The Renaissance began with sculpture. The great Florentine painters were “sculptors with brushes.” You can see the birth of this revolution of 3-D in the Bargello (bar-JEL-oh), which boasts the best collection of Florentine sculpture. It’s a small, uncrowded museum and a pleasant break from the intensity of the rest of Florence.
(See “Heart of Florence” map, here.)
Cost: €4, but mandatory special exhibits often raise the price to €7. Covered by Firenze Card.
Hours: Tue-Sat 8:15-13:50, until 16:50 during special exhibits (typically April-Oct); also open first, third, and fifth Mon and second and fourth Sun of each month; last entry 30 minutes before closing. You can reserve an entrance time, but it’s unnecessary.
Getting There: It’s located at Via del Proconsolo 4, a three-minute walk northeast of the Uffizi. Facing the Palazzo Vecchio, go behind the Palazzo and turn left. Look for a rustic brick building with a spire that looks like a baby Palazzo Vecchio. If lost ask, “Dov’è Bargello?” (doh-VEH bar-JEL-oh).
Getting In: You must pass through a metal detector to enter. No liquids are allowed in the museum.
Information: Tel. 055-238-8606, www.polomuseale.firenze.it.
Audioguide: You can rent one for €6 (€10/2 people).
Length of This Tour: Allow one hour. If your time is limited, be sure to see the Michelangelo statues on the ground floor and the Donatello David statues on the first.
Photography: Permitted only in the courtyard.
Cuisine Art: Inexpensive bars and cafés await in the surrounding streets. See recommended eateries on here.
Starring: Michelangelo, Donatello, Brunelleschi, Ghiberti, and four different Davids.
(See “Bargello—Ground Floor” map, here.)
• Buy your ticket and take a seat in the courtyard.
The Bargello, built in 1255, was Florence’s original Town Hall and also served as a police station (bargello), and later a prison. The heavy fortifications tell us that keeping the peace in medieval Florence had its occupational hazards.
The Bargello, a three-story rectangular building, surrounds this cool and peaceful courtyard. The best statues are found in two rooms—one on the ground floor at the foot of the outdoor staircase, and another one flight up, directly above. We’ll proceed from Michelangelo to Donatello to Verrocchio.
But first, meander around this courtyard and get a feel for sculpture in general and the medium of stone in particular. Sculpture is a much more robust art form than painting. Think of just the engineering problems of the sculpting process: quarrying and cutting the stone, transporting the block to the artist’s studio, all the hours of chiseling away chips, then the painstaking process of sanding the final product by hand. A sculptor must be strong enough to gouge into the stone, but delicate enough to groove out the smallest details. Think of Michelangelo’s approach to sculpting: He wasn’t creating a figure—he was liberating it from the rock that surrounded it.
The Renaissance was centered on humanism—and sculpture is the perfect medium in which to express it. It shows the human form, standing alone, independent of church, state, or society, ready to create itself.
Finally, a viewing tip. Every sculpture has an invisible “frame” around it—the stone block it was cut from. Visualizing this frame helps you find the center of the composition.
• Head into the room at the foot of the courtyard’s grand staircase. Enter, turn left, and watch for a party animal on the right.
Bacchus, the god of wine and revelry, raises another cup to his lips, while his little companion goes straight for the grapes.
Maybe Michelangelo had a sense of humor after all. Mentally compare this tipsy Greek god of wine with his sturdy, sober David, begun a few years later. Raucous Bacchus isn’t nearly so muscular, so monumental...or so sure on his feet. Hope he’s not driving. The pose, the smooth muscles, the beer belly, and swaying hips look more like Donatello’s boyish David.
This was Michelangelo’s first major commission. He often vacillated between showing man as strong and noble, or as weak and perverse. This isn’t the nobility of the classical world, but the decadent side of orgies and indulgence.
• Just beyond Bacchus is...
By 1504, Michelangelo had just finished his monumental, heroic statue David. In a complete change of pace, he turned to this quiet, small-scale marble work.
The Virgin Mary sits reading a book, while Baby Jesus and (probably) John the Baptist look on. The round tondo format gave Michelangelo a compositional opportunity. He combined the vertical (the upright Madonna) and the horizontal (her forearms and thighs), all enfolded in a warm family circle. Jesus curves lovingly around his mom, casually glancing at her book. Another dimension to the composition is depth: The bench Mary sits on juts outward, and her face rises from the stone in a cameo effect. Finally, Michelangelo added an element of surprise to the standard tondo by letting Mary’s head pop out from the top of the frame.
The tondo is unfinished, giving us a chance to look at Michelangelo’s work process. He started first with the easy stuff—Mary’s robe and the bench, which are close to done. Mary’s blouse is still in rough form, being chiseled out in Michelangelo’s cross-hatch technique. Find the little details beginning to emerge—the small child at left and the tiny face in Mary’s diadem. But called away to a bigger project in Rome, Michelangelo abandoned the not-quite-finished tondo.
• Just steps away is...
Another example of the influence of Donatello is this so-ugly-he’s-beautiful bust by Michelangelo. His rough intensity gives him the look of a man who has succeeded against all odds, a dignified and heroic quality that would be missing if he were too pretty.
