The figure of Saint Sebastian, slightly over a metre tall, was originally intended to be housed within a niche. This is indicated by the unfinished back of the sculpture, particularly at the lower part of the tree trunk where the saint is bound. It is plausible that the structure intended to house the statue might have left the top of the stump exposed; it bends above the saint’s head, and is extensively carved, suggesting that it was meant to be somewhat visible from within the basin that likely topped the shrine. Saint Sebastian is depicted in a precarious pose, his wrists tightly bound by intricate knots to the rough bark of the tree. His emaciated body is constrained in a posture that, with the left arm unnaturally twisted above him, bends his other behind his back, forcing his legs to seek unstable support on the uneven base. His face, characterised by an open mouth and wide eyes, tilts backward as if seeking divine comfort from above. The sculpture lacks arrow holes (similarly there is no slot for securing a halo), which implies that it depicts the moment just before Sebastian’s martyrdom, when the young Praetorian awaited his execution on the Palatine Hill, condemned by Diocletian for his undisclosed Christian faith and his support of Christians.

These details, combined with the figure’s slender adolescent form and the upward gaze, suggest that the marble reflects an iconographic concept proposed by Pietro Perugino in a panel currently held at the Nationalmuseum in Stockholm,[1] dating from the 1480s. Unlike Perugino’s other works, such as the Saint Sebastian in Cerqueto from 1478 or the version now at the Louvre, circa 1495,[2] this painting depicts a soldier pierced by a single arrow, with his arms bound above his head and his face tilted upward.[3] It is noteworthy that a study after this painting – which has been very influential given the numerous copies and derivatives it inspired, one of which is in the Fondazione Cavallini Sgarbi – was ultimately attributed to Girolamo Genga in the early sixteenth century and that it features an arrangement of the arms very similar to that of the marble figure, displayed in a chiastic counterpose along the delicate axis of the torso.[4] A similar adaptation of the original model can also be seen in a later panel by Bachiacca, now at the Birmingham Museum of Art,[5] in which the soldier is depicted, however, already wounded by multiple arrows. Such an iconographic assumption, originating from the central Italian area and influenced by a distinguished prototype, aligns well with the stylistic evidence observable in the sculpture.

As noted by previous scholars,[6] this work is deeply rooted in the Genoese context of the early sixteenth century, interacting directly with a series of smaller marble statues of Apostles, Prophets, and Saints along the four sides of a significant monument carved in the city at the beginning of the century: the monumental tomb of Charles I of Orléans, his wife Valentina Visconti, and their sons Charles and Philippe. This project was commissioned by Louis XII of France from a collaborative team of Lombard and Tuscan artists during his 1502 summer stay in Liguria. On 26 August, the King celebrated his first triumphal entry into Genoa, a city newly subjected to French control following the capture of Milan from the Sforzas.[7] Initially intended for the Parisian Church of the Celestines, the tomb was later reassembled around 1816-17 in the Basilica of Saint-Denis, following its reception in fragmentary condition at the Musée des Monuments Français, where it was preserved from revolutionary iconoclasm by Alexandre Lenoir. Today, it remains in the small Saint-Michel chapel, albeit arranged in a configuration that does not completely replicate its original design and lacks some elements from its initial setup.

The commission for the tomb was delegated by Louis XII to a group comprising Michele d’Aria and Girolamo Viscardi, artists originally from Lombardy, as well as Benedetto da Rovezzano and Donato Benti, Tuscans who had previously worked in Genoa on the monumental cantoria at the Church of Santo Stefano, erected in 1499 on the tribune wall to the left of the main altar (now relocated to the counter-façade due to subsequent alterations). Although the contract signed on 29 August 1502 by the Genoese notary Urbano Granello lacks detailed specifications regarding the division of labour,[8] recent studies have discerned two distinct groups of figures, each corresponding to the artistic pairs involved in the project. Given their backgrounds and habitual working methods, it is likely that these artists collaborated closely on the marbles for the tomb.[9]

Within such a division, the statue of Saint Sebastian draws interesting comparisons, particularly with the statuettes attributable to Benedetto da Rovezzano and Donato Benti. Most striking is the comparison with the eponymous saint, which seems conceived in an analogous mechanical manner and shares similar features with the grander piece, including an emaciated and delicate physiognomy, comparably articulated shoulders, and a pronounced belly with a deeply recessed navel. The approach to the bindings further echoes this symmetry, employing flat, thick straps wound into dishevelled knots. Similarly, the articulation of the feet exhibits a close concordance; not only is the modelling of their backs and toes identical, but their placement on the pedestals also follows a consistent pattern.

The treatment of the hair bears a strong resemblance to that seen in the Saint John from the Orléans tomb, also attributable to Benedetto and Donato, with dense locks gathered into a damp tuft on the forehead and arranged in sinuous coils around the temples and nape. As do the figures of the Baptist and the Saint Peter, Saint Sebastian exhibits a distinguished profile, with elevated cheekbones, gracefully arched eyebrows, and eyes defined by meticulously incised pupils with glossy irises.

