You may have been to the Vermeer exhibition at the Rijks Museum in Amsterdam.
If not, too late, it is sold out. I have not been but I enjoyed an armchair visit with Stephen Fry. It is on the museum’s website here. I saw the pictures at closer quarters than would be possible in the crowded exhibition and he provides some interesting commentary, delivered with aplomb, if you don’t mind him being insufferably twee sometimes.
But I digress. The point is every picture is by Vermeer so it is interesting to compare it with another exhibition: Donatello at the V&A.
It’s a contrast to sheer Vermeer; in fact it’s poco Donatello – only about a quarter of the exhibits are his work. Vermeer was painting in his home in Delft in the 17th century – it’s amazing he was able to concentrate with his eleven children scampering around his heels. He did not have assistants or pupils, giving his work a purity and authenticity often diluted in the work of his contemporaries who, like generations of artists including Andy Warhol, had a studio of pupils and assistants to do the dull bits of pictures. Often the Master did the face and hands leaving the rest to underlings.
Donatello, working in Florence, Padua, Siena, Rome etc in the 15th century worked cooperatively. It would in fact have been impossible for him to create his work alone. A sculptor makes models, perhaps in wax or clay. Often they are not the intended size and have to be scaled-up. Even if they are made to scale a mould has to be made and then the work is cast in bronze or similar. So Donatello worked in a bottega; somewhere I thought one might go for lunch, with collaborators and assistants.
I will try not to bore the pants off you so will restrict myself to two pieces created by Donatello and Bartolomeo in collaboration.
What strikes me is the apparent symmetry until on closer examination they each strike a different pose, have different faces, hair and drapes. They are a small part of the much bigger memorial to Bartolomeo Aragazzi but the greatest care has been taken in their execution. Incidentally they were designed to be placed above the main monument and at the V&A are exhibited high up so the artists’ intended perspective can be appreciated and enjoyed.
This is an exterior pulpit jutting out from the cathedral in Prato, Tuscany. The balustrade is richly adorned although the details would have been hard to appreciate standing below it. Nevertheless Donatello and Bartolomeo went to town and the V&A provides a close-up view.
The caption says it all; a playground romp with spiritelli capering irreverently below the preacher. Donatello’s technique was learned from studying classical sculpture but he went a step further creating movement and depicting emotion. That he had time to develop this virtuosity is thanks to the patronage of Cosmo de’ Medici (1389 – 1464) but that is another story.
The most disappointing thing about the V&A Donatello was absence even a copy or a picture of his David, his most famous, arguably his best, work
There was a David at the entrance of the exhibition, though perhaps not the one you are thinking of.
Having luxuriated among the Vermeers at the Rijksmuseum for several hours (and battled the crowds), I went the next day to the Vermeer Centrum in the charming town of Delft. Here, they have high quality reproductions of all 37 of Vermeer’s paintings which you can view quietly by yourself within inches of each picture. Alas, not the real McCoys (although one might not know?) and no substitute for the treasures in Amsterdam but not a bad alternative. Particularly if you are unable to get a ticket to the Rijksmuseum which, as Christopher notes, sold out months ago.