‘Drawing,’ according to the sixteenth-century artist and biographer Giorgio Vasari, ‘is none other than the visible expression and declaration of the concept one has in one’s soul.’ Looking back over the century that preceded Vasari’s statement, the British Museum’s exhibition Fra Angelico to Leonardo: Italian Renaissance Drawings charts the development of the medium towards what Vasari termed the ‘Third Age’ of art. Whether it was the intention of the curators to illustrate this particular notion of progress, it is an inevitable consequence of juxtaposing chronologies rather than themes. The earliest compositional drawing here is Lorenzo Monaco’s figure study for the San Bernadetto Altarpiece of c.1400. The latest are by the triumvirate of Michelangelo, Raphael and Leonardo from 1500–1510. In between is a sort of taster menu of styles and techniques of varying quality and demonstrably awkward anatomy. Of course, a draftsman as supreme as Michelangelo, whose masterful nude studies stand alone, can make such comparisons seem odious, but it would be wrong to characterise drawings from the preceding century as necessarily inferior: each has its own beauty.

The range of drawings on show is broad, from brief, enchanting pen sketches to meticulously drawn cartoons. Many were clearly intended to be valued as art objects in their own right - such as Benozzo Gozzoli’s sensual silverpoint study of one of the celebrated marble Horse Tamers - and many have become so through the subsequent verdicts of connoisseurship. Others, like the album put together by Jacopo Bellini, were showpieces of the artist’s talent. But most are determined by practice: studies from life, exercises in linear perspective or sketches either of an entire composition or part thereof.

It is rare that an art exhibition’s didactic purpose is so evident. Explanations of different media and techniques combine with the judicious use of video to help the visitor compare compositional drawings with the works in situ for which they were made. Does it matter that on a purely aesthetic level there is much of interest here but little that is swoon-worthy? So many bits of drapery, body parts, schematic jottings and observational studies per se challenge spiritual nourishment. Several metalpoint drawings are now so faded that no amount of peering can determine their quality. Some are more interesting than the paintings for which they were made. Conversely, they can also be disappointing when compared with finished work: Andrea Mantegna’s drawing Saint James Being Led to Execution for the (now destroyed) decoration of the Ovetari Chapel in Padua depicts the scene from a standard frontal viewpoint, thereby losing much of the monumental grandeur and emotive power of the fresco itself, in which the scene was shown dramatically as if viewed from below.
Perhaps it is churlish of me to note this difference. The process of composition itself can be fascinating and highlights some absolute gems: Andrea del Verrocchio’s adaptation of a drawing from life on one side of a sheet to the exquisite female head that adorns the exhibition’s promotional material on the other is a case in point; Leonardo’s wonderful red chalk study of the abdomen and left leg of a nude man is another. As in theatrical performance, some of an artist’s best work is achieved in rehearsal. Whoever painted the minutely observed watercolours of cheetahs gave a little bit of himself in the rendition.

Overall this is a serene exhibition which deserves the plaudits that have been heaped upon it. Hugo Chapman’s catalogue is meticulously researched and places each type of drawing in its historical and compositional context. In fact, my only real complaint is the cost of a ticket: £12, please!

Until Jul 25

KEVIN CHILDS