Portraits, 4

 

In this essay, I would like us to consider portraiture from a slightly different point of view and that is, portraiture as sculpture. Sculptors have been making portraits at least as long as painters have and, in certain periods, it is arguable that sculpture was in fact the preferred medium. Needless to say, when sculptors are considering their sitter as the subject of a work, they like painters, need to consider the normal imperatives (assuming a likeness is required): the salient physical characteristics of their model, the eventual collocation of the work (in a private house, a public space, indoors or outdoors, and so on), its size, what medium to use if it hasn't been specified already, etc.

The three works we will look at are made of bronze and are all of 'human' scale, although the first is, as I recall it, slightly larger than life-size. This 4th-century BC Greek work was discovered in Rome during modern excavations (1885), buried several metres underground. It is in nearly perfect condition, especially considering its age and where it had remained buried for possibly 1500 years or so 1. It is a portrait of a boxer caught between bouts, or only moments after the fight; this is obvious from the blood shown on his face and dripped on his legs, the cuts and contusions in various places, also on the face; he is still wearing the metal-reinforced gloves, now weighing on his hands resting wearily between his thighs; the broken nose and cauliflower ears testify to years of similar trauma. This particular statue therefore carries more information than the painted works we have studied so far, in that here we have, as well as the face, an entire body to express not only the courageous self-possession of this subject, the boxer himself, but to show as well the effort and the exhaustion of his physical self. 

The immediate impression on first seeing this work is the odd one of having interrupted a private moment, especially if one enters from the direction in which the boxer is himself looking. He has been placed in a carefully-lit smallish space, away from the other exhibits in the museum; we can walk all around him and marvel at the extraordinary craftsmanship speaking to us from every angle of this obvious masterpiece. Here, he seems a lonely figure, utterly exhausted after his fight, and perhaps preferring to be left in peace. His once inset eyes (see the next work) are no longer, but his expression might have all the more pathos for that; he looks at us but seems not to see: he has retreated into a space only another professional could understand.

Although we have no idea who the model was, there was a model: the physiognomic details tell that. Some may object that artists used models all the time, to represent all manner of characters from history, religion and so on, and that that use of a person, as a generalised model or type, does not constitute portraiture per se; technically I agree, but there are certain cases, this being one, where, even though the subject may be a generalised one - that of boxers - this work speaks as that of a particular person, that is, it appears a unique individual has been portrayed here. When I saw this work, I had the clear impression that I was looking at a portrait and not at a generic statement 2.

 Greek sculptor, possibly Lysippos. The Boxer (Il Pugile), 4th-century BC, bronze and copper.

Palazzo Massimo alle Terme, Rome (Photo: the author)

Detail of The Boxer, above (Photo: the author)

Note his lips made with the addition of copper and the deadly, metal reinforced gloves!

Our second sculpture, in its present state a portrait bust, is a wonderful example of Roman sculptural portraiture, dating from the Republican period (that is, when Rome was theoretically a republic, prior to the advent of Julius Caesar and the subsequent Imperial period). The first image, below, is taken from directly in front of and slightly below the head; we can see clearly that this is a representation of a particular individual and therefore a portrait in the normal sense. It is made of bronze with inset eyes made of some hard stone (or glass paste or ivory); personally, I find the eyes done in this way, that is, intact, to be somewhat distracting, although the fixity of the sitter's gaze is plausible. In contrast with the first work we examined, here the hair, moustache and beard are all unique notations, even allowing for some possible 'artistic licence'. 

The strong, middle-aged and still virile face is forcefully modelled, presenting the viewer with a portrait which is simultaneously a 'type'; by that I mean that, at least for the modern viewer, this face fits with what we have been schooled to think upstanding, possibly 'noble' republican Romans should look like. There appears to be no air of arrogance about this man, no pretence, just the frank and pragmatic gaze of a free citizen.

Anonymous Roman (?) sculptor. Capitoline Brutus (Bruto Capitolino, detail), IV - III century BC (Republican period), bronze.

Musei Capitolini, Rome. (Photo: the author)

Capitoline Brutus, detail

Musei Capitolini, Rome (Photo: the author)

Our final example (below) is from much closer to our own time, from the twentieth century: it is by the well-known Italian sculptor, Marino Marini (1901-1980) 3 and is particularly interesting because it is a portrait of his friend, the also very famous British sculptor, Henry Moore (1898-1986). Although, like our earlier sculptures, a bronze, it is the smallest, and, in the sense that it has almost nothing but the face of the sitter, it is the most 'essential'. However, only superficially because the Roman portrait we just saw was, as can be seen in the second photo, also fairly straightforward, with not too much interfering with the treatment of the main planes.

