and some prints.8 Lucas Kilian’s three prints reproduce, as it seems, an example of this model (Fig. 11.4, 11.6).9 Though these engravings are correctly described in Hollstein as works by the important Bavarian artist from the city of Augsburg, only Ruth Baljöhr in her unpublished master’s thesis drew our attention to the fact that until recently only two of them (in Stockholm and Rome) were known to Michelangelo specialists. They have been published as being made by an unknown, possibly Italian, engraver.10 That this is not the case can be demonstrated by the tiny remainders of the cut off frame and by the numerous faults in the prints in Stockholm and Rome compared to the complete originals with their inscriptions, here for example from the Albertina in Vienna.11 What led the young Kilian to engrave Michelangelo’s model? How can we read the inscription and what information can we draw from it? I would propose to read – MICH. ANGLL. BONAR. STATU. ROM. FEC./ Luc. Kil. A. Sculpt. Dom. Custos excud. A. V. – as Michael Angellus Bonarotus Statuarius Romae fecit/ Lucas Kilianus Augustanus Sculptor Dominicus Custos excudit 7 Ibid., 29–30. 8 Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell”, passim; Echinger-Maurach, “ ‘Una figura graziata’ ”, passim. 9 Hollstein’s German Engravings, vol. XVII, 142, cat. 528–530. 10 For the two pairs of prints in the Museo Nazionale della Grafica in Rome and in Stockholm see Exh. Cat. Fortuna di Michelangelo nell’incisione, 74–75, cat. 56–57; Larsson, European Bronzes 1450–1700, 48–49, cat. 15; Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell”, 88–89. For further information see Baljöhr, Die Skulptur Michelangelos in der Druckgraphik, 27–29, 33, 55, cat. 15a–c; Exh. Cat. Der Göttliche, 229, cat. 170a–c (Georg Satzinger): three prints by Kilian at the Kunstmuseum, Düsseldorf. 11 20,2 × 11 cm. Vienna, Graphische Sammlung Albertina, no. DG 2017/1/2342–2344. Three impressions are further conserved in Augsburg and Berlin; see Hollstein’s German Engravings, vol. XVII, 142.

Models for Sculptures in Print

Figure 11.1

Lucas Kilian, Samson with two Philistines (after Michelangelo), ca. 1600, engraving, 202 × 110 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. DG2013/197 © Albertina Museum, Vienna

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Augustae Vindelicorum.12 This would mean: the statuarius Michelangelo made (this) in Rome, Lucas Kilian the sculptor from Augsburg made the engraving, Dominicus Custos edited the prints in Augsburg.13 Before entering into the complicated story of this singular invention by Michelangelo and its fate, we should take a closer look at the three prints. The little statue seen from three different angles is set in a niche, which seems to be semicircular, but the ground line in the back is straight. The depth of the niche is adapted to the variations of the bozzetto’s irregular shape of the bottom. Evidently, one print shows the bozzetto correctly (Fig. 11.1), the other two as mirror images (Figs. 11.5, 11.7). Are they later additions to the first print? The overall impression of print no. 2 and no. 3 is that they are brighter, the lines for example on the ground less long than in no. 1, and in the niche, we detect shorter lines and points. Even the modelling of Samson’s body is better proportioned as in no. 1. In what I call print no. 1, we see from an angle the front and the left side of the model, a view that most photographers favor as well.14 Samson puts his foot on the head of a youth, who is already dead, a second Philistine is attacking the hero between his legs. He is trying to cause Samson to fall by grasping his legs with his mighty arms. That there is no chance of victory for this youth is clear from Samson’s powerful body leaning back and from the imminent stroke with his club. This club is a strange attribute, as Samson usually slays the Philistines with a jawbone: until now, only Larsson has mentioned this error.15 One wonders if Kilian erred in identifying the subject correctly and mistook this Samson for a Hercules, perhaps misled by Adrian de Vries’s important bronze sculpture of Hercules Slaying the Hydra on one of the fountains in Augsburg undertaken between 1596 and 1602.16 The same error in interpretation made the compiler of the Hollstein edition in 1974, identifying the iconography of Kilian’s three prints as Hercules and Caecus.17 He meant obviously the myth of Hercules and Cacus, but this does not explain the third 12

13 14 15 16 17

Cfr. Exh. Cat. Der Göttliche, 64–66, 227, cat. 166, 167. “Michaeli Angeli Bonaroti statuarius romanus fecit / Lucas Kilian a Dominicus excudit Augustae vindelicorum”. I would like to thank Eckhard Leuschner, Würzburg, for help with the interpretation of this inscription. In print no. 3, where Samson is shown from the back, the abbreviated name of the artist “Bonar.” is changed in “Bonor.” Jörg Diefenbacher and Eckhard Leuschner are preparing the New Hollstein edition of Dominicus Custos, who was Kilian’s stepfather. It is a pleasure form me to thank Volker Krahn for kindly sending to me 13 scans of the Samson and two Philistines in the Bode Museum, from which nine show the sculpture from this angle. Larsson, European Bronzes 1450–1700, 48, cat. 15. Larsson, Adrian de Vries, 24–29; Huber, Merkur und Bavaria, 66–69. Hollstein’s German Engravings, vol. XVII, 142.

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figure under the hero. Kilian must have studied an example of Michelangelo’s model without an attribute, no novelty for connoisseurs of the small bronzes after this invention; Eike Schmidt argues that already the original bozzetto by Michelangelo bore none.18 In Kilian’s family obviously nobody had read Vasari’s accurate description of Michelangelo’s model in his Vita of Baccio Bandinelli.19 But what had Kilian really seen? This is more difficult to answer than it seems at first sight as the replicas of Michelangelo’s model differ considerably, and they could have been made in clay or wax or cast in bronze. Compared to the well-known small bronze in Berlin (similar in type to the example in the Bargello no. 286) we recognize a series of similarities (Fig. 11.2), but in three aspects bronze and print differ significantly: Kilian must have studied – and this observation has not yet been made – a replica where the body of Samson shows a swelling musculature as in copies after Michelangelo’s Medici sculptures20 and leans back in an extended pose, more sitting on the Philistine than rising above him. This feature is already visible in various small bronzes, for example in Bargello no. 99, where the body of Samson leans further backwards than in the bronze Bargello no. 286 and in the striking arm above his head which reaches much farther to the side.21 Michelangelo’s model could never have looked like the model in Kilian’s print as the Florentine master would probably have envisioned only a configuration within the limits of an upright block.22 A third difference lies in the fact that the attacking Philistine’s legs in Kilian’s print are kept apart and not close to each other as in the bronzes in Berlin and in Bargello no. 286 (Fig. 11.5). This leads to the assumption that Kilian studied an example known primarily through drawings attributed to the mannerist Florentine painter Giovan Battista Naldini.23 Are there any indications that Lucas Kilian had ever been to Florence or Rome? Kilian’s print after a Pietà, which in Hollstein’s German Engravings (vol. XVII, p. 20, cat. 52) is labelled as “after the statue by Michelangelo” in St. Peter’s, could at first sight allow the assumption that Kilian could have visited Rome (Fig. 11.3). But as the print bears not only the inscription Michael. 18

See Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell”, 81 and passim. 19 Vasari/Milanesi, vol. 6, 148–151, 154–155. Cfr. Vasari/ Lorini/Gründler, Das Leben des Baccio Bandinelli, 33–38, 41–43. 20 See the copy of the Giorno in LeBrooy, Michelangelo Models Formerly in the Paul von Praun Collection, 58. 21 Echinger-Maurach, “ ‘Una figura graziata’ ”, 7–12. 22 Ibid., 30. 23 Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell”, 87.

