Dutch Drawings at Christie's

Picture: Christie's

I've become a bit obsessive about I. Q. van Regteren Altena, a scholar and collector of drawings whose collection is being sold by Christie's. The first part, with drawings by Rembrandt, Rubens, Goltzius and de Gheyn, was sold in London in July, far exceeding estimates. He owned major works by the greatest draughtsmen, but his encyclopaedic collection is most interesting for the drawings by rare and less well known masters. I rather indulgently traveled to Amsterdam for the viewing of the second part, which is being sold tomorrow. The first two auctions are of the Dutch and Flemish drawings that were his specialty. A third sale in Paris will offer his French and Italian drawings, and a final auction in Amsterdam will conclude with yet more Dutch and Flemish drawings.

The dramatic early study by Bloemaert with its bravura foreshortening (above) brings to mind the Spranger drawings that I recently saw on exhibition in New York. I actually prefer this extremely beautiful Bloemaert to many of the Spranger drawings. It's estimated at €15k - €20k. There's also a delightful drawing from Spranger's circle, of the very Sprangerian subject of Jupiter seducing Callisto in the guise of Diana (€2k - 3k). 

Picture: Christie's

Regteren Altena was a specialist in the de Gheyn family, and this spirited double-sided Marcus Curtius leaping on horseback into the abyss by Jacques de Gheyn II is one of the best things in the sale (€40k - €60k). It's a nice contrast with his beautiful and delicate Portrait of a seated man in an armchair (€25k - €35k). Both of these seem cheaply estimated to me.

There is a gulf between estimates for good but unattributed drawings (or drawings by minor artists) and those by the 'big names', some of which I didn't much care for. And there were plenty of quite minor drawings too, and drawings that can no longer hold the optimistic attributions of yore. The overall the quality is high for such a massive collection, but there are some I don't care for at all. But among the cheaply estimated (perhaps 'teasingly' is the right phrase) lots I liked a red chalk copy of Raphael's The prophets David and Daniel that was long given to Rubens and is now attributed to Erasmus Quellinus. The new attribution is surely not much more than a guess, but it's a striking large drawing related to two of my favourite artists with an estimate of just €1,200 to €1,800. A man holding a rifle attributed to Jacob Martens (€1,500 - €2,000) is another teasingly cheap drawing, a study of a soldier serving as a reminder that the beauty of golden age art was against the backdrop of vicious barbarism of the thirty years' war. A Head of a boy seen in profile is a particularly good unattributed drawing that has been linked to several artists, none convincingly. Estimate of €5k - €8k is high for a drawing without attribution, but reflects its wall power as well as its artistic quality, and I suspect it will do well.

Picture: Christie's

Among the group of Rembrandt school drawings is a small Seated man wearing a hat attributed to Arent de Gelder estimated at €2,500 to €3.500. I don't have much confidence in the attribution but I like the drawing at that price. There's a gorgeous Eeckhout A seated girl, seen from behind (€10k - €15k) and an interesting but rather unerotic nude by Flinck (€8k - €12k, above), a fraction the estimate of the more sensual eighteenth century French versions that this seems to prefigure. I actually prefer this Flinck to expensive sugary Bouchers.

Dutch artists obsessively sketched figures and vignettes that found their way into the myriad golden age genre pictures, and some of these studies were among my favourites from this sale, including Lingelbachs and Ostades and one attributed to van der Heyden. I was less taken by the landscapes and nature studies, although a drawing attributed to the exceptionally rare Johan Verwer (€15k - €20k) and a wonderful Dune landscape with gnarled trees by Beresteyn (€25k - €35k) appealed.

It's a big sale, and I haven't even covered all of the highlights. There are rare early drawings including a significant compositional study by van Scorel and an endearing sixteenth century study of a lobster, nineteenth century drawings including a good Ary Scheffer, fabulous sheets by de Bray and Mieris and countless minor masters of the golden age. It was worth the trip; one rarely gets to see such a range of drawings.

Museums were active buyers in the first sale, and I'm sure they will be bidding tomorrow too. It is odd that museums should be so swayed by provenance appeal. The quality of drawings was unquestionably high and there were many extraordinary rarities, but good drawings in general sales are often cheaper. I can think of a few reasons. Christie's gave plenty of notice of the Regteren Altena sales, giving museums time to consider purchases and arrange funds. Trustees and funders can more easily be persuaded of the importance of works from a really significant collection as opposed to those picked out of general sales by curators. There were also plenty of real rarities and unique opportunities in the Regteren Altena sale, although in my view museums sometimes set too much store in filling gaps and pursuing rarities rather than focusing on aesthetic value. And finally curators too are only human; they too can be seduced by the brand power of a great provenance. As a consumer (or wannabe consumer), I'd be willing to pay more for Regteren Altena provenance; I value the link with the great connoisseur. But I don't think museums should be swayed by such romantic nonsense.

