Skip to main content

Sandro Botticelli, 'Portrait of a Man with a Medal', 1474-5

 


The identity of the sitter that meets the eye of the viewer remains much discussed and ultimately unknown. Some think it to be Botticelli himself, but born around 1445 and so in his thirties when the painting was done, others deem it unlikely. It could be his brother Antonio, in keeping with the family likeness. Perhaps it is a goldsmith who designed the medallion presented to us, such as Michelozzo, who interestingly also had a hand in the creation of the Palazzo Medici. Ultimately, most scholars believe it either to be a member of the Medici family or a supporter, due to the medal showing the likeness of Cosimo de' Medici. It would make sense for the man to be one of Cosimo's sons, making this a piece of propaganda to display Medici family lineage. Interweaving portraiture into commissions was a common way of showing the enduring family heritage of prominent Florentine families. In Botticelli's own Adoration of the Magi there are multiple Medici portraits. Moreover the Benozzo Gozzoli frescoes in the Medici chapel attribute the family to the Magi themselves, adding a biblical and kingly quality to their family name. Nevertheless, Sean Connolly refers to the subject as almost 'as mysterious as Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa'.

More interesting than the ambiguities of subject are the techniques of making in the work. What seems like a standard portrait when viewed from a reproduction is actually a three-dimensional, tactile masterpiece by the artist. The three-quarter length portrait is essentially two-dimensional as a painting on panel, but a hole has been cut into the panel and a copy of a real portrait medallion inserted into that space. Using the technique of pastiglia, gesso is used to build up the surface to achieve low relief, and is gilded (a thin layer of gold leaf applied over the top) to create a three dimensional mimicry of gilded bronze. It is entirely possible that Botticelli had access to an existing medallion - examples featuring Cosimo on the face of the coin can be found in the V&A collection. The medal is exquisitely detailed, referencing Cosimo as Pater Patriae (father of the fatherland) and shimmering with almost divine intervention. Through this medallion, Botticelli also makes reference to Classical Greek and Roman coins, equating Cosimo to the great rulers of the past, emphasising the Medici right to rule Florence, which would be continually contested for generations. 

By the 1470s Botticelli was known for his capabilities in portraiture. The angle of the face is chosen so that the face of the coin and face of the sitter do not challenge each other, but allow both to be equally respected. Dressed as a Florentine humanist, the tie of the figure's clothing mimics the elegant turn of the head. Perhaps Botticelli was hoping to distract the viewer with the tactile interest of the coin, because there are some places where the portrait falls short. The hands, for instance, pose difficulties for the artist - they unconvincingly are fitted around the medallion and twisted outward awkwardly to present the 'bronze' creation to us. He needed the coin to not only face outwards but to be fitted over the sitter's heart, out of respect for the Medici. Equally, Botticelli has chosen to incorporate a birds-eye view of the landscape, very experimental, and possibly having its origins in Flemish painting. Ultimately this was not something he included in his portraits again. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Guccio di Mannaia, 'Chalice for Pope Nicholas IV', 13th century

  As the only work remaining of Sienese goldsmith Guccio di Mannaia, the chalice he created for Pope Nicholas IV in the late thirteenth century is an incredibly important work of art. Not only does it highlight the rich, opulent nature of papal commissions, but it proves the talent of Sienese goldsmiths and their resulting influence on painters and sculptors of the period. The chalice is innovative in shape and form, but it is striking first and foremost through the use of gold. It is an object that deserves to be viewed in the flesh, because of its reflective and therefore mimetic potential – like a bronze sculpture it is activated by light and should be experienced in the round as a three-dimensional, highly decorated art object. Its complicated design features an almost architectonic base, star-like as it spills out towards the viewer. The base builds up into the stem of the chalice which is decorated with an array of enamelled plaques featuring saints, prophets, angels and furt...

Cellini, 'Perseus with the Head of Medusa', 1545-1554

  My eye is immediately drawn to the head of Medusa. At first glance it looks gruesome, as though Cellini has captured the moment just after the head has been decapitated, and it oozes blood and bodily matter. However the viewer then notices the similarity between that and Medusa's hair. Maybe it is just her hair after all. Cellini has cleverly enticed the viewer in here, to take a closer look and therefore involved them in the sculpture as a whole. Once they do come closer, they begin to notice other things such as the similarity between Perseus' hair and Medusa's snakes. Hero and monster are not so separate. Even the features of their faces are very similar. Perhaps Cellini wants to suggest that evil can often wear the mask of good. Or he could even be implying that everyone has some evil within them, even the hero Perseus.  One of the good things about sculpture is that the viewer is able to walk around it, and fully immerse themselves in the piece. Cellini has used this...

Marianne von Werekin, 'Sunrise', 1920

  An endless line of men that tug the rope of a small boat soon disappear into murky, burning red waters beyond. Colour is fantastical, mystical and otherworldly, producing an atmosphere far from reality. This is the Symbolist work of Marianne von Werefkin, part of the German Expressionists that worked in Munich from the 1910s. A movement so often dominated by the male names of the time – Kandinsky especially – Werefkin was a vital participant, expanding the range of art produced and displayed, complementing her work with art theory and written sources, as well as creating her own Salon upon her arrival in Munich. It is easy to get lost in biography with a piece such as this. Wasted, human potential seems to be at the heart of this work, signalled by the endless line of men pushing forward towards the edge of the picture plane. There is a sense of struggle and a universality to the suffering through the portrayal of faceless men in similar blue tones. Looking at the date produced o...