Monday, 11 March 2013

Whither Fragonard?

Picture: Getty
It's reported that the remainder of the Rau collection, which he left to Unicef, is going to be sold by Sotheby's, Bonhams and Lempertz.  It's a mixed bag, but the highlight is the stunning Fragonard, above, from the series of Portraits de Fantaisie, which Rau bought at auction in the 1970s for a very high price.  The Louvre has several, and the National Gallery of Art in Washington D.C. bought The Reader from the auction of the Erickson Collection (from which the Met bought Rembrandt's Aristotle Contemplating the Bust of Homer for a record price).  Others are in the Clark Art Institute in Williamstown Massachusetts and the Art Institute of Chicago.
 
The Unicef site indicates that it will be sold by Bonhams - in which case it will surely establish a new record for that auction house.  It was previously on loan to the Getty, and it would be a great acquisition for them, complementing the impressive newly discovered Watteau that they bought recently.  Cleveland is another plausible institutional buyer.  I suspect the Kimbell, another museum with deep pockets, will struggle to compete after recently buying expensive paintings by Poussin and attributed to Michelangelo (and they're completing a building project, too).  I'd love to see it in National Gallery.  It's obviously an impossible acquisition for them, but their collection of French eighteenth century art is weak (the good stuff is in the Wallace Collection), and there's nothing quite like this in any British collection. 

Sunday, 10 March 2013

More bad wall text

Picture: Melbourne Art Network
Melbourne Art Network tweeted this absolute gem from Kelvingrove in Glasgow, a museum that takes dumbing down to new heights.
 
It was in response to another strident and brilliant editorial in the Burlington Magazine on the state of art writing.  It's frustrating that the Burlington is so expensive to access on-line - I got dirty looks from the staff at the National Gallery shop yesterday when I started to read a third article, propping myself up by the cash register - but the freely available editorials are always brilliant and always right. 

Salad poisoning

Picture: Trialx.org
Federico Barocci, subject of a current exhibition at the National Gallery, is said to have suffered illness for much of his life from eating a salad poisoned by jealous rivals.  This confirms all of my suspicions about salad.  It's a nice anecdote, and the exhibition catalogue makes a meal* out of explaining the cause of his illness.  But I'm reminded that psychologists warn us of a 'cognitive bias' towards perceiving agency behind events, even where there is none (imagining that the computer has it in for me and the rain is deliberately spoiling the barbecue).  The frequent references to poisoning in historical literature may reflect poor hygiene and bad food, rather than easy availability of effective poisons.
 
Another explanation discussed in the catalogue is that he was poisoned by lead in the paints he used.  This strikes me as pure speculation.  It begs the question of why Barocci got lead poisoning (which I understand to be a cumulative process) early in his life, whereas other artists continued to use lead paints to a ripe old age without succumbing.  I doubt we'll ever have a good explanation of Barocci's illness, not that it matters for appreciating his art.  I'm just glad to have a nice anecdote to back up my salad-phobia.  In restaurants now I'll look in horror at any dining companion considering a salad, and say, "do you know what that stuff did to Federico Barocci?"
 
*sorry....

Saturday, 9 March 2013

The Value of Old Books

Picture: Wikipedia
After visiting the National Gallery today I popped into Quinto on Charing Cross Road and was delighted to find a cheap copy of In the National Gallery: A first introduction to the works of the early Italian Schools as there represented.  By Mrs. C.R.Peers with many illustrations, published by the Medici Society in 1922.  It's a lavish production, leather bound with gilt edges and some early colour pictures.  The wonderfully archaic text hasn't really endured, but its value to me is in the old photographs taken before the disastrous campaign of 'restoration' undertaken by Helmut Ruhemann.  The colour picture of Uccello's Battle of San Romano (recent picture above) is a bit grainy and I can't get a decent scan, but it's quite different from its current appearance.  It shows areas of sky painted over the original landscape (now removed).  In 1922 it was already tragically over-cleaned, with broad flat areas of grey and white in the horse, but even in this grainy picture I discern more subtlety than is present today.
 
