Art Eyewitness Review: Americans in Spain, Painting and Travel, 1820-1920

 

Americans in Spain, Painting and Travel, 1820-1920

Chrysler Museum of Art, Feb. 12-May 16, 2021

Milwaukee Art Museum, June 11-Oct. 3, 2021

Reviewed by Ed Voves

In the late autumn of 1869, Thomas Eakins entered into the final stages of his four years of artistic study in France. Although it had been a productive apprenticeship, Eakins felt he needed something more to set the seal of complete success on his endeavor. Eakins planned a trip to one of the other European countries where he could examine the works of "Old Masters" he had not been able to study at the Louvre.

Eakins selected a surprising destination for his farewell tour of Europe - not Italy or the Netherlands nor Austria-Hungary or Great Britain. On November 29, 1869, Eakins boarded a south-bound train for Spain. 

Eakins' sojourn in Spain began a trend among aspiring American painters during the latter decades of the nineteenth century and the early twentieth. Now, an ambitious exhibition, jointly organized by Corey Piper, curator of the Chrysler Museum of Art in Norfolk, Virginia, and Brandon Ruud of the Milwaukee Art Museum, follows the footsteps of Eakins, Mary Cassatt, William Merritt Chase, Robert Henri, John Singer Sargent and Childe Hassam.

Gallery view of Americans in Spain, Painting and Travel, 1820-1920             at the Chrysler Museum of Art. Photo by Ed Pollard

Spain, as we will discuss, was not an easy country to visit during the 1800's. During the crucial, final year of its preparation, Americans in Spain, Painting and Travel, 1820-1920, often faced daunting obstacles as well.The outbreak of Covid-19, just as the curators of the two museums were finalizing plans to gather the 100 works of art and historical artifacts for display, put the experiences of these nineteenth century American artists in a novel, startling perspective.

Difficulty, tinged by a certain degree of danger (mostly imaginary), imparted a sense of adventure to journeys to Spain during the 1800's. For artists like Eakins, the great traditions of Spanish painting were the primary inducement to venture south from France. The astonishing realism of Velazquez and the ethereal spirituality of Murillo exposed American painters to new dimensions in art which were often lacking in the ateliers of Paris. 

Only few days after arriving in Spain, Eakins explained to his father in Philadelphia the nature of his revelatory experience in his new surroundings:

Since I am now here in Madrid I do not regret at all my coming. I have seen big painting here. When I had looked at all the paintings by all the masters I had known I could not help saying to myself all the time, its very pretty but its not all yet. It ought to be better, but now I have seen what I always thought ought to have been done and what did not seem to me impossible. O what a satisfaction it gave me to see the good Spanish work so good so strong so reasonable so free from every affectation. It stands out like nature itself.

Eakins, after studying major works by Velazquez at the Prado, quickly adapted to the influence of the Spanish Baroque master, notably his concentration on character, accentuated by dark, neutral tones in the background.

 

Thomas Eakins, James Carroll Beckwith (detail), 1904

This shift in technique is readily apparent in Eakins' portrait of fellow artist, James Beckwith, on view in the exhibition. Created in 1904, this masterful work shows how the lessons of Velazquez had been integrated into Eakin's methodology, shaping, yet not determining, his own mature style.

What Eakin's achieved, his fellow-countrymen aimed to rival. Yet, it was not artists alone who ventured to Spain from the United States. Americans of diverse backgrounds traveled to Spain intent on savoring that nation's reputation for romance, for social customs little affected by industrialism. Spain's rugged landscape was dotted by castles and, yes, windmills. Spanish towns and cities, especially Toledo and Seville, retained much of their medieval character into the twentieth century

These picturesque aspects of nineteenth century Spain came at a price - paid by the Spanish people. The staggering cost in human lives during the heroic war against the Napoleonic invasion, 1808-1814 was followed by a political betrayal of the very people of Spain who had resisted the French. Goya's unforgettable paintings and prints record this tragic conflict as no other works of art were to do of war before photography. 

William Merritt Chase, Spanish Peasant, 1881

Engraved by Frederick Juengling, 1883

The continuing harshness of daily life in Spain, the social and economic malaise which lingered for decades, can be seen in the face of the Spanish peasant, originally drawn by William Merritt Chase in 1881 and then engraved by Frederick Juengling two years later.

American ideas about Spain were initially shaped by a great writer, rather than an artist. The exhibition begins with artifacts related to Washington Irving's 1826 sojourn in Spain. Irving had been wandering around Europe, searching for inspiration, when an invitation reached him from Alexander Everett, the American Minister to Spain. Irving stayed three years, during which he visited - and for a time actually lived in - the famous Moorish palace, the Alhambra. Irving's romantic re-imaging of Spanish history, Tales of the Alhambra, was a huge hit with audiences in England and the United States.

Irving was a close friend of the Scottish painter, David Wilkie (1785-1841). Overshadowed today by J.M.W.Turner and John Constable, Wilkie was very popular during his day, especially for genre depictions of daily life. He painted a charming scene of Irving, immersed in a mighty tome in the Archives of Seville, the resulting information later to appear in his biography of Christopher Columbus. 

David Wilkie, Washington Irving in the Archives of Seville, 1828-29

For the purpose of the present exhibition, it is important to note that Wilkie's evocations of Spain were made into lithographs, appearing in Sir David Wilkie's Sketches, Spanish and Oriental, published in 1846.

