Art Eyewitness Book Review: Art: the Whole Story

 

Art: the Whole Story

                                   Edited by Stephen Farthing                                       Thames & Hudson/$29.95/576 pages

Reviewed by Ed Voves

In 2017, a study of the time spent by museum visitors, looking at paintings at the Art Institute of Chicago, computed the average or mean time per work of art at 28.63 seconds. A similar 2001 study at the Metropolitan Museum of Art had calculated the duration of patron-painting interface at 27.2 seconds.

Before exulting at the increase of slightly under one and a half seconds, an additional finding of the 2017 study needs to be considered. Many of the 2017 "brief encounters" included precious time spent taking "selfies" in front of the paintings.

How much attention people devote to works of art is their own business.  Heaven knows, I've breezed by many a painting or sculpture myself. But I can't help thinking that art lovers would be well-advised to devote some serious time to reading Art: the Whole Story. After reflecting on the abundant wisdom in this beautiful, modestly-priced book, they might want to slow down a bit.

Originally published by Thames and Hudson in 2010, the new edition of Art: the Whole Story shows how well it has stood the test of time.

The basic premise of Art: the Whole Story is the selection of major works of art for close study. Both as singular masterpieces and as representative examples of the epochs during which they were created, these works rate as the "best of the best." A supporting gallery of "focal points" - significant details - provide insights for appreciating each of these landmarks of visual expression. 

                        Art: the Whole Story book page spread, showing                        the Amitabha Triad, Goryeo Dynasty of Korea, 14th century

When judiciously used to guide our perception, Art: the Whole Story is a powerful research tool and a template for stimulating awareness. The subtitle of the book, however, is cause for concern. Despite its merits, it is not "the whole story" or even the final word about the works of art it examines. 

The editorial team is well aware of the dangers of a "quick fix" approach to art. Noted art scholar, Richard Cork, writes:

There are no formulae available, no surefire ways of arriving at the requisite sense of alert, probing observation. Each encounter with a particular work of art demands its own singular approach ... Those who argue that audio guides are the answer, providing instant commentaries on a select number of exhibits should think again. How can you formulate an authentic response of your own when a voice, lodged intimately in the ear, is telling you precisely what to think?

The answer to that question is provided by enhancing the power of human perception. This is one of the primary aims of Art: the Whole Story.

Let's explore a case study of how the editorial team of Art: the Whole Story helps us to formulate "an authentic response" to famous works of art. 

In 1821, the British Museum purchased fragments of frescoes from the tomb of Nebamun, an official in the government of Amenhotep III (c.1390-1352 BC). Amenhotep's reign was the high point of ancient Egypt's New Kingdom. The fresco episode showing Nebamun and his tabby cat hunting in the marshes of the Nile is especially well-known and beloved.

     Unknown Artists, Inspecting the Fields for Nebamun, 1350 BC

A different, more prosaic scene was chosen for study in Art: the Whole Story. This shows the normal workday routines underway on the estate of Nebamun. At center, two chariots are being readied for use. One of the chariots is harnessed to a team of mules or onagers.

Detail of Nebamun fresco, showing chariot team of mules or onagers 

To the left, stands an elderly farm worker, standing before a white boundary marker. Unlike Nebamun, who appears in a very stylized fashion in the other fresco scenes, the aging man is portrayed "warts and all" or in his case "wispy beard and all."

             Detail of Nebamun fresco, showing elderly farm worker

Why would a lowly worker in the fields be depicted with lifelike individuality that was denied to a powerful official like Nebamun? Dr. Craig Staff, who wrote the commentary entry on this fresco, observes that "realistic details... would never have appeared in depictions of gods and pharaohs."

The old farmer was imbued with naturalistic detail which was neither needed nor desired in the depictions of Nebamun. It was this farmer's task to maintain the necessary order and harmony on the estate for Nebamun to achieve eternal life and a semi-godlike status. At least that was how Nebamun would have interpreted the proper functioning of social life. But to us, over three thousand years later, the quiet nobility of the aged farmer is the true subject of this fresco scene.

