Day 207 - Ugolino

Gallery 548, the Carroll and Milton Petrie European Sculpture Court, is a huge rectangular space well over two stories high. It's topped with a glass ceiling in the form of an inverted V, so that in the day, at least, the gallery is flooded with light. It houses many of the Met's masterpieces of European sculpture, largely from the 19th century but also from earlier and later periods. Facing the entry is a fine marble. statue by Canova of Perseus holding the head of Medusa; Perseus' nude body is as honed and idealized as that of any classical Greek statue. I also take special note of a lovely Canova Venus, whose slim limbs and full breasts I envy, a casting of Rodin's Burghers of Calais, and a couple of Maillol nudes, immediately recognizable by their simplified forms. What's especially nice is that, while there must be 15 or 20  works on display here, the gallery is so large that it isn't at all crowded, and in fact, you can walk around most of the pieces, so that their three-dimensionality is all the more real. 

The piece that's most arresting to me is a  marble statue by Jean-Baptiste  Carpeaux entitled "Ugolino." The work executed between 1865 and 186, comprises five intertwined nude male figures arranged in a pyramid, with Ugolino at the apex. While I didn't know the story of Ugolino, I assumed that it's from Dante - correctly, as I learned from a docent touring with a group of museum visitors. The caption explains that Ugolino was punished for his political crimes by being imprisoned in a tower with his sons and young grandsons. Given no food, they were forced to choose between starvation and cannibalism. Ugolino is seated in a twisted position, his right arm on his left knee. His brows are furrowed, his fingers pull the corners of his mouth into a grimace, his eyes stare out in agony. His older son, seated on the ground, clutches  his father's leg (Carpeaux has captured the indentations that the son's fingers make on his father's skin) and gazes up at him, open-mouthed and imploring; another son buries his face against his father's knee.  One of Ugolino's grandsons dozes at his feet; perhaps hunger has already made him lethargic. All the figures are well-contoured at this point; presumably starvation hasn't yet set in.  But the grandsons in particular don't seem to have much excess flesh. Are they the ones to be eaten, or will Ugolino sacrifice himself? i guess I'll have to look up the answer in Dante and/or Wikipedia.

Th piece is highly dramatic, of course. But it's also remarkable for its realism. I note the well-articulated bones of Ugolino's left foot. The work reminds me a bit of the Laocoon, and I wonder whether this was one of Carpeaux's inspirations.