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Figure 11.2 Unknown artist, Samson and two Philistines, ca. 1600, bronze, h. 36.5 cm, Berlin, Bode-Museum © Berlin, Bode Museum

Ang. B. pinxit Romae, but as well iudicio multor, what Hollstein omits, one can assume, that Kilian’s example has not been judged as been made by Michelangelo by everyone. The artist is here copying an Italian print by the monogrammist PHPT from the end of the 16th century.24 As the answer to the question, if Kilian possibly had travelled to Florence or Rome, is negative, one has to consider the problem where he could have come in contact with 24 For the only copy of this print in Bassano see Alberti/Rovetta/Salsi, Exh. Cat. D’après Michelangelo, cat. 318 (with bibliography).

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Figure 11.3

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Lucas Kilian, Pietà, 1602, engraving, 209 × 156 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. D/I/35/21 © Albertina Museum, Vienna

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replicas of Michelangelo’s model. One possibility is his stay in Venice where he studied and worked from 1601 to 1603.25 From a large number of drawings by Tintoretto and his circle we know that versions of Michelangelo’s bozzetto were known in Venice and its surroundings (Fig. 11.4).26 As Michelangelo’s sculptures have been an important starting point for Tintoretto’s art it seems that the Venetian master had made himself or perhaps ordered from a sculptor, i.e. from his friend Jacopo Sansovino, some free copies of Michelangelo’s Samson.27 Tintoretto’s drawings show that one replica differs from other small bronzes in a significant way:28 here the attacking Philistine not only bends his back in a more strenuous manner to the ground (as in Kilian’s engraving), but he raises his head and looks up to Samson, as does the old man on the ground in Giambologna’s Rape of a Sabine Woman (Fig. 11.4, 11.12).29 I have discovered two drawings by Michelangelo for this project: in the larger one he sketched the torso of Samson and, if one turns the drawing upside down, we see a second sketch with the uplifted head of a youth.30 There is one small bronze in the Louvre, which shows this invention, cast, as I believe, by Daniele da Volterra.31 The close friend and collaborator of Michelangelo is the first to transform this subject into an executioner and an attacking woman in the foreground of the Massacre of the Innocents in a fresco from 1552–1556 and in this painting in Volterra from 1557.32 Tintoretto may perhaps have come into contact with this concetto through Daniele’s patron Giovanni della Casa who was cardinal in Venice from 1544 on with interruptions.33 But in Kilian’s prints the attacking Philistine bites into Hercules’s buttock, as we see it in numerous replicas of

25 Wengenmayr, Lucas Kilian, 11–13. 26 Until recently one held the opinion, that Tintoretto and his circle studied only one version; I have shown that they derive from at least two different models; see Echinger-Maurach, “ ‘Una figura graziata’ ”, 23–24. 27 That some of these copies for Tintoretto were probably made of clay or wax is confirmed by the little sticks supporting these very unstable compositions; see Echinger-Maurach, “ ‘Una figura graziata’ ”, 23. 28 Ibid., 23–27; Exh. Cat. Tintoretto (Cologne), 143–144, cat. 33 (Claudia Echinger-Maurach); Exh. Cat., Tintoret. Naissance d’un génie, 145–146, cat. 33 (Claudia Echinger-Maurach). 29 Echinger-Maurach, “ ‘Una figura graziata’ ”, 30. 30 Ibid., 13–15. 31 See Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell”, 92–95; Echinger-Maurach, “ ‘Una figura graziata’ ”, 12–13; Exh. Cat. Tintoretto. A Star was born, 143– 144, cat. 33 (Claudia Echinger-Maurach); Exh. Cat. Tintoret. Naissance d’un génie, 145–146 (Claudia Echinger-Maurach). 32 Echinger-Maurach, “ ‘Una figura graziata’ ”, 20–21. 33 Ibid., 23.

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Figure 11.4

School of Jacopo Tintoretto, Samson Slaying two Philistines (after a cast by Michelangelo), 16th century, black chalk, white heightening, 339 × 229 mm, Northampton, Smith College, inv. SC 1946.9 verso © Smith College, Northamptonn

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this bozzetto and in drawings by Tintoretto and his school (Fig. 11.2).34 The prints bear the indication that Michelangelo had made this model in Rome, so every connection of this invention with the republican Piazza project in Florence was unknown to the engraver and his entourage who had brought this bozzetto to his attention. Bernardine Barnes has emphasized that engravers reproduced especially Michelangelo’s works in Rome for a wider public.35 Kilian’s next two prints which show Michelangelo’s model more directly from the front and from the back are printed as mirror images (Figs. 11.5, 11.7). In these two cases, the artist obviously did not care to prepare inverted drawings for his prints. In both reproductions one can admire the extremely complex configuration and the lively combat between the antagonists (Fig. 11.5). Comparing the figures’ posture to the bronze version Bargello no. 286 one observes that in Kilian’s print the attacking Philistine’s legs are separated and do not touch each other as in the small bronze. His left knee presses here on the legs of the dead youth filling the gap between the thighs of Samson. This proves that Kilian studied a version like a mutilated bronze in Stockholm, as Eike Schmidt has shown (Fig. 11.6).36 This version could be identical with an example mentioned in the collection of queen Christina of Sweden, which came from Prague.37 Further proof for the assumption, that Kilian studied a version different from Bargello no. 286 (or Berlin) is the Philistine’s hand on the left in the print. It is small and follows the contour of Samson’s thigh. In the Bargello (or Berlin) bronze every single finger of the hand is clearly visible. For our understanding of Kilian’s way to present the model, we should observe the group’s socle, which shows in contrast to the versions in bronze a rocklike structure following closely the limbs of the opponents. Kilian obviously wants to give us the impression that what we see is made of stone. Looking at the model in print no. 3 shown from the back, we are overwhelmed by the density of the composition lacking in the Bargello bronze no. 286 where we detect several little gaps between the limbs, a different position of the Philistine’s knee and a little rock supporting Samson’s foot (Fig. 11.7). Again, the similarity to the Stockholm version is strong, but the two are not identical (Fig. 11.8). In the print, Kilian renders the complicated intertwining 34

Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell”, 81–86. For Tintoretto’s drawings after this type see Rossi, I disegni di Jacopo Tintoretto, 13–15, 22–23, 30–31, 50–51. 35 Barnes, Michelangelo in print, 147. 36 Larsson, Adrian de Vries, 48–49, cat. 15; Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell”, 88–89. 37 Larsson, Adrian de Vries, 48; Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell”, 88.

