Upon entering the vast, first-floor sculpture hall of the Bargello in Florence, the bronze David at the far end of the room seems insignificant next to Donatello’s more imposing masterpieces, the marble David on the floor to the left and, especially, the Saint Qeorge, moved from its niche in Or San Michele to its present commanding position above the smaller bronze. The contrast between the two David’s is revealing: the marble, with its classical pose in incorrect contrapposto adding to its confident, nonchalant air, seems about to pace forth into the world to re-assume its rightful military and political leadership. Steeled by an inner self-assurance and dominating presence, this victorious David’s perception need not linger upon the completed deed, but opens out to embrace the world of experience and action. The slight, dark figure of the bronze, on the other hand, with head inclined, the face eclipsed by the shading of the hat, and its posture curved inward, draws us ever nearer in search of a better viewing angle. Yet, enclosed within a state of self-reflection or reverie, there seems to be no satisfactory perspective from which to arrive at a comprehensive vision. We have to work hard for whatever vantage we gain, in contrast to the marble David and the Saint Qeorge, which freely yield to us their points of view. The restless movement of our glance around the bronze is in fact a search for its center, for a single focus, which is not immediately forthcoming.
