The figure is wrapped in a large cloak, which is bright red on one side and was formerly gilded on the other, as can be seen clearly at the back, where we can still see a decorative frieze of volutes towards the bottom. 

This sculpture still formed part of the collection of the antiques dealer Flavio Pozzallo in the late 1990s. He exhibited it at the Lingotto antiques biennial, in Turin, in 1997, when it was also featured in the catalogue. We are very grateful to Ezio Benappi and Giancarlo Gentilini for informing us that the work had previously formed part of the collection of the poet and critic Alessandro Parronchi (1914-2007). Although its elegant figure can still be appreciated, the appearance of the statue is somewhat damaged. It is lacking its entire right arm and left foot and presents significant areas of loss in the original paintwork and the extensive gilding that embellished it, particularly along the hems of the cloak. The young saint’s very pale complexion contrasts with his dark hair and beard, but also with his bright blue eyes that gaze out at us from beneath lowered eyelids, giving the figure a lovely dreamy air. It is possible that his missing arm held a pilgrim’s staff, but the presence of the sore on his left thigh undoubtedly confirms his identification as St Roch. The figure is wrapped in a large cloak, which is bright red on one side and was formerly gilded on the other, as can be seen clearly at the back, where we can still see a decorative frieze of volutes towards the bottom. This gilding has instead been systematically scraped away from the front of the statue, where all that now remains to be seen is the white plaster and glue ground, although a closer inspection reveals the presence of traces of the layer of bole for the application of the metal leaf. Meanwhile the gilding on the hems of the cloak and the collar is still clearly legible. Here we can also see punch marks on the gilding, which form a geometric decorative pattern. Under the cloak, the saint wears a dark blue surplice, while on his head covering (also damaged) and his footwear we can glimpse the traces of a decorative motif formed of alternating thin red and blue lines against a cream-coloured background. All these details, which can only be identified with difficulty today, must once have given the statue a particularly sumptuous appearance. 

The carving’s poor state of preservation means we need to be careful when trying to identify its original context. When it was exhibited in Turin, the sculpture was “attributed to Alonso Berruguete” (c. 1488-1561), a reference that can be traced to Alessandro Parronchi, who ascribed it to the Spanish artist’s Florentine period between the first and second decade of the 16th century. This proposal was substantially based on the combination of the figure’s elegant and sophisticated pose, inspired by Italian Mannerism and veined with Michelangelism, and the attractive appearance created by the extensive gilding that covered it at the time. These characteristics can effectively suggest comparisons with the work of the great artist, but at the time of his return to Spain, once he had completed his fundamental stay in Italy and sculpture took on a predominant role within his production. Although the execution of the statue reveals a particularly skilled and original hand, especially in the large cloak that is closely wrapped and “gathered” around the figure’s belly, the work does not seem to be directly attributable to the catalogue of Berruguete, who moreover created works on this subject (St Roch at the Museu Frederic Mares in Barcelona).¹ Although the Cerruti St Roch is lacking the energy, expressiveness and that sort of inner turmoil that inevitably ignites Berruguete’s saints, the theory regarding its Spanish origin, by the hand of a lesser carver inspired by the master’s works, certainly seems to be the most likely.

Francesca Padovani

¹ Martinez 2011, pp. 126, 127.