Michelangelo and Bernini: Poetry Verses Drama.

Michelangelo. David, 1501-1504.

Bernini. David, 1623-1624.

Michelangelo. Moses, 1513-1515.

Bernini. St Longinus, 1638.

Michelangelo. Pieta, 1498-1499.

Bernini. Ecstasy of Saint Teresa, 1652.

I fell in love with the work of Michelangelo Buonarroti at an early age, and in love with the human form earlier still. A boy's preoccupation with the heroic figures in comic books led to my discovery of the fantasy drawings of Frank Frazetta, whose mastery of the human form led me directly to Michelangelo - his drawings first of all and, ultimately, his sculpture. I was awed by his confident David, quietly standing in contemplation a moment before facing Goliath, the beautiful line of the gesture flowing through the form; relaxed power in every muscle. It was years before I was aware that any other sculptors existed.

And then I found Gian Lorenzo Bernini. I readily admit to being seduced by the movement in Bernini's sculpture, the glorious drama of it. His David was caught in the midst of the action, impassioned determination chiseled upon his face. Was the gestural line flowing through his figure any less beautiful? It certainly reverberated with more energy.

And, therein, lies the difference between Michelangelo and Bernini: one was an introvert, the other an extrovert, and this difference in character shone through in each man's work. Was one a better sculptor than the other? It comes down to a matter of taste. Poetry or drama; implied action or explicit action. You can see this dichotomy in all the works compared above. Michelangelo's poetic calm verses Bernini's dramatic theatre.

At the end of the day, they were two of the greatest sculptors who ever lived. With Bernini I can see the man's mind at work; his dramatic thought process as he labors to entertain us. But, with Michelangelo, I catch a glimpse of the poetic workings of his soul. He bares a measure of himself that Bernini could not. And its radiance never ceases to move me.

Fascinated By Faces.

Michael Whynot. Facial Study, 2012. Red chalk.

Leonardo Da Vinci. Head of a Girl, c. 1483.

Rembrandt van Rijn. Self-portrait in a cap, with eyes wide open, c. 1630.

Pietro Annigoni. Mr. Rydy. Oil, 1949.

Gian Lorenzo Bernini. Innocent X

The aim of the artist is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance. (Aristotle)

A face is not well done, unless it shows a state of mind. (Leonardo Da Vinci)



To be fascinated by the form of the human face is to be fascinated by emotion - for it is through the attitude of its anatomy that emotion is conveyed more readily than through any other part of the body (see my post on hands and feet).

The face is a complex form, made more so by the extensive variety of expressions produced by the facial muscles, and may take the artist years to master.

Structure and likeness are the two aspects of the face most easily studied. Likeness is all about comparative measurement, one feature against another, and, as such, can be distilled down to a mechanical process. And structure is built upon the skull - the boney foundation of the face - and lends itself to anatomical study.

But careful measuring and understanding of the form, while producing an accurate rendering, is not enough. The result may prove unsatisfying if the artist ignores the, less tangible, aspect of emotion; state of mind; expression. The artist must endeavour to understand the state of mind of the subject if they are to produce a work that is more than run of the mill.

And here is where many of us falter, since rendering a state of mind has no easily studied rules and does not lend itself to learning or teaching.

But, having said that, I believe that a fundamental interest in human nature is a fine jumping off point from which to embark. Also, time spent watching the sitter (no measuring allowed) will prove beneficial. A final tool (which you may or may not be able to cultivate) is a sensitive temperament, a trait I believe can be nurtured only by studying yourself, not the sitter. But, when taken seriously, the rewards may be manyfold.

A great work of art is universal, for in it, sitter, artist and viewer each glimpse themselves.

Pursuing Gesture: The Legacy of the Greeks. Part one.

Greek, 2nd century B.C. Torso of Satyr.

Michelangelo. A Battle Scene, c. 1504

Raphael. Men Fighting (1504?).

Gian Lorenzo Bernini. David, 1624.

Frank Frazetta. Mid-20th century.

Patricia Hannaway

Patricia Hannaway.

Michael Whynot. Thirty second gesture drawing, 2012.

Michael Whynot. Fifteen minute torso study, 2012.

I have touched upon gesture in a previous post, but I find myself returning to it again and again, the eternal moth to the flame, since it lies at the heart of everything I find beautiful in art.

Gesture is not new, nor is it limited to a single time period. Great artists, since antiquity, have been capturing it, imbuing form with life.

Sometime around 480-450 B.C., Greek art began to evolve. Up until that point there was an unnatural lifelessness inherent in their sculpture and painting. It was hard and cold and lacked what we now refer to as gesture. But once the Greeks were able to overcome the initial stiffness of their early work (see the beautiful, 2nd century B.C., Torso of a Satyr, above), the vitality of the gesture has flowed down the ages, from the Greeks to the Romans, from Michelangelo, Raphael and Bernini, to modern artists.

Frank Frazetta was able to capture the essence of movement in a few perceptively placed ink strokes. Long time animator, Patricia Hannaway, has a lovely, expressive touch with line and light. Lastly, I have included a thirty second gesture drawing and a fifteen minute torso study of my own.

Life moves quickly, so the artist's eye must move quicker still; must notice even more. Gesture neither begins nor ends, but is in a constant state of flux. What a wonderful ability: to pluck life from between God's own fingers and shape it into material form, the grace of which others might now behold and wonder that they had never before noticed such beauty.

Life unravels too quickly, too quickly altogether. Art offers us a respite, a chance to breathe and experience the wonder of existence; art is a nightlight shinning at 3:00 in the morning.

Bernini: Sculpting in Clay

Today I will be reviewing Bernini: Sculpting in Clay, a book recently published by The Metropolitan Museum of Art and distributed by Yale University Press.

Gian Lorenzo Bernini was one of the greatest sculptors in the history of art and, arguably, second only to Michelangelo Buonarroti. He was the father of the baroque style which emphasized motion and drama in sculpture, painting and architecture.

With essays by C.D. Dickerson III, Anthony Sigel, and Ian Wardropper this volume explores Bernini's clay "sketches" or bozzetti as they were known. Richly illustrated, Bernini delves into the working methods of the great sculptor, giving us a glimpse into how many of his iconic marbles evolved from conception through sketches on paper, clay sketches, and life-size clays.

Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Study for Daniel, ca 1655. Red chalk.

Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Study for Daniel, ca 1655. Red chalk.

Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Daniel in the Lion's Den, ca 1655. Terracotta.

Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Daniel in the Lion's Den, ca. 1655-57. Marble, over life-size.

The illustrations are wonderful, with many detailed photos of the clay bozzetti which allow you to inspect the tool-marks left in the clay and even Bernini's fingerprints. Several x-radiograph photos let you see inside the clays to understand how the structures were formed.

Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Model for the Fountain of the Moor, ca 1653. Terracotta.

Detail.

Detail.

Detail.

X-radiograph. Note hollowed head and torso, solid shell and base.

Fountain of the Moor, 1653-55. Marble, over life-size. Piazza Navona, Rome.

There is something magical in Bernini's best sculpture, an expressive motion which he was able to translate from drawing, to clay bozzetta, to finished marble; no easy feat, considering how elusive the gesture is at any one of these stages.

Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Saint Teresa in Ecstasy, ca. 1647. Terracotta.

Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Saint Teresa in Ecstasy, 1647-52. Marble, life-size.

Anyone interested in Bernini, renaissance sculpture, or the working methods of sculptors will enjoy this large, high quality book. A fascinating read.