Even when they're in the bargain box, books like this rarely seem to sell.  The Internet offers fantastic opportunities for art historical research, but it's a shame to neglect old books. 

Wednesday, 6 March 2013

The Young Van Dyck, and some exhibition gossip

Picture: Prado
I went to see The Young Van Dyck exhibition at the Prado last weekend.  It is truly an outstanding show.  I'll write a full review later, but it's rare to see such a serious exhibition on this scale.  Poussin's Landscapes at the Met a few years ago was comparable, but there was less justification for it; it was great to see so many Poussin landscapes gathered together, but I can't say it made me see Poussin differently.  
 
The exhibition traces Van Dyck's precocious development at a very young age, trying out different techniques, working alongside Rubens and other artists in Rubens' studio.  Seeing different versions of his early paintings was instructive, and drawings were effectively integrated into the display.  I truly got a new appreciation of the artist.  I rarely say that after an exhibition; many are less than the sum of their parts, and any new insights come from seeing the individual works rather than gaining something extra from their assemblage and display.  This exhibition was insightful and intelligent without being arid - it's a real visual treat. 
 
It's been extended to the end of March, so it's not too late to go.  I was sceptical about the extension - it seemed like a planned marketing ploy to me, and I suspected that they'd negotiated loans with an option to extend.  But I spoke to the curator of one of the museums that lent to the show, and I was assured that they did contact lenders and ask for an extension.  I was also told that when the Vasari exhibition in Florence was extended a few years ago they simply returned the drawings to lenders without requesting an extension, and replaced them with facsimiles!  They were at least identified as facsimiles on the wall text, and apparently no one complained.
 
I'm delighted that they've extended, but I'm not sure why; it doesn't seem to be popular demand.  Admission is covered by the general entrance fee to the Prado, and they didn't seem particularly assiduous in counting people in.   I'm conflicted by my desire to see things in peace and quiet, and my wish for as many people as possible to see this superb exhibition.  Fortunate for me, the exhibition was fairly quiet when I went (on both the Saturday and Sunday).  By contrast, a frivolous-sounding impressionist exhibition at the Thyssen had a three hour wait for a timed entry slot.  Given the risk and expense of transporting the exhibits, it seems right that it should run for as long as possible. 

Tuesday, 5 March 2013

Art trip cancelled - Adriatic coast closed

Picture: Visit Italy
I'd planned an art trip to Italy's Adriatic coast in late March.  I was going to cycle between the towns that have famous pictures that few have seen - Piero della Francesca in Rimini and Urbino, Lorenzo Lotto in Recanati and Jesi, Bellini in Pesaro, Titian in Ancona (etc...).   The first blow was when I found out that the Barocci are all at the National Gallery.  Then I discovered that the Pesaro museum is mostly closed for refurbishment.  Now I hear that the Ancona Titian is on loan to a show in Rome.  Basta!  I'm going somewhere else. 
 
I'm going to brave the crowds and go to the Titian show in Rome, I think, and maybe the Springtime in the Renaissance exhibition in Florence.  But I'm sad to be forced back to the main tourist centres.  Perhaps I'll do the other side of the Piero trail (Arezzo, Sansepolcro, Monterchi), and I'd like to see Citta di Castello too.  I'll let you know.

Sunday, 3 March 2013

Time to slaughter the sacred cow?

Picture: Flickr
Free entry to museums enjoys bipartisan support in the UK, but it's been up for debate following Mahon's conditional bequest of paintings that can be taken back if the beneficiaries charge for entry.  Unfortunately museums are cursed with false friends, and their philistine advocates have made free admission untenable.  It is logically untenable because they have jettisoned all sense of what makes museums uniquely special; instead they defend them instrumentally as places that can deliver all kinds of mandated outcomes.  And it is morally untenable because the single-minded defense of free admission at any price has meant that budget cuts have led to more corrupting forms of fundraising, and to essential services being cut.

