The word “masterpiece” originally described a work that an apprentice would have to execute and submit to a guild in order to obtain the status of a master craftsman—a title that came with considerable prestige and the ability to take on apprentices of one’s own.

Now, the word refers to any work of art or craft of incredible quality, or the proudest creation of one’s life. 

With some artists, it’s hard to tell exactly what their greatest work is. Some humans are able to manipulate their canvas like nobody else can, leaving an entire generation trying to imitate their style in hopes of achieving something almost as great. The hints of old yet prominent artists still remain in the public mind today, whether it’s a musician who revolutionized your favorite genre, or a painter who took direct inspiration from those hundreds of years before them.

Shown before you is not a sepia photograph. It is not a 3D model of a head. It is not an AI-generated image of a human. In fact, this is a sculpture that is almost four centuries old. The subject of the bust is long dead, but it is so lifelike that his presence may as well be in the room with you. The way light reflects off polished marble almost imitates sweat, and the roundness of his cheeks and fine hairs seem like they should not come from marble at all. 

This is Cardinal Scipione Borghese, famous sponsor of the arts; and the first patron of the sculptor Gian Lorenzo Bernini (1598 C.E. – 1680 C.E.). Given that Borghese was the artist’s first patron, it’s no wonder that Bernini poured so much effort into making this work as lifelike as possible. After all, it was from the combination of Borghese’s money and Bernini’s skill that some of the sculptor’s most striking and well-known works came from, as well as the beginning of his long relationship with the Catholic Church.

The immense wealth and power the Church wielded during the pre-modern period is exemplified by the extravagant spending of its officials. Many powerful families put their sons into the clergy for the prestige it held; and, if a family member was already in the church they could expect to see their power grow. 

Pope Paul V, named Camillo Borghese at birth, elevated his nephew Scipione to the position of Cardinal Nephew; this was an actual position within the Catholic Church as late as the 1690s. The English word nepotism originated from this practice, from the Italian word for nephew, ‘nipote.’ This position, along with significant political power within the Church and Papal States, also came with significant paychecks, which Cardinal Borghese would use to fund his love of art, sponsoring a young Bernini and the famous Italian painter Caravaggio. 

The immense wealth and political power the Church held during the time is vividly demonstrated by its sponsorship of the arts. Many powerful families put their sons into the clergy for the prestige it held; and the wealth the officials held as well as the abundant tithes they received as members of the church meant they were able to afford the sculptures of busts made by expert sculptors like Bernini.

In fact, it was this extravagant spending that led to the split of Protestantism from the greater Catholic church in the earlier part of the 15th century; evidently, the clergy had not yet forgotten their habits of lavish patronage of artists like Bernini.

Many of Bernini’s works depicted Popes, Cardinals, or Archbishops, by their commission; many of those that did not were made under the patronage of Church officials, and many still reside today in the Vatican. The incredible skill he displayed in his myriad of works for the Church established him as the favorite of three separate Popes during his lifetime. The most famous of them was Pope Urban VIII, who commissioned many works from Bernini, and some of the most striking ones.

Bernini’s career began when he sent his first known work to Cardinal Borghese in his teenage years, who quickly became enamored with the young sculptor’s art. Cardinal Borghese may have been the first, but he certainly wasn’t the last of Bernini’s patrons, nor his last connection with the Church. Even though Borghese might have been one of the first who recognized the young sculptor’s talent, there are countless other examples of Bernini’s pieces that would have qualified as masterpieces, several times over. Try to find the man’s “best work.” It’s impossible.

The largest one was designed for the center of the Catholic Church. While not made of marble, it’s not any less impressive than the rest of Bernini’s works. Sitting upon black-and-gold painted columns decorated with vines is an imitation of cloth that stands imperiously in the heart of the Vatican, right under the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica. 

Estimated to weigh over sixty tons, St. Peter’s Baldachin is a feat of architecture and artistry, towering over ninety feet tall and made fully of bronze. Rumored to have been shaped from the bronze ceiling of the Pantheon, the Baldachin was recently cleaned and restored for the first time in centuries, allowing Bernini’s work to shine once more.

His works became the definition of Baroque sculpture. Compared to his contemporaries, many Italian sculptors who worked with marble or bronze have the same style as his. In fact, looking at two busts of popes done by those from the same era as Bernini, the sculpted garments they wear seem to literally be cut from the same cloth (or, rather, marble). 

Bernini was the first, and best, of many things. Interestingly enough, despite all of his unimaginably wealthy, incredibly powerful, and doubtlessly abundant clients, he was the first known sculptor to have made a piece without a commission.

