Dresden Closed

Picture: Wikipedia

The Dresden Gemaldegalerie is closed for construction until March 26.  Very annoying when an entire museum is closed, but at least it's only a few months.  The Cleveland Museum of Art closed for almost three years, and the Rijksmusuem has been largely closed for a decade.  The Royal Museum of Fine Arts in Antwerp and The Mauritshuis in The Hague are both currently closed for long-term building projects.  It's hard to imagine what kind of improved visitor services could justify depriving the world of these collections for such a long time; cramped and crowded 'highlights' displays just don't compensate.  The Rijksmuseum building has now been closed for nearly a tenth of its life.  Sometimes those in charge seem to forget that people come to their institutions see paintings by great artists rather than building projects by Very Important Museum Directors. 

Titian!

Picture: Guardian

I saw the newly attributed Titian at the National Gallery today.  I hadn't expected much from the pictures, but I think it might be right.  The condition is compromised; the weave of the canvas is very prominent from relining, and there is a lot of abrasion.  I think that accounts for the flatness of the face, which actually has quite a presence despite damage.  The black clothing is undifferentiated and doesn't convey volume well, but again this reflects damage.  The area that I find most disconcerting is the arm, which is awkwardly placed.  It's hung to the left of the celebrated Portrait of a Young Man on loan from the Earl of Halifax, and the latter painting (also an early work) is far superior.  But Titian's paintings do vary rather in quality, partly from workshop participation, and partly because he seems to have had his off days.  The fur is very impressively painted and the impasto has survived surprising well there.  Despite certain deficiencies, I don't think the attribution is unreasonable. 

New Titian?

Picture: Guardian

The Guardian reports on a Titian rediscovery at the NG, followed up at Art History News (which points out that it's actually rather old news anyway).  I haven't seen it yet, so I'll refrain from commenting on the attribution, but a couple of things struck me about the story.

 

First, there is nothing on the NG press page.  They have given this as an exclusive to Jonathan Jones, who got a meeting with the Director and then wrote a gushing article about it.  That kind of media favouritism is very bad form.  Art journalism is already far too incestuous and uncritical. 

 

Second, I rate Jonathan Jones as one of the best in the business, but he says some really stupid things.  I just cannot imagine what makes him insist on the superiority of the NG's Titian collection - it's not even relevant to the story.  On the other hand, I was impressed by the quality of the commentary by readers, who make some astutely critical points.

 

Finally I'm concerned by Nicholas Penny's reported dislike of the term 'attributed', which he considers 'scholarly waffle'.  Waffle is unwelcome, but there's nothing wrong with being scholarly.  And I think the term 'attributed' is indispensable.  It admits to a degree of uncertainty that is often unavoidable.  Better that the NG is open about areas of scholarly debate rather than tries to impose certainty where there is none.   

Perverse Incentives

Photo: National Gallery

The Art Newspaper reports that the government provided free insurance for loans of works of art worth £8.6bn last year.  It is a shameful and stupid subsidy that incentivises perverse behaviour. 

 

This insurance isn't free.  There are costly claims for damage, and there is always the risk of a catastrophically high claim if something goes horribly wrong.  Governments shouldn't be in the business of providing services that they don't understand and can be more efficiently supplied by the private sector.  Insurance is a complex business, and a worst-case outcome (fire at the Leonardo show) could put a meaningful dent in state finances at a time when it's especially unaffordable.  I'm all in favour of government subsidising the arts, but this is an arbitrary subsidy that encourages institutions to borrow the costliest works because they never bear the full cost.

 

The dreadful story of the damaged Miro at the Tate is a salutary warning of the real harm that can be caused, which no amount of cash can put right.  It's not just spectacular instances of damage that are of concern, but the ongoing stresses caused by packing and unpacking delicate works of art and moving them between different environments.  The state shouldn't be encouraging this by picking up a big part of the tab. 

