Friday, November 11, 2022

Renaissance / Mannerist Portrait Drawings at the Louvre

attributed to Giovanni Antonio Boltraffio
Head of a Youth wreathed with Oak Leaves
before 1516
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Giovanni Antonio Boltraffio
Portrait of a Youth
before 1516
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Boccaccio Boccaccino
Portrait of a Young Man
before 1525
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Boccaccio Boccaccino
Portrait of a Young Woman
before 1525
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Cavaliere d'Arpino (Giuseppe Cesari)
Self Portrait
ca. 1590-95
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Lucas Cranach the Elder
Portrait Study of a Youth
ca. 1510
drawing, with watercolor and gouache
Musée du Louvre

Parmigianino
Study of an Antique Head
ca. 1522-23
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Parmigianino
Head of a Youth
ca. 1530-40
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Parmigianino
Heads of Two Youths
ca. 1524-27
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Bartolomeo Passarotti
Head of a Young Woman
before 1592
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Bartolomeo Passarotti
Head of a Young Man
ca. 1583
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Bartolomeo Passarotti
Study for the Head of Christ
before 1592
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Federico Zuccaro
Portrait of a Man
before 1609
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Federico Zuccaro
Portrait of a Man
before 1609
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Jacopo Bassano
Portrait of a Young Man
1538
drawing
Musée du Louvre

Translating the Latin

We were inching our way through De Senectute,
a page or half-page at a time. One by one, 
in a sequence of our names we never learned to predict, 
he called on us to English the Latin we first
had to read aloud. Scanning our scrawls sequestered
in the margins of our page and cribbed from the best
translations we could find, we spoke in the meek
deferential tones befitting our plebeian rank.
("The noblest Roman of them all," our year-book called him.)

Did we ever fool him? We knew that he had heard
our plagiarisms hundreds of times before.
But never once did we guess how deep a game
we all were playing as he listened alike to the worst
and best dissemblers among us. What he heard
must have been that persistent music of old age,
not his, not Cicero's, but ours: a sonata
of the years which only our banal young voices
could compose and which he alone could hear.

How much he could teach us now, trapped inside
our grammar of shrinking sinews! Those subtle inflections,
for instance, to fortify our subjunctive or conditional
moods against unwarranted indicative statements;
those periphrastics to guide us safely around
the things we should have learned, or learned and forgot;
and those inversions of time which we now surmise,
subjects deferred years after the events of verbs
have commandeered their objects, direct and indirect. 

But in surviving we have come to feel almost
at ease with the imperfect syntax of our lives.
We no longer have the will to rememorize
the niceties of our conjugations and declensions.
Besides, he is still ahead of us, some fifty
years beyond old age. What he might teach
us now and in what language we cannot imagine. 
All he has left with us is our next assignment,
not telling us when it is due or what it requires.
 
– Ernest Sandeen (1984)