Agnolo Bronzino and the Secrets behind his Depictions of Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici
- Slava Prakhiy
- Jul 6, 2021
- 10 min read
The Cosimo I de’ Medici in Armour portrait (c. 1545) was conceived at the time of radical political change and upheaval in 16th century Florence. These troublesome times echoed the personal turmoil of the portrait’s creator and, in turn, became reflected in the creation itself. Young Cosimo I de’ Medici was greatly underestimated by the republican opposition when he first came to power in 1537. However, the newly appointed duke proved a force to be reckoned with, swiftly quashing his resistance and establishing his political control.[1] Art and cultural policies played a major role in Cosimo I’s plans and he was successful at channeling both to serve his ideological purposes.[2] Agnolo Bronzino, the official painter of the Medici court, was entrusted with creating what Galdy calls a recognisable “persona” of the duke in order to disseminate the image in a number of diplomatic missions.[3] Notwithstanding the political importance of the portrait, it can be said that Cosimo I de Medici’s representation is imbued with a sense of strange detachment and artificiality. The portrait is a superb example of Mannerist style – a dichotomy of refined, polished perfection and inner tension, contradictions and ambiguity. As an official painter of Cosimo I, Bronzino was loyal to his patron. However, Cosimo I’s tightening of the Florence’s anti-sodomy laws, enforced in order to control the republican-leaning literati, had a direct and detrimental effect on many of Bronzino’s close friends.[4] As a prolific poet and author of a large number of suggestive burlesque capitoli, Bronzino developed a mode of expression that relished hidden meanings and ambiguities. It is likely that the painter-poet’s most revered artwork was infused with subtle equivocal meanings, reflecting a deep internal struggle of the artist, faced with complex life changes. A close analysis of the Armour portrait coupled with an examination of certain capricious details in the Portrait of Cosimo I de' Medici as Orpheus can provide a glimpse into the artist’s conflicted inner world.
Around the time that the honor of creating an official state portrait was bestowed upon Bronzino, much sadness and uncertainty dominated the artist’s personal life, which was linked directly to his patron. In 1542, in an unequivocal expression of his newly acquired power, Cosimo I implemented a number of anti-sodomy law reforms. These reforms entailed dramatic increases in financial penalties and harsher forms of punishment for acts of sodomy, in some cases replacing fines with imprisonment and exile.[5] A number of Bronzino’s close literati friends were directly affected by these laws, as romantic attachments between males were commonplace in 16th century Florence, particularly among the elite.[6] In 1540, a close circle of these highly educated men founded the Accademia degli Umidi (later renamed Academia Fiorentina), which became a fertile hub of creativity. Alongside discussions on Dante and Petrarch, Bronzino and his friends wrote and exchanged burlesque poetry of the most risqué kind – praising and glorifying acts of sodomy and a variety of other lewd topics in clever word plays of double entendres and innuendos. Many of these men held strong republican views and their poetry often contained cleverly disguised hidden meanings.[7] This mode of creation allowed artists to express their innermost feelings and thoughts on a variety of political and social subjects that they were able to conceal with burlesque allegories.
In one such burlesque capitolo, entitled “La cipolla del Bronzino pittore” ("The Onion of Bronzino the Painter”) an onion (which is known as the burlesque phallic symbol) is praised by Bronzino for its “scarlet outfit”, a colour so noble and gentile that even the likes of “Alexander and Caesar” would don it.[8] It is precisely that noble scarlet red that Bronzino features so prominently in the lining of Cosimo I’s stately armour. The magnificent armour, with its intricate engraving, gold trimmings and the aforementioned rich burgundy lining, is one of the most prominent features of the portrait and serves as its primary element of propaganda. Taking into account that Cosimo I has never personally participated in any military activity, the armour becomes a picturesque representation of what Galdy refers to as the duke’s “military success by proxy”.[9] A close look at the portrait suggests that under the masterful paintbrush of Bronzino, the overt political metaphor of the armour evolves into a covert metaphor and clever Mannerist artifice used to conceal Cosimo I’s weakness of physicality. The light, reflected from the skillfully depicted silver surface of the protruding shoulder and forearm, emphasises its weight and grandeur, creating a formidable figure. Bronzino extends Cosimo I’s right hand out of the armour’s commanding sleeve and places it on the helmet, directly at the level of the viewer’s gaze in order to draw to it our utmost attention. It is an elegant hand with soft, supple, sensual skin. Its fingers are intricately positioned in an effeminate, mannered gesture. Similarly, Cosimo I’s unproportionally long neck extends far out of the armour’s robust shoulder frame. Both, the hand, with its delicate wrist, and the swan-like neck are suggestive of a thin, feeble body. The magnificent armour almost outshines its wearer – the sheer bulk and sense of power projected by it creates an unfavourable contrast to Cosimo’s I languid limbs. It is an ironic juxtaposition, suggestive of derision of the most subtle kind – that, which is so typical of double entendres in Bronzino’s burlesque poetry.