The subject is Brutus, the Roman who, for the love of liberty, murdered his friend and dictator, Julius Caesar (“Et tu...?”). Michelangelo could understand this man’s dilemma. He himself was torn between his love of the democratic tradition of Florence and loyalty to his friends the Medici, who had become dictators.
So he gives us two sides of a political assassin. The right profile (the front view) is heroic. But the hidden side, with the drooping mouth and squinting eye, makes him more cunning, sneering, and ominous.
• Farther along is...
This restless, twisting man is either David or Apollo. (Is he reaching for a sling or a quiver?) Demure (and left unfinished), this statue is light years away from Michelangelo’s famous David in the Accademia, which is so much larger than life in every way. We’ll see three more Davids upstairs. As you check out each one, compare and contrast the artists’ styles.
In the glass cases in the corner, behind the partitions, are small-scale copies of some of Michelangelo’s most famous works. Behind the adjacent pillar is a bust of Michelangelo by his fellow sculptor Daniele da Volterra, capturing his broken nose and brooding nature. (You may recognize this bust from the Accademia, which has a copy.)
• Circling back clockwise toward the entrance, you’ll find...
The life-size statue of Perseus slaying Medusa, located in the open-air loggia next to the Palazzo Vecchio, is cast bronze. Benvenuto Cellini started with these smaller models (one in wax, one in bronze) to get the difficult process down. When it came time to cast the full-size work, everything was going fine...until he realized he didn’t have enough metal! He ran around the studio, gathering up pewterware and throwing it in, narrowly avoiding a mess-terpiece.
Catch this statue while you can—he’s in a hurry to deliver those flowers. Despite all the bustle and motion, Mercury has a solid Renaissance core: the line of balance that runs straight up the center, from toes to hip to fingertip. He’s caught in midstride. His top half leans forward, counterbalanced by his right leg in back, while the center of gravity rests firmly at the hipbone. Down at the toes, notice the cupid practicing for the circus.
This sculpture shows the fierce Florentine chauvinism that was born in an era when Italy’s cities struggled for economic and political dominance...and Florence won.
• To see the roots of Florence’s Renaissance, climb the courtyard staircase to the next floor up and turn right into the large Donatello room.
(See “Bargello—First Floor” map, here.)
• Entering the room, cross to the middle of the far wall, and check out the first of three Davids in this room (the one wearing the long skirt).
This marble sculpture is young Donatello’s first take on the popular subject of David slaying Goliath. His dainty pose makes him a little unsteady on his feet. He’s dressed like a medieval knight (fully clothed but showing some leg through the slit skirt). The generic face and blank, vacant eyes give him the look not of a real man but of an anonymous decoration on a church facade. At age 22, Donatello still had one foot in the old Gothic style. To tell the story of David, Donatello plants a huge rock right in the middle of Goliath’s forehead.
• From here, circle the room clockwise. The next statue is the same subject, by a different artist.
Verrocchio (1435-1488) is best known as the teacher of Leonardo da Vinci, but he was also the premier sculptor of the generation between Donatello and Michelangelo. Verrocchio’s bronze David is definitely the shepherd “boy” described in the Bible. (Some have speculated that the statue was modeled on Verrocchio’s young, handsome, curly-haired apprentice, Leonardo da Vinci.) David leans on one leg, not with a firm, commanding stance but a nimble one (especially noticeable from behind). Compare the smug smile of the victor with Goliath’s “Oh, have I got a headache” expression.
• Finally, near the corner, is...
Donatello was the first great Renaissance genius, a model for Michelangelo and others. He mastered realism, creating the first truly lifelike statues of people since ancient times. Donatello’s work is highly personal. Unlike the ancient Greeks—but like the ancient Romans—he often sculpted real people, not idealized versions of pretty gods and goddesses. Some of these people are downright ugly. In the true spirit of Renaissance humanism, Donatello appreciated the beauty of flesh-and-blood human beings.
Donatello’s personality was also a model for later artists. He was moody and irascible, purposely setting himself apart from others in order to concentrate on his sculpting. He developed the role of the “mad genius” that Michelangelo would later perfect.
He’s naked. Donatello sees David as a teenage boy wearing only a helmet, boots, and sword (this sculpture is often cited by scholars who think the artist, who never married, was homosexual). The smooth-skinned warrior sways gracefully, poking his sword playfully at the severed head of the giant Goliath. His contrapposto stance is similar to Michelangelo’s David, resting his weight on one leg in the classical style, but it gives him a feminine rather than masculine look. Gazing into his coy eyes and at his bulging belly is a very different experience from confronting Michelangelo’s older and sturdier Renaissance Man.
This bronze David paved the way for Michelangelo’s. Europe hadn’t seen a freestanding male nude like this in a thousand years. In the Middle Ages, the human body was considered a dirty thing, a symbol of man’s weakness, something to be covered up in shame. The church prohibited exhibitions of nudity like this one and certainly would never decorate a church with it. But in the Renaissance, a new class of rich and powerful merchants appeared, and they bought art for personal enjoyment. Reading Plato’s Symposium, they saw the ideal of Beauty in the form of a young man. This particular statue stood in the palace of the Medici (today’s Medici-Riccardi Palace)...where Michelangelo, practically an adopted son, grew up admiring it.