That said, there are plenty of drawings that museums should pursue from this collection. The Met should buy the Jordaens copy of their Veronese, the Prado should buy the Teniers study for the painting they own, and Dutch museums should buy some of the drawings of particular historic interest, including the Scorel study for an altarpiece in Breda cathedral. I don't begrudge the museum acquisitions from this great collection, but I wish they would more actively pursue the bargains that often come up at the general drawing sales, too. It was striking that the summer Regteren Altena sale smashed expectations, whereas really good drawings in the mixed owner sales went cheaply or were unsold. 

Art as Diplomatic Token

Picture: British Museum

The British Museum is lending a statue from the Parthenon to the Hermitage. It's not for an exhibition that will show it in a different context or add to our understanding. It's simply a tokenistic gesture, a single stand-alone loan for the Hermitage's birthday. Neil MacGregor writes about grand universal values, but he trivialises them by sending arbitrary loans on foreign holidays. 

But it's not quite arbitrary. There is an obvious reason for MacGregor to mention a loan of an ancient tablet to Tehran alongside a loan a work from the classic age of Greek democracy to Russia. It's a profoundly patronising gesture about civilizing 'bad' regimes. MacGregor pretentiously and wrongly describes the statue as a "stone ambassador of the Greek golden age and European ideals". Respectfully Neil, that's bollocks. It's a chance for the apparatchiks at the Hermitage to crow about their cleverness in getting the BM to hand over one of its masterpieces, but it's not going to change the course of Russian politics. The statue is a towering work of art, but it doesn't carry a message, however much you seek to impose one upon it. Describing the Cyrus Cylinder as a document "setting out the humane ideals of the ancient Persian empire" is even more willfully inaccurate and anachronistic, as if it were The Guardian avant la lettre. 

There seem to be more and more loans of the most priceless objects that are most important to museums' permanent collections, often at the expense of smaller and smarter shows of less well know works that deserve more attention. Museums have learned that one of the best ways to generate publicity is to talk about objects that have 'never before been lent', even to the point of dishonesty in the case of the National Gallery's much-vaunted loan of Rembrandt's Claudius Civilis, which has been lent more often than stated in their press release. It's especially crazy to loan one part from what should be a single work of art. The worst possible resolution of the debate about ownership of the Elgin Marbles would be to see them circulating perpetually, different bits flown off to different countries where MacGregor feels they'd benefit from the messages he'd like to send.

And more of these loans are made without meaning or context - simply 'highlight' displays that take works away from places that people expect to be able to see them without any compensating benefit of seeing them in new light. Shows of 'treasures from x collection' are now commonplace, simply taking the best pieces from museums like the National Gallery of Scotland or the Rijksmuseum and sending them on tour. The Louvre no longer exists as a single encyclopaedic museums; it's a central repository that moves masterpieces between Paris, Lens and Abu Dhabi (so far...). The point about these loans is that they have no meaning or purpose. Exhibitions should enlarge our understanding, but simply throwing together the best things that happen to have ended up in a particular place is actually impoverishing. It impoverishes the lending institution by taking its best things, and it gives a one-sided view of the collection by showing only the 'greatest hits', encouraging a mentality that values only supreme masterpieces. 

This announcement encapsulates all that's worst about our culture of exhibitions today, lending a fragile object without good justification, shorn of context, on a diplomatic rather than artistic mission that will glorify the curators rather than the creators of the work of art. 

Rare early German picture at Christie's (psst! museums!)

Picture: MS

This is an extraordinary and really rare picture, a small (32 by 41 inches overall) Thuringian altarpiece from around 1400, which will be sold at Christie's Renaissance Sale in New York on 28 January. The estimate is just $1.2m - $1.8m. I saw it at the preview in London this week, and it's spectacular. These early pictures have a naive quality that many disdain in favour of the achievements of Renaissance and later art (hence the cheap estimate), but I adore their folksy charm, which this altarpiece has in abundance. Here are the soldiers playing dice in the corner:

Picture: MS

It's so rare that almost no museums are able to show this kind of art, let alone such a great example.  I think it needs to be shown in the right context, in a museum that already has complementary holdings of early German art, but would benefit from a major acquisition in that area. Who should buy it? Here are some of the places I'd like to see it.