 

   Joseph Nash, Lithographer 

                 Washington Irving Examining the Spanish Records                   in Sir David Wilkie's Sketches, Spanish and Oriental,1846

Lithographs, aimed at a mass audience, later followed by photographs as book illustrations, helped whet the appetite for paintings of Spain and all things Spanish. Also important were spectacular landscape paintings of Spain, part of the mid-nineteenth century mania for "sublime" views of the world. Gibraltar from Neutral Ground by Samuel Coleman (1832-1920) was aimed at an American audience reeling from the horror of the Civil War years.

Samuel Colman, Gibraltar from Neutral Ground, 1863-1866

Such works were the foundation for Eakins and those who followed him to Spain, hoping to gain experience and insights that would help launch their professional careers.

Eakins had just returned home when another intrepid Pennsylvania artist made her way to Spain. Mary Stevenson Cassatt's portraits and genre scenes of Spain are very different from her later Impressionist work. But the marks of budding genius are apparent. Cassatt's handling of lace, gold braid, pleated shirts and other details of texture almost obscure the human drama in Offering the Panal to the Bullfighter (1873). Almost, but not quite.

Mary Cassatt, Offering the Panal to the Bullfighter, 1873  

The panal is a honey comb dipped in a glass of water which is given to matadors before they pit their lives against their fearsome, horned, adversaries. The pro-offered drink and the fantastic regalia, however, are really secondary considerations in this remarkable painting. Cassatt has captured the human chemistry in the exchange, the machismo of the bull fighter and the coy sensuality of the young woman with brilliant effect.

Cassatt's achievement with Offering the Panel was not a matter of beginner's luck. This is confirmed by the discovery of a forgotten work which she executed during her time in Spain. Cassatt's  Spanish Girl Leaning on a Window Sill recently came to light in a private collection in Madrid, thanks to a Canadian art scholar, Betsy Boone. The exhibition in Norfolk and Milwaukee marks the first time that Cassatt's Spanish Girl appears in the United States.

Cassatt captured the passion and allure of the Spanish national character. Attempts by other American artists to dress family members or models in Spanish garb failed to achieve a similar effect. One American artist who did succeed evoking the Spanish identy, with its exotic "otherness" so different from the French, was Robert Henri (1865-1929).

Henri grew up in the American West when it was still open frontier. He nurtured a deep love of Spain that surely can be explained - at least in part - by the epic grandeur of the landscape of both countries. Likewise, the proud, touchy and mercurial nature of the Spanish found a kindred spirit in Americans from the "Wild" West, including Henri's own family. Henri's farther shot and killed a rival rancher in a classic range dispute over grazing rights!

Henri, famed for his Ashcan School urban realism, never tired of Spain. He visited Spain seven times between 1900 and 1926, on several occasions, leading a large group of his students on extended visits to Madrid, where he introduced them to the riches of the Prado.

Two of greatest works of Henri's Spanish oeuvre, Blind Singers (1912) and Betalo Rubino, Dramatic Dancer (1916) are on display. They are among the "show stoppers" in an exhibition rich in masterpieces and richer still in insight.

Robert Henri, Blind Singers, 1912

Robert Henri, Betalo Rubino, Dramatic Dancer (1916) 

These magnificent paintings by Henri and their counterparts by Cassatt, Chase and the other Americans in Spain succeeded because their true subject was the soul of Spain and of the Spanish people. However much these great artists approached Spanish themes in terms of stereotypes - bullfighters, flamenco dancers, humble water carriers with their burros - they ultimately found their way to depict individuals rather archetypes. 

What Henri wrote about Velazquez was true of himself, of Eakins, of Cassatt and the rest. 

I saw the Velazquez pictures. I was in the Gallery for hours, and then wandered the streets thinking much to the glory of Velazquez. His paintings were clear of all the tricks of the art of the Salons ... simple and direct about men rather than the incidents surrounding them. To me they were great compositions.  Each head or figure seemed to tell all the tragedy or comedy possible to man.

***

Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved                                             Americans in Spain exhibition images courtesy of the Chrysler Museum of Art, Norfolk, Virginia, and the Milwaukee Art Museum.

Introductory Image:  Mary Cassatt, Spanish Girl Leaning on a Window Sill, ca. 1872. Oil on camvas: 24 3/8 in. (61.9 x 38.26 cm) Collection of  Manuel Piñanes  García-Olías, Madrid, Spain.

Gallery view of Americans in Spain, Painting and Travel, 1820-1920 at the Chrysler Museum of Art, Norfolk, Virginia. Photo by Ed Pollard.

Thomas Eakins (American, 1844-1917) James Carroll Beckwith, 1904. Oil on canvas: 83 3/8 x 48 1/8 inches. (211.77 x 122.24 cm) San Diego Museum of Art, gift of Mrs. Thomas Eakins, # 1937.30.

William Merritt Chase (American, 1849-1916) Spanish Peasant, 1881. Engraved by Frederick Juengling, 1883. From George Parsons Lathrop's Spanish Vistas. New York: Harper and Brothers. Wood engraving: 9  x 6 9/16 inches. (22.86 x 16.67 cm) Private Collection.

David Wilkie (Scottish, 1785-1841) Washington Irving in the Archives of Seville, 1828-29. Oil on canvas: 48 1/4 x 48 1/4 inches. (122.6  x 122.6 cm) New Walk Museum and Art Gallery, Leiscester (UK), purchased from Thomas McLean, 1890. L.F2.1890.0.0

Joseph Nash (British, 1808–1878), after David Wilkie. Washington Irving Examining the Spanish Records, from David Wilkie Sketches, Spanish & Oriental, 1846. Lithograph: 17 3/4 × 11 3/4 in. (45.09 × 29.85 cm).  Milwaukee Art Museum # M2019.106.1 Photo by John R. Glembin.

