While in Rome, at the Borghese gallery, I was introduced to the sculpture of Gian Lorenzo Bernini. Several of his early pieces were there, including his David, an answer to Michelangelo's famous work of the same subject, but for me the most eye catching was Apollo and Daphne.




Depicting a passage from antiquity, Bernini captures a metamorphosis of a human into a tree all within a solid piece of marble. That having been noted, this can be seen as a double metamorphosis - that of marble into human, and human into tree. And although the material never changes throughout this process, the textures and sensations that one feels do very sharply. We feel flesh and want to pick the paper thin leaves as Daphnes limbs grow into branches and bark covers her skin.

The transformation is captured in a moment for Bernini, and for anyone else would seem to only be able to be shown through a series of images. However the metamorphosis is more complete and expressive than any animorphs cover. While it would seem that the equivalent in a film would be a single still frame, as the above images would imply, its original context must be considered. The ability for its viewer to circle around it seems to animate the transformation even further, as we at once see the faces of Apollo and Daphne, but from other angles can only see leaves and branches. The in-betweens are thus infinite.



In this work Bernini transcended the limitations of a solid block of marble, and brought forth a cycle full of motion that looks forward to the capabilities of the modern day computer. Again we see how people find ways to bend the limitations of their time to achieve the miraculous.

Although Im not Pontormos number one fan, there are many aspects of his work that are worth mentioning, especially within this context. His style was seen as a radical stylistic break from those around him, one that would seem to have carried all the way over into modern day painting. Many of his works have leaps in scale and ambiguous moon-like settings that can almost be seen as being contemporary with Salvatore Dali and other surrealists.



In this painting, usually referred to as the Pucci Altarpiece, distinct aspects of Pontormos work are clearly illustrated. The evenly colored space and symmetry of light and dark causes a certain abstraction that contributes to the weightlessness of the figures, who seem to float around the space. Though compositionally the main figures form a sturdy triangle, the ambiguous setting seems to lift them off the ground and situate them within a levitational plane that has no relation to the physical world. Similarly, and of particular note to this blog, the putti who dance around the frame are in similar poses, of the same scale and form a triangle that is flipped from that aforementioned, which all contribute to their animation. As our eye dances through the frame so do these naked children.

Although Pontormo could not have known the advances that would befall upon the 21st century, his 16th century mindset already led him in the pursuit of a more immersive experience that would engage its viewers through motion.

some thumbnails for an in progress film

Rising from a circular cement island in the center of a round pond, this statue of Neptune was interesting to see in its intended setting. Earlier I had visited the Borgello, a small museum located in the center of the city, where the original statue is now on display. From up close in the museum, Neptune held a defining presence, his scale much larger than life and most of the other sculptures around him. His twisting contraposto and carefully finished musculature gave an impression of the wrath that he was capable of.

However, in the garden, the pedestal and surrounding landscape gave the work an entirely different meaning. Rather than pressed up against the wall, the Neptune fell into the distant backdrop of trees that encompassed the surrounding area and brought him in comparison with the grandeur of nature that his figure was intended to represent. The circular path that followed the edge of the water allowed for the fountain to be walked around such that the posture of the figure slowly spirals upwards, leading the eye directly to the deep expression of his face, only visible after having walked around to the other side. The three smaller figures, seemingly incorporated into the fountain as architectural features at first glance, sit in positions that are similar enough to create a repetition that would lead one to make such a mistake, and yet are varied enough to lead to their animation. Their compressed squats make it feel like they could leap out over the fountain.

This new movement and purpose that Neptune had, as compared to his setting in the Borgello, was what interested me. The sculptor had clearly not only been interested in the anatomy of the figure, but the context in which he was to be placed. All of the elements in this part of the garden coexisted to make one piece that moved in ways that Neptune, when standing alone, could not.