V&A, London
Everywhere you look, Donatello breaks the rules at this showcase of some of his most sublime sculptures
A god with his trousers down dances maniacally. This bronze statue, known as Attis-Amorino, is blinded by ecstasy, his willy hanging out, waving his hands in the air as he raves. He’s got a poppy flower in his hair and poppy seedpods on his belt. These, the catalogue reassures us, symbolise the family for which the Florentine Renaissance sculptor Donatello made this in about 1435 to 1440. But opium has been extracted from poppies since early times and the seeds represented unconsciousness for ancient Greek and Romans. Clearly, this little deity is off his head on something.
This is one of the most confounding sculptures ever created. Many may walk past it quickly, preferring to look – and be seen looking – at the Madonnas that fill much of this exhibition. For Attis-Amorino is, as we say nowadays, problematic. Go behind it and you will see shiny buttocks peeping out of those falling trousers. Yet if we are anxious about such a work of art, that is because it’s still doing its job after more than 580 years.
