This article was written for Dr. William Wallace’s “Michelangelo” seminar in Spring 2024 (Washington University in St. Louis) and added to the National Gallery Object Archive in January 2025.

In a self-embracing pose with one arm tightly wrapped around the chest and the other cautiously shielding his bowed head, the National Gallery wax statuette shows no countenance but expresses overwhelming emotion through its sforzato gesture in the upper torso (Fig 1). Titled “Male Nude Standing in Fearful Pose,” the artifact lacks an inherent name; the assigned title reflects a curatorial effort to emphasize the visceral response it evokes in viewers—it appears as though the figure is recoiling in horror. The statuette stands with his left foot positioned forward, both legs bent deeply, body tensed, knees close to the ground with an effort to stay low, as if his muscles are contracting to a lingering ache. Like his instinctively safeguarding arms, so in this involuntary droop also, the figure’s reactive physical contortion to an experienced pain melds with a proactive emotional turmoil to a tinge of foreboding from an ominous impetus outside the sculpture. The narrative and chronology to the event is multivalent, and the identification, by existing scholarship, of a seemingly obvious iconography, Atlas holding up the sky, is complicated. We cannot determine whether the design of the statuette originated as, or was intended to be, a standalone form, or if it was a part of a unified composition, singled out by the sculptor in synecdoche, molded in wax.

The statuette demonstrates detailed attention to anatomical precision in muscle topography and body gesture, yet its facial expression and hand gestures receive minimal effort. The dual nature of appearing as both a modello in the torso and a bozzetto in the visage further raises questions about its intended perspective—whether it was designed to be viewed di sotto in su or di su in sotto?

The approach to understanding the wax statuette in situ is prompted by its fragmented provenance and the limited body of literature that attributes it to various authors. Furthermore, the sample size of cinquecento wax models, fragile and vulnerable to deterioration and repurposing, is not robust enough for comparative analysis, and this field remains understudied by scholarship.[1] Consequently, when the artifact was acquired in 1992 under Dr. Douglas Lewis and Dr. Alison Luchs, the National Gallery’s efforts relied largely on stylistic merits.[2] It is rare for a preparatory wax model to have survived centuries in such fine condition. The lack of documentation raises ambiguity regarding the figure’s intended placement, but by studying its intended perspective, I seek to offer a new perspective on this work. For even limited success is worth the effort to dive deep into the scarce information at hand, glimpsing into a major cultural movement through a micro-wax figure.

What we read now on the museum plaque is the result of a series of changes, and rephrasing, of attribution. In the Official Proposed Acquisition by Purchase in October 1991, the attribution was recommended to adjust from Jacopo Sansovino, Bartolomeo Ammannati, or Vincenzo de Rossi, as suggested by the existing literature, to Niccolò Tribolo. This adjustment was proposed due to the Florentine sculptor’s close collaboration with il divino in the later stage of constructing the Medici Chapel at San Lorenzo, and to resemblance to Tribolo’s few known works. The range of the statuette’s attributions remained within the circle of sixteenth-century Florentine sculptors who flourished beyond their home state, reflecting a consensus among cognoscenti regarding the Michelangelesque expressiveness evident in the wax statuette’s stance, resonating with “Michelangelo’s works of the 1520s and 30s:” the contortion of the Slaves from the Julius Tomb, the aged visage of the reclining Dusk and arm-wrapping gesture of the Day in the Medici Chapel.[3]

Again in 2004, the statuette underwent a “change of attribution” from “Niccolò Tribolo, Florentine, 1500-50” to “Follower of Michelangelo, Florentine, 1475-1564 (possibly Niccolò Tribolo).”[4] This rearrangement reflects a more cautious approach to the attribution, driven by the limited scope of Tribolo’s documented oeuvre. Moreover, the new title prioritizes the stylistic influence of Michelangelo over specific authorship “in order to help make the statuette more accessible to laymen without sacrificing information that may intrigue specialists.”[5] While aimed at enhancing visitor experience, the reassignment—more accurately, the “reformulation”—of authorship significantly expanded the range of possible attributions for the wax statuette, once again highlighting stylistic assessment as the primary approach to understand the object.

