The Donkey Rider 1912

Here in the Städel Museum is August Gaul’s bronze sculpture, The Donkey Rider. Look closely, and you’ll see a certain awkwardness, a roughness in the modeling – especially in the donkey’s head – which gives it a kind of grounded, believable presence. Gaul’s work has a particular texture, a tactile quality that invites you to run your hands over its surface, feeling the small divets and ridges that catch the light. Notice the way the light plays across the donkey’s flanks, accentuating its sturdy build, the marks of the artist's hand still visible. The boy's posture suggests a quiet confidence, a casual authority. It’s tempting to compare Gaul to other sculptors of his time, maybe someone like Rodin, but Gaul has a simplicity, an earthiness that feels all his own. It reminds me that art doesn’t always have to be about grand gestures or complex ideas. Sometimes it’s just about capturing a moment, an essence, with as much honesty and directness as possible.