An overall sense of superficial detachment and equivocation that the Armour portrait emanates has been observed by many scholars. Simon, for instance, notes that “Bronzino seems to portray his subject as fearful as he is fearsome”.[10] The primary source of this ambiguity is located in Cosimo I’s eerie gaze. He stares intently into the distance, his unsettling expression intensified by the complete absence of eyelashes. Bronzino accentuates the whites of his eyes, making them look strangely protruding. However, there is another representational reason behind the oddity of Cosimo I’s gaze. Bronzino’s depiction of the “wall-eyed” gaze in his sitters is well-known and a variety of hypothesis have been put forward to explain it.[11] Similar to many other Bronzino’s portraits, Cosimo I is depicted with exotropia – his right eye is pointing away from the nose, disrupting the balance of the gaze. Hall notes that “in Bronzino, the presence of truant eyes is liberating as well as creepy. They imply the existence of secret niches for the imagination.”[12] Quite unexpectedly for an official courtly portrait, Cosimo I’s wall-eyed, bulging gaze infuses the portrait with an unnerving quality and projects uncertainty.
The direction of Cosimo I’s gaze in the Portrait of Cosimo I de' Medici as Orpheus (c. 1537-1539) is a stark contrast to the classic propaganda gaze of the Armour portrait. Orpheus looks directly at us – his gaze is private, intimate and seductive. Very little is known about the commission and purpose of this much earlier portrait, aside from the fact that, unlike the Armour portrait, it has never been replicated.[13] Although this allegorical work warrants a more ambiguous interpretation, it may provide a deeper insight into Bronzino’s feelings towards his patron. The portrait depicts the duke as a mythological figure of Orpheus, recognisable by his attributes of a musical instrument and the two visible heads of Cerberus – the three-headed guard dog of Hades that Orpheus manages to pacify. During the examination of the Orpheus portrait with infrared reflectography, it was uncovered that Bronzino made very significant iconographic changes to its original version.[14] All traces of clothing were removed, leaving only the red drapery that exposed most of duke’s nude, slightly limp body; the bow, changed into a more lubricious position; the head of the lira da braccio, reworked into a shape, reminiscent of female genitalia with what appears to be Medici balls placed along its edges; one of Cerberus’ heads, with the growl changed to a more docile snout, its gaze redirected towards the duke’s groin (Fig. 1)[15]. Tucker observes that “in the reworked, final version, the heroic is superseded by the erotic.”[16] Orpheus’ unproportionally small head is awkwardly placed on top of his flaccid body. His rosy cheeks and bright red lips look almost as if they have had blush and rouge applied to them. Although less prominent, these features are also present in the Armour portrait where Bronzino utlises his impeccable skills of applying translucent layers of oil paint to highlight the sensuality of Cosimo I’s skin and lips.