The title, “Male Nude Standing in Fearful Pose,” was suggested by the art dealer in the acquisition proposal in 1991, the earliest correspondence in the object file, and this name has remained consistent ever since. A question arises: does the title, along with the reformulated attribution, preemptively influence our emotional interpretations, or is fear an inherent reading of this particular postural composition? It is uncommon for institutions to prescribe an emotional reading on an untitled work of art, yet Michelangelo’s enduring legacy in the portrayal of human form in contrapposti, amalgamating giudizio (judgement) in anatomical precisions with sprezzatura (studied negligence) in expressiveness, overshadows any formal objectivity in the description of the wax figure.[6] The experience of approaching the statuette—whether one first notices its form, its title, or its authorship—evokes a sense of vigor and intensity through its balletically contorted and drooping torso. However, it is difficult to determine which element influences the other, as their interactions transcend the descriptive device into almost an ekphrasis that bridges verbal and visual representations.[7]

The provenance of the statuette remains largely a mystery, spanning a hiatus between its debut as photographs in Albert Brinckmann’s Frankfurt-published 1924 book, Barock-Bozzetti Vol 2: Italian Sculptors,[8] and the earliest record of its whereabouts on the UK import form in 1991.[9] Brinckmann used the plates to illustrate Michelangelesque influence, without providing any accompanying information about the imagery. Similarly, in the rest of the meager corpus of scholarship, the wax statuette is often discussed as a stylistic reference or in relation to other objects, but never as the main subject. Many authors also lacked firsthand access to examine the statuette, resulting in a wide range of attributions and complicating the development of a cohesive argument.

 At least six bronze statuettes sharing a similar posture and physiognomy have been identified across scholarly literature, museum collections, and auction catalogues.[10] This motif also appears in several blue-paper sketches by the Venetian painter Tintoretto and his workshop, studied from various angles, reminiscent of his fascination with Michelangelo’s models in the Medici Chapel (Fig 8). Notable divergences exist among these statuettes and sketches, including differences in dimensions, factures, and gestures, suggesting that the National Gallery wax statuette was not a preparatory model for these bronze castings. The variants offer important examples for analyzing individual deviations. The iconographical association with Hercules or Atlas presents a compelling argument, especially considering that the MFA bronze variant carries an armillary sphere (Fig 3). The self-embracing pose evokes an introverted tension and a sense of weight-bearing, sharing a kindred spirit with the mythological representation of Atlas throughout the history.[11] Nevertheless, we cannot overlook a logistical difference between the MFA bronze and the traditional depictions of Atlas or Hercules in paintings or sculptures: neither hand of the self-embracing figure faces upward, precluding a reasonable platform for the sphere. The somewhat assemblage-like arrangement raises the question about a possible later addition.

Traditional representations of Atlas or Hercules exhibit different variations in arm positions, typically appearing in three forms: both hands holding the sphere, one hand and one shoulder supporting it, or with the sphere resting on both shoulders. Among these, two different iconographical representations have been identified (Fig 19-20). The Farnese Atlas supports the celestial sphere with two arms, allowing it to rest on his neck in a natural and anatomically accurate posture (Fig 17). The arms, flanking from outside and applying force around the equator of the sphere, symbolizing Atlas as a figure positioned outside the celestial realm and supported the world as an entirety.[12] In later examples, Atlas is depicted in almost complete upright posture (Fig 21), best representing the metaphorical axis mundi. This approach is also economical, with no attempt to disguise the mounting or sculpt the arms in motion. Although the MFA figure does not align with either of the two models, the bottom of the sphere fits seamlessly between his raised left arm and bowed head.