This piece was of Costanza Bonarelli, the wife of one of his assistants.

What it doesn’t include, though, is the scar that must have run down her cheek after Bernini used his servants like thugs, and sent them to cut her face with a razor.

Bernini and Costanza’s affair, despite the fact her husband was working as one of his assistants at the time, was evidently very significant to him. So when he heard a rumor that she, at the same time, was having another affair–separate from the one he was involved in with her–he became enraged. He snuck to her house, observing a man climb out of her window, and saw the countenance of none other than his own brother, Luigi.

He beat his brother furiously with a crowbar, chasing him across Rome for vengeance. Only stopped when Luigi barricaded himself in a church, he still wasn’t satisfied with his revenge on her third lover, and ordered his servant to slash her on the cheek. 

Bernini’s relationship with the Church played in his favor. His skillful work for Pope Urban VIII meant the Pope was not eager to lose him as an artist; and he was pardoned, released, and excused from paying any sort of fine. The bust demonstrates the lifelike emotion Bernini gleans from marble, and the passion he had for his mistress before they split; lips slightly parted, gazing off into something in the distance. Of course, her husband was forgotten in all this–he kept working for Bernini–and that servant was nowhere near as fortunate, finding himself jailed for the sculptor’s crime.

Fifteen years later, in 1652, Bernini carved a similarly sensual piece. Masterfully using natural light in tandem with bronze tubes painted the color of gold to represent the vision of an Angel, it’s no wonder The Ecstasy of St. Teresa became one of his most famous works. St. Teresa’s communication with God is represented by the Angel she described above her; by her own words, the pain of God’s love was so great that it made her moan, and the look of pleasure Bernini carved on her face clearly elucidates it.

The work includes statues of Cardinal Federico Cornaro, the commissioner of the piece, and members of his family gazing upon the scene from balconies on adjacent walls. Part of Bernini’s design for a chapel that would serve as the final resting place of Cornaro, the work blends seamlessly into the architecture, and dominates the front of the chapel.

As a devout Catholic, his work frequently depicted other religious figures, not just St. Teresa. His depiction of famed Biblical figure David just before his triumph over Goliath speaks perfectly to his mastery of marble. David’s brows are furrowed and lips pressed inward with his body twisted around, his legs poised to push off the pedestal. His arm winds up behind him, ready to release his sling. Bernini doesn’t just include the fine details; he imagines the scene as if frozen in motion, letting the reader imagine what happens next. Looking at it feels as though you have cut a frame out from an animation, and in the next second the statue’s arm might snap up and hurl the stone your way.

Many of his works drew from mythology as well, involving Apollo and Daphne, Medusa, and, one of the most striking of his works, The Rape of Porsepina. It depicts the infamous scene from mythology, in which in Roman mythology, Pluto abducts Porsepina (or in Greek mythology, Hades abducts Persephone). Her opened mouth, twisted body, and palm planted against his forehead depict just how desperate she is to get away, while his pained expression, arms thrown around her and torso pitched back as a counterweight, demonstrate just how desperately he tries to cling on to his love.

One of the most incredible aspects of this work is Pluto’s hand upon Porsepina’s thigh. Bernini’s ability to make one material look like another, from making the bronze of the baldachin appear like fabric, or the lace on a marble collar so fine it screams to the wealth of the wearer shines in this piece. The flesh of Porsepina’s leg gives way to Pluto’s clenched hand, his fingers sinking in and forming divots in the marble that seems, to the viewer, just as soft as a pillow.

His ability to show emotion through action was unparalleled. In A Faun Teased By Children, a sculpture that Bernini created when he was only eighteen, he was already displaying his talent of creating a sense of motion from stone. The faun reaches up in a dire bid to take the abundant fruit of a tree, while children sitting atop it push him back down. His arm is wrapped around the trunk, and leg extended upwards in a lunge so deep it feels like he might leap upwards in an instant.

From the status of Bernini’s patrons to the sheer quality of his work, it is clear that Bernini’s influence on Baroque sculpture is visible in every piece; from the poses emphasizing the action and movement of the characters in the sculpture, to the realistic, lifelike cloth and flesh that seems pliant as though touching it might reveal that the marble is in reality soft to the touch, rather than hard stone. 

From the status of Bernini’s patrons to the sheer quality of his work, it is clear that Bernini’s influence on Baroque sculpture is visible in every piece; from the poses emphasizing the action and movement of the characters in the sculpture, to the realistic, lifelike cloth and flesh that seems pliant as though touching it might reveal that the marble is in reality soft to the touch, rather than hard stone.