It's still fair to say nevertheless, that Marini has dealt primarily with the major facial features; even the hair is no more than the smoothed globs of the clay or wax (or plaster) from which the portrait was originally made, pre-casting. Apparently, the head was modelled by Marini in Carrara, in Tuscany, where Moore had gone to spend the summer. The modelling reflects in a way that mountainous place, the same place Michelangelo would go to find the marble he needed, some 400-odd years earlier; and Moore was from Yorkshire, a place of tough people who often led a tough life. The face is formed below a massive forehead from which protrudes a large nose; the eyes are set deep under that forehead; the large fleshy mouth is almost shrouded by the broad cheeks which form a kind of arch over it and the strong chin. Neck and ears are suggestions only; no shoulders or body are necessary as we are forced to regard only those facial features which distinguish Moore from anyone else. In contrast with the Roman head, in this piece the 'art' is as much the work as the likeness is; ironically, at a time when photography was well and truly established (mid-twentieth century), Marino Marini's sculpture is less like a photo of its sitter than is the Roman portrait (IV - III century BC)!

Marino Marini, Henry Moore, 1962, bronze.

National Portrait Gallery, London (Photo; the author)

In functional terms, sculpted portraits are little different from painted ones, in so far as both forms generally need to capture a likeness of the sitter, and if possible, also some aspect of his or her character. The principal difference between the two - apart from the obvious technical ones - is that sculptures are in some way or other three-dimensional; this allows, and requires, the artist to consider the real light conditions under which the work will be seen. The Roman portrait considered here relies on the 'natural' play of light in as much as it accepts it (the light) in the same way that a living human face does; it has the same forms, the same concavities and protrusions, the same proportions as a real face, so that, allowing for the effects of the medium (in this case, bronze), the sculpture will, in a general sense, behave similarly. The Marini portrait however, perhaps because of the existence of photography, relies somewhat less on direct similitude of physical reality, and more on the three-dimensional ability of the medium to 'direct' the play of light. As mentioned, he has accentuated certain forms - the broad forehead, the elongation of the 'head' which is really only the face - to force particular effects of the light; the likeness is certainly there but, as said earlier, the work's character as 'art' is, to my mind, more pronounced than it is in the Roman example.

And while figurative painters obviously are very concerned with light, it is to a much greater degree the light inherent within the image, rather than from any external source - be it natural or artificial - a light which the artist 'bestows', so to speak, on the work, an essentially immutable light, that determines how the image will be seen. Sculpture in general plays with and is dependent upon external 'physical' light in a way fundamentally quite different from that of painting.

1 It appeared at the time of its discovery that it had been deliberately hidden and carefully buried, indicating that its artistic value was well understood. The time spent underground (or indeed, under water) by antique works of art varies considerably and depends on a number of factors. Towards the end of the western Roman empire, Rome itself was besieged and burned a number of times; buildings left in ruins after such events were often simply abandoned, resulting in their slow 'reclamation' by nature: earth covered them, grass and trees took root, and so on. Our statue was rediscovered in the late 19th century, I believe during excavation work for new construction (a common event in Rome even today). The intervening oblivion however had ensured that the Boxer avoided the fate of so many ancient bronze works, that of being melted down for re-use as arms, coins, etc.

2 I am happy to admit that, without doubt, the hair and beard for instance, have been stylised; but even the guide book of the museum in Rome describes this figure, or especially the face, as a type of portrait: "La statua, ... poteva essere il ritratto di ricostruzione di un celebre pugile, ... ." (The statue ... could have been a reconstructed portrait of a famous boxer ... .) Guida, Palazzo Massimo alle Terme, published 2017 by Electa, p28. That said, other commentators doubt this and maintain that it is not a portrait per se; nevertheless, its power of direct emotional communication (as distinct from 'illustrated' emotion, such as in the Laocoön) is enough for me to describe it as such!

3 Marino Marini came from Pistoia, also in Tuscany, not far from Florence. In both cities there is a museum devoted to Marini's work; he is perhaps best known for a series of horses with their riders (or knights), and for another of theatrical and circus people. His portraits form a separate vein in his oeuvre; he also made many paintings and drawings and his work is widely dispersed in museums around the world.