Vincenzo de’ Rossi’s Hercules Carrying the Celestial Sphere features one raised arm (Fig 18). Thus, in 1971, Hildegard Utz, using photocopies of Brinckmann’s plates (while the statuette’s location was unknown), identified the wax statuette as an intermediary study for Vincenzo de’ Rossi’s Hercules.[13] The Atlas in Tintoretto’s drawings from the former Koenigs Collection also adopt the one-arm-one-shoulder form, with two statuettes identified: one with the globe and one without (Fig 8-11). What’s interesting is that on the recto side, four perspectival studies of the self-embracing figure were initially mistaken as the same crutch-bearing Atlas depicted on the verso side.

The similarity between the recto and verso sides in their overall posture is paramount but the differing positions of their right hand—with the recto figure gripping under its left armpit and verso lifting—indicate that they were clearly based on different models. Michael Liebmann first identified the figures on either side of the paper as Atlas, tracing their source to a bronze statuette attributed to the workshop of Jacopo Sansovino (Fig 11).[14] While Liebmann also noticed the subtle differences, he speculated that Tintoretto might have possessed a wax version of the Atlas, allowing modifications for artistic expressions. Michiaki Koshikawa restudied the recto side alongside the Braunschweig statuette, arguing for Tintoretto’s ownership of a separate model (Fig 2).[15]

On the recto side, four studies of the self-embracing figure are depicted with slight rotations along the vertical axis. But on the verso side, the crutch-bearing Atlas model is manipulated in a far more dramatic manner, with one reclining and another nearly inverted upside down. Another Tintoretto’s sketch shows the model observed from different elevations (Fig 14). Such diverse range of viewpoints on one model mirrors Tintoretto’s extensive studies of Michelangelo’s works in the Medici Chapel, particularly in his sketches of the reclining Times of Day viewed from above, which appear foreshortened and mimic the stance of a standing figure.

In both drawings of the Uffizi Dusk (Fig 12) and the Louvre Day (Fig 13), Tintoretto turned to the back sides of the figures, elevating his viewpoint to a degree that is high enough to see the torsos in foreshortening but also low enough that the resting feet are obscured by the flexed knees, allowing room to imagine a standing figure in violent torsion. At such an angle, the foreshortened Day model resembles an aerial view of the self-embracing wax figure (Fig 29). Furthermore, the obscurity Tintoretto left in the arms aligns with the marble—Michelangelo never finished the right hand and almost the entire left lateral side of the figure as it was intended to be placed against the niche (Fig 15). Nevertheless, in another profile sketch of Day, Tintoretto depicted the figure in mirror reverse, a method encouraged by contemporary theorist, with Day’s right hand as the focal point (Fig 27).[16] Tintoretto did not explicitly supplement Michelangelo’s non-finito right hand with a version of his own. The general rendering of an almost complete back of the hand before fingers were concealed by shading suggests that Tintoretto was not simply sketching a faithful study but inventing a derivative.

The notion that Tintoretto’s studies of Michelangelo were solely based on models rather than observation in situ is supported not only by his biography and the known inventory of his model collection by Daniele da Volterra,[17] but also by the impractical perspectives utilized in the drawings.[18] All four reclining allegories are placed high on the sarcophagus. Any elevated viewpoint over them would require scaffolding. Day was placed on the right side of the sarcophagus lid against the niche of Giuliano de’ Medici, Duke of Nemours, with its right hand completely concealed from view on the Sacristy floor.

Tintoretto, who apparently never left the lagoon of Venice, relied on a collection of statuettes, modelli, and bozzetti to study other artists’ works. Outside influence on Tintoretto largely came to him in their designing phases rather than the finalized vision.[19] According to his biographer Carlo Ridolfi, Tintoretto was accustomed to repetitively sketch the same model from a comprehensive spectrum of perspectives, hanging and rotating them to study changing foreshortening and shading.[20] Tintoretto’s studies of the self-embracing figure, captured from various angles, reveal not only his process of exploring three-dimensional figural designs and anatomy, but also the possibility that he was interested in the plasticity of models, where a single motif or pose could be recycled and transformed into multiple variations for his artistic compositions.

