This remarkable boxwood sculpture depicts a male nude figure in a pose of extreme physical and emotional tension, bound to a gnarled tree trunk. The figure's head is thrown back, mouth open in a cry, his muscular body arching dramatically as he raises one arm overhead while the other grasps the tree. His powerful physique is rendered with extraordinary anatomical precision, every muscle, tendon, and vein carved with meticulous attention to detail. The sculptor has achieved a remarkable sense of movement and suffering frozen in wood, the figure's body twisting against its bonds in a composition that rewards viewing from multiple angles.

The subject of this sculpture remains intriguingly ambiguous, as it could represent either Saint Sebastian or the satyr Marsyas—two figures from Christian martyrology and Classical mythology respectively, both famously depicted bound to trees and suffering torment. Saint Sebastian, the 3rd-century Christian martyr, was traditionally shown tied to a tree or column and pierced with arrows (which would have been separately carved and are now lost). Marsyas, the satyr who dared challenge Apollo to a musical contest, was flayed alive while bound to a tree as punishment for his hubris—a subject that became increasingly popular in Renaissance and Baroque art as an exploration of physical suffering and the limits of human (or divine) cruelty. [1]

This iconographic ambiguity was not uncommon in Northern European sculpture. A notable parallel exists in the Liechtenstein Collection, where a small bronze sculpture, formerly attributed to Andrea Mantegna's circle (c. 1500), is catalogued as "Marsyas or St Sebastian" precisely because the visual similarity between these two bound, suffering figures makes definitive identification challenging. [2] This ambiguity reflects the complex relationship between Christian and Classical imagery in Renaissance and Baroque art, where similar poses and compositions could serve multiple iconographic purposes.

The sculpture exemplifies the sophisticated small-scale carving tradition that flourished in German-speaking lands during the early 17th century. Boxwood (Buxus sempervirens), prized for its fine, even grain and capacity for precise detail, was the preferred medium for sculptors creating works of exceptional refinement. [3] The wood's density allowed the artist to render the most delicate anatomical features—note the carefully delineated abdominal muscles, the subtle modeling of the ribcage, and the prominently carved veins that course across the figure's limbs and torso. This pronounced attention to vascular detail is particularly characteristic of German sculpture from this period, as Frits Scholten has observed.

The 22-centimeter height places this work firmly within the tradition of Kleinplastik—small-scale sculpture intended for private collections and Kunstkammern, where collectors could examine and appreciate such technical virtuosity at close range. [4] These intimate works allowed sculptors to demonstrate supreme skill while engaging viewers in contemplation of both artistic mastery and the moral or spiritual themes embodied in their subjects. Whether representing Christian martyrdom or mythological punishment, this sculpture invites meditation on suffering, endurance, and the relationship between physical beauty and spiritual or moral testing.

The naturalistic tree trunk, carved with remarkable attention to bark texture and organic irregularity, serves multiple functions: it provides structural support for the dynamic composition, identifies the iconography, and demonstrates the sculptor's ability to contrast the smooth, idealized human form with the rough, natural world. The base, carved with roots and ground detail, anchors the dramatic vertical thrust of the composition.

The attribution to North or Central German production from the first half of the 17th century has been made by Dr. Frits Scholten, Head of the Department of Sculpture at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam and Professor of the History of Western Sculpture at the University of Amsterdam. [5] Dr. Scholten notes that the sculpture's emphasis on anatomical detail, particularly the pronounced musculature and surface veins, is characteristic of German carving from this period. He observes that the figure reminds him of a sculpture once offered by the dealers Sascha Mehringer and Böhler at TEFAF, which was at the time—incorrectly—attributed to the important Netherlandish-German sculptor Johan Gregor van der Schardt (c. 1530-after 1581). While finding a specific attribution remains challenging, this comparison places the work within the sphere of sophisticated North European sculptors working in the Mannerist tradition during the late 16th and early 17th centuries. [6]

The sculpture's excellent state of preservation, warm patina, and the remarkable crispness of its carving attest to both the sculptor's skill and centuries of careful stewardship. Small losses and age-appropriate wear only enhance its authenticity and historical character.