Models for Sculptures in Print

Figure 11.5

Lucas Kilian, Samson with two Philistines (after Michelangelo), ca. 1600, engraving, 202 × 110 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. DG2013/196 © Albertina Museum, Vienna

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Figure 11.6

Echinger-Maurach

Unknown artist, Samson and two Philistines, bronze, h. 33 cm, Stockholm, National Museum, inv. NMSk 342 © Photo: Larsson 1992, p. 49

of the three figures much more clearly than in the bronzes, not to speak of the photographs, especially by means of reducing additional features and by positioning the limbs in a convincing way. Again, the engraver simplified the socle and stressed its stone-like structure. Not only the powerful modelling of the

Models for Sculptures in Print

Figure 11.7

Lucas Kilian, Samson with two Philistines (after Michelangelo), ca. 1600, engraving, 202 × 110 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. DG2013/198 © Albertina Museum, Vienna

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Figure 11.8

Echinger-Maurach

Unknown artist, Samson and two Philistines, bronze, Stockholm, National Museum © Photo: Larsson 1992, p. 49

bodies convinces us, but also the intelligent distribution of light and shadow clarifies the configuration immediately. To conclude, Kilian represented an unknown version of Michelangelo’s model, close in style to the replica today in Stockholm, according to three

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drawings made by himself. As there are until now no indications that he ever went to Florence or Rome, it is reasonable to suppose that he came in contact with this work of art during his stay in Venice, where numerous drawings by Tintoretto and his school proof the existence of a series of different replicas. The decision to engrave a variant of Michelangelo’s model from three sides was not self-evident, because if one studies Kilian’s oeuvre more closely, it is obvious that he was never a specialist in reproducing sculpture. He is famous for a large number of portraits,38 for reproducing Venetian paintings and those of the so-called school of Prague in a painter’s manner,39 for his series of cartouches where he developed the new “Knorpelstil”.40 However, being still a youth and surely following his stepfather Dominicus Custos’s wishes41 he engraves, after a drawing by the Belgian Frans Aspruck, Hubert Gerhard’s famous fountain of Augustus whose statue alludes to the founding of the city of Augsburg through his stepsons Drusus and Tiberius.42 Another representation of a statue in bronze is that of the Archangel Michael by Hubert Gerhard after a drawing by Peter Candid, which Sadeler edited in Venice, where Kilian studied and worked from 1601–1604 (Fig. 11.9).43 It is interesting that in these engravings he follows drawings made by other artists of some renown. Concerning Michelangelo’s model, he probably had made the drawing himself as the inscription mentions no other artist.44 If we suppose an encounter with Michelangelo’s model in the Serenissima, the print dates at least from 1601–1603 or later.45 As the inscription does not mention “in Venetiis”, Kilian could have realized the print after his return to Augsburg in the year of his marriage 1604.46

38 For Kilian’s series of portraits see Wengenmayr, Lucas Kilian, 44–62; Haupt, “Der Türkenkrieg Kaiser Rudolfs II. 1593–1606”, 97–125; Brugerolles/Guillet, “Lucas Kilian, dessinateur et graveur”, 79–96. 39 Wengenmayr, Lucas Kilian, 47–48; Hagen, “Lucas Kilian”, 42. 40 For his various series of ornaments, see Wengenmayr, Lucas Kilian, 63–74; Hagen, “Lucas Kilian”, 42; Brugerolles/Guillet, “Lucas Kilian”, 81–82. 41 For Lucas’s early biography see Wengenmayr, Lucas Kilian, 4–8; Hagen, “Lucas Kilian”, 42; Brugerolles/Guillet, “Lucas Kilian”, 80. 42 Hollstein’s German Engravings, vol. XVII, p. 29, cat. 101. For the fountain see Huber, Merkur und Bavaria, 60–63. 43 Graphische Sammlung, Albertina Vienna, no. 2327 (Hollstein 105 A). For the bronze in Munich at the church of Saint Michael’s by Hubert Gerhard see Huber, Merkur und Bavaria, 32, cat. M2. 44 For some of Lucas Kilian’s drawings see Michels, “Gezeichnete und gestochene Bilder des Augsburger Kupferstechers Lucas Kilian”, 41–54. 45 Cfr. Exh. Cat. Der Göttliche, 229 (Georg Satzinger): “around 1600”. 46 For his stay in Venice see Wengenmayr, Lucas Kilian, 11–12, for the date of his marriage see ibid., 13.

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Figure 11.9

Echinger-Maurach

Lucas Kilian, Archangel Michael by Hubert Gerhard after a drawing by Peter Candid, 1588 or later, engraving, 491 × 328 mm, Vienna, Albertina Museum, inv. D/I/35/41 © Albertina Museum, Vienna

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On the other hand, we must be aware of the possibility that he may have encountered this important invention through Adrian de Vries, who had studied and worked in Giambologna’s studio probably from 1570 to 1588.47 In Federico Zuccari’s famous portrait drawn in black and red chalk Giambologna is represented with a copy of Michelangelo’s Samson in his hand (even here Samson’s attribute is lacking): so it may not indeed be farfetched to assume that de Vries grew up with this model in mind.48 More than one figure group by de Vries is indebted to this example of intertwining figures, and from 1596 onwards, the young Lucas Kilian will have followed closely the development of the Hercules fountain in Augsburg.49 How can we characterize Kilian’s style? Situating Michelangelo’s model in a niche is surely inspired by some of Marcantonio Raimondi’s engravings, for example his Apollo (1512–1515) after Raphael’s fresco in the Stanza della Segnatura or his Virtues after drawings by Peruzzi (1516–1518) (Fig. 11.10).50 Even Giovanni Stradano who prepared the drawing after Sirigatti’s Venus with Amor in a niche for the engraver Hieronymus Wierix, follows this example.51 Characteristic for Raimondi’s images are the narrow niches with their sharp edged borders. The figures are more or less protruding from a clearly defined space. We are looking up from below to Apollo proudly stepping out from his narrow niche. Dark shadows and brilliant lights enhance the sculptural quality of the statue. In contrast to this, Kilian provides his figure with a wide surrounding, i.e. the group finds ample space in its niche. Comparing our model to Raimondi’s statue of Apollo, which is represented dal sotto in su, we are now looking down onto a sculpture, which must therefore be a small one. So even when Kilian stresses the rocklike appearance of the model – perhaps made in clay with a rather finished surface – we can be sure that this is a work of art of small measurements. This effect becomes even more obvious, when we see our print side by side with the Apollo Belvedere in an engraving by Hendrick Goltzius (Fig. 11.11).52 If we concentrate on the rendering of light and shadow in both prints, we 47 Larsson, Adrian de Vries, 8. 48 See Schmidt, “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell”, 79–81 and Fig. 11.1. 49 See above note 16. 50 For the engravings after Raphael’s Apollo in the Stanza della Segnatura see Bloemacher, Raffael und Raimondi, 277. For the Virtues see Exh. Cat. Raffael und der klassische Stil in Rom, 124–127 (Achim Gnann). 51 For the print see Davis, “Prints as Sources”, passim. – Kilian modelled his portraits on Wierix’s examples, see Wengenmayr, Lucas Kilian, 30. 52 Leuschner, “Francesco Villamena’s Apotheosis of Alessandro Farnese”, 165; Exh. Cat. ‘Abgekupfert’, 237–240, cat. III.04 (Christina Eifler).

