Lot Essay
The Master of the Annunciation to the Shepherds was a major figure in Naples in the early to mid-17th century. His hand was first identified in the eponymous picture in the Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery, a work that was once given to Velázquez, but whose attribution was questioned by August Mayer in 1923. It was not until 1958 that Ferdinando Bologna suggested naming the anonymous master after the Birmingham picture and, in the years since, the body of work ascribed to the artist has grown substantially, with several hypotheses being put forward in an attempt to give him a firm identity. A convincing identification has, however, proved elusive. He has variously been recognised as Bartolomeo Passante, or Bassante, and as Juan (or Giovanni) Dò, the latter from Valencia, artists who were documented as working in Naples in the 1620s. None of these suggestions has gained widespread acceptance, and it remains uncertain whether he was of Spanish or Italian origin (for the most recent summary of the intricate debates surrounding the artist's identity see N. Spinosa, Pittura del seicento a Napoli: da Caravaggio a Massimo Stanzione, Naples, 2010, pp. 326-8). Yet despite his anonymity, and the consequent lack of documentation of his life and work, he is centrally important to this period of the Baroque era. The exceptional quality of his pictures demonstrates a close affinity with Ribera and suggests an influence on the likes of Francesco Fracanzano, with whom he has on occasion been confused, and Bernardo Cavallino.
While his oeuvre includes predominantly Biblical scenes, and single figure depictions of apostles and philosophers, he also painted mythological subjects, such as Perseus and Phineas (Private collection), and the current lot, whose attribution has been confirmed by Professor Nicola Spinosa. It is an absorbing, studied and painterly work, retaining a naturalistic vigour but also evidencing a more graceful and delicate sensibility, exemplifying the artist's clear proximity to the development of Ribera. The work is suffused with a silvery light, the glistening plates of armour and the flesh tones of the figures serving to offset the tenebrous setting of the forge. The composition is complex, constructed with movement, tension and poise. The artist emphasises the physicality of the men as they strain under the weight of the shield; he captures the attentive expression of the central seated figure as he carefully studies the dragon, perched in the top corner; and he underlines the rapture of Vulcan, stage right, as he is locked in a gaze with Venus. Their passion finds a ready metaphor in the sparks that are emitted from the furnace to the left.
The picture is, indeed, rich with allegory and metaphor. The design on the shield derives from a work of 1589 by Hendrik Goltzius, Giants climbing the heavens, one of a series of engravings that depicted episodes from Ovid's Metamorphoses (plate 7 of 52, of which forty were published by Goltzius in 1589-90, with a further twelve issued posthumously; see fig. 1). Goltzius's composition shows Olympus under siege from the club-wielding Giants, but places Jupiter centre stage, his back turned to us as he stridently defends the heavens. His pose can be compared to Goltzius's drawings of Pluto and Mars (Besançon, Musée des Beaux-Arts), the latter dating from the same period, just before he went to Rome. Jupiter's pose contrasts somewhat with the older, bearded man that bears some of the shield's weight; he is a rather incongruous figure, in fact, appearing in a scene that one would otherwise expect to be populated by virile, young assistants. But his presence serves to add a characteristic dimension of realism to the work.
The artist's inventive use of the shield, embedding a picture within a picture, echoes the manner in which Virgil describes the shield forged for Aeneas in Book VIII of the Aeneid, using a moment of ekphrasis to tell the future story of Rome as it is mapped out on the piece of armour. The Master's choice to repeat Goltzius's design, bringing it to life on the shield, might be due to the fact that Jupiter's thunderbolts were manufactured by Vulcan, thus drawing out in dramatic fashion the link between the god and the forge. But it is also a part of a richer allegory of artistic production in this composition, evidenced by the central seated figure, who appears to be etching the design of a dragon onto the breastplate. The inclusion of the dragon is rather unusual. The creature does not form part of the common iconography of this subject, so while it could be seen as simply an emblem for the breastplate, it may carry other significance; the dragon is, for example, a symbol of the Borghese family. The seated figure is reminiscent of the student that appears in the same artist's wonderfully rich allegory of painting, the Artist's Studio (Masaveu collection), executed in the mid-1630s, in which a cartiglio appears, bearing the inscription 'ANCORA IMPARO' ('I am still learning'). In the present composition, the silvery scales of the dragon are picked up in the glint of the armour, the artist skilfully rendering these different textures and colours. The role of the artist and craftsman at work is purposefully underlined. The setting of Vulcan's forge is an entirely natural one for a reflection on the production and invention of art, with the god being himself an 'artificer' and the son of Minerva, the goddess of crafts. It is a subject that the Master of the Annunciation executes here with brilliant invention, complexity and drama.