Samuel Colman (American, 1832-1920) Gibraltar from the Neutral Ground, ca.1863-66. Oil on canvas: 26 1/8 x 36 5/16 inches. (66.4 x 92.2 cm) Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, Hartford, CT. Gallery Fund, 1901.35

Mary Cassatt (American, 1844-1926) Offering the Panal to the Bullfighter,1873. Oil on canvas: 39 5/8 x 33 1/2 inches. (100.6 x 85.1 cm) Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute, acquired by Sterling and Francine Clark, 1947. #1955.1 

Robert Henri (1865-1929) Blind Singers, 1912. Oil on canvas: 33 1/4  x 41 1/4 inches. (84.45 x 104.6 cm) Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution. Gift of the Joseph H. Hirshhorn Foundation, 1966. #66.2434.

Robert Henri (1865-1929) Betalo Rubino, Dramatic Dancer (1916). Oil on canvas: 77 1/4  x 37 1/4 inches. (196.2 x 94.6 cm) St. Louis Art Museum. Museum Purchase. 841:1920

Art Eyewitness Looks at the Art Scene in 2020

 

Reflections on the Art Scene during 2020

By Ed Voves

World War II lasted five years and one day. For almost the entire span of that terrible time, the collection of the National Gallery in London was stored in a disused slate mine, located at Manod in Wales. When the worst of the German air bombardment of London had abated in 1942, one picture per month was brought from Manod and placed on display in the museum. 

The first "Picture of the Month" at the National Gallery was Titian's Noli Me Tangere, painted around 1514. 

The First Picture of the Month at the National Gallery, London, 1942

Titian, Noli Me Tangere, ca. 1514 

The title of Titian's masterpiece comes from the command of Jesus to Mary Magdalene after the Resurrection. "Do not touch me," Jesus said and these words were fortunately reflected by the wartime turn of events. No shrapnel fragments from a German bomb "touched" Titian's masterpiece nor any of the other works of art shown to culture-starved Londoners during the war years.

This past year has seen challenges which recall the empty exhibition spaces at the National Gallery during World War II - and the tragic toll of human suffering, as well. The Covid-19 Pandemic has touched the lives of the entire human family and has affected every sphere of life, including the ways in which we appreciate art during times of crisis. 

Normally, the Art Eyewitness "year in review" addresses positive trends and hopeful developments in the visual arts. Also shared are parting thoughts on the great exhibitions and new books which we have been fortunate to review. There will certainly be a few such comments in this essay. Since the Covid-19 museum closings began in March 2020, however, the opportunities to behold great works of art in person have been extremely limited. That has been - and continues to be - the big art story of 2020.

To introduce my reflections on the art scene during 2020, I am going to take a page from the National Gallery in London and present a "picture of the year." This work of art will, I hope, testify to the experience of art during the past year.

My choice wasn't difficult to make. Thomas Eakin's The Agnew Clinic, painted in 1889, is a work devoted to health care, in keeping with our thoughts on Covid-19. Created on an epic scale, the painting honors the noted surgeon at Philadelphia's Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania, Dr. D. Hayes Agnew.

Thomas Eakins, The Agnew Clinic, 1889

Eakins depicted Dr. Agnew lecturing to medical students as he and his team performed a mastectomy on a young woman patient. In a master stroke, Eakins complemented the heroic figure of Dr. Agnew and the vulnerable body of the patient by placing the operating room nurse, Mary V. Clymer, in a prominent position, anchoring the right-hand side of the painting.

Mary V. Clymer (1861-1942)

Photo from the Barbara Bates Center for the Study of Nursing, 

University of Pennsylvania School of Nursing

Mary Clymer was a dedicated and self-sacrificing member of the American medical profession. Born in 1861 to a working-class family, she enrolled in the recently-established nursing school at the University of Pennsylvania. She graduated in 1889, the year that Eakins painted The Agnew Clinic, receiving the Nightingale Medal for her outstanding achievements.

Miss Clymer's student notes have been preserved and one of the entries underscores the look of caring and empathy which Eakins captured with such remarkable feeling and insight.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2020)

 Detail of Thomas Eakin's The Agnew Clinic, showing Mary Clymer

“We must always be dignified & grave," Clymer noted on the mode of conduct expected of a nurse during a surgery, "never forgetting that all we are trying to do is for the good of the patient.” 

Dignity and concern for the good of the patient - these attributes are etched on Mary Clymer's face. The value of great art works like The Agnew Clinic is to remind us of the dedication of people in the caring professions, past and present. 

By extension, we need to acknowledge the inspiring efforts of museum workers, curators, digital support staff and public relations specialists. These gifted professionals launched an amazing array of "virtual" programs and educational initiatives to provide access to their collections and special exhibitions when the museum doors were closed by the Covid-19 quarantine. 

All the great art museums responded to the Covid crisis by opening the digital portals to their institutions. But this remarkable 360 degree "tour" of the Temple of Dendur at the Metropolitan Museum of Art will serve as an exemplar for the outstanding work by America's art museums, coast-to-coast, during 2020.

The Met 360° Project. The Temple of Dendur 

© The Metropolitan Museum of Art

The staff of the Metropolitan Museum of Art also needs a special measure of praise, or perhaps commiseration is more appropriate, on the way that they somehow managed to stage Met 150, the celebration of the 150th anniversary of the Met's founding despite Covid-19.  Although the festivities were reduced in scale and many exhibitions were postponed or cancelled, the Met was able to finally show it's principal exhibition, Making the Met, when the museum reopened in the late summer. 