The marble finds parallels in other Genoese works produced by the Rovezzano-Benti partnership. It shares elements with the above mentioned cantoria in Santo Stefano, especially a relief featuring a shepherd set against a pastoral backdrop; this figure has the same delicate complexion, precise features, and filamentous hair as the Roman martyr.[10] It also shares qualities with their later Ligurian venture, the tomb of Ibleto Fieschi in the cathedral, completed circa 1502-03. This includes, in addition to the gisant of the prelate, a lunette featuring the Virgin and Child with Angels and sculptures of Saint Fructuosus and Saint Eulogius (in addition to a Saint Augurius, whose current location is unknown).[11] The Saint Sebastian appears most similar to the refined Saint Fructuosus and to the angel in the lunette at right in terms of physiognomic and anatomical rendering, due to the style of the hair and overall figural conception; the bishop’s garments, with their deep, elongated folds, also echo the knotting at the side of the Praetorian, which gathers the creased fabric covering his modesty.

Conversely, the drapery of the short perizoma, which also follows a regular cut common to sculptures created by the two artists in collaboration, features gathers and a crescent-shaped fold that hangs vertically around the abdomen; these indicate a progression towards the style of Benedetto’s later works, particularly his figures from the crowded reliefs of the monument to Giovanni Gualberto, to which he dedicated himself upon his return to Florence in 1505.[12]

For these reasons, this Saint Sebastian should be dated to the final phase of the Genoese partnership between Benedetto da Rovezzano and Donato Benti, around 1503-04. It emerges as the extraordinary result of their joint effort on the tomb of the Dukes of Orléans, during which their artistic expressions fused into an effective, albeit unembellished, koiné, aligned with the ‘classicism without classics’ of late-15th Century Florence, in a rugged interpretation filled with formal contractions and expressive starkness. Later on, this koimé would clash with the exquisite developments of the maniera moderna, set against a backdrop that would be transformed by Michelangelo’s monumentalism and the heroic inspiration of his works.

We are grateful to Tommaso Mozzati for the above catalogue note, written on the occasion of the 2024 Forma Viva exhibition at Dickinson.

[1] Inv. NM 2703.

[2] Inv. RF 957.

[3] On the Saint Sebastian in Stockholm, see I.S. Norlander Eliasson, D. Prytz, J. Eriksson, & S. Ekman, eds., Italian Paintings, Three Centuries of Collecting, Nationalmuseum, Stockholm, 2015, pp. 313-16, no. 136.

[4] L. Pirazzi, in B. Agosti, & S. Ginzburg, eds., Raffaello e gli amici di Urbino, exh. cat., Galleria Nazionale

delle Marche, Urbino (3 Oct. 2019 — 19 Jan. 2020), Florence, 2019, pp. 138-39, no. II.8.

[5] Inv. AFL7.2001.

[6] Pandolfini-Casa d’aste, Florence, Oggetti darte e sculture, 30 June 2020, lot 111.

[7] On the tomb, see T. Mozzati, M. Zurla, ‘Alcune novita sulle sculture della Cattedrale di Genova: Benedetto

da Rovezzano, Donato Benti e la famiglia Fieschi’, in Nuovi Studi, Trento, no. 20, 2014, pp. 33-68; T. Mozzati, “‘Patres patris patriae’’: le tombeau des ducs d’Orléans à Saint-Denis’, in G. Bresc-Bautier, T. Crépin-Leblond, & E. Taburet-Delahaye, eds., La France et l'Europe autour de 1500: croisements et échanges artistiques, conference proceedings (École du Louvre-Thermes et Hótel de Cluny, Paris; Musée national de la Renaissance, Ecouen, 9-11 Dec. 2010), Paris, 2015, pp. 91-106; M. Zurla, La scultura a Genova tra XV e XVI secolo. Artisti, cantieri e committenti, 2 vols., Ph.D. diss., Universita di Trento, 2012-14, vol. I, pp. 275-91.

[8] See F. Alizeri, Notizie dei professori del Disegno in Liguria dalle origini al secolo XVI, 6 vols., Genoa, 1870-80,

vol. IV, 1876, pp. 286-90 note 1; H. von Tschudi, ‘Le tombeau des ducs d’Orléans à St-Denis’, in Gazette archéologique, Paris, vol. X, 1885, pp. 93-98.

[9] See T. Mozzati, M. Zurla, in Nuovi Studi, 2014, pp. 42-47; M. Zurla, La scultura a Genova, 2012-14, vol. I, pp. 284-89.

[10] See G. Odicini, L’abbazia di Santo Stefano a Genova. 1000 anni dalla ricostruzione a oggi, Genoa, Genoa, 1974, pp. 103-05, 135; M. Zurla, La seultura a Genova, 2012-14, vol. I, pp. 151-62.

[11] See T. Mozzati, M. Zurla, in Nuovi Studi, 2014.

[12] See N. Lepri, A. Palesati, ‘Intorno all’Archa di S.Giovanni Gualberto’, in Memorie domenicane, Florence & Pistoia, vol. XXXIII, 2002, pp. 227-66.