Prints | Giant Art | Pixtury 

Michelangelo's David

By Matthew Holden Bates, Firenze, Italia 

     In 1501 a young man of twenty-six years returned to Florence from Rome. Florence was the place to be for an up-and-coming artist, and it was Michelangelo’s hometown. I imagine that young Michelangelo was happy to be home and ready for his next big project. Michelangelo grew up in the court of Lorenzo the Magnificent, Florence’s leader. When Michelangelo was just a boy, he lived in Palazzo Medici. He was invited to live there by Lorenzo the Magnificent himself after he had seen that young Michelangelo had incredible talents. Lorenzo wanted to make Florence into the new Athens, essentially igniting the Renaissance by exalting humanistic values instead of the centuries-long feudal system. He invited scholars from all over the world to come to Florence and study ancient texts and create a great society. Young Michelangelo learned from these men, and he learned his craft in the most exquisite of settings among the most informed people in the world. He learned that a man should be judged for his actual achievements, not his wealth or social status. Michelangelo had one of the best educations of any living human at the time. His sensibility to aesthetics would have been unique because of his upbringing. He was not just a craftsman or a mason; he was an artist through and through.

     In Rome, Michelangelo had just completed the Pietà, a sculpture of unprecedented beauty, commissioned by French Cardinal Jean de Bilreres. Word of his Pietà had undoubtedly reached Florence's wealthy and influential elite, sparking widespread anticipation about what the young genius would create next. Of course, that meant that he would have to receive a commission. I can see him walking around the Duomo workshop, which was around the base of the Brunelleschi’s Dome, an awe-inspiring feat of artistry and engineering in itself. There, he would have encountered a massive block of marble that had languished in the courtyard for fifty years, dismissed as unsuitable due to its perceived poor quality. In 1465 Agostino di Duccio began sculpting the block but abandoned it almost immediately, fearing the marble would crumble. In

     1475, Antonio Rossellino made an attempt but also gave up, leaving the massive slab to sit as an eyesore for decades—until Michelangelo set his sights on it. It's important to remember just how challenging it was for 15th-century Florentines to quarry and transport such an enormous piece of marble from Carrara, 90 miles away. Somehow, they managed to haul it down the mountain, load it onto a boat, and navigate it up the Arno River to Florence. Michelangelo must have seen the marble and been immediately captivated. It was likely the largest block he had ever encountered in a workshop, sparking a surge of artistic inspiration. Perhaps he had even laid eyes on it as a child, quietly envisioning its potential for years. Fresh from his triumph in Rome with the Pietà, he may have finally possessed the prestige to claim the slab and transform it into a monumental masterpiece.

     The completed statue was originally intended to decorate the Duomo, positioned atop one of the buttresses beneath the dome. This location may have been chosen for practical reasons, as the Duccio block was conveniently situated directly below that very buttress. Once all discussions were concluded and contracts finalized, Michelangelo was granted permission to begin his work. He undoubtedly crafted clay models and likely spent considerable time studying the block, carefully evaluating how to shape it despite the previous attempts that had scarred its surface. His bold decision to create a free-standing nude male figure must have been met with skepticism and apprehension, as no sculptor had attempted such a feat in marble since the days of the ancient Greeks and Romans. I imagine bets were made as to whether it was even possible. Maybe they were happy to be finally rid of the Duccio block, even if it was destroyed by Michelangelo. It had been taking up valuable space for generations.