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Figure 11.10

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Marcantonio Raimondi, Apollo (after Raphael’s School of Athens), ca. 1512–15, engraving, 220 × 108 mm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum, The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1949, inv. 49.97.116 © The Metropolitan Museum, New York

Models for Sculptures in Print

Figure 11.11

Hendrick Goltzius, Apollo Belvedere, 1592, printed 1617, engraving, plate: 400 × 292 mm, sheet: 402 × 305 mm, Princeton, Princeton University Art Museum, Bequest of Junius S. Morgan, Class of 1888, inv. x1934–675 © Princeton University Art Museum

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recognize a certain affinity in the softer transition from dark to light achieved by points or tiny lines creating the middle tones.53 Sharp contrasts as in Raimondi’s prints are avoided. Kilian was obviously trained by a master (i.e. his stepfather Dominicus Custos) born in Antwerp who brought this modern style to Augsburg.54 Equally close in style are the swelling lines, especially apt to follow and circumscribe the round muscles of the combatants. It seems almost a wonder to see practically no contour lines; these are the result only of the internal modeling. Looking at all three prints together the first concentrates on the instable, but dominant posture of the hero, with his limbs directed in all possible directions, so fascinating for Tintoretto’s art; the second shows the intertwining of the three figures more from the left, the third just from the opposite side, namely from the right back. The observer’s eye is actually led around the complete composition and brought to understand from these three angles the variety of this highly innovative figura serpentinata. It will be of interest to judge Kilian’s achievement in comparing his choices with his possible models, i.e. Andrea Andreani’s woodcuts after Giambologna’s Rape of a Sabine woman and Jan Muller’s prints after de Vries’s Mercury and Psyche. For Andreani’s first print, dedicated to his Medici patron and the second two, different in style, for the collectors and connoisseurs Vecchietti and Gaddi, I refer to Anne Bloemacher’s article in this volume.55 It is interesting enough, that Andreani, like Cornelis Bos for his engraving after Michelangelo’s Bacchus,56 chose for his representations, despite the marked difference in the rendering the surfaces, a view of the group only from the small sides of the block, not from the front, perhaps finding the large back of the youth a bit boring compared to the enamored gaze of the Roman youth upon his prey, the Sabine woman (Fig. 11.12). I imagine that Kilian might have appreciated the representation of the sculpture’s dense figural composition from these sides. Jan Muller created not only two, but three prints of de Vries’s Mercury and Psyche group in bronze (Fig. 11.13).57 That he did not follow a small model, but the bronze now in the Louvre is clear from the indicated height: pedum 53 See Gerszi, “Zeichnung und Druckgraphik”, 325. 54 Wengenmayr, Lucas Kilian, 8. 55 Goldfarb, “Chiaroscuro woodcut technique and Andrea Andreani”, 317–321; Cfr. Leuschner, “Francesco Villamena’s Apotheosis of Alessandro Farnese”, 165. See further Anne Bloemacher’s article in this volume. 56 Barnes, Michelangelo in Print, 48 and Fig. 6.2. 57 For Muller’s prints see Exh. Cat. Prag um 1600, 174, cat. 84 (Lars Olof Larsson); Exh. Cat. Dawn of the Golden Age, 501–502, cat. 180 (Ger Lijuten). Cfr. Leuschner, “Francesco Villamena’s Apotheosis of Alessandro Farnese”, 165.

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Figure 11.12 Andrea Andreani, Rape of a Sabine woman (after Giambologna), ca. 1583, woodcut, 448 × 204 mm, Cambridge, MA, Harvard Art Museums/ Fogg Museum, Gray Collection of Engravings Fund, inv. G7510 © President and Fellows of Harvard College

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Figure 11.13

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Jan Muller, Mercury and Psyche (after Adrian de Vries), 1593, engraving, 512 × 261 mm, Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, inv. RP-P-OB-32.228 © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

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octo (eight feet). In his admirable engravings he stresses the lofty posture of Mercury showing only one foot on the pedestal and leaving out the round stand. But in contrast to Kilian’s three aspects of Michelangelo’s group we are a little less convinced that our eyes move around the sculpture if we watch the three prints one after the other. As Muller numbers the prints he wants us to follow a certain sequence in looking at them: no. 1 shows the beautiful Psyche in profile from the front, in no. 2 we are allowed to admire her sinuous back, his breast and loving embrace, in no. 3 finally we can follow his elegant movement and the filling of the open spaces through her knee and uplifted arm. But what fixes our gaze to these three sides even more is, so I suppose, that Muller added a quadrangular pedestal to carry his inscriptions, and one sees that the place for it is reduced in no. 3. But is this fixing of our attention to the front, to the back and to one small side of the bronze a result of Jan Muller’s incapability to reproduce views taken from an angle? No, it is in fact a very clever choice by the artist. When one moves around the bronze statue in the Louvre, one discovers that de Vries has been unable to give satisfying aspects from the angles: there is missing always some limb or head of the couple of figures. So, Jan was right to concentrate on the sides he represented. On the other hand, Kilian leads the eye perfectly around Michelangelo’s figura serpentinata choosing the appropriate angles and developing three very different views of the little model. Compared to Andreani’s powerful woodcuts or the high elegance of Muller’s prints Kilian’s engravings look small and perhaps less appealing; but humble as they seem, they convey the power and complexity of Michelangelo’s bozzetto. This means that Kilian was an artist who truly understood what he saw. Bibliography „Abgekupfert‟ – Roms Antiken in den Reproduktionsmedien der Frühen Neuzeit, Exh. Cat. Göttingen, ed. Manfred Luchterhandt, Lisa Roemer, Johannes Bergemann and Daniel Graepler (Petersberg: 2013). Alberti, Alessia, Alessandro Rovatta and Claudio Salsi, D’après Michelangelo, Exh. Cat. Milan, Castello Sforzesco 2015–2016 (Venice: 2015). Avery, Charles, “Bernardo Vecchietti and the wax models of Giambologna”, in La ceroplastica nella scienza e nell’arte 2 (Florence: 1977), 461–77. Baljöhr, Ruth, Die Skulptur Michelangelos in der Druckgraphik, unpubl. Master thesis (Cologne: 1990). Bandinelli. Scultore e maestro, Exh. Cat. Florence, ed. Detlev Heikamp and Beatrice Paolozzi Strozzi (Florence: 2014).

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Barnes, Bernadine, Michelangelo in Print. Reproductions as Response in the Sixteenth Century (Farnham: 2010). Bloemacher, Anne, Raffael und Raimondi. Produktion und Intention der frühen Druckgraphik nach Raffael (Berlin/Munich: 2016). Brugerolles, Emmanuelle, and David Guillet, “Lucas Kilian, dessinateur et graveur”, in L’estampe au grand siècle / Ecole nationale des chartes …, ed. Peter Fuhring et al. (Paris: 2010), 79–96. Davis, Charles, “Prints as Sources: Rodolfo Sirigatti’s Marble Venus in an Engraving after Stradanus. A print engraved by Hieronymus Wierix: ‘Amoris, en quanta vis’, Venus Ridolfo Sirigatti drawn by Johannes Stradanus (Antwerpen: Philips Galle, 1585/1590 circa)”, in Fontes 59. URL: http://archiv.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/artdok/voll texte/2011/1354/ (22.02.2011). Dawn of the Golden Age. Northern Netherlandish Art 1580–1620, ed. Ger Luijten and Ariane van Suchtelen et al., Exh. Cat. Amsterdam/Zwolle 1993/1994. Der Göttliche. Hommage an Michelangelo, Exh. Cat. Bundeskunsthalle Bonn, ed. Georg Satzinger and Sebastian Schütze (Munich: 2015). Echinger-Maurach, Claudia, “ ‘Una figura graziata’: Entwürfe Michelangelos für die verlorene Gruppe ‘Samson mit zwei Philistern’ ”, Marburger Jahrbuch für Kunstwissenschaft 44 (2017), 7–38. Fiorentini, Erna, and Raphael Rosenberg, “Baccio Bandinelli’s Self-Portrait”, Print Quarterly 19 (2002), 34–44. Fortuna di Michelangelo nell’incisione, Exh. Cat. Benevent, ed. Mario Rotili (Benevent: 1964). Gerszi, Térez, „Zeichnung und Druckgraphik‟, in Prag um 1600, Kunst und Kultur am Hofe Rudolfs II., Exh. Cat. Kulturstiftung Ruhr Villa Hügel, Essen, 1988 (Freren: 1988), 97–125, 301–327. Goldfarb, Hilliard T., “Chiaroscuro woodcut technique and Andrea Andreani”, The Bulletin of The Cleveland Museum of Art 68 (1981), 307–30. Hagen, Bernt von, “Lucas Kilian”, in The Dictionary of Art, ed. Jane Turner, 1996, vol. 18, 42–44. Haupt, Herbert, “Der Türkenkrieg Kaiser Rudolfs II. 1593–1606”, in Prag um 1600. Kunst und Kultur am Hofe Rudolfs II., Exh. Cat. Kulturstiftung Ruhr Villa Hügel, Essen, 1988 (Freren: 1988), 97–125. Hegener, Nicole, Divi Jacobi Eques. Selbstdarstellung im Werk des Florentiner Bildhauers Baccio Bandinelli (Munich/Berlin: 2008). Hollstein’s German Engravings, Etching and Woodcuts, vol. XVII, Lucas Kilian to Philipp Kilian, ed. Fedja Anzelewsky, compiled by Robert Zijlma (Amsterdam: 1976). Huber, Markus T., Merkur und Bavaria. Städteführer zu den Bronzen der Spätrenaissance in München und Augsburg, ed. Renate Eikelmann (Munich: 2015). Larsson, Lars Olof, Adrian de Vries. Adrianus Fries Hagiensis Batavus 1545–1626 (Vienna and Munich: 1967).