 

The Art Newspaper estimates that commercial insurance would have cost about £15 per visitor to the Van Gogh exhibition at the Royal Academy (which I heard was too crowded for any of the 411,000 visitors to have seen much anyway).  The implication is that it's a Good Thing because it allowed the exhibition to go ahead with ticket prices at a reasonable level (less than half the cost if insurance were purchased commercially).  But why - especially in times of austerity - is the government providing a £15 a head subsidy to the well-heeled visitors to the RA?  And is this really the best way for the government to subsidise the arts at a time when the National Gallery cannot even afford to pay enough guards to cover all of its rooms?

 

Excellent journalism from The Art Newspaper.  Stupid behaviour by the state. 

Desiderata

Photo: Wikipaintings



Fantastic Ingres drawing coming up later this month at Christies in New York, which I saw on view with the Old Master sales in London a few weeks ago.  I also like the Parmigianino from the same collection, formerly at Chatsworth.  The Old Master paintings sales look strong to me, but my taste isn't always the market's taste.  I'm not overly fond of Caravaggio, but the still life from his circle at Sotheby's is very impressive.  The rediscovered Memling Christ Blessing looks good too.  I saw another version of it at the Norton Simon Museum last year.  The $1m-$1.5m estimate looks low to me, but I usually get these things wrong. 

Christie's best lots are in the separate Renaissance sale, with some good early Italian works, an exquisite Fra Bartolommeo and an early Raphael drawing.  My favourite is the Rockefeller Botticelli.  The highest estimate is for a rediscovered Bronzino.  I've only seen the reproduction, but I'm not convinced.  At the very least the condition seems to me rather compromised, particularly in the face, and it appears selectively cleaned.  The treatment of the clothing seems more summary than in other painting of Bronzino's, where he revels in depicting different textures and patterns.  The face also seems strangely constructed, with a lop-sided nose.  I wonder if it will sell. 

Raphael's Pope Julius II ... and Not Raphael's Pope Julius II

Photo: National Gallery

The painting above in London's National Gallery is generally regarded as the original of Raphael's Portrait of Pope Julius II, one of the most powerful and innovative renaissance portraits.  The Staedel in Frankfurt recently acquired another version, which they claim to be partly by Raphael (and studio).  It was widely reported at the time, but the media notices were mostly brief and uncritical of the attribution.  Bloggers Hasan Niyazi and Bendor Grosvenor provided more useful commentary.  I saw the Staedel's acquisition in Frankfurt recently, and I wasn't impressed.  It's a mediocre painting.  I've since made a close comparison with the NG version, and consulted the NG's dossier and other documentation on the painting.  My analysis of the shortcomings of the Frankfurt version is followed below by some comments on the London version.

The less skilful artistry in the Frankfurt version is immediately apparent if we look at the gilt finials on the chair.  The NG version is superbly impastoed, with a range of subtle effects that have been used to identify a precise location in the Papal apartments, based on the reflection of windows.  Artist Samuel Palmer was possibly discussing the NG version when he wrote of a painting on display at Burlington House (where it may have been on loan), "I think the Pope Julius, II which hangs aloft, is a genuine Raffaelle; if a duplicate, yet unmistakably of his own handiwork. The tassels for the chair are impastoed like Rembrandt. I have seen it close, and once began a copy of it" (photocopy in the NG Archive from the Life and Letters of Samuel Palmer, 1 Jan 1871 to Leonard Rowe Valpy).

The Frankfurt version is strikingly crude, with thick undifferentiated lines indicating reflected light: 

Photo: MS

Photo: MS

Turning to the hands, which Bendor Grosvenor noted as weak, look at how the little finger continues along a different line after the ring: 

Photo: MS

The grey mark may indicate bad restoration, but even giving it the benefit of the doubt, the stones in the rings are notably simpler than those in the NG version, with cruder reflections.  Roger Jones and Nicholas Penny note that, "Julius was keenly interested in the petrological enhancement of the Maiestas Papilis" (Raphael, Yale 1983: 158 - a lovely turn of phrase) and the sumptious depiction of his rings in the NG's painting is far more impressive than Frankfurt's.