The Museums Association is currently debating whether museums should promote 'wellbeing' or 'social justice' - or maybe a bit of both.  The problem is that once you start selling yourself as a tool to promote fashionable public policy targets, you find yourself in a competition you cannot win.  You can twist museums to new ends, but most museums were founded long before people started thinking of wellbeing as a goal explicitly to be promoted by public institutions and museums are not well designed for these arbitrary new purposes. 

If the claim to funding rests on the ability of museums to promote wellbeing, the question isn't whether we should or should not provide free access to museums, but rather whether the 'wellbeing budget' will be spent more efficiently on museums or on something else.  It might provide better value for money if we closed all museums, sold off their musty old collections, and put the cash towards yogic flying instead.  People reasonably wonder why museums are free, but swimming pools charge.  Let's defer the debate about the purpose of museums, but we should recognise that these are weak arguments when competing for a limited and diminishing pot of public money.

Other false friends think museums should be free because they are good value for money on an economic calculation.  They cite studies purporting to demonstrate the positive economic contribution of culture.  Even if we accept their dodgy research, do they really imagine that this effect is greater because museums don't charge?  As if millions of visitors to crowded museums like the Louvre and Prado don't spend money elsewhere because they have to fork out for admission.  Given the high proportion of overseas visitors, free admission represents a subsidy by British taxpayers to wealthy foreign tourists.  Speaking as a British taxpayer, I'm happy to contribute to that subsidy - seems very hospitable, and the least we can do given that we're disproportionately blessed with masterpieces from around the world.  But the purely economic logic seems pretty tenuous.

I also have a moral challenge to free admission.  Free admission has become an absolute that is defended with hysterical zeal, and that zeal has blinded its advocates to other kinds of harm.  People fight for free admission even as other changes destroy the quality of the museum experience, corrupt its purpose and damage the artifacts that museums were supposed to protect.  Funding cuts have caused some museums to cut back on essential security, and others to permit riotous behaviour upon payment of a modest fee. These debasements are far more serious than the threat of admission charges, but they pass largely unmentioned.

The National Gallery reduced the number of guards in its galleries.  Shortly afterwards two Poussins were vandalised.  At the Tate it's sometimes hard to find any guards at all; they seem to move around in pairs chatting to each other, avoiding visitors where possible.  A Rothko was recently vandalised there.  The Wallace Collection raises cash by hiring itself out as a venue for posh parties.  A frame was recently damaged on a painting that was on loan.  Precious and fragile objects that were left in trust to nation, and which had rarely been moved, are now shuffled in and out of galleries on a regular basis to make space for dinner guests.  Where a reverential attitude was once maintained, drunken revellers now stumble.  Obviously free admission doesn't cause these harms, but revenue from admission charges could ameliorate them.

For all that, I'm actually a strong supporter of free admission to museums. People whine about snootiness and elitism discouraging people from visiting, which strikes me as errant nonsense. But cost is a real barrier; it is a barrier to any kind of entry, but it's especially a barrier to the kind of spontaneous brief visits that are the best introduction to more sustained engagement. In London, where I live, I go little and often, sometimes popping my head around the door and leaving if it's too crowded, or just going to see one or two things. If they charged admission, I expect I'd be able to buy an annual ticket for the National Gallery, but I'd probably never return to Tate Modern, which I visit maybe a couple of times a year.
 
A robust case for free admission requires greater intellectual courage from supporters of museums.  We must be able to make a strong case for the value of museums in their own terms, rather than hitching them to fashionable agendas.  Some people do, and not all who speak up for free admission are guilty of the errors I've highlighted.  But for now, the agenda has been captured by fools and knaves.  I am loath to see admission charges introduced, but they are a lesser evil then the defilement of museums as raucous party venues, or damage to collections that they cannot guard.