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Larsson, Lars Oloff, European Bronzes 1450–1700 (Stockholm: 1992). Le opere di Giorgio Vasari, ed. Gaetano Milanesi, 8 vols (Florence: 1906) (Reprint Florence: 1973). LeBrooy, Paul James, Michelangelo Models Formerly in the Paul von Praun Collection (Vancouver: 1972). Leuschner, Eckhard, “Francesco Villamena’s Apotheosis of Alessandro Farnese and engraved reproductions of contemporary sculpture around 1600”, Simiolus: Netherlands Quarterly for the History of Art 27 (1999), 144–67. Michels, Anette, “Gezeichnete und gestochene Bilder des Augsburger Kupferstechers Lucas Kilian (1579–1637)”, in Augsburg, die Bilderfabrik Europas. Essays zur Augsburger Druckgraphik der Frühen Neuzeit, ed. John Roger Paas (Augsburg: 2001), 41–54. Mozzati, Tommaso, “ ‘Dicendo come scultore non lo meritassi.’ Ritratto, autoritratto e conformismo sociale nella carriera di Baccio Bandinelli”, in Bandinelli. Scultore e maestro, Exh. Cat. Florence, ed. Detlev Heikamp and Beatrice Paolozzi Strozzi (Florence: 2014), 453–69. Myssok, Johannes, Bildhauerische Konzeption und plastisches Modell in der Renaissance (Beiträge zur Kunstgeschichte des Mittelalters und der Renaissance, ed. Joachim Poeschke, vol. 8) (Münster: 1999). Prag um 1600. Kunst und Kultur am Hofe Rudolfs II., Exh. Cat. Kulturstiftung Ruhr Villa Hügel, Essen, 10.6.–30.10.1988 (Freren: 1988). Raffael und der klassische Stil in Rom 1515–1527, Exh. Cat. Vienna, ed. Konrad Oberhuber, Catalogue by Achim Gnann (Milan: 1999). Rosenberg, Raphael, “Le vedute delle statue. Michelangelos Strategien zur Betrachterlenkung”, in Benvenuto Cellini. Kunst und Kunsttheorie im 16. Jahrhundert, ed. Alessandro Nova and Anna Schreurs (Cologne/Weimar/Vienna: 2003), 229–234. Rossi, Paola, I disegni di Jacopo Tintoretto (Florence: 1975). Schmidt, Eike D., “Die Überlieferung von Michelangelos verlorenem Samson-Modell”, Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz 40 (1996), 78–147. Thomas, Ben, “The Academy of Baccio Bandinelli”, Print Quarterly 22 (2005), 3–14. Tintoret. Naissance d’un génie, Exh. Cat., Paris, Musée du Luxembourg 2017, ed. Roland Krischel, avec la collaboration de Michel Hochmann et de Cécile Maisonneuve (Paris: 2017). Tintoretto. A Star was born, Exh. Cat. Cologne, Wallraf-Richartz-Museum 2017, ed. Roland Krischel (Cologne: 2017). Vasari, Giorgio, Das Leben des Baccio Bandinelli, transl. Victoria Lorini, ed. Hana Gründler (Berlin: 2009). Wengenmayr, Ernst, Lukas Kilian: sein Leben und sein Werk. 1579–1637, unpubl. Diss. (Würzburg: 1922).

Index Achillini, Giovanni called il Filoteo 96 Adrian VI (Pope) 205 n.8 Agostino Veneziano 32, 76 n. 17, 201, 205 n. 8, 9, 10, 240, 241 n. 6, 242, 242 n. 8, 245, 247, 247 n. 17, 19, 249, 249 n. 21, 253 n. 26, 256 n. 34, 257, 260, 264 n. 53, 337, figs. 6.1, 6.3, 7.1, 7.4, 7.5, 7.6, 7.7, 7.9 Alamanni, Vincenzo 223 Alberti, Alberto 129, 129 n. 16 Alberti, Alessandro 129 Alberti, Cherubino 29 n. 89, 31, 126, 126 n. 4, 127, 128, 128 n. 9, 129, 129 n. 17, 130, 130 n. 19, 20, 133, 133 n. 21, 23, 136, 138, 141, 142, 145, 146, 146 n. 38, 39, 148, 150–152, 154, 154 n. 53, 56, 155, 155 n. 59, 159, 159 n. 60, 61, 161, 162, 208 n. 16, figs. 4.2, 4.3, 4.4, 4.5, 4.6, 4.8, 4.10, 4.11, 4.12, 4.13, 4.14, 4.15, 4.17, 4.19, 4.21 Alberti, Giovanni 129 Alberti, Leon Battista 76 Allegri, Antonio (called il Correggio) see Correggio  Ammannati, Bartolomeo 302 Andrea d’Agnolo (called del Sarto) see Del Sarto, Andrea Andrea del Verrocchio (Andrea di Michele di Francesco di Cione called il Verrocchio) 210 n. 18, 254 n. 32 Andrea di Ugolino di Nino da Pontedera see Andrea Pisano  Andreani, Andrea 32, 136, 201, 214, 214 n. 28, 219 n. 33, 223, 224, 225, 225 n. 51, 226, 229, 356, 359, figs. 6.9, 6.10, 6.11 Apelles 46 Apuleius 96 Armenini, Giovanni Battista 150, 150 n. 47, 48, 49, 151, 151 n. 50, 302 n. 31 Aspertini, Amico 9, 10, 97, 99 n. 14, 101 n. 16 Aspruck, Frans 351 Baglione, Giovanni 129 Baiardi, Francesco (Cavaliere) 180 Baldinucci, Filippo 128, 128 n. 13 Bandinelli, Baccio 32, 43, 67, 187 n. 46, 201, 202, 202 n. 2, 203, 203 n. 6, 205, 205 n.

