Naissance et Renaissance du dessin italien: La collection du Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, Rotterdam (Collection Frits Lugt, Fondation Custodia in Paris, 12 October 2024–12 January 2025). Catalogue by MaudGuichané and RosieRazzall, eds. Collection F

Anyone travelling from Rotterdam to Munich and Paris via Lille to London and Oxford in January 2025 would have been able see the most personal and intimate works of art of the Italian Renaissance. Displays of hundreds of drawings, some of which are 600 years old, showcased the versatility and power of Italian Renaissance art through the process and technique of drawing, and their fluid or sharp lines highlighted the melodious quality of Renaissance draughtsmanship. This echoes the words of the celebrated art historian David Rosand, who wrote that as a graduate student he would study the tremendous draughtsmen to ‘touch old paper and to listen to it sing’.1 The Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, Rotterdam, put on a show of 122 drawings at the Collection Frits Lugt, Fondation Custodia in Paris. The exhibition, co-curated by Rosie Razzall (Curator of Drawings, Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen) and Maud Guichané (Head of Collections, Fondation Bemberg, Toulouse, formerly Curator at Fondation Custodia), is the materialisation of a six-year project funded by the Getty Foundation to update and digitalise the Boijmans’ Italian drawings from c. 1400 to 1600.2 The exhibition in Paris showcased the Boijmans’ extraordinary holdings of Italian Renaissance drawings, arguably the most important in the Netherlands, and demonstrated the breadth and depth of the curators’ research. The exhibition was accompanied by a ‘traditional’ catalogue with entries, something of a rarity these days, and is filled with new findings. The catalogue also includes two essays. Razzall wrote a thorough account of the origins of the Italian drawing collection.3 The essay ‘Defining the Human Figure: The Role of Drawing in Early Modern Italy’ by Klazina Botke provides a clear overview of the topic, but is rather general in its approach, sources, and engagement with the recent literature.4 The lion’s share of the exhibited drawings came from the collection of Franz Wilhelm Koenigs (1881–1941), a German banker who moved to Haarlem in 1922 and started what eventually culminated in a collection of more than 2,500 drawings. In 1935, he gave his drawings, amongst other artworks, on long-term loan to the Boijmans. These drawings were bought by businessman and collector Daniël George van Beuningen (1877–1955) in 1940, just before the German invasion of the Netherlands. Although Van Beuningen donated these drawings to the museum, he irresponsibly sold a fifth to the Nazis for 1.5 million guilders. As a result, more than 500 drawings were lost. After the war, 177 of these sheets were returned, whilst 308 are missing from the Boijmans collection. Their location is no secret: these sheets are still unlawfully held in the Pushkin Museum in Moscow and the efforts by the Dutch state to reclaim them continue to this day.5 The rationale behind the Boijmans displaying 122 of their finest drawings at the Fondation Costodia, in particular, can be interpreted in at least three ways. Practically, the Boijmans does not have the space in Rotterdam as their building has been undergoing a major renovation and the collection is only partially on view in the Depot. Moreover, the Fondation housed other Boijmans’ displays in the past, namely the Bosch to Bloemaert exhibition,6 as well as Dialogues, which paired drawings from the two institutions together.7 These two shows were organised simultaneously in 2014. On a personal note, Koenigs was well-acquainted with the co-founder of the Fondation, the collector and connoisseur Frits Lugt (1884–1970).8 The exhibition mostly followed a chronological approach starting with a drawing attributed to Niccolò di Pietro Gerini (active c. 1368–1415) and ending with a previously unpublished sheet by Jacopo da Empoli (1551–1640).9 Drawings from the same school (i.e. Venetian and Florentine) were usually grouped together. Of the nearly 400 Fra Bartolommeo (1472–1517) drawings from the collection, twelve were chosen for this exhibition. Against white walls and in light-brown frames, the drawings were completely stripped of their bottega origins and their possible intended use. To compensate for the lack of information on the labels—which informed the audience only about the artist, title, date, and materials—the Fondation published a booklet in French. The English version could be downloaded via a QR code. Neither the exhibition nor the booklet included additional images. This lack of information is unfortunate as many of the exhibited sheets were used for other projects or are related to other artworks. This omission makes one wonder if the intended audience for this exhibition was that of connoisseurs. The Boijmans collection has particularly strong holdings of drawings from the Veneto region, with sheets by Vittore Carpaccio (1465–1525), Giorgione (1473/1474–1510), Jacopo Tintoretto (1518–1594), and Paolo Veronese (1528–1588) (Figs. 1 and 2). Research into drawing practices from Venice and northern Italy has recently attracted new interest, such as in the organisation of the botteghe.10 The display of so many strong examples of Venetian drawings further emphasised the importance of disegno for these artists.11 Some of the displayed drawings are icons of the Boijmans collection, such as the red chalk drawing of a seated figure in a landscape by Giorgione, the only drawing fully accepted as made by the enigmatic artist’s hand (Fig. 3).12 Scholars still tend to connect this sheet with Giorgione’s paintings—especially with La Tempesta13—which has proven unsatisfying. This shows the complexities of comparing drawings with paintings, which is particularly difficult in relation to Venetian sheets, as will be discussed later in this review. One of the great discoveries in this exhibition was made by Maud Guichané who reconnected two cut-up sheets by Francesco Mazzola, called Parmigianino (1503–1540). Guichané convincingly shows that the Rotterdam drawing is the upper body of a figure whose legs can be found in the Courtauld Gallery, London (Figs. 4 and 5).14 The Courtauld drawing is almost always connected with the figure of St Jerome in the artist’s Bardi Altarpiece, painted around 1521. This altarpiece was originally in the church of San Pietro of Viadana where Parmigianino had fled from Parma.15 However, I do not agree with Guichané’s observation that the legs are similar to the painted saint, as they are much freer and more contorted in the drawing than the ‘safe’ pose in the painting. The cut between the two sheets is neatly done and it makes no sense for it to have been made by a collector or dealer. Thus, the question could be raised if it was done by Parmigianino himself.16 If Parmigianino indeed repurposed the upper part of this sheet, as the man is holding a music score, it is unclear for which project he may have used it. Guichané hints at the organ shutters depicting St Cecilia and David for the Santa Maria della Steccata in Parma in 1523–1524. Although the painted figure of David is holding a lute rather than a music score, this could be a plausible interpretation, as Parmigianino is known to have drastically changed many aspects of his works between his drawing practices and paintings. It is intriguing that the Rotterdam sheet’s purpose may now be more fully explained, but at the same time this find raises more questions than answers. In any case, what the sheet(s) makes clear, is that Parmigianino was truly ‘born to draw’ as Giorgio Vasari (1511–1574) stated.17 Already from an extremely young age, his drawings show a dynamism not always found in this painted works. Concurrent with the exhibition in Paris, Rosie Razzall organised a show in the Boijmans’ depot: Secrets of Italian Drawings (23 November 2024 to 23 March 2025). This exhibition had a completely different approach. The forty or so drawings on display allowed the visitor to ask and answer questions about these sheets. The interactive experience—visitors could actually pick up facsimiles of three different drawings to study and test themselves—received extremely positive reactions. The exhibition invited audiences to think about these drawings from different perspectives and may have made the works more relevant to today’s visitors, but also shows how we may think about drawing exhibitions in the future. Like the Paris exhibition, the Drawing the Italian Renaissance show at the King’s Gallery, London, displayed drawings of the highest quality. Its aim was to explore ‘the diversity and accomplishment of drawing across Italy between 1450 and 1600’, and was in many ways similar to that of the exhibition at the Fondation Custodia, though its approach was thematic, rather than chronological. This exhibition featured nearly 160 drawings by 80 different artists. Most of the drawings in the Royal Collection were acquired by King Charles II (1630–1685).18 The three big names, Leonardo da Vinci (1454–1519), Michelangelo (1475-1564), and Raphael (1483–1520), were included, of course. Martin Clayton, Head of Prints and Drawings at the Royal Collection and curator of the exhibition, thematically divided the 160 drawings over three large galleries and one hallway. An audio guide offered more in-depth information about a selection of the sheets. No catalogue was published.19 The first gallery with azure blue walls touched upon the themes ‘Drawing the figure’ and ‘Drawing the head’. The visitor was welcomed to the exhibition by a drawing on blue prepared paper from around 1460 to 1480 of a seated youth drawing (though he could also be writing), whilst a curled-up dog is sleeping in the bottom left corner.20 This room contained incredible figure studies, such as Raphael’s Three Graces, Two Struggling Figures by Luca Signorelli (1445–1523), and Leonardo’s drapery study (which includes the artist’s fingerprint).21 The head studies in the second part of the room show the versatility of various artists in their approach to the subject matter. The