This is an excellent exhibition, inspiring, beautifully curated, and quietly revelatory. Drawing the Italian Renaissance does something deceptively simple but profoundly effective, it brings us closer to the act of thinking itself, as revealed through the drawn line.
But first, a little historical background – on paper. Far from being the boring commodity that Ricky Gervais parodies in the iconic The Office, paper was exciting and new and suddenly abundant. Before the Renaissance, drawing was constrained as much by material as by imagination. Paper, though known in Europe from the medieval period, was scarce and relatively expensive, and artists instead relied on vellum, made from animal skin, which was costly and ill-suited to exploratory or repetitive work. From the mid-fifteenth century onwards, however, the spread of paper mills in Italy and the rising demand created by the recent invention of the printing press dramatically reduced costs and increased availability. This quiet material revolution transformed artistic practice. Drawing could now be used freely, experimentally, and prolifically, not merely as preparation for finished works but as a means of thinking in its own right. For artists such as Leonardo da Vinci, paper became a space for curiosity and invention, allowing observation, correction, and speculation to unfold directly through the hand. The explosion of Renaissance drawing was therefore not only an artistic development, but a practical one, enabled by paper becoming, at last, affordable enough to think on.
The exhibition is structured thematically rather than chronologically, grouping works around subjects such as nature, the nude, the face, and religious study. This proves a wise curatorial choice. It allows drawings by artists as various as Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Raphael and Titian to speak across generations, not as museum monuments, but as working minds grappling with form, anatomy, movement, and meaning.
The wall texts are exemplary, clear without being reductive, scholarly without becoming academic sludge. They give just enough technical and historical context to sharpen the eye. This is further enriched by an audio guide, worn around the neck and listened to through headphones, which offers thoughtful commentary on key works and sections. Used selectively, it deepens understanding without ever dictating interpretation.
One cannot avoid the social context. These artists were the superstars of their day. In a world without film, television, or photography, they were the image-makers, the visual influencers whose reputations travelled across Europe through courts, churches, and patrons. Drawing was not a minor or private activity, it was the engine of creative power.
It was also, unmistakably, a deeply sexist world. All the artists represented here are men, and the overwhelming majority of subjects are male. Female nudes are vanishingly rare, striking precisely because of their absence. The imbalance is historically accurate, but its presence in the gallery still lands with force, and is worth acknowledging rather than smoothing over.
What gives the exhibition its emotional charge is the material intimacy of the works themselves. Red chalk on warm, off-white paper dominates, chalk sharpened to a needle-fine point, used with astonishing control. The delicacy is breathtaking, a shoulder turning in space, a tendon tightening, a cheekbone catching light. Other chalks and inks appear too, but it is red chalk that seems to pulse with blood and warmth.
Unlike some finished Renaissance paintings, magnificent though they are, these drawings feel alive. They are lively, exploratory, sometimes almost jovial. Corrections are visible. Hesitations remain. You sense the artist pausing, testing, revising. What emerges is not a polished public performance, but the humanity of the artist at work, curious, playful, occasionally audacious.
That, ultimately, is the exhibition’s great achievement. It lets us see behind the finished masterpiece and into the moment of making. Drawing here is not subordinate to painting or sculpture, it is revealed as the artist’s laboratory, a place of risk, invention, and thought made visible.
The exhibition runs for another two months and is very reasonably priced. There is also drawing equipment, paper, clip boards and pencils available if the urge takes you, making this an ideal location to hang out for a couple of hours on a rainy day in Edinburgh.
You leave inspired, not overawed. And that is no small thing.
Running Till 8th March 2026, https://www.rct.uk/collection/exhibitions/drawing-the-italian-renaissance/the-kings-gallery-palace-of-holyroodhouse
Reviewer: Greg Holstead
Reviewed: 11th January 2026
North West End UK Rating:
Running time – 1 hour 30mins (suggested)