Agony in Baroque Sculpture

Agony

in Baroque Sculpture

Joseph E Lara

On the History of

Agony in Sculpture

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iety and suffering were of great importance to European men of the 16th and 17th Century. With the grip of the Italian Catholic Church loose­ning after the Renaissance, artists gained the opportunity to shift their work from religious subjects to the historical and allegorical.

They explored alternative appro­aches to the state of agony. The late Italian Manne­rist and Baroque periods saw the sculptural explo­­­­ra­­­­tion of emotional subject matter, with artists incorporating physical details of their figures’ expressions. Mythology and literature influenced the expressive and dynamic works, as well as the study of expre­ssive anatomy in the sculptures of the Hellenistic period.1 Anatomical exploration reached a highpoint during the Hellenistic period, with Greek art as its pinnacle. The Greeks developed sculptures that conveyed emotion anatomically.2 A surviving example of emotional sculpture is the Pergamon Altar (Ca. 182–165 BC, figure 1) created during King Eumenes II’s reign, and located today in Berlin.3 The extensive structure displays surviving relief fragments of the Greek mythological episode of Gigantomachy.4 “Athena’s” panel presents four figures suspended in potential movement.

While the facial details are only distinguishable in two of the figures, the expression of agony is easily recognizable through their protruding brows and sunken skewed eyes, falling and exhibiting melancholy. The relief sculpture is the embodiment of energy, through the flowing treatment of the figure’s drapery and hair.

The fragmented figures reveal a careful rendition of human anatomy posed in an instant of motion, and precisely proportioned. The figure at the base of the panel has been identi­fied as Gaia, mother to the gods and giants, and the earth itself. The scarcely preserved facial features of her wide opened

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Figure 1. Pergamon Altar (Athena Panel). Ca. 182–165 BC. Pergamon Museum, Berlin.

eyes hold great tension, with her upward gaze directed to her offspring battling. As the mother of deities from both sides, she falls victem to the agony of the celestial war. Both her hands reach to the giant Alcyoneus and the goddess Athena, pleading for an end to the fighting.5 Athena, with damaged and missing features yet a recognizable by her shield, grasps Alcyoneus by the hair. The giant exhibits a great deal of agony with a slight gape on his mouth, skewed brows, and eyes wide open, looking up. One of Athena’s snakes sinks its teeth into Alcyoneus’ muscular chest, as his left arm reaches towards his mother.6 The “Athena” panel carries dense emotion visible throughout the entire altar, with intertwining figures suspended in the moment of a brutal myth.

The Pergamon style marks the pinnacle of extreme emotions in ancient sculptures, such as sorrow and melancholy, with particular care towards the model­ing of human physique. This style was carried into the iconic sculpture of Laocoön and His Sons (Ca. 1–2nd BC, figure 2), executed with a similar treatment of sorrow.7 The freestanding sculpture demonstrates movement through its figures, bringing to life the episode by Pliny. The Trojan priest Laocoön punished by the goddess Athena, is portrayed with his two sons in a state of tension and agony, struggling as snakes caress and devours them.8

Laocoön and His Sons was rediscovered in 1506, marking a crucial point in the history of art. With the Italian Renaissance in full bloom, artists were reestablishing dynamic treatment to their sculptures. After centuries with restrictions to subject matter, many artists sought to the art and literature of 2

the ancient world, reawakening interest in the study of anatomical modeling.

Laocoön inspired subsequent generation of artists through its intense facial expression, and dramatic postures of the agonizing figures.9 By the Baroque period, treatment of idealized forms granted further exploration of energetic compositions in sculpture, along with sensibility towards physical realism.10 Attempting to represent the pure emotion in the dramas of the ancient world, artists of the Baroque era created compositions fluid in movement, while carefully emphasizing physical details.11 Such details are evident in Giambologna’s Rape of the Sabine Women (Ca. 1583, catalog 1), emboding the stylistic qualities of the Baroque as well as ancient statuary.

The figures retain idealized traits, such as the muscular and curving surfaces, while exhibiting physical tension in their posture. Similar to the Laocoön, Giambologna creates expressive faces with their gaping mouths, raised brows, and outstretching limbs.