     After the block was set upright, Michelangelo constructed walls around it to shield his work from prying eyes. A deeply private and proud man, he wanted full and undisputed credit for his creation. In late 1501, he withdrew from the city, immersing himself entirely in the monumental task. Tirelessly and with little regard for food or personal comfort, he began his relentless pursuit of perfection. While other famous artists wined and dined with the rich and royal, Michelangelo worked like a man possessed. He likely even slept on-site, determined to keep his creation hidden until it was complete. It took him nearly three years to finish the sculpture—enduring the sweltering heat of Florentine summers and the damp, dreary chill of winters. He must have been incredibly resilient, with hands like stone and skin as tough as tree bark. I see him as a bit scary-looking, his nose bent from being bashed in as a teenager, his shoulders strong from wielding a hammer and chisel day and night. He was decidedly blue-collar, while other Florentine artists were dainty. It is a well-known fact that Leonardo Da Vinci was a rival of Michelangelo’s and that they did not get along at all. Da Vinci was a generation older and liked fine clothes and the company of the Florentine elite. Da Vinci was not inspired by Michelangelo; he was repelled by him. I am sure you would be too. He must have had an odor that was evident whenever he walked into a room, while Leonardo must have always smelled of roses. These two men could not have been more different. While Michelangelo was busy finishing the David, Leonardo was painting the Mona Lisa. When the David was finally finished, it was obvious to all from its magnificence that it could not be placed on the buttress up in the sky where no one would be able to admire it up close. After lots of debate, it was decided to place the statue in front of the Palazzo Vecchio, which is the city hall of Florence, a civic setting, not the religious one that the cathedral would have been. This meant that they had to transport the finished statue from under the Duomo to Piazza della Signoria—not a far distance, but not that close either. They built an enormous wooden contraption to encapsulate the statue and rolled it slowly for several days until they finally got it into position. This is when the people of Florence would have seen the statue for the first time. Seeing the David, in all of its glory, standing in front of the city hall, must have been a unique experience, one that no one had experienced since the Caesars ruled Rome. Standing before them was a marble white giant, nude and exposed. A masterpiece of sculpture, carved to absolute perfection out of a block of marble that had been considered unsafe to use. When you look at his torso, it seems to be breathing. His face, a worried expression, fierce yet calm, ready for action yet in repose.

     It wasn’t until I made a painting of a detail of David’s face that I began to truly understand what Michelangelo had sculpted. He had made the David unlike any other. No longer do we have a frail young boy standing over a defeated Goliath; in fact, Goliath is nowhere to be seen. We have a giant young man, nude and exposed to all, in the moment before his triumph. In his right hand he holds a stone, hidden from sight by his fingers, and in his left hand a sling that wraps behind his back to his right hand, all of this hidden by design. Once we realize that David is about to throw his stone at the unseen Goliath, we know that he will win and that he will go on to be king, etc., but this is before all of that, the moment before his triumph. When I painted David’s face, I focused on the left eye, so intensely looking at his foe. If David is seventeen feet tall, then how big was Goliath, twenty-five feet tall? The fact is that David is scared, terrified really; he is hiding his sling and stone from Goliath. He is standing there as if nothing is afoot. He knows that this is his moment; he must strike now or surely he himself will be slaughtered. It is in this moment that I believe that Michelangelo made his David give in to God. He let God see through his eyes to make sure that his aim would be true, and in this moment we see the eyes of God ourselves on the face of the David.

     From a block of marble that had been sitting in the Duomo workshop for decades, out came a miraculous symbol that would represent a city in perpetuity. Florence is a small city, confined by its geography to never expand past its actual borders, on a narrow river, in a tranquil land, which unfortunately is on the way from everywhere in Europe to Rome. Every invading army on its way south had to pass through Florence. Florence had survived being sacked by its cunning and its wealth, but it was always a close call. Everyone in Florence knew that they were vulnerable to the next attack. They knew that they were minuscule compared to powerful forces that existed in the world. So to see the David, seventeen feet tall! It was as if Michelangelo had turned the tables on the biblical story: now it is David who is the giant, and instead of an unseen Goliath to defeat, it is the world itself that waits for his stone to be slung, using the eyes of God himself to defeat the invaders. And just like in the story from the Bible, David will be triumphant. David is Florence, Florence is the Giant, and Florence will be victorious! 

©2025, Matthew Holden Bates, Firenze Italy - All Rights Reserved