London's National Gallery has some great early German pictures, but it's an area of relative weakness (especially from this early date). This would add a new dimension to their collection, and complement their current holdings of early German and early Italian pictures in the Sainsbury Wing. London's NG is one of the world's greatest comprehensive collections, but this would add a new dimension. It would also fit the Courtauld's collection, just down the road, if they're inclined to go after a big acquisition. It would fit nicely alongside the early Italian and Netherlandish pictures in their ground floor gallery. 

The Met in New York has relative strength in early German and early Netherlandish art, and has bought important early Italian gold ground pictures recently (Duccio and Lorenzetti). This would be a great acquisition for them. It might even go in the Cloisters, alongside their strong holdings of medieval art, and a great early Netherlandish triptych by Robert Campin.

Cleveland has a tremendous collection of medieval art including great holdings of early German pictures. They are relatively wealthy and still buy important things. This would fit really well; they haven't bought much in that area since the 1970s, largely because so little comes onto the market. 

The Getty has some fine early German pictures including a Schongauer and a picture by the Master of St Bartholemew. They can afford it, and it would look fantastic in their medieval and early renaissance galleries. The other US museum that should consider it is the National Gallery in Washington, which has a comprehensive collection of European art, but early German painting was somewhat neglected by its founding collectors, with the exception of Durer and Holbein. They have since acquired some good things, but this would really add a new dimension to their collection. 

The Louvre is in much the same position as the National Gallery in London, with a fabulously comprehensive collection but relatively few top-notch early German pictures. It's an obvious picture for them to go for. 

It's an enormously desirably picture for so many museum collections. But I wonder if they will actually go for it. In practice museums are often incredibly conservative. I can see trustees being put off by the archaism of this picture,making it difficult for American museums in particular. In the UK (and to some extent France) fundraising efforts are too often directed towards 'saving' things that we'd be better off without rather than going after pictures we really should be acquiring. This wonderful rarity really belongs in a great museum collection. I do hope it finds the right home. 

Good links

One of my irregular sharings of gems from the web. 

I'm ridiculously excited that the Rembrandt Corpus is now free online (vols I-V only, so far). I've been dipping in obsessively. There's also now an excellent Cézanne catalogue online. Registration required, but well worth it. A model of its kind. And Paul Spencer-Longhurst's Richard Wilson catalogue also in full free online. A lot of guff is written about digital art history. It's really just like the old art history, only online. Nice to see some people getting on and doing it instead of gassing about it. Of course I still like my data written down and nicely bound, so I'm hoping the first three volumes that I don't own will become cheap now they're available online. 

The Getty has now launched the digital archive of Duveen Brothers and Knoedler, which has been long delayed. It's a great resource, but I find it difficult to use online. I'd much prefer to be rummaging in archive boxes! Still, it's terrific that this is all online for anyone to access. 

I absolutely loved this article by Jerry Saltz, 'When did the art world get so conservative?'. Among other things it's a defence of eccentricity. As an eccentric, I appreciated that. In many ways I wish the art world were more conservative, but Saltz hits all the right targets - bad art world conservatism, not the good kind that I uphold!

This Spectator article about the National Trust disturbs me greatly because it is so true. Do read the comments - there's some excellent material there. Go back to it, even if you've read it already, and read the comments.

I was also deeply upset by the announcement of the Frick's expansion plans, which threatened to spoil one of the world's great unique museums by making it as much like all the others as possible. But I've been heartened by the strength of response. I commend the lobbying group Unite to Save the Frick and I warmly endorse the great points made by former director Everett Fahy.

From the blogs, a few posts have stood out recently. Rembrandt's Room and The Frame Blog both run excellent essay-length posts that are often more valuable and more readable than most journal articles. I enjoyed recent posts on Sassetta's Borgo San Sepolcro Altarpiece and the conservation of a Stanford White frame, respectively. Art History News hosted an interesting debate about a recent NG acquisition (a bad one in my view). I've also been enjoying (and cheering on) his sceptical posts on the use of science in art history, such as this excellent critique of Pascal Cotte.  

