
Here's my friend John Putnam -- and what follows are the photos he took (for me !) of sculpture at the royal Gardens of La Granja de San Idelfonso.

How could he have known that I would like this stuff ? How could I have known ? It's not as if 18th C. Spanish sculpture is very well known by anyone.
Try web searching the names of Renato Frémin (1672-1744), Jacques Bousseau (1680-1740)or Juan Thierry (??-??) --- and you're not going to find much.
Indeed, it seems that the figure sculptors of the late-Baroque are even more obscure than the figure sculptors I've been digging up from the 20th Century -- especially, I suppose, since they don't have descendants who post their works on the internet.

But here they are now -- in all their tasteless glory ! (and actually -- I think their taste is pretty good -- way, way above the sensational sculptors of today (Indians-wildlife-acrobats etc) -- because they still see sculpture as symphonic -- musical -- as something way quite different from the mere imitation of muscles, skin, and trousers.
A note concerning the (recently restored) shining, metallic patina: I like it (though John doesn't)-- because it adds to the over-the-top sense of indulgent fantasy. And isn't that why we -- royal guests -- came to this garden in the first place ?


These two equestrian cupids are probably my favorite pieces -- full of so much bumptuous life --- responding to a call that human ears will never hear.


I'm guessing that this outrageous confection is typical of the place -- and how can it not bring a smile to the face ? (In heavier, less talented hands -- this sort of thing is stomach-churning -- but here -- it's just delightful)


What a lovely pool ! Something about infants playing with giant fish -- it captures the infantile imagination of Europeans - but no one else -- and -- well -- I like it too.

There's the very fecund and stately ....

... and then there's the uttery bizarre.
I'm not sure this ambitious piece pulls together all that well -- but at least I like the top half.


While this thing is just about as nutty as it can be.
I guess the light and airbourne is the speciality of the Baroque -- that's why my father likes it -- and it has its moments.
It seems to say "I don't care -- I'm justing having fun" -- and who can argue with that ? (but it has to stay light -- and that's not easily accomplished)




But there's a problem -- I think - when they start working in stone (instead of bronze) -- because the carvers (who I think are different from the designers) just can't always keep the flow going - and things start feeling tight and pinched.


But not on this magnificent bowl -- with its noble, out-sized figures.

And I'll end the post with this tableaux -- that feels like it would be such a wonderful addition to any garden --- where, like the hand of God -- the sculptor has designed the rocks as well as the plants and the creatures that live there.
Great post Chris. The patina is indeed a bit shocking but a little reminiscent of Versailles.
ReplyDeleteI hopped here from Joy in Life and was sucked in by frivolity of glass, fell downward, and now really must tear myself away from these delightful dragons and and air- or earth-bound figures and "bumptious" cupids. Or I will never get my work done!
ReplyDeleteVery delightful for those of us who live in the boonsticks to take a ramble elsewhere.
Frivolity ? Yes !
ReplyDeleteI think we're both engaged in the serious pursuit of frivolity -- and I love the way you write.
Serious frivolity: I like that. In fact, I think I've pilfered it. I've been reading Yeats all week and thinking about "tragic joy"--"serious pursuit of frivolity" makes a good companion for that one.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the compliment. I rooted around and found where you stow your e-sculpture and drawings, so make that mutual esteem!