It has been noted that the body of Orpheus is a reversal of the Vatican’s Belvedere Torso.[17] However, unlike its muscular, robust classic counterpart, Orpheus’ torso outline features soft folds of flesh around his stomach and groin, conspicuous absence of muscle and an erect nipple. The exaggeration of the nipple brings to mind the sharp, highly prominent, besagues of Cosimo I’s stately armour. Although some scholars note, that this exaggeration is a sign of Cosimo I’s detachment and austerity,[18] it is possible that Bronzino features the besagues so dramatically in order to give them a lubricious undertone. Another point of connection between the two portraits is Orpheus’ hand with its soft, supple skin. In the Orpheus portrait, Bronzino depicts the left hand, gently wrapped around the lira da braccio’s long neck and that sensual gesture is reminiscent of the elegant hand, so prominently featured in the Armour portrait. The physical similarities between the two portraits provide further support to the theory that in the Armour portrait, Bronzino hints at the duke’s languid body, concealed under the splendid, stately armour. The Orpheus portrait, originally intended as an official commission for the duke, may have been rejected or abandoned and subsequently reworked by Bronzino, changing its purpose entirely. Adding suggestive erotic elements, it may have become a subversive joke, intended as a gift for a close literati friend.[19]
We may never know with any degree of certainty, if Bronzino intended to imbue an official state portrait with burlesque connotations. The subtle, subversive messages in the artist’s representation of Cosimo I de’ Medici may have been weaved into it intentionally or unintentionally. A fair question may arise: why the derision (if it existed) was not noticed by the patron and those that the portrait was intended for? On the contrary, why was it so revered and adored? The answer, perhaps, lies in Bronzino’s incredible skill as an artist. Regardless of how the individual elements of the portrait are perceived, the resulting whole is intensely beautiful, just like one of the best examples of Mannerist art should be. In 1547, two years after the Armour portrait was first commissioned and almost ten years after the capricious Orpheus portrait was created, Bronzino and some of his nonconformist, republican-leaning friends were expelled from the Academia Fiorentina by the Medician censors.[20] There is no evidence to suggest that Bronzino engaged in direct acts of anti-Medician rebellion but the turbulent, dramatic changes taking hold of Florence, inspired Bronzino and his friends to create incredibly complex, equivocal and multifaceted works of art. One of Bronzino’s most disturbing eight-part poems, entitled “Il piato” (“The Argument”) describes the artist’s arduous journey along a body of an allegorical giant, during which he witnesses a number of brutal assaults and then becomes subjected to a horrific and violent sexual initiation himself.[21] This poem is a poignant metaphor of what Lisa Kaborycha calls “a rape of a culture.”[22] In 1566 Bronzino won the right to be re-instated at the Academy but his creativity, poetry and art, just like the world of Florence around him, would never be as free again.
Bibliography
Chiummo, Carla. “Burlesque Connotations in the Pictorial Language in Bronzino's Poetry.” Renaissance and Reformation 40, no. 1, Special issue: Comedy, Satire, Paradox, and the Plurality of Discourses in Cinquecento Italy (Winter 2017): 211-237.
Firpo, Massimo. “Bronzino and the Medici.” in Bronzino: Artist and Poet at the Court of the Medici, edited by Carlo Falciani and Antonio Natali, 91-99. Firenze: Mandragora, 2010.
Forster, Kurt W. “Metaphors of Rule. Political Ideology and History in the Portraits of Cosimo I de' Medici.” Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz 15, bd., h. 1 (1971): 65-104.
Galdy, Andrea M. “Identity and Likeness: Bronzino’s Medici Portraits.” in Agnolo Bronzino: Medici Court Artist in Context, edited by Andrea M. Galdy, 31-50. Newcastle-upon-Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2013.
Gallucci, Margaret A. “Chapter 4: Cellini's Trial for Sodomy: Power and Patronage at the Court of Cosimo I,” in The cultural politics of Duke Cosimo I de Medici, edited by Konrad Eisenbichler, 37-46. Ashgate, 2001.
Goodchild, Karen Hope. “Source and Meanings: Bronzino’s Wandering Eye.” Notes in the History of Art 35, no. 1-2 (Fall 2015/Winter 2016): 92-102.
Hajek, Nicolaus J. “Still a Rivalry: Contrasting Renaissance Sodomy Legislation in Florence and Venice.” Black & Gold 1, Art. 2 (2015): 1-15.
Hall, James. “Bronzino's Medici portraits – review.” The Guardian, October 23, 2010. https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2010/oct/23/bronzino-medici-portraits-art-review.
Kaborycha, Lisa. “Among Rare Men: Bronzino and Homoerotic Culture at the Medici Court.” A lecture filmed for the MET exhibition The Drawings of Bronzino on 5 April 2010. Video, 1:02:32. https://youtu.be/KJdaupuUzUw.
Parker, Deborah. “Towards a Reading of Bronzino's Burlesque Poetry.” Renaissance Quarterly 50, no. 4 (Winter 1997): 1011-1044.
Simon, Robert. “Bronzino's ‘Cosimo I de' Medici as Orpheus’.” Philadelphia Museum of Art Bulletin 81, no. 348, Medici Portraits (Autumn 1985): 16-27.