Now’s a good time to compare the four different Davids that we’ve seen. Verrocchio’s saucy, impertinent David has more attitude than Donatello’s generic warrior, and is younger and more masculine than Donatello’s girlish, gloating David. He’s more vigorous than Michelangelo’s unfinished David/Apollo but he’s a far cry from Michelangelo’s monumental version.
• Along the wall behind the last David is...
Not an emperor, not a king, not a pope, saint, or prince, this is one of Florence’s leading businessmen, in a toga, portrayed in the style of an ancient Roman bust. In the 1400s, when Florence was inventing the Renaissance that all Europe would soon follow, there was an optimistic spirit of democracy that gloried in everyday people. Donatello has portrayed this man as he was—with wrinkles, a quizzical look, and bags under his eyes.
• In the niche just above and to the right of Uzzano, you’ll see...
The proud warrior has both feet planted firmly on the ground and stands on the edge of his niche looking out alertly. He tenses his powerful right hand as he prepares to attack. George, the Christian slayer of dragons, was just the sort of righteous warrior proud Renaissance Florentines could rally around in their struggles with nearby cities. Nearly a century later, Michelangelo’s David replaced George as the unofficial symbol of Florence, but David was clearly inspired by George’s relaxed intensity and determination. (This is the original statue; a copy stands in its original niche at Orsanmichele Church—see here.)
The relief panel below shows George doing what he’s been pondering. To his right, the sketchy arches and trees create the illusion of a distant landscape. Donatello, who apprenticed in Ghiberti’s studio, is credited with teaching his master how to create 3-D illusions like this.
• St. John the Baptist, begun by Donatello and finished by his student, is to the right.
John the Baptist was the wild-eyed, wildcat prophet who lived in the desert preaching, living on bugs ’n’ honey, and baptizing Saviors of the world. The sculptor Settignano was a student of Donatello, the mad prophet of the coming Renaissance who might have identified with this original eccentric.
• On the wall next to George, you’ll find some bronze relief panels. Don’t look at the labels just yet.
Some would say these two different relief panels represent the first works of the Renaissance. These two versions of Abraham Sacrificing Isaac (Sacrificio di Isacco) were finalists in a contest held in 1401 to decide who would create the bronze doors of the Baptistery. The contest sparked citywide excitement, which evolved into the Renaissance spirit. Lorenzo Ghiberti won and later did the doors known as the Gates of Paradise. Filippo Brunelleschi lost—fortunately for us—freeing him to design the Duomo’s dome.
Ghiberti’s panel, on the left, won.
Both artists catch the crucial moment when Abraham, obeying God’s orders, prepares to slaughter and burn his only son as a sacrifice. At the last moment—after Abraham has passed this test of faith—an angel of God appears to stop the bloodshed.
Let’s look at the composition of the two panels: One is integrated and cohesive (yet dynamic), while the other is a balanced knickknack shelf of segments. Human drama: One has bodies and faces that speak. The boy’s body is a fine classical nude in itself, so real and vulnerable. Abraham’s face is intense and ready to follow God’s will. Perspective: An angel zooms in from out of nowhere to save the boy in the nick of time.
Is one panel clearly better than the other? You be the judge. Pictured at the bottom of the previous page are the two finalists for the Baptistery door competition—Ghiberti’s and Brunelleschi’s. Which do you like best?
It was obviously a tough call, but Ghiberti’s was chosen, perhaps because his goldsmith training made him better suited for the technical end.
• Cross all the way back to the far end of the room. Along the walls back near the entrance, you’ll find several colorful terra-cotta reliefs.
Mary and Baby Jesus with accompanying angels look their most serene in these panels by the master of painted, glazed porcelain. Polished blue, white, green, and yellow, they have a gentle and feminine look that softens the rough masculine stone of this room. Luca was just one of a family of della Robbias who pioneered art in terra-cotta.
You’ve already seen the undisputed highlights of this compact museum. With more time, you can do some exploring. Browse around the rooms near the Donatello room, filled with ivories, jewelry, and dinnerware—objects that provide a look at life in Renaissance Florence.
Also consider strolling through the easy-to-miss second floor. To reach it, exit the Donatello room through the same door you entered. Cross to the rooms on the other side of the courtyard. Take your first left, then immediately turn right and find the carpeted staircase (marked Al 2° Piano) that leads to the second floor. (Note that the second floor is sometimes closed off-season.) Scattered through these rooms are medallions and terra-cotta panels of Mary with Baby Jesus, done by members of the della Robbia clan. The most interesting room has large glass cases filled with miniature bronze models of famous statues. For example, look for small-scale, alternate versions of works by Giambologna, including his Mercury and Rape of the Sabine Women.
From swords to statues, from Brutus to Brunelleschi, from David to David to David to David—the Bargello’s collection of civilized artifacts makes it clear why Florence dominated the Italian Renaissance.