Giambologna rendered The Rape of the Sabine Women during his time at Accademia del Disegno, with the intention to create a dynamic sculpture that would contribute towards the paragon debate. With success, his sculpture is satisfactorily viewed from more than eight angles. In this regard Giambologna’s surpasses Laocoön, which was designed to only be viewed from one side.13 The Rape of the Sabine Women carries the same intense energy and emotion as the Laocoön and His Sons and the Pergamon Altar, linking the Hellenistic treatment of the form to the Baroque style.

The Italian ­ Baroque artists, Gian Lorenzo Bernini, applied the same raw energy and sense of agony found in the Hellenistic works.

Bernini established himself through careful modeling of sculptural details, creating vivid forms that evoke deep emotions. His treatment of human expression in the Medusa bust (Ca. 1640–45, catalog 2) demonstrates a clear affinity to the ancient works.

Figure 2. Laocoön and His Sons. Ca. 1–2 BC. Marble. Vatican Museum, Vatican City.

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Bernini’s emotive and cognitive style was dictated by the zeitgeist of his contemporaries, sensible to the piteous needs of a Church attempting to strengthen the bond to their people.14 Yet his non-religious work retains the same emotive treatment defined by his time. Medusa cites Ovid’s Metamorphosis: the human puni­shed by Athena, and turned into a monster with snakes for hair.15 In many accounts, Medusa is portrayed as a vicious beast, yet Bernini rendition of the character takes on a more empathizing form for the viewer.

Still depicted as the creature with monstrous features, Medusa‘s humanity is exposed. Her protruding brow contrasts with her sunken, skewed, and empty eyes. Her small bottom lip drops to form a frown. Medusa’s facial features evoke pity rather than fear, illustrating the mythical character’s deep grief.

A handful of Baroque artists continue to conceive sculptures with intense emotional sensibility through its late period. Balthasar Permoser implanted the tradition into Bust of Marsyas (Ca. 1680-85, Catalog 3), too inspired by Ovid’s work. After loosing in a musical contest, the god Apollo punishes Marsyas by flailing his skin.

Permoser illustrates Marsyas agony in the episode through the modeling of protruding brows weighting heavily 3. Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Dammed Soul. on his closed eyes. Marsyas pain is Figure Ca. 1619. Marble. Palazzo dell’Ambasciata di made apparent by his gaping mouth, Spagna, Rome. rippling skin surface, and tense ligaments expressing extreme physical pain.

Permoser continues the tradition of agony, inspired not only by the ancient works, but also his contemporaries. Bernini’s Damned Soul (Figure 3) bares close resemblance to the Bust of Marsyas. The repetition of motion carries a similar sensibility as the ancient works through the Baroque period.

Agony has always accompanied men as a state in the human condition.

Such a state serves as a constant source of inspiration for artists of the ancient world, to the contemporary. For artists of the Baroque, the sculptural explora­tions of emotional subject matters paved the way for anatomically

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realistic works, developing from the Hellenistic style. The ancient myths and literature, as well as their stylistic modeling of emotional forms, inspire generations of artists seeking to represent agony in a realistic manner.

1. Ernst Buschor, On the Meaning of Greek Statues.

Translated by J. L. Benson. (Amhers: The University of Massachusetts Press, 1980), 9-11.

2. Charles C. Perkins, “The Pergamon Marbles. II. The Gigantomachia and Other Sculptures Found at Pergamon.” The American Art Review, 2, 5. (Mar., 1881), 185.

3. Margarete Bieber. The Sculpture of the Hellenistic Age. (New York: Columbia University Press, 1955), 113.

4. Mary B. Moore, “Lydos and the Gigantomachy.”

American Journal of Archaeology, 83, 1 (Jan., 1979), 81–83.

5. Nigel Spivey, Michael Squire, Panorama of the Classical World. (Los Angeles: Getty Publications, 2011), 298.

6. Bieber, The Sculpture of the Hellenistic Age, 116.

7. Diether Thimme, “The Masters of the Pergamon Gigantomachy.” American Journal of Archaeology, 50, 3 (Jul.–Sep., 1946), 353.

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8. The Vatican Collections: The Papacy and Art. (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1982), 58.