Italian sculptor and humanist Pomponius Gauricus emphasized the role of optics in shaping sculptural effects in his 1504 treatise, De Sculptura. Gauricus delineated a triplex angle of observations: anoptical (worm’s-eye view), optical (parallel sight), and catoptic (downward line of sight).[21] If the wax statuette was intended for a statue placed in elevation, meant to be viewed di sotto in su, its inclined head would become the focal point from our worm’s-eye perspective. The figure would then possess an Olympian surveillance over us, a technique often employed by sculptors to detach their subjects from the earthly realm. But at the same time, elevated position would also invite our scrutiny of the figure’s downward-facing expression that might otherwise be obscured. Why, then, are some of the statuettes’ visages barely worked on? While the wax statuette’s non-finito state could be explained as a bozzetto for study or abrasion over time, the privately owned bronze cast (London) that juxtaposed it in the 1991 photo exemplifies a similar degree of incompletion with its rugged but minimally carved visage (Fig 6).[22]

The out-of-place non-finito shared by the NGA wax and the London bronze statuettes may point to a common iconographical inspiration, suggesting a scenario where a monumental project was emulated and reinterpreted on a dramatically different scale. While Tintoretto’s intention in studying models was to aid his paintings, we should consider the possibility his foreshortened studies of the Times of Day gave birth to a new motif (Fig 16).[23]

Tintoretto’s moderately measured elevation in his drawings of the reclining allegories resembles Gauricus’ concept of the last perspective: a catoptic overlook di su in sotto where the observer ascends subtly. In the case of our wax statuette, as its visage gradually recedes from our upward momentum, what remains is a generically designed hair texture shared by all seven statuettes, reminiscent of Tintoretto’s representation of Day. Gauricus compared catoptic experience to reading the Aeneid, where each action on the battlefield unfolds like a scene viewed from a watchtower, prioritizing completeness over height. David Summers further elaborated on this concept by using the scale relationship between a human and Roman sarcophagus as a simile for catoptic perspective.[24] The typical height of a sarcophagus succumbs to an adult’s eye level no matter how close one approaches; but the further away one observes, the more complete the story on the relief unfolds. I would also suggest that in the context of a sarcophagus, the span in longitude, the horizontal motions of a viewer moving across the register, and the marmoreal materiality exhibited through the high relief carvings compensate for any perceived lack of vertical presence. The intricacy of perceived horizontality and verticality is best appreciated in real life. Imagining Day in an upright position would be straightforward for Tintoretto, but understanding its change in scale and foreshortening would not have been easy without the use of models. Enter Niccolò Tribolo.

Niccolò Tribolo, who not only studied but produced models for Michelangelo. Working on site at San Lorenzo, he also had access to see the masterpieces in situ. When Michelangelo left Florence for good in 1534 with the construction of the chapel far from complete, the four allegories were found lying on the floor. They remained there even a decade later in 1545.[25] Tribolo would have had an all-around or elevated view of the reclining figures, a perspective otherwise impossible to achieve after they were installed on the sarcophagus bases. While life-size sculptures pose difficulties in viewing from any perspective higher than a parallel, optical view, the reclining allegories on the floor offered an opposite experience where every perspective Tribolo saw would be from above (catoptic).

The Medici Chapel was in the throes of transformation. Disparaged by Vincenzo Borghini, who visited and saw the chapel’s work-in-progress, as “a disgrace,” with the checkered marble floor unlaid, we could envision the chapel as a scattered construction site, with the reclining allegories placed as if awaiting upright installation.[26] The iconography of two figures flanking a curved sarcophagus, an enigmatic motif that vaguely recalled Tuscan funeral custom and antique representation of Earth Mother,[27] was combined by Michelangelo in a new form that was not only unprecedented to Renaissance eyes but still puzzles scholars today.[28] Michelangelo’s portrayal of musculature, a hybrid of anatomical accuracy and expressiveness, faithfully rendered muscle parts but exhibits activeness that would be unobservable in resting posture, imbuing the reclining allegories with a sense of tension and vertical momentum as if their muscles are actively engaged.[29] Among the many workers in the chapel, I believe someone must have curious eyes like Tintoretto, envisioning the reclining allegories in standing poses. Even for scholars, Charles de Tolnay initially mistook Michelangelo’s River God model for a torso that “can be seen both vertically and horizontally.”[30] Michelangelo’s musculature seems to place his figure ex situ where the activeness confuses orientation.