Invitation to the Press Preview of Making the Met, 1870-2020

Sadly, I am going to miss Making the Met, because of the continued difficulty of travelling to New York. However, I was able to make it to the Smithsonian American Art Museum for the spectacular Alexander von Humboldt and the United States exhibition. Originally scheduled to begin on March 14, 2020, the Humboldt exhibit opened for a short run, September 18 - November 22, 2020.

As I wrote in a recent post, the Humboldt exhibit was splendid. The life of Alexander von Humboldt, the great German scientist of the early 1800's, was highlighted by art and artifacts from his epic journeys in Latin America and by art works inspired by his legacy. 

Ed Voves, Photo (2020)

 Gallery view of Humboldt and the United States, showing the Skeleton of the Mastodon, excavated by Charles Willson Peale

The center piece of the Humboldt exhibition was the magnificent skeleton of a prehistoric mastodon, "exhumed" in 1801 in Newburgh, New York. Later purchased for a German collection, the mighty mastodon made its first return to its native shores during the Humboldt exhibition.

To see the mastodon and the other treasures of the Humboldt exhibit was something of a "peak" experience for me. But more than a tinge of sadness colored my visit to the Smithsonian American Art Museum (SAAM) for this "once-in-a-lifetime" exhibition. The SAAM staff had prepared a wonderful range of interactive videos and activities aimed at school age children. When I visited, however, there were no kids, no school groups. I suspect that few young people managed to see this exhibit before its run was cut-short, six weeks early in late November.

One of the pictures on view in Humboldt and the United States was George Catlin's painting of Native American hunters, clad in wolf skins, sneaking up on a herd of grazing buffalo. This is among the earliest pictures which I can remember, from the Indians and the Old West volume of The Golden Library of Knowledge, which I received as a Christmas gift. It was very moving to see the original.

Ed Voves, Photo (2020) 

George Catlin's Buffalo Hunt under the Wolf-skin Mask, 1831-1833

Childhood reading, museum visits, school trips, etc., leave their mark on young lives, generally in a very positive manner. The Covid-19 lockdown is depriving children all over the world of such formative experiences. Whatever the physical dangers which Covid-19 poses to children, the emotional and intellectual damage is only beginning to be felt. The full extent will not be known for many years and it is almost certain to be devastating.

The outreach efforts of museums will help deal with some of the baneful social consequences of Covid-19. But the shift from museums as public institutions to "virtual" platforms raises some justified fears. An example from the past when privatization prevailed over a more expansive model of society is instructive. 

During 2020, I had occasion to consult an old favorite from my book shelves, Mark Girouard's Life in the English Country House. I started to re-read this classic book from 1978 and as I did so, the theme seemed to shift from a splendid commentary on architecture to an investigation of social trends. Somehow, I hadn't noticed that before.

With perceptive insight, Girouard traced the change in function of the great English rural estates. During the Middle Ages and Elizabethan times, the country estates were crowded with a host of retainers, servants, guests and travelers seeking shelter. The layout of rooms reflected the social function of these palatial "houses."

Unknown artist, Portrait of Sir Henry Unton, ca. 1596

A key illustration in the book, the Portrait of Sir Henry Unton, painted in 1596, documents the traditional country house lifestyle. Unton, a prominent Elizabethan diplomat, is depicted hosting a theatrical masque at his estate, Wadley House, in one of the episodes of this unusual work of art. Providing lavish entertainments such as this was an expected feature of country house etiquette. 

The English country houses were centers of culture, as well as ostentatious living. Acting companies, including Shakespeare's, toured the country houses. Libraries and "cabinets of curiosities" became permanent features of these impressive dwellings.

As the centuries passed, the country houses with their great halls open to multitudes changed due to an ever-growing demand for privacy. The tradition of "old English hospitality" for the many faded away. By the mid-1700's, it was gone, though the rise of public institutions like the British Museum, founded in 1759, took on the role of providing for learning and enjoyment open to all.

Admission ticket to the British Museum, 1790 

©Trustees of the British Museum

Museums in the United States served in like fashion and continue to do so. As society changes, museums have successfully served as forums for a democratic, pluralistic society. As in the medieval-era country houses, people of diverse backgrounds come together in the shared space of the museum to embrace life.

In last year's Art Scene reflections, I was very upbeat on the role of museums in society. A few short months later, the situation changed dramatically - and for the worse. Covid-19 has dealt a  devastating blow to art museums as the bastions for an open society. 

It is very difficult to find positive trends or developments- at least in the short term - upon which to base hope for museums, when the doors of these public institutions are locked. 

A survey of 750 museum directors, conducted by the American Alliance of Museums in June 2020, makes for some very sobering reading. The key points are excerpted below:

1. One-third (33%) of museum directors surveyed confirmed there was a  “significant risk” of closing permanently by next fall, or they “didn’t know” if they would survive.

2. The vast majority (87%) of museums have only 12 months or less of financial operating reserves remaining, with 56% having less than six months left to cover operations.

3. During the pandemic, 75% of museums stepped into their pivotal role as educators providing virtual educational programs, experiences, and curricula to students, parents, and teachers.

4, Two-thirds (64%) of directors predicted cuts in education, programming, or other public services due to significant budget cuts.

In the place of thriving forums of learning and public discourse, we currently have empty galleries. Like the paintings of the National Gallery, stacked in the mine shafts at Manod, the works of art are safe - but beyond our reach when we so desperately need inspiration.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2020) Gallery view of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, late 19th century American painting and decorative art

What is to be done under the present, discouraging, circumstances?

At this point, it is important to reject desperation or fatalism. The worst-case scenarios of the museum survey have not happened - yet. 