8–10, 207, 208, 208 n. 14, 15, 241, 242, 242 n. 8, 243, 245, 245 n. 14, 247, 247 n. 17, 18, 253, 253 n. 26, 29, 30, 254, 254 n. 31, 32, 256, 256 n. 34, 257, 257 n. 39, 259, 259 n. 40, 44, 260, 261, 261 n. 48, 262, 262 n. 49, 50, 265, 266, 337, 338, 341, figs. 1.3, 1.4, 6.1, 6.2, 6.3, 7.1, 7.2, 7.3, 7.4, 7.8, 7.9, 7.11 Bandini, Pierantonio 133 Barberini, Antonio (Cardinal) 151, 180 Barberini, Carlo (Cardinal) 182, 184 Barberini, Francesco (Cardinal) 145 n. 37, 146 n. 39, 180 Barlacchi, Tommaso 282 Barocci, Federico 23 Baviera, Ludovico 168, 170 Beatrizet, Nicolas 9, 10, 10 n. 24, 12, 17, 32, 55, 63–65, 142, 142 n. 34, 208 n. 16, 277, 280, 280 n. 19, 280 n. 20, 282, 282 n. 21, 283, 285, 287, 290, 304, 304 n. 38, 307, 311, 313, figs. 0.4, 1.13, 1.17, 4.9, 8.4, 9.6, 9.10 Beham, Barthel 329 Beham, Hans Sebald 329, 331, fig. 10.6 Bellini, Giovanni 19 Bembo, Pietro 77, 82 Benci, Antonio see Pollaiolo, Antonio del  Bernini, Gian Lorenzo 159–162, 160 n. 65, 182–184, 182 n. 32, 184 n. 39, 275 n. 7, fig. 4.20 Beroaldo, Filippo 96 Berrettini, Pietro see Pietro da Cortona Binck, Jacob 46, 47, 50, 52, fig. 1.5 Bonasone, Giulio 4, 4 n. 10, 18, 29, 29 n. 89, 154, 208, 208 n. 16, figs. 0.11, 6.4 Bonifacio, Natale 302 Borghini, Raffaello 217, 217 n. 29, 219, 219 n. 35, 222 n. 39, 225 n. 54 Bos, Cornelis 356 Bos, Jacob 60 Bouchardon, Edmé 294, 307 n. 41, 309, fig. 9.8 Bracciolini, Poggio 62 Brant, Sebastian 72 n. 2, 89, 89 n. 36, 90, fig. 2.12

364

Index

Bufalini, Maria 170 Buonaccorsi, Pietro di Giovanni see Perin(o) del Vaga Buonarroti, Michelangelo see Michelangelo

Creusner, Friedrich 62 Curio, Valentinus 64 Custos, Dominicus 338, 340, 340 n. 13, 351, 356

Caccialupi, Antonio 170 Caldara, Polidoro called Polidoro da Caravaggio see Polidoro da Caravaggio Cambi, Giovanni 257 Campagnola, Giulio 19, 147 n. 20, 247, 249 Candid, Peter 351, fig. 11.9 Capponi, Niccolò 338 Capponi, Pietro di Gherardo 223 Caraglio, Gian Giacomo 13, 18, 32, 114, 116, 168, 168 n. 1, 170, 174, 174 n. 14, 175, 178, 180, 183, 184, 186, 187 n. 46, 190, figs. 5.1, 5.2c, 5.5b, 5.12c Cardinal Bibbiena see Dovizi, Bernardo called il Bibbiena  Cardinal Richelieu see Richelieu, ArmandJean Du Plessis de (Cardinal) Carracci, Annibale 126 Castellani, Pietro Paolo 273 Castiglione, Baldassare 76, 76 n. 18 Cavalieri, Giovanni Battista 4, 108 n. 30, 154, 321 Celtes, Conrad 63 Cesi, Pier Paolo 214, 214 n. 24 Charles V 55, 68, fig. 1.12 Charles of Lorraine (Cardinal) 296 Christine of Sweden (Queen) 346 Ciampolini, Michele 97, n. 11 Clement VII (Pope) 205, 285 n. 23, 338 Clouet, François 311 Clovio, Giulio 23, n. 79, 80 Cock, Hieronymus 133 n. 21, 321, 331 Codro (Antonio Urceo) 96 Collaert, Jan 56 Charles Emmanuel I (Duke of Savoy) 300, 301, 301 n. 22, 25 Coornhert, Dirck Volckertsz. 323, 325, figs. 10.2, 10.3, 10.4, 10.5 Correggio (Antonio Allegri) 173, 174, 174 n. 14, 15, 178, 178 n. 24, 184, 184 n. 39, fig. 5.3 Cort, Cornelis 17, 23, 23 n. 80, 130 n. 18, 133, 145, 146 n. 38, 210, 210 n. 18, 19, 20, figs. 0.8, 1.15, 6.5

Daniele da Volterra 33, 296, 297, 300, 307, 311, 313, 344 Davanzati, Bernardo 219 de’ Medici, Catherine 33, 296, 297 n. 14, 300, 313 de’ Medici, Cosimo 210 n. 19, 217 n. 32, 294, 301, 314, fig. 9.11 de’ Medici, Francesco I 178, fig. 5.6 de’ Medici, Giovanni Angelo 213 de’ Medici, Giuliano fig. 6.5 de’ Medici, Giulio 97 n. 11, 203 n. 6, 205, 205 n. 8, 259 n. 44 de’ Medici, Ludovico di Giovanni (Giovanni delle Bande Nere) 313 de’ Medici, Maria 296 de Vries, Adriaen 32, 136 n. 25, 201, 226, 226 n. 55–57, 59, 229, 229 n. 60, 64, 235, 235 n. 67, 68, 340, 353, 356, 359, figs. 6.13, 6.15, 6.16, 6.17, 6.18, 6.19, 11.13 Del Bene, Bartolomeo 297, 297 n. 14 Del Sarto, Andrea (Andrea d’Agnolo) 138, figs. 4.6, 4.7 Della Casa, Giovanni (Cardinal) 301 n. 27, 344 Della Valle, Andrea (Cardinal) 43 Dente, Marco 24, 27, 50, 53, 77 n. 23, 80, 81, 205, 205 n. 8, 253 n. 30, fig. 1.8 Dolce, Ludovico 68 Doni, Anton Francesco 55, 55 n. 18, 56, 278 Doria, Andrea 257 n. 39 Dovizi, Bernardo called il Bibbiena  265 n. 57 Dürer, Albrecht 20, 72 n. 4, 89, 240 n. 3, 247, 249, 249 n. 21, 264, fig. 7.5 Duperác, Etienne 7 Duvet, Jean 178 Emmanuel Philibert (Duke of Savoy) 301, 301 n. 24 Erasmus of Rotterdam, Desiderius 64, fig. 1.18 Evelyn, John 56, 56 n. 21, 128, 128 n. 12, 300 n. 19

365

Index Fabii, Giovanni Battista 280 Fabii, Giovanni Vincenzo 280 Fantuzzi, Antonio 321, 323, 331, fig. 10.1 Farnese, Odoardo 304 n. 38 Feliciano di San Vito 300 Felini, Pietro Martire 278, 278 n. 17, 302 n. 30, fig. 8.3 Ferri, Ciro 159 n. 62 Ferrucci, Girolamo 301, 301 n. 26, 302 n. 31 Finiguerra, Maso 52 Fiorentino, Rosso see Rosso Fiorentino  Foggini, Giovanni Battista 159 n. 62 Fogolino, Marcello 10, 10 n. 25, 24, 25 n. 83, fig. 0.5 Fontana, Domenico 302 n. 36 Francesco I de’ Medici see de’ Medici, Francesco I Francia, Francesco see Raibolini, Francesco  Francia, Jacopo see Raibolini, Jacopo  Francis I (King) 278 Franco, Battista 14, 14 n. 39, 15, 15 n. 40, 201, 201 n. 1, 208, figs. 0.6, 0.7 Frizzi, Federigo 275, 275 n. 9 Fugger, Octavian Secundus 226 n. 59 Fulvio, Andrea 302 n. 31 Fust, Johann 63

