Day 216 - Bishop John Fisher

September 25, 2020

A few days ago I checked out my museum map to see where gallery 557 was, and guess what? There is no gallery 557! I've completed my circuit of European decorative arts and sculpture - with one major exception: The rooms that were closed when I first began visiting these galleries have now reopened and constitute the new British galleries. So these will be my destination for the next several visits.

I walked through the galleries quickly to get a sense of their layout and contents and noted at once that they are arranged in chronological order and that, thankfully, this time gallery numbers track that chronology. Other immediate takeaways: The signage makes clear the intention to relate artistic developments to Britain's economic, political, and religious evolution. I see many references, for example, to Britain's mercantile ambitions (and inevitably to colonialism and imperialism), as well as to the Reformation. And, too, the displays are far more visually inviting than those in the much older European decorative arts galleries, with fewer cases crammed with disparate objects or rooms filled with furniture.  I strike up a conversation with a guard (or maybe he strikes one up with me). He tells me that the tall reflection-free glass cases were made especially for these galleries. In one such case, there's a wonderful display of teapots of all sizes to which I'm already looking forward to returning.

Gallery 509, the introductory gallery, is concerned with the 16th century but also lays out some themes that transcend that time period and deal with Britain's transformation from an island nation to a world power. One such concept is that trade engendered wealth, extended the cultural elite beyond the aristocracy, and broadened both tastes and markets. Another is that skilled international artisans who came to Britain inspired new ways of working. Today's selection,  a polychrome terracotta bust of Bishop John Fisher,  exemplifies this latter idea.  Perhaps 30 inches high from its base to the tip of the bishop's cap, the bust was made between 1510 and 1515 by Pietro Torrigiani, a Florence-born sculptor who in England sculpted royal portraits and tombs. The label says that foreign artists like Torrigiani had technical skills far superior to those of local artisans, who presumably learned from them. And the foreign artists cultivated their reputations among their wealthy patrons, whereas English artisans generally remained anonymous.  The Torrigiani bust is really accomplished.  Bishop Fisher,  who was between 40 or 45 at the time the bust was made, must have been a very handsome man -- or at least Torrigiani made him appear so. The bishop's  head is turned to the right, his eyes gazing outward; his high cheekbones and straight nose are sharply chiseled, while curly sideburns peek out from under his cap. His somehow strikes me as a very English face. 

Two tidbits about the artist and the sitter.  First, a man, seeing me looking so intently at the bust, asks if I know anything about Torrigiani. (Two conversations in one day!) He then asks me if I have heard of Michelangelo (!) and tells me that Torrigiani was responsible for breaking Michelangelo's nose when the two young Florentines got into a fistfight. As for John Fisher, he was beheaded for  refusing to assist  Henry VIII' in the king's efforts to divorce Catherine of Aragon.