While his oeuvre includes predominantly Biblical scenes, and single figure depictions of apostles and philosophers, he also painted mythological subjects, such as Perseus and Phineas (Private collection), and the current lot, whose attribution has been confirmed by Professor Nicola Spinosa. It is an absorbing, studied and painterly work, retaining a naturalistic vigour but also evidencing a more graceful and delicate sensibility, exemplifying the artist's clear proximity to the development of Ribera. The work is suffused with a silvery light, the glistening plates of armour and the flesh tones of the figures serving to offset the tenebrous setting of the forge. The composition is complex, constructed with movement, tension and poise. The artist emphasises the physicality of the men as they strain under the weight of the shield; he captures the attentive expression of the central seated figure as he carefully studies the dragon, perched in the top corner; and he underlines the rapture of Vulcan, stage right, as he is locked in a gaze with Venus. Their passion finds a ready metaphor in the sparks that are emitted from the furnace to the left.
The picture is, indeed, rich with allegory and metaphor. The design on the shield derives from a work of 1589 by Hendrik Goltzius, Giants climbing the heavens, one of a series of engravings that depicted episodes from Ovid's Metamorphoses (plate 7 of 52, of which forty were published by Goltzius in 1589-90, with a further twelve issued posthumously; see fig. 1). Goltzius's composition shows Olympus under siege from the club-wielding Giants, but places Jupiter centre stage, his back turned to us as he stridently defends the heavens. His pose can be compared to Goltzius's drawings of Pluto and Mars (Besançon, Musée des Beaux-Arts), the latter dating from the same period, just before he went to Rome. Jupiter's pose contrasts somewhat with the older, bearded man that bears some of the shield's weight; he is a rather incongruous figure, in fact, appearing in a scene that one would otherwise expect to be populated by virile, young assistants. But his presence serves to add a characteristic dimension of realism to the work.
The artist's inventive use of the shield, embedding a picture within a picture, echoes the manner in which Virgil describes the shield forged for Aeneas in Book VIII of the Aeneid, using a moment of ekphrasis to tell the future story of Rome as it is mapped out on the piece of armour. The Master's choice to repeat Goltzius's design, bringing it to life on the shield, might be due to the fact that Jupiter's thunderbolts were manufactured by Vulcan, thus drawing out in dramatic fashion the link between the god and the forge. But it is also a part of a richer allegory of artistic production in this composition, evidenced by the central seated figure, who appears to be etching the design of a dragon onto the breastplate. The inclusion of the dragon is rather unusual. The creature does not form part of the common iconography of this subject, so while it could be seen as simply an emblem for the breastplate, it may carry other significance; the dragon is, for example, a symbol of the Borghese family. The seated figure is reminiscent of the student that appears in the same artist's wonderfully rich allegory of painting, the Artist's Studio (Masaveu collection), executed in the mid-1630s, in which a cartiglio appears, bearing the inscription 'ANCORA IMPARO' ('I am still learning'). In the present composition, the silvery scales of the dragon are picked up in the glint of the armour, the artist skilfully rendering these different textures and colours. The role of the artist and craftsman at work is purposefully underlined. The setting of Vulcan's forge is an entirely natural one for a reflection on the production and invention of art, with the god being himself an 'artificer' and the son of Minerva, the goddess of crafts. It is a subject that the Master of the Annunciation executes here with brilliant invention, complexity and drama.