Old Master viewings

Picture: Sotheby's

This weekend was viewing for the winter old master sales at Sotheby's and Christie's in London. One of the great pleasures of auction viewing is seeing 'minor' pictures by unfamiliar artists. Willem van Herp I isn't a household name, but I was really struck by his splendid Tavern with merrymakers and cardplayers in the Sotheby's day sale, a large (32 by 40 inches) and well preserved painting on copper. Seen up close, the handling is broader and cruder than Jan Steen or David Teniers. But a good Steen or Teniers on this scale would be estimated a hundred times higher. I'm rather mystified by the decision to put this in the day sale (the pricier pictures are sold in the evening sales), hang it in a dingy corner of a downstairs gallery and estimate it at £60k to £80k, despite having sold for £165k in 1988. It's an especially lively and interesting tavern scene, with a great range of action and expression. It even includes a dog and a cat, so there really is something for everyone. There's another version available at Galleria Luigi Caretto in Turin.

Picture: Sotheby's

This good workshop version of Massys' The Misers (est. £60k - £80k) is in the same sale. It's just one of many versions of this famous composition, but nice quality and surely a bargain for a banker with a self-deprecating sense of humour (one lives in hope). I was also struck by a number of cheaply estimated and unattributed works that stand as summaries of their periods. This St John the Baptist is not particularly well painted, though it is well drawn (from a cartoon, perhaps?) and a fine example of mid sixteenth century Roman art with the foreshortened projecting leg and contrapposto stance, estimated at just £10k - £15k. Two good pictures by followers of Guido Reni's are impressive and cheaply estimated (lots 198 and 199). And a Daniele Crespi of The Head of St John the Baptist, vivid blood pooling on its platter, is not to everyone's taste, but that's why it's estimated at only £30k - £40k.

Picture: Sotheby's

This Deposition is catalogued as the workshop of Cornelis Engebrechtsz. (misspelled 'Engelbrechtsz.' in the title - a rare cataloguing slip!). It's an endearing image that shows some one trying but not quite succeeding. Almost every figure has the stock 'open mouth' trope of Renaissance art. The cumulative effect is a bit ridiculous, the individual figures showing a limited emotional range and not relating well. The estimate of £30k - £50k reflects its charm, and well painted details set against its failure as a coherent image. 

Picture: Sotheby's

Softer and prettier pictures from the eighteenth century are unfashionable. This portrait by Nattier, in the evening sale, is a steal at £150k - £250k. And pictures by less well known artists are cheaper still. There are three by Franz Christoph Janneck in the day sale, An agent collecting taxes from a hunter and a farmer's wife (above) is an endearing if unfashionable Austrian genre scene estimated at £8k - £12k, a tiny fraction of any equivalent seventeenth century Dutch work. It's a bit contrived, and less lovely than the best Dutch genre scenes, but still a rather good picture with a crazy low estimate.

Picture: Christie's

Sticking with the theme of day sale bargains, at Christie's there's a landscape by Cornelis Decker estimated at £50k - £70k that's superior to many damaged or minor works by more famous Dutch landscape artists. I suspect it will sell strongly because it's such an attractive picture. A very pretty Flinck portrait estimated at £40k - £60k, and another by Jacob Backer with the same estimate also appealed. There's a lovely still life by Maria van Oosterwyck (£100k - £150k), a female student of Heem's, a less well known still life artist, but awfully good. Among a group of pictures consigned from Petworth House is a beautifully painted, if unfashionable, Willem van Mieris finely framed and estimated at just £20k - £30k (above). It's a bit melodramatic and not the most compelling composition, but I find that estimate unbelievably low for such a finely painted picture. It wouldn't even pay the VAT on the premium of a trendy contemporary work! A Sano di Tito in a nice frame is another good picture that is also an expression of its age (£30k - £50k), as are two fine eighteenth century portraits, a Roslin at £20k - £30k and a Greuze (£40k - £60k).

Picture: Sotheby's

The evening sales have the big-ticket lots by famous artists, but again there were plenty of great things by less well known artists and from less fashionable schools of art. Bruyn's Coronation of the Virgin is one of my favourites from the Sotheby's evening sale. Big, rare and important, it's a kind of picture poorly represented in British museums, yet it's estimated at just £600k - £800k.

I find a lot of Dutch still life relatively rather pricey, but a fine small Huysum is good value at £150k - £250k. I guess people want their Huysums more flamboyant. There's a great pair of still lifes by Kessel, one of which is his signature made by insects (£500k - £800k). And a fine van der Heyden is cheaply estimated at £250k - £350k. Again it's not quite the Platonic ideal of a van der Heyden, but personally I'd rather have something more unusual, and this one is excellent.