Instead of despair, I think we should cultivate what John Keats called “Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.” 

If we cultivate "Negative Capability," we can still embrace the creative life, the joy of art and the search for meaning. Our minds and hearts can still function despite the "uncertainties, mysteries, doubts" which afflict us.

If your church is closed because of Covid-19, practice mindfulness meditation. If libraries are closed, read the old favorites on your bedside bookshelf - I was amazed at the new insights I derived from reading Life in the English Country House after so many years.

If the art museums remain closed - some perhaps forever - then it's time we started creating our own art. Search inward and then reach for a sketchbook or lump of sculpting clay. I've begun taking photos of nearby trees and gardens as a form of creative expression. I'm still far from matching the brilliance of my wife, Anne's, photography, which has lifted Art Eyewitness to new levels of visual enchantment. But I've lit a few "single candles" and the glow from them really is better than darkness.

Ed Voves, (Photo 2020) Seasonal Images of Philadelphia, PA

In closing, we at Art Eyewitness wish you a Happy New Year! Yes, the art scene is rather bleak right now but the "candles" we will light in 2021 will brighten the world around us like the dawn!

***

Text: Copyright of Ed Voves. Original Photos: Anne Lloyd and Ed Voves. All rights reserved 

The excerpt of the June 2020 museum survey by the the American Alliance of Museums is quoted from:

https://www.aam-us.org/2020/07/22/united-states-may-lose-one-third-of-all-museums-new-survey-shows

                                                                  

Images of The Agnew Clinic by Thomas Eakins, courtesy of the University of Pennsylvania and the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Additional images, courtesy of the National Gallery, London, the National Portrait Gallery, London, the British Museum, the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Yale University Press.

Introductory Image:

Detail of Thomas Eakin's The Agnew Clinic, showing Mary Clymer. Image details below.

Unknown Photographer. First Picture of the Month, Titian Noli Me Tangere (NG270), in the West Vestibule of the National Gallery, London, March 12-21 April 21,1942. Archive reference number - NG30/1942/43

Titian (Italian, 1488/90-1576) Noli Me Tangere, ca. 1514 Oil on canvas: 110.5 x 91.9 cm. National Gallery, London. Bequeathed by Samuel Rogers, 1856. NG270

Thomas Eakins (American, 1844–1916) Portrait of Dr. Hayes Agnew (The Agnew Clinic), 1889. Oil on canvas: On loan from the University of Pennsylvania Art Collection to the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Mary V. Clymer (1861-1942) Photo from the Barbara Bates Center for the Study of Nursing, University of Pennsylvania School of Nursing.

https://www.nursing.upenn.edu/history/archives-collections/mary-clymer-collection/

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2020) Detail of Thomas Eakin's The Agnew Clinic, 1889, showing Mary Clymer.

The Met 360° Project. The Temple of Dendur at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. ©The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Metropolitan Museum of Art Press Preview invitation for the Making the Met, 1870-2020 exhibition. Copyright © The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Ed Voves, Photo (2020) Gallery view of the Humboldt and the United States exhibition at the Smithsonian American Art Museum, showing the Skeleton of the Mastodon, excavated by Charles Willson Peale in 1801.

Ed Voves, Photo (2020) George Catlin's Buffalo Hunt under the Wolf-skin Mask, 1831-1833. Oil on canvas: 24 x 29 in. (60.9 x 73.7 cm). Smithsonian American Art Museum. Gift of Mrs. Joseph Harrison, Jr.

Cover art for Mark Girouard's Life in the English Country House (Yale University Press, 1978) © Yale University Press

Unknown artist, Portrait of Sir Henry Unton, ca. 1596. Oil on panel: 29 1/8 in. x 64 1/4 in. (740 mm x 1632 mm) National Portrait Gallery, London, purchased in 1884. #NPG 710.

Admission ticket to the British Museum, 1790 ©Trustees of the British Museum

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2020) Gallery view of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, Gallery 211, late 19th century American art

Ed Voves, (Photo 2020) Seasonal Images of Philadelphia, PA

Art Eyewitness Essay: Art in a Time of Suffering

Art in a Time of Suffering

Reflections on Coping with the Covid-19 Crisis

By Ed Voves
Original Photography by Anne Lloyd

On Thursday afternoon, March 12, 2020, the Press Room of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City released a major communique. The headline proclaimed:

Metropolitan Museum to Close Temporarily Starting March 13

It was a shock to read this - but not a surprise. With the global spread of the Covid-19 virus and thousands of deaths already reported in China, Iran and Italy, it was only a matter of time before the disease reached the United States.

The press release quoted Daniel H. Weiss, the Met's President and CEO: 

"The Met's priority is to protect and support our staff, volunteers, and visitors, and we have been taking several proactive precautionary measures, including discouraging travel to affected areas, implementing rigorous cleaning routines, and staying in close communication with New York City health officials and the Centers for Disease Control. While we don't have any confirmed cases connected to the Museum, we believe that we must do all that we can to ensure a safe and healthy environment for our community..."

It was a wise, caring and effective move. As Thursday afternoon wore on, more museums followed suit.

The next morning - Friday the 13th - more closings were announced and not just by art museums. "March Madness" was cancelled, despite earlier plans to play the exciting college basketball tournament without direct fan participation. Many of life's pleasures - creative or recreational endeavors which supply our lives with meaning - were being postponed or eliminated to prevent the spread of infection.

The ominous thought passed through my mind that this was how Sir Edward Grey, Britain's Foreign Secretary, must have felt during the last hours of peace in 1914.