9. Margarete Bieber, Laocoon. The Influence of the Group Since its Rediscovery. (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1967), 12.

10. Bieber, Laocoon, 22-25.

11. Bieber, The Sculpture of the Hellenistic Age, 146.

12. Mary Weitzel Gibbons, Giambologna: Narrator of the Catholic Reformation. (Berkley, University of California Press, 1995), 5.

13. John Boardman, Greek Art. (New York: Frederick A. Praeger, Inc., 1964), 214.

14. Gibbons, Giambologna, 87.

15. “Bust of Medusa.” Bust of Medusa/Hall of the Geese. Musei in Capitolini, Web. Date Accessed: May 1st, 2013.

Sorrow in the works of

Giambologna, Bernini & Permoser

Giambologna, The Rape of the Sabine Women. Marble, Ca. 1583. Loggia dei Lanzi, Florence.

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Giambologna The Rape of the Sabine Women Marble Ca. 1583 Height: 4.10 meters Loggia dei Lanzi, Florence Gibbons 1995, Zikos 2002, Galardi 2002.

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he marble sculpture presents three figures suspended in a state of tension. The Sabine woman, with her voluptuous form, ­exhibits the most physicality out of all of the figures. Her right hip is slightly obscure as it rest on the chest of the center figure of the Roman man. With extended arms reaching out, the female form almost appears to be falling onto the Roman male, yet none of her limbs attempt to touch him. With fingers spread apart, the most prominent physical feature defining her emotions lie in her façade. The woman’s agony is evident on her frown, with the lateral end of her lips skewing furiously downward. Her prominent brow also weighs heavily on her eyes, while the flesh underneath appears swollen; a sign of crying.

Underneath the Sabine woman is the figure of a Roman male. Attempting to kidnap the female, the man wraps his arms around her fragile figure, detaining her by the shoulder and buttocks. The artist emphasizes the tension of the moment through the bending on the woman’s skin surface as the man’s fingers sink onto her fleshy left cheek. The warrior’s physique is defined by detailed musculature on his trunk and extremities, where lines of rippling flesh extend to the contour of his form. His face resembles the expression of the female counterpart’s, frowning with an opened mouth and distressed eyes. Yet his melancholic expression can be attributed to the struggle of his capture.

The last figure in Giambologna’s work is a fallen Sabine male, noticeably older than the mid figure by his abundance of facial hair covering much of the lower portion of his face and deeply carved wrinkles. His right arm holds his leaning body against a rock, while his left hand hovers above his face, concealing his view from the abduction in place. His physique exposes tight and rippling musculature as well, questioning his helplessness. His interaction to the overall 8

structure retreats through his withdrawn pose. Void of content from its title, the submissive figure of the Sabine male gets lost in the context of the structure.

The tale of The Rape of the Sabine Women originates in the early period of Roman history. Conflict arose between the Sabine tribe and the infant Roman community who desired females to integrate into their culture, but were denied access to the women of the neighboring empires.1 The dominant male group resorted to abducting the females of the Sabine society, and through a deceitful fictional festival, the Romans seized the unmarried women, and allowed the rest to escape. After a period of turmoil between the tribes, the abducted females assimilated into Roman culture, and later served as a link to end the conflict between the two communities.2

Giambologna vainly flaunts his talent, an attitude common in members of the Accademia del Disegno, through The Rape of the Sabine Women.3 Set at a transitional period in Italian Art, the Flemish artist serves as an interlude between the Late Renaissance and the early Baroque. While in Florence the artist created many works comparably in grandiose to Michelangelo and Bernini.4 Known for his Mannerist style, Giambologna executed much of his later sculptural works within the Baroque genre through dynamic rendition of the form. The entire sculpture was carved from a single block of marble, boosting the splendor of his techinque.5

The Accademia later resolved to relate the work to the historical context of the title, and placed the finished object soon after its completion in the Loggia dei Lanzi in Florence. The sculpture remains in its original location, enduring six cleaning and restorations. Debate continues on relocation to a more climate control environment.6

The Rape of the Sabine Woman is the highlight of Giambologna’s career.

Beyond the complex composition of its intertwining figures, the level of precise execution brings significant importance to the piece in the history of art.