As ever I thought the Brueghel peasant pictures and Venetian views rather dreary and overpriced. Objectively they're perfectly fine pictures, but I find myself rather repulsed by their relative over-valuation. It's interesting that they've included a pretty bad picture of The Temptation of St Anthony by a follower of Bosch into the evening sale, though both quality and estimate (£30k - £40k) make it more of a day sale picture. I guess it's designed to appeal to a certain aesthetic, in the hope that someone will overpay for its 'look' rather than its artistic quality. I wonder what strings the consignor had to pull in return - paying a sellers' premium, perhaps. The unknown factor is what impact sanctions on Russia will have on sales. An ormolu-mounted lapis lazuli tazza with Russian provenance seems particularly to appeal to Russian taste; I wonder if it will sell (£600k - £1m at Christie's).

Picture: Christie's

From the Christie's evening sale I was intrigued by the anonymous Antwerp School picture above, An Extensive Landscape with the Rest on the Flight into Egypt, a large and tremendously impressive early landscape. It sold in 2006 at for £400k (against £350k - £450k estimate). It's much cheaper, much better and much more interesting than the Venetian views that sell so well. This is exactly the kind of picture that museums should be buying. It's high quality, visually stunning and rare. Few museums have good examples of this kind of art. Yet because it is unfashionable and unattributed, it is relatively cheap.

It surprises me that museums don't go after pictures like this. Often they follow market fashions, rather than lead them. The National Gallery waited until the market for American pictures was at its peak before buying its first major American painting, by an artist collected by billionaires. Museums seem bad at making judgments about relative value. British regional museums have limited budgets, but they keep buying more of what they already have, particularly British pictures. I do wish they'd make a few brave purchases, particularly of some of the unattributed and unfashionable pictures that are especially cheap.

Picture: Christie's

Other pictures that impressed me at Christie's evening sale were the Ostade (above, low estimate of £80k - £120k because pictures of apothecaries examining urine aren't what everyone wants in the drawing room), van der Helst (impressive large portrait, £250k - £350K) and Provoost (£250k - £350k, splendid but seems rather abraded). I also love the top lot, a superb Van Dyck (£2.5m - £3.5m).

Some pictures sell high (or at least have high estimates) because of the fame of their artists rather than their quality, such as this Saint Theresa of Avila at Sotheby's, a singularly uninspiring picture that is in the evening sale because it is by Ribera. Ribera is a fine artist, but I wouldn't want this one. Pompeo Batoni is another artist I like greatly, and think relatively undervalued, But I didn't like this one at Christie's. And I'm afraid I don't much care for Sotheby's' top lot either, a major Turner. Absolutely nothing wrong with the picture, which is outstanding of its type; it just doesn't speak to me. But the forty page catalogue entry is superb. The quality of cataloguing really is magnificent these days, with high quality reproductions and serious commentary, sometimes stretching to essay length. No wonder museums are hiring from auction houses

The market for mid-range old masters has been static for some time, with some schools falling sharply. Really good pictures can be had for prices that are low almost without precedent. A Teniers at Sotheby's is estimated at barely more than it realised in 1980 ($230k in 1980, estimate now £100k - £150k ≈ $161k-$241k). Estimates should be treated with some caution because they are not just objective attempts to predict prices. Sometimes they are high because the consignor insists on an unrealistic reserve. And weirdly low estimates are rarely because the auctioneers are simply wrong. Sometimes it's because good things aren't always fashionable. But it can also be a marketing gimmick to encourage bidding. I think that's the case with a few of the good Dutch pictures coming up, including works by van de Velde and van der Heyden that the auctioneers surely expect to exceed rather modest estimates.

Picture: Christie's

Let me finish with some seasonal cheer from Hendrick Bloemaert. His splendid Allegory of Winter will warm the hardest hearts. It's a really beautiful picture, estimated at £300k - £500k at Christie's. A perfect gift for a favoured blogger, perhaps?

Rembrandt's Themes, and other recent books

Picture: Amazon

Richard Verdi Rembrandt's Themes: Life into Art Yale University Press 2014 £25

This is a magnificent short study of Rembrandt's subject matter. He returned to the same themes again and again, seemingly by choice rather than from commission. The evidence is that he had a degree of freedom in what he painted, and his chosen subjects reveal a Mennonite sensibility. I really recommend that you buy this above the Late Rembrandt catalogue. It's beautifully produced and illustrated, finely written and truly illuminating. 

