The art of the Renaissance: In the line of beauty
This great show at the British Museum, assembled in collaboration with the Uffizi’s Gabinetto Disegni e Stampe in Florence, is a survey of what happened to drawing in Italy from the beginning of the 15th century to that moment about 100 years later when Michelangelo and Raphael decamped to Rome, and helped to initiate a quite different phase in the development of the art of the Renaissance.

Andrea del Verrocchio's 'Head of a Woman' (c1470)
This show does not merely show us about 100 of the greatest drawings in the history of Western art by the likes of Mantegna, Fra Angelico, Botticelli, Michelangelo, and Pollaiuolo. It is also a kind of master class in the practice of drawing. It shows us how drawings were executed; it explains why the art of drawing came to flourish to the extent that it did; it makes clear to us why drawing was so useful to artists.
Technology helped to make drawing popular. Drawing on vellum, an expensive process, began to be replaced by drawing on paper at the turn of the 15th century. An inventory of 1476 tells us that the cost of a sheet of vellum was precisely 14 times as much as a sheet of paper. Engraving began to make the wide dissemination of images possible. Artists would no longer be dependent on model books as a source of imagery. What is more, the replication of images meant that the possibility of far-reaching fame would be more readily within their grasp.

'Two Cheetahs' by Anon Lombard (1400-1410)
This exhibition, in addition to displaying drawings, gives us all the nitty-gritty of the making of drawings – a sample of sheepskin vellum to touch and to compare with a sample of hand-made rag paper; various quill pens. Samples of model books give us marvellous drawings of animals, often in profile. Animals featured regularly in model books because they were so useful to artists. They could enliven a scene, add touches of decorative humour and irreverence, stand proudly at the centre of an armorial device. What is more, the coats of animals never go out of fashion.
Many of the drawings in this show have seldom been on public display. Most were studio works, not made for the eye of the general beholder. They were private matters, or objects to be seen by a patron alone, evidence of work in progress. We may know the finished altarpiece, but we are unlikely even to be aware that these drawings, many of which were milestones along a long and increasingly potholed road, even existed. Why did they come about? They became increasingly necessary because the great patrons of Florence, Venice, Milan, Mantua made greater and greater demands of their artists. As their coffers and their heads swelled, their schemes of civic aggrandizement grew in ambition and complexity. In order to get to grips with such commissions, the artists needed to make multiple drawings – of figures, of drapery, of architectural details. Of these elements, singly. Or of all the elements together, to see how they fitted.

'Head of a Woman' by Leonardo da Vinci (c1470)
At about the beginning of the 15th century a profound revolution took place in the way art was made in the Western world. In 1413, the great Florentine architect Filippo Brunelleschi discovered linear perspective, enabling artists not only to create a seductive illusion of a three-dimensional world on a flat, two-dimensional surface for the very first time, but also to combine real and imaginary space in a single painting. A new human-centred naturalism, based on drawing from life, entered into art. At the same time there was a quickened interest in the arts of the classical worlds, a new wish to profit by the lessons to be learned from the Greeks and the Romans. This was the very meaning of the Renaissance: a re-birth of learning and skills, a rescuing of that which was at risk of disappearing forever. And, just as important, drawing came to be practised as never before.
Drawing can lay an artist bare, reduce him to the very essence of himself. Stare at a wonderful drawing by Botticelli here called Abundance or Autumn, which dates from the 1480s. It is every inch the essence of the Botticelliness which he brought to an extraordinary degree of artificial perfection in such paintings as Primavera, and which he later learnt to outgrow (somewhat) thanks to the stern, apocalyptic preachings of Savonarola. Here is the typical, exquisitely empty-headed Botticelli damsel, with her diaphanous, wind-ruffled draperies. And it is all here, in the drawing. Botticelli knew to perfection what a Botticelli woman was, even before he scaled her up and plied her with heavenly colour.
You can read more on the Independent website.