Giambologna’s sculpture also contributes to the paragone debate, with a form that could be appreciated through several points of view.7

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1. Larry J. Feinberg, “Luca Giordano’s ‘Abduction of the Sabine Women,’” Art Institute of Chicago Museum Studies, 21, 1, (1995), 40.

2. Jane Costello, “The Rape of the Sabine Women by Nicolas Poussin.” The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin. New Series, 5, 8 (April, 1947), 200-2001.

3. Dimitrios Zikos, “Giambologna’s Land, House, and Workshops in Florence,” Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz, 46, 2/3, (2002), 388-9.

4. “Giambologna: Gods and Heroes - March 2 June 15, 2006.” Giambologna: Gods and Heroes.

Museo Nazionale Del Bargello, Feb. 2006. Web 5. Giovanna Giusti Galardi, The Statues of the Loggia Della Signoria in Florence: Masterpieces Restored. (Milanofiori: Giunti Editore, 2002), 156.

6. Galardi, The statues of the Loggia. 157-8.

7. Mary Weitzel Gibbons, Giambologna: Narrator of the Catholic Reformation. (Berkley, University of California Press, 1995), 3-4.

Gianlorenzo Bernini, Medusa. Marble, 1640-45. Capitoline Museums, Rome.

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Gian Lorenzo Bernini Medusa Marble Ca. 1640-45 Capitoline Museums, Rome Palazzo dei Conservatori (1731), Capitoline Museums (Present) Wittkower 1966, Wallace 1970, Bacchi 2008, Baker 2011.

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he bust of Medusa by Gian Lorenzo Bernini presents the figure from Greek mythology immortalized in marble. The sculpture embodies Bernini’s style through his trademark expressive facial depictions, carrying the tragedy in the creature’s tale.

Depicting a female face with hair coated in snakes, the sculpture retains a sense of fragility through its polished surface. It constrast with the surface of the snakes, where the texture is rough and crude. The scalp portion is much busier than the rest of the composition, with the intertwining tubular shapes of snakes forming the figure’s hair. Bernini elegantly transitions curvilinear ripples of hair into snakes. Such a detail further strengthens the sculpture’s reference to its allegorical origin for subject matter.

Heavy realism is evoked through the fleshy quality of the skin, and the fullness of her curving cheeks. Yet her eyes are perhaps the primary source of sorrow in the figure’s expression, as they stare blankly into space with no details of pupils. Her frowning brows, defined by two thin lines, weigh heavily upon the lids of her eyes, falling askew, and exhibiting a clear expression of agony. The orbital region of her face sinks deeply as her skin collects to form a striking sense of awe.

Characteristic of Bernini’s style, the figure’s mouth is rendered slightly open, as if caught in the act of letting out a slight sigh.1 Her sensuous thin top lip curves inwardly, while the bottom portion slightly falls. Collectively, Medusa’s facial expression transcends a side of the creature rarely depicted before. The Medusa of Bernini is not the monster from Ovid’s tale, but a woman stricken by misfortune at the mercy of divine vengeance.2 Shaped by agony, her face retains a relatable state of humanity dominating inescapable sorrow.

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The precise time of precconception of Medusa is uncertain, but completion of the sculpture ranges circa the late 1630’s to mid 1640’s, a period which held many changes for the artist and his career. ­­By the beginning of the 1640’s, Bernini gained much popularity through the patronage of Pope Urban VIII. The artist made his mark across Rome, and at the highlight of his career laid the completion of the St. Peter’s Baldachin circa 1634.3 The time also marked the period in Bernini’s career when he produced the majority of his sculptural portraitures, from commissions by Cardinal Scipione Borghese (c. 1632), Duke Paolo Giordano Il Orsini (c.

1635), and even the memorial statue of Pope Urban VIII (c. 1635-40).4 But the period also marked a time of misfortune, starting with the architectural mishap while constructing two bell towers near St. Peter Basilica, and later the death of his primary patron, Urban VIII. Without the favor of the Pope, now replaced by Innocent X, and accusations of technical flaws, Bernini fell victim to his enemies and critics.5 While little information is preserved on the execution of the Medusa bust, the time of its completion marked much turmoil in the life of the artist.

Medusa’s agony, preserved in marble, could also serve as the depiction of Bernini’s personal turmoil’s corporealize.