"The lamps are going out all over Europe," Sir Edward exclaimed, "we shall not see them lit again in our life-time."

Reflecting on the daily, often hourly, updates on the globalization of Covid-19, I recalled a provocative 2014 exhibition at the Met. Death Becomes Her surveyed mourning apparel and funeral artifacts from the early 1800's to the twentieth century. Although medical science had begun to "conquer" some diseases during this period, other maladies, tuberculosis, cholera and the "Spanish" influenza of 1918, killed countless people all over the world.

                                             
                                                 Anne Lloyd, Photo (2014)                                                       Gallery view of the Death Becomes Her exhibition, Metropolitan Museum of Art

Death Becomes Her, however, was not in the least morbid. The exhibition showed that people are resilient. The clothes they wear and their rituals during times of grief reflect the human ability to endure. Some of the "widow's weeds" on view were quiet stylish, for the most part those worn at the end of the grieving cycle, and striking funeral clothing for men and children was included in the exhibition. Life - and art - goes on.

None-the-less, a pandemic cannot easily be shrugged-off with comforting reflections on a fondly remembered art exhibit.

It has been increasingly difficult for me to focus on art, despite the embarrassment of riches, in terms of the many exhibitions planned for 2020. This year is the Metropolitan Museum of Art's 150th anniversary and a host of special programs and exhibitions are planned to celebrate this auspicious event. At the top of this list is Making the Met, a retrospective look at the landmark exhibits, inspired leadership and human drama at 82nd and Fifth Ave.

                                             
                                            Metropolitan Museum of Art                                          
Publicity image for Making the Met, 1870-2020. © The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Big events at other museums are planned in 2020, as well, though I almost wrote about these in the past tense - "were planned."

Renovations at the Philadelphia Museum of Art are almost complete, with a ribbon-cutting and a big Jasper Johns exhibition set for the autumn. Thomas Eakins' The Gross Clinic, which the museum jointly owns with the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, will be back on display. 

A fabulous Degas exhibit has just debuted at the National Gallery of Art in Washington. Another major exhibition, scheduled for May, A Superb Baroque: Art in Genoa, 1600–1750, has been postponed. Given the severe impact of the Covid-19 virus on Italy, it is likely to be a long wait before these rarely-seen (in the U.S.) Baroque masterpieces travel to D.C.  

"Der mentsh trakht un Got lakht." How timely is this Yiddish proverb! Man plans and God laughs.

One of the essays planned for Art Eyewitness this spring was a follow-up to the review of Making Marvels, the Met’s exhibition of wondrous scientific instruments, automatons and other "gizmos" from the Renaissance to the Age of Enlightenment. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2019) Portable Sun Dial, made by Paulus Reinman, 1602

Works of art, as well as technological masterpieces, these "marvels" once graced the “cabinets of wonder” called Kunstkammern in Germanic-speaking realms.

These private art and science collections evolved into today's museums. The first truly public institution, the British Museum, was founded in 1759 by Sir Hans Sloane, an Irish-born physician with an insatiable appetite for collecting.

Admission ticket to the British Museum, 1790. ©Trustees of the British Museum

The rise of museums is an important topic and I had amassed fascinating information on how the transformation occurred. Yet, my thoughts kept heading along a different path, to reflections on the status of museums, now, in these dark moments of sickness and death, sorrow and fear. 

On view in Making Marvels was an intriguing painting, entitled The Knight's Dream (1670) by Antonio de Pereda. Principally known as a master of still-life paintings, the Spanish-born Pereda painted an allegorical scene foreshadowing Francisco Goya's The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters (1799).

                                                     Anne Lloyd, Photo (2019)                                             Detail of The Knight's Dream (1670) by Antonio de Pereda 

In The Knight's Dream, a Spanish hidalgo, surrounded by the treasures of his "cabinet of wonders," dozes off. He is not haunted by “monsters” as in Goya’s print. Rather he is visited by a heavenly messenger whose banner bears a warning about the nature of time: "Eternally it stings, swiftly it flies and it kills."

It was a timely message – then and now. The curators of Making Marvels doubled the impact of this powerful work of art by displaying an astronomical table clock that is almost an exact duplicate of the one we see ticking away in the painting.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2019) Astronomical table clock, mid-17th century

By the time Pereda painted The Knight’s Dream in 1670, once mighty Spain’s political power was in rapid decline. The Spanish economy disintegrated as the silver shipments from its New World colonies decreased, leaving massive debts unpaid from vast expenditure on futile wars.

Spanish scholars, interested in the arts and sciences like the napping hidalgo, received little support from the bankrupt state. Some years prior to the creation of this symbolic work of art, a Spanish historian and poet living in Seville, Rodrigo Caro (1573-1647) wrote despairingly to a colleague, "I know not if you will find here in these unhappy times three men who occupy themselves with these studies …"

Edme de Boulonois. Juan Luis Vives, ca. 17th century

It was not always so. During the early Renaissance, Spain produced a number of outstanding humanist scholars. The most notable was Juan Luis Vives (1493-1540), whose writings on human memory and emotions laid the foundation for modern psychology. The city of Seville, birthplace of two of Spain’s greatest artists, Velázquez and Murillo, was a glittering, cosmopolitan center of culture.

Disaster struck Seville in 1646, with a devastating outbreak of plague, most likely a form of the bubonic plague or Black Death which had wiped out close to half of Europe’s population during the 1300’s. By the time it ended in 1652, an estimated 500,000 people perished in Seville and adjacent regions in southern Spain. Furthermore, there had been an earlier outbreak of plague in 1596 and it reoccurred in 1676, lasting until 1685. When Spanish deaths from its endless military campaigns are factored-in, it is no wonder that Spain’s political power and economic clout vanished during the late 1600’s.