END NOTES

[1] On the iconography of Saint Sebastian and Marsyas in Renaissance and Baroque art, see Leo Steinberg, "The Line of Fate in Michelangelo's Painting," Critical Inquiry 6, no. 3 (1980): 411-454; and Leonard Barkan, Transuming Passion: Ganymede and the Erotics of Humanism (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1991), 40-75. The visual similarity between these two subjects—both involving beautiful male nudes bound to trees in poses of suffering—led to artistic crossover and ambiguity, particularly in Northern European art where Classical subjects often carried implicit Christian moral readings.

[2] For a notable example of this iconographic ambiguity, see the bronze sculpture in the Liechtenstein Collection, catalogued as "Marsyas or St Sebastian," attributed to the circle of Andrea Mantegna (c. 1500), which has provenance including the collections of Jean Cocteau and was once owned by dealers Charles Ratton et Guy Ladrière. See Johann Kräftner, ed., Liechtenstein Museum Vienna. The Collections (Munich–Berlin–London–New York: Prestel, 2004), 133; and exhibition catalogue Mantegna 1431-1506, ed. Giovanni Agosti and Dominique Thiébaut (Paris: Musée du Louvre, 2008), 314-316.

[3] On boxwood as a sculptural medium, see Alexandra Ziane, "Boxwood: The Material of Choice for Small-Scale Sculpture," in Small Wonders: Late-Gothic Boxwood Micro-Carvings from the Low Countries, ed. Frits Scholten and Alexandra Gaba-van Dongen (Amsterdam: Rijksmuseum; New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2016), 23-35. Boxwood's density (approximately 0.9-1.0 g/cm³) and fine grain structure made it ideal for intricate carving, while its relative hardness ensured durability.

[4] On Kleinplastik and the tradition of small-scale sculpture in German-speaking lands, see Michael Trusted, German Renaissance and Baroque Sculpture (London: Victoria and Albert Museum, 2010); and Theodor Müller, Deutsche Plastik der Renaissance bis zum Dreißigjährigen Krieg (Königstein im Taunus: Langewiesche, 1963). Such works were essential components of aristocratic Kunstkammern and reflected the owner's erudition and taste.

[5] Dr. Frits Scholten (b. 1959) is Head of the Department of Sculpture at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam and Professor of the History of Western Sculpture at the University of Amsterdam. He has published extensively on Northern European sculpture from the 15th through 19th centuries. On 13 December 2025 he wrote on the present work: "De Sebastiaan doet me nogal Duits aan, mede door de grote aandacht aan lichaamdetails, musculatuur en aderen. Ik zou me kunnen voorstellen dat het in Noord- of Midden-Duitsland is ontstaan, eerste helft 17de eeuw. Een naam vinden is een flinke opgave. Het beeld herinnert me enigszins aan een figuur die ooit bij Sascha Mehringer en ook bij Böhler op de Tefaf was, en toen - ten onrechte - aan Van der Schardt werd toegeschreven.”

[6] Johan Gregor van der Schardt (c. 1530-after 1581) was a Netherlandish sculptor active in Germany, Denmark, and the Habsburg lands, known for his sophisticated small bronzes and his role in disseminating Italian Mannerist style in Northern Europe. See Frits Scholten, ed., Small Bronzes in the Renaissance (Washington: National Gallery of Art, 2001), 186-199; and Rolf H. Johannsen, "Johan Gregor van der Schardt: New Evidence on His Career," Simiolus: Netherlands Quarterly for the History of Art 21, no. 4 (1992): 245-267. The stylistic comparison, while not indicating direct attribution, places this boxwood within a milieu of highly accomplished sculptors working in the Mannerist tradition.