These four sculptures form part of the celebrated series known as The Metamorphoses which has decorated the Galleria degli Specchi since the 18th century. Having taken in the teachings of Gian Lorenzo Bernini in Rome, Filippo Parodi, the greatest Genoese sculptor of the 17th century, translated into marble some of the myths from Ovid’s Metamorphoses with great virtuosity and poetic sensibility.
These tales tell of young men and nymphs transformed by the gods into natural elements, as happens to Adonis, transformed by Venus into an anemone, and Clytie, transformed into a sunflower by Apollo.

The sculpture is clearly inspired by the group of Pluto and Proserpine sculpted by Gian Lorenzo Bernini between 1621 and 1622 for Cardinal Scipione Borghese, still on display in his Roman villa and the undisputed apogee of the Baroque plastic arts. It represents a natural progression from this in a late Baroque direction. As in the Roman model, Pluto, god of the underworld, abducts the daughter of Ceres, as the three heads of Cerberus snarl at the entrance to hell. The two divine figures are elevated above the craggy rock typical of Genoese sculpture, from Filippo Parodi onward, and from which tongues of flame and wreaths of oak blaze.

Regarding its attribution, new findings in the archive have made it possible to bring the date traditionally given to the sculpture forward from 1724-1725 to around 1705. This fact consequently also shifts the work’s authorship from Francesco Maria Schiaffino, who returned from Rome in 1724, to his older brother Bernardo, to whom its design should be attributed, even if its actual execution may have been shared between the two sculptor brothers. In 1705 Bernardo had both the status and the technical skills to execute a piece of such importance, while the younger brother, who was 17 at the time, may have assisted him.

This is one of the most important paintings in the collections of the Palazzo Reale in Genoa, although one not yet admired by the public because of its historical and presently maintained location in an area not yet open for general use. This area, however, is currently undergoing restoration work which will allow these rooms to be included in the museum’s itinerary.

It is considered to be one of the most renowned self-portraits of this leading figure of the Baroque, justifiably described by critics as “the Bernini of painting”. Giovanni Battista Gaulli, known as il Baciccio, Genoese by birth but Roman by adoption, did in fact work on several occasions with the celebrated sculptor in the Italian capital. More than his other self-portraits, this particular example portrays a vivid immediacy, due to its framing and pose, as well as the light touch of the brushwork.

The painting is first recorded in a contract of sale for 31 paintings and 6 sculptures purchased by Gerolamo Ignazio Durazzo (1676-1747), the Palazzo's then owner, from painter Domenico Parodi. It is extremely interesting, therefore, to be able to trace the previous ownership of the Self-portrait to a Genoese painter, on whose death at the end of November 1742 it was put up for sale.
Along with this painting, Parodi had kept not just 22 of his own paintings at his home, but also copies from Bassano, Titian, Veronese and Guido Reni, four landscapes of the Flemish school, two paintings attributed to Domenico Piola, one by Domenico Fiasella, and the self-portrait, Ritratto di Gio. Batta Gaulli fatto da lui proprio di palmi 3 (Portrait of Gio. Batta Gaulli made by himself of 3 spans).

Following their purchase by the marquis Durazzo, some of these works were placed in one of the finest spaces of the first piano nobile of the Palazzo Reale in Genoa, the Salotto degli Stucchi Verdi (Green Stuccoes Hall), with the necessary adjustments in size in this case an enlargement.

Over time, the identity of the subject and its author were lost: the Savoy inventories of the 19th century identify it broadly as a “portrait” or “portrait of a knight”. Its recognition is owing to the studies of Luca Leoncini and is in recent history (2001).

St. Lawrence, one of the patron saints of Genoa, is portrayed with great realism in the act of giving alms to the poor, the cause of his sentence to die upon a gridiron. On the left is Lawrence, his youthful face just visible in the darkness enveloping the scene. The light strikes him from behind, highlighting the wide red satin sleeve of his dalmatic, his open hand resting on the table, his delicate neck, his reddened ear, his halo. In front of the saint there is a group of beggars: an old man with a white beard grasping the chain of a censer, a woman standing with a staff, a second figure next to her brandishing a crutch, and a girl looking up at Lawrence with her hands together. All are dressed in humble garments but their poses and traits have human composure and dignity. Liturgical items rest on the table in the foreground. The artist has placed the light source to the observer’s left, beyond the field of vision: it strikes the figures harshly, like a spotlight in the dark, producing metallic gleams.

Proserpine, daughter of Zeus and Demeter, was picking flowers with her companions in the meadows of Nisa, Sicily. Suddenly Pluto, son of Cronus, appeared: Eros’ arrows had made him fall in love, prompting him to abduct the maiden, carrying her off in his chariot to the underworld, where he intended to marry her. In the centre of the painting, Pluto grasps the young goddess around the waist as she, attempting to free herself from his powerful grip, raises her right arm. The abductor, draped in red and white cloth from which his muscular torso and right leg emerge, has a crown on his head and a full beard.

The maiden is wrapped in a blue cloth and a light silk shirt which leaves her breasts almost entirely exposed. Both are being transported by a golden chariot pulled by two horses, who seem to be about to plunge into a fiery chasm on the far right of the painting. The scene takes place in a glade and there are four watching maidens, two sitting in the foreground and two on the left beneath the branches of a tree.

These two paintings formerly belonged to the collection of the Durazzo family, for whom, according to historic records, Bartolomeo Guidobono made several works, for both their city and country residences. Indeed, the palazzo in Via Balbi also houses an Apollo pastore (Apollo as Shepherd) and a Diana ed Endimione (Diana and Endymion) by the same artist. Bacchus and Ceres refer to autumn and summer and were probably originally part of a group of four paintings depicting the seasons. The artist seems to want to involve the observer in the mysterious dynamic of the two compositions in a studied interplay of inviting gestures, glances and smiles. The paintings are marked out by a softness of the paint, by the light picking out the figures against an indistinct background, and by a harmony of colour, all highly representative features of the Savona painter’s style.

This event is the opening episode of the second canto of Jerusalem Delivered: in order to save the Christians of Jerusalem, the innocent Sophronia accuses herself of having stolen from the mosque a sacred icon – clearly shown by the angels in the heavens –and for this she is condemned to burn at the stake. Olindo, secretly in love with her, accuses himself of the crime and is condemned to death alongside her. Clorinda, however, in “uncouth arms yclad and strange disguise/from countries far”, saves their lives. Moved by pity, she offers her support to the king in the war against the crusaders in exchange for the young pair’s freedom. Like The Struggle between Perseus and Phineus, this majestic painting is also of the finest, most sumptuous quality: the brush moves with ease from silvered whites to the palest of pinks, from cadmium yellows to opulent, velvety purples, skilfully bestowing a highly effective lighting composition on the whole.