Giulio Romano (Giulio Pippi) 10, 42, 117, 168, 174 Goltzius, Hendrick 2, 8, 23, 27, 29, 136 n. 25, 154, 155, 155 n. 57, 156–159, 226 n. 56, 287, 288, 288 n. 35, 290, 353, figs. 0.1, 4.18, 8.7, 11.11 Gonnelli, Arcangelo 180, 182 n. 32, 186 Grimaldi, Luca 225, n. 54 Grüninger, Johann 89 Guerra, Giovanni 302 Gutenberg, Johannes 63

Gaddi, Niccolò 214 n. 28, 219, 219 n. 33, 356 Galle, Philip 56, 309 n. 44, fig. 1.14 Gerhard, Hubert 351, fig. 11.9 Giambologna (Jehan Boulogne / Giovanni da Bologna) 14, 32, 136, 201, 210, 213 n. 22, 214, 214 n. 24, 25, 28, 217 n. 29, 30, 32, 219, 223–225, 225 n. 50, 226, 226 n. 55, 229, 235, 294, 300, 301, 314, 344, 353, 356 Gianni, Girolamo 182 Giorgetti, Antonio 182 Giorgetti, Giovanni Maria 182 Giorgetti, Giuseppe 182, 184 Giotto di Bondone 138 n. 29 Giovanni Antonio da Brescia 72, 72 n. 3 Giovanni Battista di Iacopo called il Rosso Fiorentino see Rosso Fiorentino Giovanni da Bologna see Giambologna Giovanni delle Bande Nere see de’ Medici, Ludovico di Giovanni 313 Giovenale, Latino 323

Kilian, Lukas 33, 337, 338, 338 n. 10, 339, 340, 340 n. 12, 13, 341, 344, 346, 350, 351, 353, 353 n. 51, 356, 359, figs. 11.1, 11.3, 11.5, 11.7, 11.9

Henry II (King) 33, 294, 296, 298, 300 n. 20, 301 n. 26, 304, 307, 307 n. 40, 311, 313, 314, figs. 9.1, 9.3, 9.10 Henry III 301 Hesiod 96 Hildebert of Lavardin 329 Hoechstetter, Joachim 46, 50, fig. 1.5 Homer 73, 75, 96 Husner, Georg 63 Jean Boulogne called il Giambologna see Giambologna Jenson, Nicolas 62, 63 Julius II (Pope) 133, fig. 4.5

Lafreri, Antonio 7, 63, 107 n. 30, 321 Landini, Taddeo 278 Laureti, Tommaso 14, 212, 212 n. 24, 213, 213 n. 22, 214 n. 24 Leto, Pomponio 56 Leo X (Pope) 77, 203 n. 6, 256, 256 n. 35, 257, 259 n. 40, 259 n. 44, 265 Leonardo da Vinci 59, 60, 82 n. 27, 160, 161 n. 69 Ligorio, Pirro 285 n. 23 Lombardo, Antonio 9 Lombardo, Tullio 8, 8 n. 9 Lomazzo, Giovanni Paolo Lorraine, Charles of (Cardinal) see Charles of Lorraine 296 Louis XIII (King) 296, fig. 9.8

366 Luciani, Sebastiano see Sebastiano del Piombo Lucretius 96 Macchietti, Girolamo 178, fig. 5.6 Maffei, Agostino 56 Maffei, Paolo Alessandro 184, fig. 5.8 Maganini, Carlo Antonio 187 Mancini, Giulio 154 Mantegna, Andrea 13, 13 n. 34, 19, 240, 240 n. 3 Manutius, Aldus 72 n. 2, Marcantonio see Raimondi, Marcantonio Mariette, Pierre-Jean Marino, Giambattista 33 Master E. S. 52 Matham, Jacob 287, 288, 288 n. 35, 290, fig. 8.8 Maturino da Firenze 148, 148 n. 42, 150, 151, 151 n. 50 Mazzola, Francesco see Parmigianino Medallist T. R. fig. 1.11 Medici, Catherine de’ see de’ Medici, Catherine Menghini, Niccolò 180 Michelangelo Buonarroti 14, 15, 17, 23 n. 79, 29, 32, 33, 110 n. 33, 35, 111, 124, 125, 128 n. 10, 130, 130 n. 20, 133, 145, 150, 182 n. 32, 201, 201 n. 1, 202 n. 2, 203, 203 n. 6, 205 n. 6, 207, 208, 208 n. 16, 210, 217, 217 n. 31, 222 n. 39, 241, 241 n. 4, 253 n. 30, 257, 257 n. 37, 259, 259 n. 40, 44, 262 n. 49, 265, 272–291, 296–300, 307, 309, 313, 338, 340–342, 344–347, 350–351, 353, 356, 359, figs. 0.6, 0.7, 0.8, 0.11, 1.4, 4.2, 4.5, 6.4, 6.5, 8.1–8.6, 8.8, 9.2, 11.1, 11.4, 11.5, 11.7 Mocenigo, Giovanni (Doge) 9, 111 n. 37 Montagna, Benedetto 8 Montfaucon, Bernard de 73 n. 10 Montorsoli, Giovanni Angelo 114 n. 40, 210 n. 18 Morghen, Raffaello 186 Murner, Thomas 89 Muller, Jan 32, 136 n. 25, 201, 226, 226 n. 56, 59, 229, 235, 356, 356 n. 57, 359, figs. 6.14–6.19, 11.13 Musi, Agostino de’ see Agostino Veneziano

Index Naldini, Giovanni Battista 14 n. 39, 17, 210 n. 19, 341 Nicoletto da Modena (Nicoletto Rosex) 10, 107 n. 28 Orsini, Fulvio 77 Ottoni, Lorenzo 183, 184 Paganino, Alessandro 72 n. 2 Palumbo, Pietro Paolo 63 Parmigianino (Francesco Mazzola) 168, 168 n. 1, 170, 174, 174 n. 16, 178, 180, 186, 187, 189, 190 Paul III (Pope) 323, figs. 5.2a, 5.2b, 5.10, 5.11 Peutinger, Konrad 56 Penni, Giovanni Francesco 84 n. 29 Perin(o) del Vaga (Pietro di Giovanni Buonaccorsi) 150, 151 n. 50, 168, 170, 170 n. 12 Peruzzi, Baldassare 89 n. 34, 353 Phidias 46 Pichi, Lattanzio 146 n. 39 Pico della Mirandola, Giovanni 96 Pietro da Cortona (Pietro Berrettini)  159 n. 62 Pio, Giovanni Battista 96 Pippi, Giulio see Giulio Romano Pius IV (Pope) 213 Plutarch 151, n. 51 Podocatari, Ludovico (Cardinal) 4 Polidoro da Caravaggio (Polidoro Caldara) 31, 32, 124, 126, 126 n. 4, 5, 127, 127 n. 7, 8, 128, 128 n. 10, 11, 129, 129 n. 15, 17, 130, 138, 141, 142, 145 146, 148, 148 n. 39, 42, 43, 149–151, 151 n. 50, 152, 152 n. 52, 154, 155, 155 n. 57, 58, 159, 159 n. 61, 62, 160, 161, 162, figs. 4.1, 4.11–19, 4.21, Poliziano, Agnolo 96 Pollaiolo, Antonio del 52, 66, 67 Porcari, Marta 273, 273 n. 5, 275 Poussin, Nicolas 91, 182, fig. 2.15 Praxiteles 329 Primaticcio, Francesco 321, 323, fig. 10.1 Propertius 96 Ptolemy 60 Puget, Pierre 203, 245 n. 14