According to Vasari, Tribolo was tasked with designing two nude figures, Cielo (Heaven) and Terra (Earth), “standing on each side of that of Duke Giuliano.”[31] The Earth figure was supposed to be “crowned with cypress, weeping with bowed head and with the arms outstretched, and lamenting the death of Duke Giuliano,” while the Heaven “with the arms uplifted, all smiling and joyful, and showing her gladness at the adornment and splendor that the soul and spirit of that lord conferred upon her.”[32] The commission is thought to have occurred around 1533, as indicated by a letter from Michelangelo to Figiovanni mentioning “I will have finished two small models that I am making for Tribolo.”[33] Later, Tribolo felt ill, managing to finish a large clay model for Earth and barely beginning work on the marble before abandoning it following the death of Pope Clement VII and Michelangelo’s departure. Vasari’s account and Michelangelo’s letter are the two primary records documenting Tribolo’s commission, yet there remains significant scholarly debate regarding the iconography of the two niche figures. This complexity is rooted in the broader iconographical enigmas of the New Sacristy, with interpretations spanning symbolism, astrology, and Neoplatonism, as well as disputes over the fundamental identities of the Capitani.

Further evidence supporting the identifications of the two niche figures appeared in one of Michelangelo’s sketches of architectural moldings, where on the side he wrote Cielo twice on the left and Terra twice on the right, accompanied by a passage below alluding to an allegorical conversation.[34] Some scholars identified the Earth figure from a sketch by Tommaso Arrighetti after the lost marble, further arguing that a surviving bronze cast serves as an example (Fig 22, 23).[35] Giovanni Cinelli’s inventory of artworks in Florence noted that Tribolo’s unfinished marble was later transferred to Uffizi.[36] The bronze example here aligns with a clay female nude model in the Casa Buonarroti collection, as well as a charcoal mural inside the cantina of San Lorenzo, which Edith Balas refers to as the commonly agreed-on Earth figure among scholars (Fig 24).[37] The Heaven figure, for which Vasari mentioned that sculpting never began, is also identified by some scholars in Tintoretto’s preparatory drawings for St. George and the Dragon (1558) as the bozzetto that Michelangelo mentioned making for Tribolo in the 1533 letter (Fig 25, 26).[38] However, neither the bronze “Earth” nor Tintoretto’s “Heaven” align precisely with Vasari’s description. The bronze statue, though bowing with an outstretched arm, is not “crowned with cypress.” The Tintoretto sketch, though showing an uplifted arm, does not convey the emotion of “all smiling and joyful.” Nevertheless, Balas argues that Vasari’s account is oversimplified, quoting a similar passage on his description of the Julius Tomb also mentioning a smiling Heaven and a grieving Goddess of Earth.[39]

There were also scholars rejecting any definitive iconographical conclusions. Ludwig Goldscheider stated that “neither the model nor the abbozzo of the statue has been preserved” for the Earth model.[40] Pope-Hennessey argued that by placing Heaven and Earth on a horizontal register, “the whole idea of the tombs as an ascent falls to the ground.”[41] This highlights the unreliability of written accounts. However, from a perspectival standpoint, Tintoretto’s preparatory drawings of Heaven (?) present a similar ambiguity where different perspectives blur the boundary of the sculpture’s original orientation: it could both be an upright or a reclining figure.

Tribolo, in addition to being commissioned to design the two niche figures, also made copies from Michelangelo’s Times of Day. Three terracotta models survive today in the Bargello—Day, Dusk, and Dawn (Fig 28).[42] One might assume that Tribolo’s models, presumably studied in situ, would be more faithful than Tintoretto’s drawings executed ex situ. However, Tribolo did not choose to replicate the non-finito from the rear view and completed the work in his own manner. We can also see traces of creative liberties in Tintoretto’s drawing of Day where the figure’s hand is not completed but certainly more than the original sculpture. Thus, it is totally plausible that Tribolo envisioned his own interpretations even after receiving the models from Michelangelo as guideline: an Atlas reduced to its simplest form, the self-embracing pose fits into the shallow, rectangular niche on the chapel wall, while its contorted body expresses a sense of lamentation.