Rembrandt scholarship has been rather consumed by acrimonious debates about attribution. No one enjoys attribution controversy, debate and acrimony more than I do, but it's a welcome change to read a book that steps back from all that to focus on Rembrandt's underlying genius. A good proportion of his output is portraiture, including some of his most famous pictures. But it's in the narrative pictures that we see the full range of his genius and his humanity. Verdi's splendid book ranges from detailed discussion of the genesis of some of his pictures, to the recognition that some masterpieces like the Return of the Prodigal Son "require few words, so serene and holy does it seem". That's an experience I often feel with Rembrandt, which has struck me a few times in the National Gallery's Late Rembrandt show. 

The book is based on a series of lectures, and it is an exploration rather than a definitive study. I think that's the best way of approaching Rembrandt, for he will always resist definitive systematisation. His history paintings began with animated crowd scenes that were noticeably more effectively and dramatically orchestrated than his peers' from an early date. But it's the more introspective and profoundly emotional late masterpieces that best show his unique genius. This book explores the genesis of these greatest of paintings, explaining their context in Rembrandt's development and the themes he pursued. 

A late entry to my mental list of 'best books of 2014'.

Picture: Amazon

James Hamilton A Strange Business: Making Art and Money in Nineteenth Century Britain Atlantic Books 2014 £25

James Hamilton is an academic, but this is a collection of anecdotes about art and commerce in Victorian Britain rather than an academic study. There's some interesting material here and I enjoyed reading it, but it's not quite the comprehensive account I'd hoped for. Hamilton has some strange literary foibles that start to jar, like long and irrelevant lists. For example, we are told that the new rich filled their villas with art "in Ealing and Hackney, Blackheath and Roydon, Herne Hill and Tottenham, Birmingham Bristol and Hastings" (p. 60). He never uses one example or one adjective when he can fit in six or seven (the Victorian art world includes "patrons, financiers, collectors and industrialists; lawyers, publishers, entrepreneurs and journalists; artists' suppliers, engravers, photographers and curators; hostesses, shopkeepers and brothel-keepers; quacks, charlatans and auctioneers", p. 3). It's an oddly old-fashioned affectation, redolent of nineteenth century British novelists like Dickens.

The book's strength is in its primary material; I found many of Hamilton's conclusions and generalisations too sweeping, such as the surprising claim that in the 1820s and 1830s collectors avoided old masters because they were too risky, concentrating instead on contemporary (p. 172). I thought that the great contemporary boom was late in the nineteenth century, and the '20s and '30s were a golden age for old master collecting as great works continued to flow into London from continental Europe, with the resumption of trade following the Napoleonic Wars.   

One of the most interesting sections concerns the moving of pictures, a hazardous business then as now. By the 1850s and 1860s specialist vans fitting with deep shelves were available for transporting pictures, but there are alarming tales of pictures damaged in transit, such as James Ward's Waterloo Allegory: "the  figure of Belona cracked by rolling yesterday - obliged to scrap[e] it off", wrote the artist (quoted p. 273). And as today, pictures were sometimes hastily cleaned for exhibitions. "Some picture cleaners might have been scrubbing floors", says Hamilton (p. 272). A Turner that came loose in its packing case damaged several pictures returning to London from Dublin in 1865, and were presumably sent to the National Gallery's repairing room, where robust 'repairing practices' were adopted (p. 283).

There's much else of interest, but it might better have been structured as a blog rather than a book. Lots of interesting material to dip into, but little evidence of underlying organisation. 

Picture: Amazon

A.N.Wilson Victoria: A Life Atlantic Books £25

This is an endearingly old-fashioned book in tone and style, and it's a fine and readable biography enlivened with idiosyncratic asides about the tendency of whisky to increase hot-temperedness and lack of charity (p. 324) or the lineage of 'celebrated photographer' Patrick Litchfield (p, 284), or his views on her title 'Empress of India' ("a title which many people would consider more appropriate for a railway engine, or possibly a pig, but it was the consummate cupola on the Victorian political endeavour", p. 368). Quite verboten in an academic study, but I'm sure his readers will share my delight in having such an opinionated and articulate guide to Queen Victoria's life. 