Index Raffaello da Montelupo (Raffaele Sinibaldi) 133, 210 n. 18, fig. 4.5 Raffaello Sanzio see Raphael Raibolini, Francesco (Francesco Francia)  97, 114 n. 40 Raibolini, Jacopo (Jacopo Francia) 110 Raimondi, Marcantonio 2, 2 n. 6, 4, 4 n. 7–10, 10 n. 25, 18–20, 24, 25, 25 n. 84, 26, 26 n. 87, 31, 42, 42 n. 4, 70, 73, 73 n. 7, 77, 80, 82, 86, 86 n. 31, 87, 87 n. 33, 88, 88 n. 34, 89, 95, 96, 96 n. 7, 97, 99, 99 n. 14, 101 n. 16, 103, 106, 111, 114, 117, 118, 174, 174 n. 17, 205, 205 n. 8, 235, 235 n. 68, 241, 241 n. 3, 7, 247, 247 n. 17, 264 n. 53, 353, 356, figs. 0.2, 0.3, 0.9, 2.1, 2.4, 2.7, 2.11, 3.1, 3.2, 3.3, 3.5, 3.6, 3.7, 3.8, 3.9, 3.10, 3.11, 3.14, 11.10 Raphael (Raffaello Santi / Raffaello Sanzio)  4, 4 n. 9, 14, 18, 19 n. 56, 20, 22, 26, 31, 70, 72, 72 n. 2, 4, 73, 73 n. 10, 75, 76, 76 n. 18, 77, 77 n. 23, 80, 82, 82 n. 27, 83–92, 96, 96 n. 7, 103, 114 n. 40, 124, 127 n. 10, 130, 133, 150, 235, 235 n. 68, 240, 240 n. 3, 247, 247 n. 17, 249, 249 n. 23, 24, 262 n. 49, 264 n. 53, 265 n. 57, 273, 353, 353 n. 50, figs. 2.8, 2.9, 2.10, 7.7, 11.10 Rehlinger, Quirinus 226 n. 59 Ricci, Giovanni (Cardinal) 300 Richelieu, Armand-Jean Du Plessis de (Cardinal) 296, 302 n. 30 Ripanda, Jacopo 89 n. 34, 97 Robusti, Jacopo see Tintoretto Rosex, Nicoletto see Nicoletto da Modena  Rosso Fiorentino 114 n. 43, 116, 116 n. 44–46, 168, 187 n. 46, 253 n. 26, fig. 3.13 Rubens, Peter Paul 91, figs. 2.13, 2.14 Rucellai, Luigi 296, 302 n. 30 Rucellai, Orazio 301, 301 n. 27, 302 n. 30 Salamanca, Antonio 29, n. 89, 60, 63, 208 n. 16, 282 Sandow, Eugen 27 Santi, Raffaelo see Raphael Sansovino, Andrea 241 n. 5 Sansovino, Jacopo 344 Sarti, Emiliano 73 n. 10 Schongauer, Martin 52, fig. 1.10 Scultori, Diana 53, 56, 67, fig. 1.11

367 Scultori, Giovanni Battista 42, 43, 46, 55, figs. 1.1, 1.2 Sebastiano del Piombo (Sebastiano Luciani) 278 Sermatelli, Michelagnolo 219 Sinibaldi, Raffaele called Raffaello da Montelupo see Raffaello da Montelupo Sirigatti, Ridolfo 353 Sixtus V (Pope) 302 Squarcione, Francesco 13 n. 34 Stradano, Giovanni (Jan van der Straet) 56, 60, 309, 309 n. 44, 353, figs. 1.14, 1.15 Suetonius 96 Talbot, William Henry Fox 21 Tempesta, Antonio 33, 259 n. 40, 294, 296, 302, 304, 304 n. 38, 307, 309, 309 n. 44, 311, 313, 314, figs. 9.1, 9.4, 9.5, 9.7, 9.9, 9.11 Tetius, Hieronymus 180, 181 n. 30 Tibaldi, Domenico 14, 210, 210 n. 21, 226, fig. 6.7 Tintoretto (Jacopo Robusti) 338, 344, 344 n. 26, 27, 346, 346 n. 34, 351, 356, fig. 11.4 Titian (Tiziano Vecellio) 23 n. 79, 55 Tiziano Vecellio see Titian Tramezzino, Michele 282 Trivulzio, Cesare 101 Ugo da Carpi 224 Urceo, Antonio called Codro see Codro  Vaccari, Lorenzo 7, 133, 141, 321 Van Aelst, Nicolaus 296, 302, fig. 9.4 Van Amstel, Cornelis Ploos 288 n. 34 Van Audenaerd, Robert 184, fig. 5.8 Van der Straet, Jan see Stradano, Giovanni Van Eyck, Jan 46, 47, 138 n. 29, fig. 1.6 Van Heemskerck, Maarten 97 n. 11, 323, 325, 327, 329, 331, figs. 10.2, 10.3, 10.4, 10.5, 10.8 Van Leyden, Lucas 264 Van Mander, Karel 47, 50 n. 10, 155 n. 57, 58, 287, 323, 323 n. 9 Van Meckenem, Israel 52 Van Tetrode, Willen Danielsz. 136 n. 25 Vari, Metello 273 Vasari, Giorgio 13 n. 34, 19, 23 n. 79, 52, 52 n. 13, 72, 72 n. 4, 82, 114 n. 43, 137, 137 n. 27,

368 28, 138, 138 n. 32, 148, 148 n. 41, 149, 168, 168 n. 2, 170, 170 n. 8, 11, 203, 203 n. 4, 6, 205, 205 n. 9, 208, 208 n. 15, 240 n. 3, 243, 245 n. 14, 253 n. 29, 256 n. 34, 257, 257 n. 38, 259, 260, 278, 278 n. 15, 294 n. 4, 300, 300 n. 18, 331, 331 n. 28, 338, 341 Vecellio, Tiziano see Titian Vecchietti, Bernardo 214 n. 28, 217, 219, 219 n. 33, 222, 222 n. 39, 224, 356 Vendramin, Andrea (Doge) 8 Verrocchio, Andrea del see Andrea del Verrocchio Vico, Enea 43, 44, 55, 56, 63, 67, 68, figs. 1.3, 1.4, 1.12 Villamena, Francesco 33 Virgil 72, 73, 77, 78, 80, 89, 96, 160

Index Vitelli, Chiappino 142 Volpato, Giovanni 186 Vomanius 72, 72 n. 2 Von Aachen, Hans 228 n. 59 Von Pflaumern, Heinrich 302 n. 31 Vries, Adriaen de see de Vries, Adriaen Welser, Johannes 226 n. 59 Welser, Marcus 226 n. 59 Wierix, Hieronymus 353, 353 n. 51 Zasinger, Matthias 63 Zuccaro, Federico 124, 126, 128 n. 9, 150, fig. 4.1 Zuccaro, Taddeo 124, 128 n. 9, 130, 299, fig. 4.1