The Surprising Pairing of a 20th-Century American Bronze and a 16th-Century Italian Marble Fountain
In the past year, Huntington staff and conservators have been busy examining and restoring outdoor sculpture on the grounds. While visitors may have spotted the scaffolding surrounding a pair of bronzes in front of one of the entrances of the Library Exhibition Hall, few are likely aware of the rich histories behind those works. That pair, and the two at the other entrance to the Library, were cast by 17th-century sculptor Hubert Le Sueur, who served as the court sculptor to Charles I, king of England (1600–1649); only one other set is known from this series, which is now at Windsor Castle. In addition, the 18th-century limestone statue of Neptune near the Library’s east entrance steps once stood at the Imperial Palace (Hofburg) in Vienna. Our god of the sea needs a little help after enduring the elements for the past 90 years or so, and will soon undergo conservation treatment.
So while we have taken great care to assess the condition and materials of these works, we also try to be meticulous in reviewing their rich histories. There’s an even older and less visible European sculpture tucked amid the cycads and ferns near the loggia on the east side of the Huntington Art Gallery. Visitors might already be familiar with the bronze Bacchante—an exuberant six-foot female figure holding a bunch of grapes high above the head of an infant faun. But that work, completed around 1900, is by an American, Frederick William MacMonnies (1863–1937). One of the most important Italian sculptures on the grounds is the base beneath the bronze Bacchante—a rare example of Florentine marble carving dating to the mid-16th century.
The remarkable statement limits authorship of the fountain to within a small circle of artists active in mid-16th-century Tuscany.
It is at once a complicated and glorious piece. But, in fact, the fountain had not run properly for years. With the reopening of the Huntington Art Gallery in all its new- found splendor, could we fix this exterior ornament? And if we did, would water flowing through it put it at risk?
These are precisely the kinds of questions that help connect new generations of curators to the collections; there is always something to be learned. An article we reexamined—published in Italian in 1990—was particularly illuminating. In 1988, Florentine art historian and current superintendent of the Museums of Florence, Cristina Acidini Luchinat, visited The Huntington to study the fountain. Her research—published in a Tuscan art history journal—unraveled the base’s mystery. From the Latin inscriptions on the west side of the fountain, Acidini was able to tell that the fountain was “made for the honest pleasure of Tommaso Albiani in 1570” and that, subsequently damaged, “it was restored by Francesco, descendent of Tommaso Albiani, in 1790.” She identified the obscure coat-of-arms on the north side—featuring a castle flanked by two trees on a hilltop, rising out of the sea—as belonging to a member of the Tomei family who was “TOMASIAVXSOR,” Tommaso’s wife.
At the time the fountain was made, the Albiani family was living in the Tuscan town north of the beach resort of Viareggio, where they were established as merchants of leather and, later, cloth. As successful merchants, the family may well have had business dealings with the Medici bank in Florence. Acidini praised the refined style and high quality of the pedestal’s carving, writing that “the richness and abundance of the inventive composition raises the fountain to the level of a ducal commission,” meaning that the sculptor probably created pieces for the Medici themselves. This remarkable statement limits authorship of the fountain to within a small circle of artists active in mid-16th-century Tuscany. The fountain’s motifs and style suggest several possible candidates. For example, the fountain’s ram heads are similar to those on Giambologna’s Neptune statue in Bologna. Stylistic connections can also be made to the work of Florentine sculptor Tribolo, who designed the Boboli Garden at Palazzo Pitti in 1549 for the grand duke of Florence, Cosimo I Medici, as well as to Tribolo’s colleague Pierino daVinci, who worked with Tribolo on the sculpture of the Medici villa gardens at Castello. Judging from style and quality, and happily supplied with the marble’s date of manufacture, 1570, she concluded that the likeliest sculptor was Battista Lorenzi, a student of Baccio Bandinelli and later an assistant to Benvenuto Cellini. Lorenzi is responsible for several works throughout Florence, including the bust of Michelangelo for his tomb in the Church of Santa Croce.
The fountain served as a focal element in the garden of the Albiani palace until the late 18th century, when it no longer appears in maps of the property. Why it was sold and how it found its way to the United States is not known. During the Renaissance such fountains were included in country villas with vast gardens and in city palaces with outdoor courtyards, where they would inspire a sense of refuge and tranquility. Happily, this impressive fountain, now located at The Huntington, retains its original purpose. Whether water will ever flow through it again is a question sculpture conservators continue to grapple with; but if running water poses no risk to this important sculpture, they are hopeful that it can.