But why did Spain’s culture go into an eclipse at the same time? A "golden age" of art and literature, of El Greco and Cervantes, had flourished during the opening decades of the seventeenth century. England also suffered major bouts of the plague during the late 1500’s and 1600’s, but English literature and science - and to a lesser extent art - continued on the upswing throughout the whole seventeenth century. The answer can be found by probing the identity of the "Invisible College."

By 1600, Spain appeared to have vastly outpaced England in the founding of universities. Spain had thirty. England had three. (Scotland's universities were a separate system.) The primary emphasis of Spain's universities, however was theology, law, philosophy and the classical medical theories of the Greeks and Romans. That was true, for most of the 1600's, at Oxford, Cambridge and Durham. The crucial difference was the development of an informal network of "Natural Philosophers" throughout England. 

Over the course of the seventeenth century, these early English scientists began to organize groups with regular meetings and guiding precepts, based upon the ideas of Francis Bacon. Robert Boyle (1627-1691), one of the founders of the Royal Society in 1660, played a major role in helping to diffuse ideas and information, as well as formulating the methodology of scientific inquiry.

George Vertue, after Johann Kerseboom. Robert Boyle, 1739

Samuel Hartlib's "Comenian" circle, the Philosophical Society of Oxford, Gresham College (where Boyle was an active member) in London are some of the more well-known of these groups of natural philosophers. A remarkable woman, Lady Anne Conway (1631-1679), a patron of this "new" learning and a scientist herself, established her country estate as a research center for the Cambridge Platonists.

These free-thinking English scholars conducted experiments, published pamphlets and corresponded across the battle lines of the English Civil War and the Puritan Revolution. Their "Invisible College" enabled scholarship, science and literature in England to thrive  at the same time as higher learning and cultural activities in Spain withered.

There is a special relevance of the contrasting fortunes of Spain and England during the 1600's to our present situation. The "Invisible College" which nurtured English genius during the tumultuous seventeenth century is available to us as we confront the Covid-19 pandemic and the political/social ramifications which are likely to occur as a consequence.

 

                                                 Anne Lloyd, Photo (2020)                                                      Gallery view of Degas at the Opera at the National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C

As I write these words, art galleries all over the world stand empty. Thanks to the vision and generosity of museum administrators and curators, a vast array of digital resources is available to us during the Covid-19 crisis. Art museums, especially in the United States, have made thousands of images of paintings, drawings, sculptures and other works of art available for use via Creative Commons.

Many museum staffs have gone the extra mile by creating special web pages granting easy access to the research and home schooling textual content which is routinely uploaded on their web sites. What Juan Luis Vives, Robert Boyle and Anne Conway did long ago to assist their fellow natural philosophers, the behind-the-scenes curators and "techies" at our art museums are doing for us during the "plague year" of 2020.
  

      The Met 360° Project. The Temple of Dendur © The Metropolitan Museum of Art   

I don't wish to slight any museum curators for their efforts in sharing their collections via the Internet. However, since this is the Met's anniversary year, I am  going to comment at some length on the riches to be found at www.metmuseum.org.  First of all, even though the Met is closed, you can take a virtual tour of the museum via the Met 360° Project. Six videos, created by using spherical 360° technology, enable visitors to "virtually" visit selected sites at the Met, including the Temple of Dendur and the Cloisters.

The Met also introduces key works of art and new acquisitions on the Website with the Connections and the MetCollects series. In these engaging interviews, Met curators, conservators, educators, security officers, as well as collectors and artists, share their insights on iconic works of art.

In researching Art Eyewitness, I regularly use the Met’s invaluable Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. Even though I spend a good bit of time on the Met's website, I have only scratched the surface. The resources, images and text, provided by the Metropolitan Museum of Art, enable us to continue to work and enjoy, protected from the threat of Covid-19. And what is true for the Met is true for the National Gallery of Art, the Philadelphia Museum of Art and other museums in the United States and other nations.

As I prepared to write this essay, I came across a search tool in the Met Digital Collections giving access to vintage photos of many of the great special exhibitions over the years at the Met. It was like being given a ticket to a time machine and I went a little crazy.

Many of the exhibition series have only a few pictures available, but there are 85 photos covering the 1983 blockbuster The Vatican Collections: The Papacy and Art. This incredible series, photographed by Al Mozell, shows the entire process of installing the exhibition - removing the art works from their wooden crates, building the exhibition set, positioning the statues on their pedestals, scenes of throngs of appreciative art lovers crowding the galleries.

                                                   Al Mozell, Photos (1983)                                            The Vatican Collections: the Papacy & Art exhibition, © Metropolitan Museum of Art

I was one of the awe-struck visitors to the Vatican Collections exhibition. For me, it was like spending a day in the Vatican Museums, a Roman Holiday if you will.

Unlike my recent discovery of the exhibition photo site of the Met, I was aware of - and a frequent visitor to - a comparable digital picture archive of the Museum of Modern Art. There I discovered a photo of Audrey Hepburn visiting MOMA in 1957 for a Picasso exhibition. Ms. Hepburn is shown with Alfred H. Barr, the legendary founder of MOMA. I loved this photo from the minute I first saw it and I have kept it in reserve for my long-planned essay on the rise of art museums.