The Pope's left hand is just as bad; the ring finger and little finger seem disembodied, not attached to the same hand as the other fingers: 

Photo: MS

The anatomy here is just wrong, implying an impossibly wide knuckle.  Raphael wasn't consistently perfect, and we should be cautious of leaping to conclusion from occasional errors.  The hands on some of Raphael's early predellas are a bit crude, and even in the late and brilliant drawing of Saint Peter and Saint John in the Ashmolean there is a major error in Saint John's right index finger.  But the mistakes in the Frankfurt painting are just too serious and too conspicuous to be plausible in a painting in which Raphael was personally involved.  When we step back from the details to look at the craftsmanship of the whole our perception of weakness is reinforced.

In the NG version the face is modelled, whereas the Frankfurt version (below) has a hard outline.  You can see clearly a shadow to the right of the profile that could be a pentimento, but the shadowy line is very crude and shouldn't be taken as evidence of a Raphael. The NG version is one of the most 'painterly' of Raphaels.  Cecil Gould writes that "when he painted the Julius portrait Raphael seems to have been exploring new techniques, and to have been moving, fairly tentatively on his standards, from a draughtsmanly way of painting towards a more painterly one." (Cecil Gould Raphael's Portrait of Pope Julius II London: National Gallery 1970 p. 11)  The hard modelling of the Frankfurt version indicates a copyist who drew an outline and then coloured it in. 

Photo: MS

The painting was often copied, and the National Gallery's dossier has details of numerous versions, including one in Berlin that is better than Frankfurt's.  The two most widely discussed versions are one in the Uffizi and one in the Pitti; Three Pipe Problem discusses their histories.  The best evidence for Raphael's involvement in the Frankfurt version is from technical examination revealing certain changes made to the composition.  But that doesn't prove that the changes were made by Raphael.  From the visual evidence I cannot accept this as being even partly by Raphael.   But enough of the copies; I have a few more observations on the real thing.

Rediscovery

The National Gallery's version was acquired with its founding collection, that of John Julius Angerstein.  It was subsequently demoted to a copy, with a version in the Uffizi regarded as original.  The wall text at the National Gallery states that it was recognised as the original in 1970, but art historians had recognised its quality by at least 1969, when Konrad Oberhuber requested that it be X-rayed. 

My copy of Cecil Gould's pamphlet has a pasted-in article by Tom Davies from the Sunday Times (26 July 1970) reporting that Luciano Berti, director of the Uffizi, stated that it should have been obvious since 1923 that the NG version was the original, and noting that both Conrad (sic) Oberhuber and John Shearman had identified it as the original in the 1960s.  It has the wonderfully supercilious response from Gould: "They were all working on hunches, and you get the wildest hunches in the art world.  Anyway I must insist that we are in charge of the National Gallery and it is not up to outsiders to suggest that we look at one particular painting or another."  This is quite inconsistent with Gould's ready acknowledgement of Konrad Oberhuber's insight (note 25 in Gould's pamphlet), and his additional note that Oskar Fischel had also identified the NG version as the original in private correspondence.

Related drawings

There are two related drawings.  The red chalk sketch in the Devonshire Collection at Chatsworth is generally - and I think rightly - regarded as a studio copy (e.g. Jaffe in the catalogue of the Devonshire drawings, Carol Plazzotta in the Raphael: From Urbino to Rome exhibition catalogue - where I saw the original), but considered authentic by Joannides, among others.  A cartoon in the Corsini collection in Rome is not generally considered to be by Raphael, although Beck was sympathetic to the attribution. 

Condition

The NG version is generally described as being in excellent condition.  Gould notes that the original bright colours were revealed in restoration, but Jill Dunkerton and Ashok Roy rightly recognise that historic over-cleaning have left the green background much brighter than originally intended.  A careful pencil copy by Henry Bone from 1811 shows fragments of the keys in the background, which had been over-painted by Raphael.  The over-cleaning that revealed these elements must therefore have taken place before 1811, and the over-painting later than that.