second gallery with emerald green walls again showcased drawings within two themes: ‘Observing nature’ and ‘Designing the applied arts’. The former category included works such as the famous lily attributed to Andrea del Verrocchio (1435–1488) and a stupendous study of a tree on blue paper by Cesare de Sesto (1477–1535).22 The inventiveness with which Renaissance artists approached the applied arts was shown through drawings by Giulio Romano (c. 1499–1546), Francesco Salviati (1510–1563), and others. The most intriguing example was the head of a man for a wooden intarsia panel, designed by an artist in the circle of Cristoforo Canozzi da Lendinara (c. 1427–post 1477) (Fig. 6).23 In this room and the last, visitors also had the opportunity to make drawings themselves, as paper and pencils were provided on tables in the centre of the gallery. A small vestibule leading to the third and last room showed visitors the collecting practices of Renaissance drawings in the Royal Collection, of which very little is known, unfortunately. The final, crimson-clad gallery delved into the three themes of ‘Drawing the divine’, ‘Decorating the private realm’, and ‘Drawing as art’. The first theme particularly highlighted that making designs for devotional artworks was prevalent throughout the Italian peninsula. There were examples from the north, such as the magnificent design for an altarpiece by the Friulian artist Giovanni Antonio Pordenone (c. 1484–1539) and works from Central Italy, like the Virgin and Child with Angels by the Florentine Filippino Lippi (c. 1457–1504), to drawings by Southerners, such as the uniquely blocky Adoration of the Shepherds, attributed to the completely unknown Neapolitan artist Leonardo Castellani (died c. 1572).24 These were indicative of the work that goes into the making of the thousands of religious works that adorned the churches, monasteries, and domestic spaces in the Renaissance. The second theme contained drawings and designs for individuals that mostly consisted of mythological themes. The final category’s line-up was full of illustrious examples, such as Leonardo’s still unexplained red chalk allegory of a dog and an eagle and a most intriguing and peculiar votive drawing by an unidentified Marchigian artist, made around 1500, of a lady called Ieradina Dallumote, who gives thanks to beata Camilla (Fig. 7).25 This final wall also featured the head of an elderly man, attributed to Giovanni Bellini (1430–1516) and dated c. 1460–1470 (Fig. 8). The artist began with black chalk, then applied brush and ink with white wash. The blue paper, now much discoloured, was later varnished. The sheet is puzzling for several reasons. It was first listed in the 1810 inventory of King George III (1738–1820) as by ‘Giovan Bellino’.26 This attribution has recently been accepted on the basis of underdrawings in Bellini’s paintings.27 However, the only certain attributable drawing by Bellini is in the Musée Condé in Château de Chantilly: the profile portrait of Vittore Belliniano (1456–1529), Bellini’s pupil, made in 1505. This sheet is hardly comparable to the Royal Collection’s, at least in terms of style.28 The Royal Collection drawing depicts an old man with a majestic beard, his hair mostly hidden under a cap. The face is striking, with clear signs of age, especially under the eyes and the pronounced vein on the left side of the forehead. His eyes, somewhat languid yet full of life, gaze into the distance. He wears a hooded cloak. No exact match for this bearded figure appears in Bellini’s painted works, though comparisons have been made to St Anthony Abbott and other elderly bearded men, and scholars remain rather undecided about its use and dating.29 It also remains unclear whether this represents a physiognomic ‘type’ or if Bellini used a life model. The drawing’s purpose might have been multifaceted: as a study for his paintings, for the workshop as an example of rendering old men, or as an autonomous artwork, given its polished finish. The drawing shows signs of pricked holes in the corners which may tell us more about its use and appreciation in the bottega or by collectors, and also explains its rather extreme discolouration. Whomever the drawing’s author or whatever its purpose may have been, one thing became clear from looking at this sheet in the context of the exhibition at the King’s Gallery: drawing was important for artists from all regions of the Italian peninsula. Moreover, the versatility of materials and the purpose of these sheets shows how diverse each artist’s approach to drawing might have been. The Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen exhibition at the Fondation Custodia and the Royal Collection show at the King’s Gallery both displayed works of the highest quality from single collections. It is my ardent hope that such splendiferous holdings continue to reveal the secrets of the artists in their collections. Although visitors—or print room frequenters, for that matter—are not allowed to touch the paper of the works on display, exhibitions such as these continue to make the drawings sing.