One major distinction between the NGA wax model and other six bronze versions is that the figure’s embracing right hand is clenched into a fist, contrasting with the more natural gesture of gripping under the armpit (Fig 1-2). While the condition of the wax statuette suggests the possibility that the fingers were once cut off and later smoothened, the protruding extensor tendons on the right hand is absent on the gently resting left hand, suggesting an introverted exertion of strength towards itself.[43]

In a further note on Tribolo’s style, Vasari detailed Tribolo’s working method while creating clay models for Bugiardini to better interpret Michelangelo’s sketches: “giving them that boldness of manner that Michelangelo had put into the drawing, and working them over with the gradine, which is a toothed instrument of iron, to the end that they might be somewhat rough and might have greater force.”[44] Tooth marks discovered on the Bargello terracotta models of the Times of Day were key evidences supporting attributions to Tribolo.[45] On the NGA wax statuette, a speck of toothed chisel mark is evident on the figure’s hair (Fig 30). Additionally, the obscured visage is more discernable from figure’s left profile side. Under its armpit, we could faintly see the contour of its nose. Yet the other side only exhibits an uneven landscape. This technique was Michelangelo’s, according to both Vasari and Cellini, who would attack the block from one direction, allowing room for error.[46] In a letter to Tribolo from Pietro Aretino in 1537, the writer describes Tribolo’s reaction to Titian’s Martyrdom of Saint Peter during a visit to the altar in the Basilica dei Santi Giovanni e Paolo in Venice. He highlighted “the coldness and the lividity which appear in the point of [St. Peter Martyr’s] nose” where the painting evokes feelings.[47] If a prominent nose was Tribolo’s means of exercising mannerism, we might find this consistent feature in both the wax statuette and his attributed drawings (Fig 31).[48]

In conclusion, Tintoretto’s drawings and Tribolo’s activity at San Lorenzo weave the motif into Michelangelo’s storyline at the New Sacristy, where formal technique, iconography, anecdotal event, and primary account conflate, complicating but also enriching the narratives of the wax statuette. Drawing upon Pomponius Gauricus’ triplex perspectives as a guidance, we examine the possibility of the National Gallery wax statuette as an idea developed in Tintoretto’s blue paper drawings of Michelangelo’s reclining Day and Dusk where horizontality and verticality are obscured. The minutiae of the object file—titling, the reformulation of attribution, the sleuthing of provenance from two photo negatives, stylistic comparison with the bronze variants, and connoisseurship referencing scholarly literature—reveals just one of the many instances in Michelangelo’s career and his lasting legacy where his designs were studied, reproduced, and repurposed; Yet, across generations, viewers instinctively regard these later works as deeply rooted in Michelangelo’s vision and creative mind. We don't need Michelangelo’s hands for the works to be Michelangelo; it is his authorship that resides in the concetto, not in the mano.

Once again, we should not overlook the notable fact that a work of wax—traditionally used only as a preparatory medium in the Renaissance—has persisted to this day, with generations of ownership assuming the responsibility for its preservation and repair against the inevitable decay. This remarkable longevity points to a significant provenance, one that has remained largely unknown to us. But ultimately, it is to the credit of Michelangelo’s entrepreneurship at San Lorenzo, Tribolo’s anecdote, and Tintoretto’s inventive studies, that they inspire our desire to see the past as an open book of living present.

Appendix I: The NGA Archive

Appendix II: All Related Statuettes

Notes

[1] Roberta Panzanelli, ed., Ephemeral Bodies: Wax Sculpture and the Human Figure, 1st edition (Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute, 2008). Panzanelli articulates that the material history of wax “is a history of disappearance.”