1. Wittkower, Gianlorenzo Bernini, 175-8.

2. “Bust of Medusa.” Bust of Medusa/Hall of the Geese. Musei in Capitolini, Web. Date Accessed: Feb. 23, 2013.

3. Robert Wallace, The World of Bernini 1598–1680. (New York: Time-Life Books, 1970), 40.

4. Andrea Bacchi, Catherine Hess and Jennifer Montagu, Bernini and the Birth of Baroque Portrait Sculpture.

(Los Angeles: The J. Paul Getty Trust, 2008), 187, 230, 239.

5. Wallace, The World of Bernini, 85.

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Balthasar Permoser, Bust of Marsyas. Marble, Ca. 1680–85. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

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Balthazar Permoser Bust of Marsyas

Marble Ca. 1680-85 Height: 28 inches Zwinger Palace, Dresden (1685). Harris Brisbane Dick Collection (?), Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (1917) Anderson (1972), Christiansen (2003), Poseq (2006), Sande (1981)

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any perils of ancient allegories served to establish and support religious and social codes. Sculptors of the Baroque period sought to the stories of mortal turmoil and torment in an attempt to capture the raw misery in a figure’s anatomy. The Bust of Marsyas by German artist Balthasar Permoser exhibits an intense such a state. Crafted in marble, the head of Marsyas illustrates pure anguish.1 As if frozen in time at a moment of a loud cry, Marsyas retains his mouth open.

His tongue recedes, emphasizing accuracy in anatomical rendition of the jaw movement. Yet much of the tension is gathered from the rippling folds of skin in the face. The focal point is held by the tight surface on the deeply sunken brows, appearing to retract in torment. The surface of the forehead falls parallel to the eyebrows, constricting inwardly to the top of the nose, while the skin surrounding the mouth curves to stretch as the jaw drops. The tension also places emphasis on the tightened ligature on the cheeks, showcasing the artist’s careful study of facial anatomy. The eyes of the figure, rendered with slightly opened lids, are scarcely evident under the constricted musculature surrounding it. Two small orifices cast slight shadows under the constricted lid, echoing irises.

The linear structure created by muscular tension extends beyond the face, towards the neck and the top of the pectoral area of the figure, with tightened muscular surface rendered with exaggerated bones and tendon, appearing to burst from the surface. The sunken area forms dramatic shadows wrapping to the contour of the bust, such as in between the eyes and shoulders. A strange serpent creature rest on Marsyas’ right shoulder, with crude features resemblig that of a dog. Its heavy brows and slightly hanging jaw further the the theme.

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Contemporary to the late Baroque period, Permoser’s work influenced the later half of the 17th Century Germany, after his return from his apprenticeship in Venice and Florence.2 In the Bust of Marsyas, the artist dwells on the state of human suffering with clear affinity to the work of Italian artist Gian Lorenzo Bernini. The Damned Soul (Ca. 1620, Figure 3) completed earlier in that century, carries the flowing compositional nature of the Baroque period, inspiring later generations of artists.3 During his time in Italy, Permoser must have come across the piece, later serving as inspiratio for the Bust of Marsyas. The similarity between the forms of the structures showcases the development of the Baroque style, with emphasis on the curvilinear details in the hair and muscles.

Permoser’s Marsyas is taken from Ovid’s Metamorphosis. In the poem, the man defies the god Apollo, challen­ging him to a musical contest. As the victor, Apollo chooses to punish the Marsyas for his defiance by flaying him alive.4 Permoser examines the moment in the tale when Marsyas is tormented at the hands of the god, capturing raw anguish through the effigy’s face and constricting anatomy.5 Although Permoser would later transcend from the late Baroque style to the Rococo, the representation of movement remained a crucial element in his work. The Bust of Marsyas shows the importance of rhythm, movement and emotion in Baroque sculptures.

1. “Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History.” Balthasar Permoser: Bust of Marsyas. Metro­politan Museum of Art, Web. <http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/works-of-art/2002.468> 2. Keith Christiansen, Michael C. Plomp, Nadine M. Orenstein, Carmen C. Bambach, Stuart EW. Pyhrr, J. Kenneth Moore and Ian Wardropper, “Renaissance and Baroque Europe,” The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Recent Acquisitions: A Selection, 2002-2003 (Autumn, 2003), 22.

