Nothing gives you a sense of perspective on your life like knowing that even Da Vinci and Raphael had off days. It’s not totally their fault. Metalpoint, an artistic technique which involves scraping bits of metal over prepared paper (and to which this show is dedicated), is an unforgiving medium. It creates faint, barely discernible lines that are hard to erase. Its greatest appeal is its wispy, ghostly faintness. The majority of these works (which range from Renaissance Italy and sixteenth-century Holland through to today) are so fine and fuzzy that you’re forced close to them. Everyone in the gallery is nose-to-nose with the drawings. They’re pulled into intimate near-contact with Jacques de Gheyn II’s corpse of Prince Maurice, they almost nuzzle with Albrecht Dürer’s powerful-looking dog. The drawings are barely there, intangible. The subjects are cloaked in a fog – ghostly visions peaking out of the past.
There are some very ugly works here. A lot of the more modern stuff – most notably by Otto Dix and Bruce Nauman – lacks the subtlety and skill of the older works. There are some duffers among those too. Hans Bo’s cityscape is none too pretty, one of the Holbeins is god-awful and some of the Lippis are things only a grandmother could love. Then there’s Raphael making a massive balls up of a baby’s face – and you’ll wish you never saw Da Vinci’s sketch of a horse’s butthole.
But that’s part of what makes this show so special. So much of the beauty here comes from seeing the work of the great masters left rough and unfinished. We’re used to seeing this lot in their glossy, perfect glory, but here they’re rushing, leaving limbs and faces undrawn. These are artists in full flight, dashing off quick moments of pure creativity. Seeing Da Vinci sketch too many hands, draw the same bust over and over again, leaving a man’s Johnson a little squiffy, or even drawing a horrifying vision of an equine anus – these are your own private glimpses into the workings of artistic geniuses. Not bad for an off day.