[2] Refer to Appendix I for a comprehensive timeline derived from the object file on Dr. Alison Luchs, Curator of Early European Sculpture at the National Gallery of Art, detailing her involvement in the acquisition process and investigation of the provenance of the wax statuette.

[3] See Appendix I: October 1991, Proposed Acquisition by Purchase.

[4] See Appendix I: 26 October 2004, wall text updated.

[5] See Appendix I: 12 July 2004, the reasonings behind the proposal for a change of attribution.

[6] C. Comanini, II Figillo avera del Fine della Pittura (Mantua, 1591), in Trattati d 'A rte. ill, 364. More on Mannerism, see David Summers’ “Maniera and Movement: The Figure Serpentinata” in Readings in Italian Mannerism, ed. Liana Cheney (New York: P. Lang, 1997).

[7] Froma I. Zeitlin, “Figure: Ekphrasis,” Greece & Rome 60, no. 1 (2013): 17–31.

[8] See Appendix I: 23 October 1991, the discovery of statuette’s photo negatives in Brinckmann’s book.

[9] See Appendix I: 3 May 1991, the import of the statuette.

[10] Refer to Appendix II for a list of the seven known models (two unidentified), their imagery and corresponding literature.

[11] See Appendix II, six statuettes have an average height of 30 cm and no larger statue is found with similar motif. The Boston MFA statuette (Fig 3), with a height of 63.5 cm, is an exception that has the sphere (heaven) attached to it, and will be discussed later.

[12] Catalin Anghelina, “The Ancient Representations of the Titan Atlas.” Museum Helveticum 67, no. 4 (2010): 195.

[13] Hildegard Utz, “The Labors of Hercules and Other Works by Vincenzo de’ Rossi,” The Art Bulletin 53, no. 3 (1971): 344–66.

[14] Michael J. Liebmann, Aus Spätmittelalter und Renaissance: Kunsthistorische Betrachtungen (Weinheim, 1987), 210-211.

[15] Michiaki Koshikawa, “Drawings after the ‘Atlas’ Statuette by Jacopo Tintoretto and His Workshop,” Aspects of Problems in Western Art History, vol. 9 (2011).

[16] Claus Virch, “A Study by Tintoretto after Michelangelo,” The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 15, no. 4 (1956): 115.

[17] Carlo Ridolfi, Vita di Giacopo Robusti detto il Tintoretto, celebre pittore, cittadino venetiano (Venice: 1642), writes “Tintoretto, for extraordinarily admiring Michelangelo’s art, asked Daniele da Volterra to provide him small models taken from the Medici figures placed in San Lorenzo.”

[18] Raffaello Borghini, Il riposo (Florence: 1584), 551.

[19] Tom Nichols, Tintoretto: Tradition and Identity (London: Reaktion, 1999), 13. Primary source see Vasari’s brief account that “the greater part of the pictures painted in Venice.” Giorgio Vasari, Lives of the Most Eminent Painters, Sculptors & Architects (London: Macmillan ; Medici Society, 1912), 8:102.

[20] David R. Coffin, “Tintoretto and the Medici Tombs.” The Art Bulletin 33, no. 2 (1951): 119.

[21] David Summers, “Michelangelo’s ‘Battle of Cascina’, Pomponius Gauricus, and the Invention of a ‘Gran Maniera’ in Italian Painting,” Artibus et Historiae 28, no. 56 (2007): 168.

[22] Von Allen Seiten Schön, Bronzen der Renaissance und das Barock, 284. Also see Appendix I: 1 February, 1999, the bronze cast was invited to the National Gallery for a collective photo.

[23] Mary Pittaluga, II Tintoretto (Bologna: Zanichelli Bologna, 1925), 5. Tintoretto scholars generally consider Miracle of the Slave as beginning of his Michelangelesque period.

[24] Summers, “Battle of Cascina”, 168.

[25] William E. Wallace, Michelangelo at San Lorenzo: The Genius as Entrepreneur (Cambridge [England] ; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1994) 134.

[26] Ibid.

[27] Edith Balas, Michelangelo’s Medici Chapel: A New Interpretation (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1995) 77.