I've wanted to read a good biography of Queen Victoria for a while, hoping for more insight into nineteenth century Britain. The Victorian age was a fascinating dynamic period of economic growth, political intrigue and social transformation. But this book confirms to me that Queen Victoria was just a cypher, a dull dim woman at the top of her society but not at all at the centre of it. Wilson is mostly honest about her shortcomings, but sometimes tries to hard to make more of her than is really there. Sometimes he writes utter nonsense: "Queen Victoria was not a cerebral political analyst; yet she was developing, after nearly fifteen years on the throne, a symbiotic sense of her subjects, and what they felt" (p. 169), implying that she was a Princess Diana avant la lettre. She was a very average person, but that is not at all the same thing as the thoughtful (or sometimes plain cynical) empathy of the modern celebrity. 

There are plenty of examples quoted where Victoria was out of touch, or plain naive. The book also gives some feel for how quickly things were moving in the nineteenth century, and the canniness of the statesmen of that age are fine foil for the Queen's dullness. He quotes Victoria's favourite Lord Salisbury: "The classes that represent civilisation ... have a right to require securities to protect them from being overwhelmed by hordes who have neither control to guide them nor stake in the Commonwealth to control them" (p. 434). It's interesting on many levels. It immediately strikes the modern reader as grotesquely elitist, but the fact that it was stated at all reveals a degree of defensiveness against populist pressure, real and perceived, which was relieved by a series of preemptive reforms. Nineteenth century Britain had a succession of outstanding parliamentarians but, Wilson's pleas notwithstanding, the Queen at the top was an increasingly irrelevant figurehead who increasing withdrew from even a ceremonial role.

Wilson speculates that she was sometimes 'out of her mind', on the evidence of letters written in the 1860s showing a complete loss of control, scrawled in blue crayon and barely legible. Perhaps some echo in Prince Charles's spidery missives to ministers today? 

Picture: Amazon

I read Theodore Dreiser's An American Tragedy on my flight to the US. I don't think it's aged well, and its flabby plot needed a good editor. But I still enjoyed it greatly, an epic tale of pursuit of the American dream gone bad. Among other novels I've read recently, Emmanuel Carrère's Limonov stands out, a fictionalised biography of a Russian dissident who is unsavory on many levels, interspersed with autobiography reflections on writing the biography. It has been extremely well reviewed, rightly so in my view. Carrère is apparently already well-known if France. This book deserves to make his reputation in the anglophone world too. Another French novel I read in translation is Baise-Moi by Virginie Despentes. I previously read and enjoyed her Apocalypse Baby, but Baise-Moi was her most famous and controversial book. I enjoyed it much less, finding it a rather predictable Thelma and Louise style schlocker. Skip it, but do have have a look at Apocalypse Baby if you fancy some grim French nihilism. 

A day at the Art Institute of Chicago

Picture: Art Institute of Chicago

I thought I knew the collection of the Art Institute of Chicago pretty well, but it's bigger, better and more coherent than I'd imagined. In my mind's eye their old master collection was patchy, but it actually has a solid and comprehensive collection with masterpieces in most areas. I especially loved the little room of French seventeenth century art with a great Poussin next to a fine (but damaged) Claude, and pictures by Bourdon, Moillon, Le Seur and La Hyre. One or two rooms lacked anchoring masterpieces. An optimistically attributed 'Titian and Studio' loan doesn't make up for lack of heft in the Venetian room, although a smart purchase of a Savoldo about a decade ago helps. It seemed at the time an odd purchase for Chicago, but I get it now. And the earlier Italian pictures are patchy, but a great early Correggio, a decent Botticelli and a wonderful group of Giovanni di Paolos make up for a lot.

Picture: MS

The large gallery of baroque art is stuffed with masterpieces, led by El Greco's great Assumption, a huge picture but just part of a vast altarpiece. There's also Zurbaran's tremendous Crucifixion, a scene he and his studio painted often but rarely approaching the quality of Chicago's version. But I especially liked Guido Reni's Salome with the Head of St John the Baptist (top), a great painting by a great artist who is unjustly neglected by today's art lovers. His rather austere classicism is out of kilter with the mood of our times, but give Guido a chance. He's really an outstanding artist. Those Georgian art collectors who put him and Raphael atop the pantheon of greats did actually know a thing or two. The Chicago picture is one of his very best; the colour is superb.

Picture: Art Institute of Chicago

Alongside the great masterpieces there are plenty of interesting but more minor pictures that I enjoyed seeing, including a Walter Gay interior (above) and a good collection of nineteenth century German and Scandinavian art. Chicago has followed a widespread trend of museums buying in these areas, making up for generations of neglect, but they've bought well. I confess that I wasn't sorry to have missed Grant Wood's famous American Gothic, which was on loan. I don't greatly care for the picture, and I don't think seeing this icon 'in the flesh' would have added much for me. But I was delighted to see so many other excellent American pictures, including a fantastic Bellows winter landscape. The small Dutch collection includes a great early Rembrandt, and a recently acquired Paulus Potter that I adored.

