Child seen from behind, standing between its mother's knees, c. 1625. Courtauld Institute of Art Gallery

Sara Allen ventures to the Courtauld Institute and discovers an exhibition of superb drawings that offer an insight into the mind and practice of a great Renaissance artist.

The stunning Courtauld Institute of Art is the perfect location for a new exhibition of Guercino’s works on paper. Showing until May 13 2007, Mind to Paper demonstrates the artistic practice of a remarkable draughtsman.

Known as the Rembrandt of the South, Guercino (1591-1666) showed an early and exceptional talent for drawing. His skill earned him influential supporters, one of whom became Pope: a patronage which took the young artist to Rome. The trip earned him international fame.

Study of a seated young man, c. 1619. J. Paul Getty Museum

After, he returned to his native Cento, in northern Italy, where he spent the greater part of his life running a successful workshop with the help of his nephews.

That this wealth of works on paper survived is due to his nephews’ ultimate inheritance of Guercino’s home, studio and workshop. After his death, they sought to preserve the entire catalogue of drawings. Which is good news for the contemporary audience: these works are wondrous and delicate in turn, and offer a brilliant insight into the artist’s creative process.

Guercino’s drawings were preparatory studies for his paintings. Never intended for sale, they allowed him to thoroughly explore structure and tone.

Now they not only demonstrate something of how he worked, but form a collection which stands alone; entrancing and beautiful. Indeed, the immediacy of the images, achieved by the rapidity and virtuosity of Guercino’s marks, is surprisingly modern. Hung at eye height around the room, the exhibition allows the audience to give each drawing their proper attention, while remaining aware of its sheer scope.

Cupid restraining Mars, c. 1640. Courtauld Institute of Art Gallery

The most familiar of the works are the biblical and war scenes. These have vigour and power. The speed of the pen marks lends a visceral energy to the images, as does their volume. This exhibition is successful at indicating the work Guercino did with these drawings.

For the most part they were used to test and modify composition – often showed to a patron or purchaser to suggest the progression of a painting. In these images, one has a direct line to the work of the artist.

In Study for ‘The Assassination of Amnon at the feast of Absalom’ (1628), Guercino’s sketchy spontaneity conveys the necessary determination of treachery. From the untidy pen and ink scrawl emerges the powerful arms of the assassins, and the possibly surprised capitulation of Amnon: a more rehearsed or finished image could not convey the suddenness of the moment with such power.

Study for ‘The Assassination of Amnon at the feast of Absalom’, 1628. Courtauld Institute of Art Gallery

But if the exhibition offers a great opportunity to absorb the method of the artist, it also offers an insight into a far more tender side. The exhibition is scattered with domestic scenes – women washing their hair, a mother holding her child. Delicate and warm, these pen and ink, or chalk, images have a lightness of touch, and also humour reminiscent of Degas.

Child seen from behind, standing between its mother’s knees (c. 1635) depicts only the cherubic child, and his mother’s skirts draped around him. Guercino sketches her hand, indicates her shoulders. But he is concerned with showing this loving moment and focuses on the most tender, and salient, details.

These scenes were, in the main, not intended for patrons, or even for exhibition and instead were private works, for the amusement of friends maybe. But, though they offer contrast to the other subjects, the works are unified by Guercino’s fascination with human interaction per se.

Aurora, c.1620. Courtauld Institute of Art Gallery

Whilst this is an exhibition of dozens of small works on paper hung in the top room of the rarefied Courtauld, the size of the individual works belies their impact and drama.

Instead this is a vibrant, and often violent set of drawings which demonstrate more than great draughtsmanship – they offer an insight into the mind of an artist. And these vivacious and bloodthirsty images find delicious counterpoint in the delicate domestic scenes.

It would be a mistake, though, to see these as only offering insight into the artist’s creative practice: they stand alone as great drawings. At times almost more than the room can contain, they burst with energy and skill and curiosity, and leave the audience uplifted and awestruck at Guercino’s very delight in his art.