[28] Gunther Neufeld, “Michelangelo’s Times of Day a Study of Their Genesis.” The Art Bulletin 48, no. 3/4 (1966): 273. Some scholars see the two reclining figure design formed from the abandoned double-tomb plan, and a plastic decoration; Neufeld sees it as an “afterthought” that was never planned.

[29] James Elkins, “Michelangelo and the Human Form: His Knowledge and Use of Anatomy,” in William E. Wallace, ed., Michelangelo: Selected Readings (New York ; London: Garland Pub, 1999), 663. Elkins notes that there are only four cases where Michelangelo invented or altered an anatomical form. One of them is “an unnaturally truncated rhomboideus maj. on the right side of the Giorno.”

[30] Pina Ragionieri, Michelangelo: Drawings and Other Treasures from the Casa Buonarroti, Florence (Atlanta: High Museum of Art, 2001). Point out de Tolnay’s older opinion on the River God. See Charles De Tolnay, Michelangelo IV: The Tomb of Julius II, 1st ed. (Erscheinungsort nicht ermittelbar: Princeton University Press, 1954), 157.

[31] Vasari, Lives, 7:11.

[32] Ibid.

[33] Gaetano Milanesi, La Lettere Di Michelangelo Buonarroti (Book on Demand Ltd., 2014). CDXIX, Michelangelo’s letter to messer Giovambattista Figiovanni in Firenze, from Macciagnini house in Florence, October 15, 1533.

[34] Casa Buonarroti Drawing 10A, 1524. Text translates, “the sky and the earth, the day and the night, speak and say: with our rapid course we have led Duke Giuliano to his death; it is more than right that he should take his vengeance as he does, and his vengeance is this, that as we have killed him, he, in dying, has taken away our light and with his closed eyes has barred shut ours, which no longer shine above the earth. What, then, would he have done with us had he lived?”

[35] Volker Krahn, “A Bronze after Michelangelo’s Model for ‘Earth,’” The Burlington Magazine 160, no. 1383 (2018): 466.

[36] Giovanni Cinelli, Manoscritto Magliabechiano (Florence: Biblioteca Nazionale), XIII 34, fol. 222v. Cinelli states, “femmina abbozzata di mano di Michelangelo, da questa banda medesima, figura intera per una e fu fatta per una nicchia della Cappella o, per dir meglio, Sagrestia Nuova di S. Lorenzo, ove stette molti anni e di poi fu qui trasportata.”

[37] Balas, Michelangelo’s Medici Chapel, 77. Although, I haven’t found many sources referring this clay torso as the Earth.

[38] Stefano Farinelli, “Monumetal Grotesque. Michelangelism and Ornament in 16th-century Florence Through the Case Studies of Niccolò Tribolo and Silvio Cosini,” PhD thesis, (University of Kent, 2022), 102.

[39] Balas, Michelangelo’s Medici Chapel, 73.

[40] Ludwig Goldscheider, Michelangelo, 4th ed. (Phaidon Publishers Inc., 1962) 17.

[41] John Pope-Hennessy, Italian High Renaissance & Baroque Sculpture, Subsequent edition (London: Phaidon Press, 2000) 22.

[42] Farinelli, “Monumetal Grotesque,” 71.

[43] See Appendix I: 23 March 1993, Proposal for Treatment.

[44] Vasari, Vite, 112.

[45] Farinelli, “Monumetal Grotesque,” 107.

[46] Irving Lavin, “Bozzetti and Modelli, Notes on Sculptural Procedure from the Early Renaissance through Bernini,” Stil und Überlieferung in der Kunst des Abendlandes. Akten des 21. internationalen Kongresses für Kunstgeschichte in Bonn 1964, III (1967): 101.

[47] Norman Land, “Ekphrasis and Imagination: Some Observations on Pietro Aretino’s Art Criticism.” The Art Bulletin 68, no. 2 (1986): 215.

[48] Lloyd, Christopher. “Drawings Attributable to Niccolo Tribolò.” Master Drawings 6, no. 3 (1968): 243–305.