3. Avigdor W. G. Poseq, “On Physiognomic Communication in Bernini,” Artibus et Historiae, 27, 54 (2006), 167.

4. William Scovil Anderson, Ovid’s Metamorphoses. (Norma: University of Oklahoma Press, 1972), 41.

5. Siri Sande, “The Myth of Marsyas: Pieces of Sculptural Jigsaw.” Metropolitan Museum Journal, 16 (1981), 59.

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Bibliography

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Bieber, Margarete. The Sculpture of the Hellenistic Age. (New York: Columbia University Press, 1955). Print.

Bieber, Margarete. Laocoon. The Influence of the Group Since its Rediscovery. (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1967). Print.

Boardman, John. Greek Art. (New York: Frederick A. Praeger, Inc., 1964). Print.

Buschor, Ernst. On the Meaning of Greek Statues. Translated by J. L. Benson.

(Amhers: The University of Massachusetts Press, 1980). Print.

Christiansen, Keith.Plomp, Mi­­chael C. Orenstein, Nadine M. Bambach, Carmen C. Pyhrr, Poseq, Avigdor W. G. “On Physiognomic Communication in Bernini,” Artibus et Historiae, 27, 54 (2006), 161-190. Print.

Costello, Jane. “The Rape of the Sabine Women by Nicolas Poussin.” The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin. New Series, 5, 8 (April, 1947), 200-1. Print.

Feinberg, Larry J. “Luca Giordano’s ‘Abduction of the Sabine Women,’” Art Institute of Chicago Museum Studies, 21, 1, (1995), 40. Print.

Galardi, Giovanna Giusti. The Statues of the Loggia Della Signoria in Florence: Masterpieces Restored. (Milanofiori: Giunti Editore, 2002). Print.

“Giambologna: Gods and Heroes, March 2 – June 15, 2006.” Giambologna: Gods and Heroes. Museo Nazionale Del Bargello, Feb. 2006. Web. <http:// www.polomuseale.firenze.it/giambologna/inglese/default_eng.html>.

Gibbons, Mary Weitzel. Giambologna: Narrator of the Catholic Reformation. (Berkley, University of California Press, 1995), Print.

“Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History.” Balthasar Permoser: Bust of Marsyas.

Metropolitan Museum of Art, Web. < http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/ works-of-art/2002.468 > Jex-Blake, K. The Elder Pliny’s Chapters on the History of Art. (New York: The Macmillan Co, 1896). Print.

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Macdonald, Raymond A. “The ‘Laocoön’ Group: The Poetics of Painting and the Reconstruction of Art History.” RES: Anthropology and Aesthetics, 19/20 (1990/1991), 10. Print.

Moore, Mary B. “Lydos and the Gigantomachy.” American Journal of Archaeology, 83, 1 (Jan., 1979), 81–83. Print.

Perkins, Charles C. “The Pergamon Marbles. II. The Gigantomachia and Other Sculptures Found at Pergamon.” The American Art Review, 2, 5. (Mar., 1881).

Print.

Sande, Siri. “The Myth of Marsyas: Pieces of Sculptural Jigsaw.” Metropolitan Museum Journal, 16 (1981), 55–73. Print.

Stuart EW. Moore, J. Kenneth. Wardropper, Ian. “Renaissance and Baroque Europe,” The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Recent Acquisitions: A Selection, 20022003 (Autumn, 2003), 21–31. Print.

Thimme, Diether. “The Masters of the Pergamon Gigantomachy.” American Journal of Archaeology, 50, 3 (Jul.–Sep., 1946), 345–357. Print.

Photography Credit Pergamon Altar, Gryffindor Laocoon, Marie-Lan Nguyen Damned Soul, Rodney (Flickr: rjhuttondfw) Medusa, Marie-Lan Nguyen Bust of Marsyas, Joseph E. Lara Rape of the Sabine Women, Ricardo André Frantz Cover Art: Joseph E. Lara

Essays by Joseph Lara Eric Hupe’s Art of the Baroque and Rococo.

No reproduction of this material allowed without proper consent.

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