                                                Barry Kramer, Photo (1957)                                        Audrey Hepburn & Alfred H. Barr, at the MOMA exhibit,"Picasso: 75th Anniversary" 

There is no time like the present. However, I am motivated to use this photo of Audrey Hepburn based on her life experience, rather than to illustrate an art history theme,

Recently, I read the compelling biography of Audrey Hepburn's early life, Dutch Girl, by Robert Matzen (GoodKnight Books/2019). Hepburn was no stranger to danger and suffering. As a teenager during World War II, she was a messenger for the Dutch resistance and was nearly killed in the Battle of Arnhem in September 1944 when rockets fired by a British aircraft at German tanks missed and exploded a few feet from where she stood.

After the Allies failed to capture a key bridge at Arnhem, the Nazis were able to halt the attack. The north of Holland, where most of the Dutch population lived, was cut-off without food. The "Hunger Winter" ensued, 20,000 people starved to death and many young people, Audrey Hepburn included, suffered the physical and emotional effects of this privation for the rest of their lives.

A visit to an art exhibition is a life-enhancing experience. So are all the joys of living. People like Audrey Hepburn, who survived several encounters with death, know this in their hearts and souls.

Naturally, human beings do not relish being reminded of the effects and after-effects of catastrophes. In closing, I am reminded of the response to Thomas Eakins' Gross Clinic, which I mentioned earlier. Eakins painted his heroic depiction of Dr. Samuel Gross, one of the pioneers of American medicine, for display in the Centennial Exhibition of 1876. His masterpiece was rejected. The American Civil War had ended only ten years before. The dark red oil paint dripping from Dr. Gross' fingers and surgical knife was too real, too close to the actual blood shed in the war.

Thomas Eakins, Portrait of Dr. Samuel D. Gross (The Gross Clinic), 1875

Great art is for the dark days as well as sunny afternoons. Artists paint their souls into their masterpieces. Sculptors carve the marrow of their being into theirs. When we draw comfort from works of art during times of suffering, the "blood, sweat and tears" of Van Gogh, Michelangelo, Rodin and all the rest are there for our asking.

At some point, the shadow of the Covid-19 pandemic will be lifted. Until then, thanks to the "Invisible College" provided by museum web sites, we can continue to draw inspiration from the works of art we so cherish.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2020) Gallery view of the Philadelphia Museum of Art

Hopefully, that happy day will soon come, making it is possible for art lovers to renew their kinship - for that is what it is -with the inspiring masters of great art. The experience, I think, will be even sweeter and more meaningful than before.

***
Text: Copyright of Ed Voves. Original Photos: Anne Lloyd. All rights reserved                                                                                           
Images courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC, the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the Museum of Modern Art, NYC, the National Portrait Gallery, London, and the British Museum

Introductory Image:
Thomas Eakins (American, 1844-1916) Portrait of Dr. Samuel D. Gross  (The Gross Clinic) (detail), 1875. Full entry below.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2014)  Gallery view of the Death Becomes Her exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC.

Metropolitan Museum of Art publicity image for the Making the Met, 1870-2020, exhibition. Copyright © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2019)  Portable Sun Dial, made by Paulus Reinman, 1602. Ivory, brass: 4 1/2 × 3 1/2 in. (11.4 × 8.9 cm) Metropolitan Museum of Art. Gift of Mrs. Stephen D. Tucker, 1903. # 03.21.24

Admission ticket to the British Museum, 1790. ©Trustees of the British Museum.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2019)  Detail of The Knight's Dream (1670) by Antonio de Pereda y Salgado (Spanish, 1611-1678) Collection of Real Academia de Bellas Artes de San Fernando, Spain.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2019) Astronomical table clock. From Augsburg, Germany, mid-17th century. Case: gilded brass and gilded copper; Dials: gilded brass and silver; Movement: brass, gilded brass, and steel: 25 × 10 × 10 in. (63.5 × 25.4 × 25.4 cm). Metropolitan museum of Art. Gift of J. Pierpont Morgan, 1917. # 17.190.747

Edme de Boulonois. Juan Lewis Vives, possibly late 17th century. Line engraving, 8 in. x 5 1/4 in. (204 mm x 132 mm) paper size. Given by the daughter of compiler William Fleming MD, Mary Elizabeth Stopford (née Fleming), 1931. National Portrait Gallery, London. NPG D24337

George Vertue, after Johann Kerseboom. Robert Boyle, 1739. Line engraving: 15 3/8 in. x 9 7/8 in. (391 mm x 250 mm) paper size. Acquired unknown source, 1953. National Portrait Gallery, London. NPG D32051

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2020)  Gallery view of the Degas at the Opera exhibition at the National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C.

Metropolitan Museum of Art photo.The Met 360° Project, The Temple of Dendur. Copyright © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC.

Al Mozell, Photos (1983) The Vatican Collections: The Papacy and Art. Exhibition Photographs:  2 x 2 inch slides. Metropolitan Museum of Art, Department of European Sculpture and Decorative Arts. Copyright © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC.

Barry Kramer, Photo (1957) Audrey Hepburn and Alfred H. Barr, Jr. at the exhibition, "Picasso: 75th Anniversary". Photographic Archive - The Museum of Modern Art Archives, New York. IN619.73. Copyright © The Museum of Modern Art, NYC.

Thomas Eakins (American, 1844-1916) Portrait of Dr. Samuel D. Gross  (The Gross Clinic), 1875. Oil on canvas: 8 feet × 6 feet 6 inches (243.8 × 198.1 cm) Philadelphia Museum of Art/Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts. # 2007-1-1

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2020)  Gallery view of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Patrons are examining Sunflowers (1889) by Vincent van Gogh in Gallery 261, the Resnick Rotunda. Van Gogh's Portrait of Madame Augustine Roulin and Baby Marcelle (1888) is at right.