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.