On That Pedro Pascal Photo, and the Renaissance Paragone

In which I go on another art historical deep dive inspired by pop culture

ICYMI: My debut, A TEMPEST OF RAVENS—a witchy historical romantasy perfect for fans of Outlander and One Dark Window—is publishing on October 24th. You can add it on Goodreads here and Storygraph here. Thank you for supporting my book baby!

(Author’s Note: This post has sat in my drafts for a while, but I wanted to finally let it loose!)

I—like the rest of the internet—spent a fair bit of time staring at Pedro Pascal’s recent Vanity Fair photoshoot, (and trying to emotionally recover from his very moving interview).

Then I saw some folks on Threads wishing for an artistic analysis of this photo in particular:

Pedro Pascal portrait by Sølve Sundsbø; styled by Beat Bolliger

And I mean, how could I resist?

So here's my nerdy deep dive into all the art historical references that I think are packed into this photograph. The whole photo shoot is brilliant, but this image especially, as jeanne mentioned on Threads, is loaded with visual symbolism.

For context/my credentials: I have a PhD in Italian painting and sculpture, specifically in the Renaissance and Baroque styles, so I’m always very happy whenever I get the chance to use my degree.

And when I saw this shot, I immediately thought of the Renaissance artistic debate known as the paragone (pare-uh-gohn-ay, Italian for "comparison"). Stick with me here!

Photo of Florence, Italy by Heidi Kaden on Unsplash

To cut a long story short(ish), as European art shifted out of the stylized and religious traditions of the middle ages into the more naturalistic and experimental innovations of the Renaissance, the status of artists also changed.

They were now being regarded as intellectuals and skilled geniuses, not just craftsmen who worked with their hands, which was seen as inferior in the hierarchy of society. Then as the Renaissance led to huge advances in naturalism in art (ie, making art as realistic as possible), there arose a rivalry between the different mediums.

Painters felt they were a rung above sculptors on society’s ladder, since oil painting was thought to be more of a refined science, while sculptors did "lowly" manual labor with all that chiselling and sculpting from stone.

Painters also felt their art itself was superior, since their paintings could evoke three-dimensional spaces using only two-dimensional canvases and the power of illusion.

Sculptors were understandably upset at this, and believed that their art was actually superior, since they were crafting three-dimensional portraits and mythological figures out of so-called "lowly" materials, transforming the rough stone into Art™.

Photo of Michelangelo’s David by Jack Hunter on Unsplash

Michelangelo's David (sculpted around 1501-04) is a perfect example of this. If you've ever seen it in person, you might’ve had that sudden sense that I did when I first saw it—David feels alive, as if he might move at any second. It's SO lifelike.

But then contemporaneous painters like Leonardo Da Vinci and Titian argued that sculpture—especially classical sculpture in its pristine white condition—couldn't accurately depict real colors and warmth and shadows like their expertly blended oil paints could. (We now know that lily-white sculptures are technically historically inaccurate, since they would have been brightly colored originally.)

And some painters even went so far as to depict reflective surfaces like armor or mirrors in their paintings to show the main figure from other angles simultaneously, which is impossible with sculpture, as it can only be viewed from one perspective at any one time.

This debate, or paragone, led to a whole series of artworks by each opposing camp to prove that their medium was in fact the best aesthetically, and that only they could achieve real, naturalistic, three-dimensionality.

Here are some examples of paintings engaging in the paragone:

Titian’s portrait of a woman with a mirror, 1515, oil on canvas

Titian did several portraits of women with mirrors positioned to show a view of their back at the same time, including one of Venus with a cupid holding the mirror for her. (Then lots of later artists copied Titian’s examples, or did their own versions.)

And here’s his portrait of a woman known as La Schiavona, which—in a calculated move—also includes a sculpted relief portrait of her forming an illusionistic balustrade for her to lean on:

Titian, La Schiavona, 1510-12, oil on canvas

This work below by Savoldo employs multiple mirrors, almost jokingly showing off how painters can show all angles of a figure at the same time:

Giovanni Girolamo Savoldo, portrait of a man, 16th-century, oil on canvas

Now for some sculptures. This masterpiece below by the Flemish artist Giambologna shows three figures twisting upwards in continuous movement, and it’s all carved from one block of marble.

This style was known as figura serpentinata, like “serpentine”, which allowed Giambologna to show the (multiple!) figures from several angles at once.

Giambologna, The Abduction of the Sabine Women, 1579ish, marble

Gianlorenzo Bernini followed Giambologna’s lead and ran with it into the Baroque era of the 17th-century, and produced several incredible serpentinata sculptures that achieve a similar effect, along with impossibly lifelike textures of skin and branches and tree bark.

Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne, 1625, marble

And of course, there’s Michelangelo and his David, which is one of the absolute masterpieces of European sculpture.

This trend of artists jumping on the paragone bandwagon continued through the 17th century and onward, like this 19th-century example showing the subject in front of a huge mirror:

Madame Moitessier by Ingres, 1856

Now let’s return to the photo of Mr Pascal. He’s facing the camera, and therefore us/the viewer, but there’s also a mirror behind him, giving us a clear view of his, ahem, behind.

In light of all that art historical context, to me, this is another entry into the paragone genre, but with a modern-day photographer entering the fray debate.

here he is again

A photograph is the epitome of naturalism, right? It literally captures real life, in a snapshot of a moment in time. (I always wonder what the Renaissance artists, or any pre-modern artists really, would think of photography! It’d probably blow their minds.)

But it’s also limited in the same way painting is, as a two-dimensional medium. So here the photographer has cheekily (ahem, sorry) allowed us a glimpse of the back of the subject at the exact same time.

The way he’s standing is also classically classical, in what’s known as the contrapposto pose. It translates to “counterpoint” and it’s where the human body naturally shifts weight onto one leg when it’s at rest in a standing position. This creates a sinuous S-curve to the body, and gives that sense of naturalism and movement.

Here’s an old comic illustrating the massive shift that occurred in art (sculpture especially) back in the ancient Mediterranean world, when the Greeks began using the contrapposto pose:

comic by Peter Duggan

The whole styling of Pedro’s wardrobe also enhances his physique, with precise tailoring showing off his best features. Add in the soft lighting that casts just the right highlights and shadows over his form, and you have the perfect recipe for a modern photograph that harks back to both ancient and Renaissance art.

I’ll leave it there for now, but let me know what you think, or if you have any other favorite examples of the paragone in art.

Or if you come across any other images you’d like me to do a nerdy art historical deep dive on, please tag me! (I’m eabardwrites on all socials)