Picture: MS

A small collection of ancient art is augmented with some really good loans from a private collection. The wall text is especially good in this section, particularly the guide to understanding labels, above. They've done a great job of explaining in terms that anyone can understand, without dumbing down the content. Museums in the UK, take note! Many museums here don't even give attributions (even at the Ashmolean). There's also a strong collection of works on paper, with changing displays in galleries alongside European paintings as well as a lively programme of exhibitions in separate drawings galleries downstairs. Sadly I arrived between exhibitions, but I've seen several of their excellent exhibition catalogues and Chicago seems to punch above its weight in old master drawing shows. I missed out on their exhibitions and I didn't have time properly to investigate their print room, but I was grateful that they were able to show me their Raphael drawing, below, which was only identified as a Raphael in the mid 1990s. 

It's probably a study for St Peter in the fresco in the Sala di Constantino in the Vatican. Discoloured white highlights are more visually distracting in the image below; they are more legible in the original. You can see just how hard it is to get this kind of foreshortening right when you see the stumbling efforts of Raphael's epigones; even his more distinguished followers struggled. The Art Institute's excellent catalogue of their Italian drawings speculates about the unusually hard technique and theorises about the effect Raphael sought, but I wondered if there wasn't some re-enforcement of contours, which are unusually hard for a late Raphael. Still, it's a magnificent and enormously impressive drawing. I'm trying to see all of Raphael's drawings, so I was particularly glad that they were able to show it to me in their print room at short notice. It was striking how impressive it looked seeing it for the first time from across the room; it has amazing presence and power for a working study not intended as an independent work of art. 

Picture: Art Institute of Chicago

I knew the impressionists and post-impressionists would be the highlight, and they were even better than I'd expected. It's surprising how often impressionist pictures are poorly preserved, despite their relatively short lives. They have been so popular that they've changed hands often, and been relined and worked over as much as many old masters. Fortunatly Chicago seems to have been more restrained; the difference between their Seurat and the relined one in London is amazing. The impressionist galleries are superb; not only are the pictures themselves exceptional, but they are well displayed and less crowded than their equivalents in New York, Paris or London. I've never enjoyed looking at impressionists so much. Great pictures by Seurat and Caillebotte lead the collection, but there's incredible strength throughout. I even liked some of the Renoirs. 

Picture: Art Institute of Chicago

I laughed out loud at this Manet. The wall text (which you can read here), makes no reference to what I thought was rather obvious innuendo - quite rightly, as we can recognise smutty innuendo without needing the gallery to interpret for us. That ability is a human universal that requires no tutoring. Or at least that's what I thought; actually no one else seemed to get it, maybe because they're primed to think high art is, well, a bit higher than that. I spent a few minutes watching people's reactions to it, including a clean-cut young couple I overheard who seemed to be on an early date and recognised nothing beyond the wall text. Detail below should make it obvious...

Picture: MS

But enough of my schoolboy humour. The Art Institute of Chicago is fantastic. The collection is less comprehensive than many, but there are plenty of masterpieces and more coherence than I'd expected. And the display is excellent; good lighting, good framing, good wall text. It takes more than great art to make a great museum, and Chicago has it. My only niggle is the extremely restricted opening times - 10.30 to 5pm, surely one of the shortest of any major museum. But it's small enough that you can get around most of it in a day, though it'll leave you wanting more.

I didn't spend much time in Chicago, but the city looks fantastic. I stayed on Magnificent Mile among the most spectacular buildings - well designed rather than the mere giganticism that other cities confuse with architecture. And an early morning run along the lakeshore gives a great view of the skyline. I've just read Nature's Metropolis: Chicago and the Great West by William Cronin, which is a really outstanding study of Chicago's development, a kind of geographic history linking the city to the development of markets in grain, lumber and meat. It's an intelligent and sophisticated analysis full of fascinating details about things like grain elevators and lumber transportation, all much more interesting than it sounds. I'd love to read more about Chicago - I'd be grateful if anyone can recommend a good general history. And I'd be fascinated to find out how Chicago developed such consistently great architecture when other cities that build big build dull. Was it private enterprise competing on aesthetics, or was it more planned? Again, recommended reading would be most appreciated.