Dunkerton's summary of the condition is available on the NG's Raphael Project.  She states that, "there are no major losses but there are many scattered retouchings."  This seems a bit disingenuous, because there are some fairly large areas of restoration visible even to the naked eye, particularly a large patch immediately to the right of the Pope's face.  This area can be seen in the photo taken after cleaning but before restoration. 

The arms of the chair have been substantially lost through over-cleaning, and now lack definition.  Henry Bone's drawing shows them in a rather better state than today, and the Frankfurt version is also clearer.  They seem quite freely to have been reconstructed by the NG following the 1969 cleaning.  The planes were more distinct before cleaning, and even in pictures taken after cleaning and before restoration.

 Dunkerton states that "The areas of flesh painting are in exceptionally good condition, the only significant area of damage being a small vertical scratch in the sitter's forehead", but the NG tends to describe anything better than a total wreck as 'excellent' (it's all comparative, and the NG collection as a whole has suffered especially from several devastating campaigns of aggressively harsh 'cleaning').  The 'small' scratch is actually quite large, as can be seen by the naked eye, and is evident in the after cleaning, before restoration photograph available on the Raphael Project.  Gould notes that a couple of areas of over-paint were removed, from the mouth and cheek.  I think there is some loss of modelling, with rather stark transitions from light to shade.  There are other losses readily apparent, such as one to the left of the eyes.  The middle, ring and little fingers of the Pope's left hand also seem particularly compromised by harsh cleaning, especially at the ends.

One of the most serious and obvious areas of damage caused by the 1969 cleaning is in the Pope's beard, particularly on his left.  You can clearly see whiskers in the pictures taken before cleaning, which were entirely scrubbed away.  It is of course possible that these were later additions, but it's more likely the result of excessively harsh cleaning.  Despite the ravages of time and the NG conservation department, it is still one of the better preserved Raphaels and a powerful, innovative portrait of undoubted authenticity. 

Raphael at the Ashmolean

Photo: All About Drawing

I recently spent a day looking at Raphael drawings at the Ashmolean.  The great highlight of the Ashmolean is the collection of drawings by Raphael and Michelangelo, and they allow you to see only six of each on one visit.  This seems eminently reasonable to me; it promotes conservation and forces you to look slowly.  I was here for Raphael only this time, so they were a bit flexible.  In the end I saw seven Raphaels, and then looked at some drawings from his circle to develop my appreciation of the different styles in his entourage.

 

I particularly wanted to see the late drawings, including the incomparable study for the Transfiguration (above) in preparation for seeing the Late Raphael exhibition in Paris later this month.  Raphael drew in preparation for painting, not as an independent art form, but this is a drawing of astonishing beauty. 

 

Raphael's drawings show a huge range of styles and media.  The Jehovah in a Flamng Cloud Attended by Angels creates a poor first impression.  The flames and clouds seem quite crude, but we should remember that Raphael wasn't overly concerned with the final appearance of the drawing; he was solving problems for a painting.  Looking closer at the figures, particularly the finely drawn angels, it is clearly a Raphael.

 

I struggle more with the well-known drawing of Two Male Nudes for the Battle of Constantine.  Parts of it are very fine, but the lack of modelling in the back of the right hand figure doesn't meet Raphael's standards, in my view.  There is an interesting analysis in the catalogue of the 1983 exhibition of Raphael drawings in the British Museum where it is concluded that it is by Raphael, because the invention in clearly his, it cannot be argued as a copy by another artist in his circle, and parts (e.g. the knee) are very finely drawn.

 

The drawings by his school are less well-known are rarely seen.  I was particularly taken by a fine copy of a drawing by Giulio Romano in the Uffizi of the Virgin and Attendants in 'Spasimo di Sicilia'.  It is clear that it's a copy - the shading suggests that it's copying a relief rather than capturing the volume of the figures.  The shading between figures doesn't distinguish the forms effectively, and the outlines are drawn too harshly relative to the shading, but it still makes a good impression for an anonomous copy. 

I'm going back for more next weekend.