Simon, Robert. “Bronzino's Portrait of Cosimo I in Armour.” The Burlington Magazine 125, no. 966 (September 1983): 527-537+539.
Tucker, Mark S. “Discoveries Made during the Treatment of Bronzino's ‘Cosimo I de' Medici as Orpheus’.” Philadelphia Museum of Art Bulletin 81, no. 348, Medici Portraits (Autumn 1985): 28-32.
Footnotes [1] Massimo Firpo, “Bronzino and the Medici,” in Bronzino: Artist and Poet at the Court of the Medici, ed. Carlo Falciani and Antonio Natali (Firenze: Mandragora, 2010), 91. [2] Kurt W. Forster, “Metaphors of Rule. Political Ideology and History in the Portraits of Cosimo I de' Medici,” Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz 15, bd., h. 1 (1971): 66. [3] Andrea M. Galdy, “Identity and Likeness: Bronzino’s Medici Portraits,” in Agnolo Bronzino: Medici Court Artist in Context, ed. Andrea M. Galdy (Newcastle-upon-Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2013), 41. [4] Lisa Kaborycha “Among Rare Men: Bronzino and Homoerotic Culture at the Medici Court,” a lecture filmed for the MET exhibition The Drawings of Bronzino on 5 April 2010, video, 1:02:32, https://youtu.be/KJdaupuUzUw. [5] Margaret A. Gallucci, “Chapter 4: Cellini's Trial for Sodomy: Power and Patronage at the Court of Cosimo I,” in The cultural politics of Duke Cosimo I de Medici, ed. Konrad Eisenbichler, (Ashgate, 2001), 38. [6] Nicolaus J. Hajek, “Still a Rivalry: Contrasting Renaissance Sodomy Legislation in Florence and Venice,” Black & Gold 1, Art. 2 (2015): 4. [7] Kaborycha, “Among Rare Men.” [8] Carla Chiummo provides an English translation for this passage by William Barton and Konrad Eisenbichler: (That scarlet outfit seems something noble so much so that Scipio and Caesar, as I hear say, did not allow lower-class people to wear it. From this one can clearly understand how she overflows in gentility and nobility, for she can dress herself in such a colour. In fact, she was the first, not the second, who received this reddish colour from nature, so every doubt is resolved. And if Alexander and Caesar and other leaders used this colour, it was taken from her, who invented it) Carla Chiummo, “Burlesque Connotations in the Pictorial Language in Bronzino's Poetry,” Renaissance and Reformation 40, no. 1, Special issue: Comedy, Satire, Paradox, and the Plurality of Discourses in Cinquecento Italy (Winter 2017): 221. [9] Galdy, “Identity and Likeness,” 39. [10] Robert Simon, “Bronzino's Portrait of Cosimo I in Armour,” The Burlington Magazine 125, no. 966 (September 1983): 535. [11] Karen Hope Goodchild, “Source and Meanings: Bronzino’s Wandering Eye,” Notes in the History of Art 35, no. 1-2 (Fall 2015/Winter 2016), 93-99. [12] James Hall, “Bronzino's Medici portraits – review,” The Guardian, October 23, 2010, https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2010/oct/23/bronzino-medici-portraits-art-review [13] Robert Simon, “Bronzino's ‘Cosimo I de' Medici as Orpheus’,” Philadelphia Museum of Art Bulletin 81, no. 348, Medici Portraits (Autumn 1985): 17. [14] Mark S. Tucker, “Discoveries Made during the Treatment of Bronzino's ‘Cosimo I de' Medici as Orpheus’,” Philadelphia Museum of Art Bulletin 81, no. 348, Medici Portraits (Autumn 1985): 28. [15] Tucker, “Discoveries,” 29. [16] Tucker, “Discoveries,” 30. [17] Robert Simon, “Bronzino's ‘Orpheus’,” 21. [18] Robert Simon, “Cosimo I in Armour,” 535. [19] Kaborycha, “Among Rare Men.” [20] Deborah Parker, “Towards a Reading of Bronzino's Burlesque Poetry,” Renaissance Quarterly 50, no. 4 (Winter 1997): 1016. [21] Parker, “Towards a Reading,” 1037. [22] Kaborycha, “Among Rare Men.”
Fig. 2 Photograph of Bronzino's Cosimo I de' Medici as Orpheus illustrating the artist's revisions
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