Undoubtedly the greatest sculptor of the Hellenic World – indeed, perhaps the greatest sculptor of all time – was a man named Lysippos. Born at Sicyon around 390 BC, Lysippos’ was a self-taught but prolific genius, whose bronze sculptures so encapsulated the splendour of Ancient Greece that they were voraciously copied by the succeeding Romans, and thereafter until the present day. His sculptures – the so-called Horses of Saint Mark, Eros Stringing a Bow, Agias, the Oil Pourer, the Hermes of Atalanta, and his seventeen metre (56 foot) tall colossus of Zeus, were as famous in his day as the Mona Lisa or the Sunflowers, and remain familiar images into our own modern world. His canon of proportions – eight heads high, and based on a perfect male body derived from relating proportions to the thickness of the wrist – remains the standard by which especially male beauty is judged. As the personal sculptor of Alexander the Great, Lysippos was the only artist which the great warrior-king thought worthy to represent him. Yet of the more than 1,500 works in bronze supposedly created by the artist, no works of Lysippos remain in their original form (with the potential exception of the Getty Museum’s Victorious Youth, acc. no. 77.AB.30, which is believed by some to be by Lysippos). Instead, the works of Lysippos are known from copies in marble, largely by Roman sculptors. While they lack the warmth and the lustre of the bronze originals, the marble sculptures demonstrate something of the extraordinary talent of this ancient genius.

But perhaps the most famous sculpture of Lysippos’ varied oeuvre is the so-called Farnese Hercules, a masterful expression of the hero’s strength and weariness. In an innovative departure from previous representations of Hercules as a triumphant superhuman, Lysippos chose to present the demigod instead as a tired and human figure, wearied by his many and varied labours. While he is nonetheless impressively muscular, he somehow shows his age, and demonstrates his vulnerability, in his lined face and hunched posture. The version now known is a monumental copy of Lysippos’ original by an otherwise unknown sculptor of the Third Century AD named Glykon of Athens. Glykon’s 3.17 metre (10 foot) marble sculpture originally adorned the Baths of Caracalla in Rome, one of the most sumptuous building projects ever completed in the city. It was buried under the rubble of the Baths for centuries, but was rediscovered in AD 1546 during excavations ordered by Pope Paul III, who was a member of the powerful Farnese family, from which the statue derives its modern name. The statue was fragmentary, but was painstakingly reconstructed under the tutelage of significant renaissance artists, perhaps including Michelangelo Buonarotti, who was active in Rome at the time working on the impressive Saint Peter’s Basilica, in the direct employ of the Pope. The Farnese Hercules caused something of a stir when it was discovered, underscoring the re-awakening of Classical ideals which had characterised the Renaissance. As an icon of Classical sculpture, and a remarkably sensitive portrayal of masculinity and vulnerability, the Farnese Hercules remains one of the most discussed sculptures in art history.

This Classical revival sculpture of the Farnese Hercules, a copy probably designed for the wealthy and fashionable youths who traversed Europe on the so-called Grand Tour, embodies the extraordinary artistry of the original. The figure is depicted standing upright, but slightly slumped, leaning his bodyweight on Hercules’ characteristic club, which is draped in the skin of the Nemean Lion which Hercules killed and wore as a cloak. The stance is a classic contrapposto, with one leg bearing more weight than the other, creating a dynamic S-curve in the torso. This pose not only showcases the hero's exhaustion but also emphasizes the muscular tension throughout his body. The figure is heavily muscled, exaggerating the idealized form of male strength. Every muscle group is defined, from the bulging biceps to the thick abdominal muscles. The pectorals and arms are especially pronounced. Despite the exaggerated musculature, however, the statue maintains balanced, almost mannerist, proportions associated with Lysippos’ new canon. Hercules’ face is turned downwards, and is slightly tilted, with his pained expression a portrait in weariness. The intricate detail of his hair and beard are especially drawn from Glykon’s marble copy. But this is not quite a faithful copy, and the figure has been adapted to Early Modern sensibilities. Rather than being a full nude, a fig leaf has been interposed over Hercules’ manhood, presumably to spare the blushes of any ladies who happened upon the sculpture in a grand house. And the musculature is somehow more refined and anatomical than in Glykos’ copy, reflecting a more nuanced view of the male anatomy.