Our perceptions of great works of art change as our consciousness expands. We can see more, appreciate more, as we look further and search deeper.

This process, of course, is at work in the lives and the oeuvres of great artists.

Christian artists were charged with creating works which directed the viewer to look inward or heavenward. As a result, the art of Christendom for many centuries rejected attempts at naturalism. Russian art, following the lead of Christian Byzantium, persisted in depicting scenes from biblical history in an ethereal manner, as can be seen in this celebrated icon, painted by Andrei Rublev in 1410.

Here, three angels visiting Abraham were depicted in a way to induce a state of meditation and prayer rather than to recreate how the event might have looked many centuries earlier.

Andrei Rublev, Old Testament Trinity, 1410

By the time Rublev was painting the visit of the three angels to Abraham's encampment, artists in Italy and the Netherlands had launched the artistic revolution we now call the Renaissance. As a result, Rublev's masterwork looks anachronistic, almost primitive, by comparison. Yet, a similar jarring note was sounded when later Italian paintings struggled to reconcile religious values with the new pictorial naturalism.

A little over a century after Rublev's icon, Jacapo Pontormo painted a disturbing, perplexing view of the aftermath of the Crucifixion. Everything seems "wrong" about this picture when you see it displayed in an art textbook. The garish choice of colors, the off-center placement of Jesus' corpse, the dense tangle of the bodies of the mourners and disciples - appears out of "sync."

Jacapo Pontormo, Deposition from the Cross, 1525-1528

Appearances are deceiving. As the brilliant critique of the Deposition from the Cross by Ann Kay demonstrates, Pontormo's technique and perspective differed from Rublev. But both artists painted with the eye of faith.

The flamboyant pinks and blues of Pontormo's color palate were chosen so that the drama of the painting would stand out from the gloom of the church interior where it is displayed. Jesus is deliberately positioned away from the center point, thus heightening the sense of loss so graphically portrayed on the anguished faces of his mother, Mary, and his grieving followers.

Art: the Whole Story has a global reference point. Art from all points of the compass, from all cultures and epochs are included in this remarkable book. The same degree of insight and authority which the writers apply to Western artists is accorded to Asian, African and Oceanic art. 

Lakota "Exploit" Robe, c. 1800–1830

I especially appreciated the inclusion of Native American art in the shape of a Lakota Sioux "exploit" robe. This remarkable work, brought to Europe from the Great Plains of North America in the early 1800's, was featured in a great Metropolitan Museum of Art exhibition in 2015.

An excellent example of the sensitive and perceptive treatment of non-Western art appears in the section of the book devoted to Rajput or Rajasthani painting from India.

Ustad Sahibdin, Krishna Lifts Mount Govardhan, c. 1690

Krishna Lifts Mount Govardhan, dating to around 1690, is the featured work of Rajput art. An incisive introduction notes how Hindu art continued to develop under the political control of the Mughal Empire during the 1600's. Rajput paintings integrated elements of influence from the Mughal court, while blending regional styles from across the vast subcontinent.

This wondrous work shows the blue-skinned Krishna protecting a village from the wrath of the Vedic good of thunder. Krishna holds Mount Govardhan above the heads of the villagers and their cattle herds. This myth is drawn from the ancient Indian text, the Bhagavita Purana, but it may also have served as an assertion of Hindu cultural independence from the authoritarian rule of the Mughal emperor, Aurangzeb (1618-1707).

What really appeals in Krishna Lifts Mount Govardhan are the touching details of  humanity and the cycle of nature, the beautiful gopis waving Krishna on with their fly whisks, while a cow gives birth in the fields.

Krishna Lifts Mount Govardhan (details), c. 1690

Art: the Whole Story seldom disappoints in its selection of specific works of art to analyze. I do wish that the book could have focused on at least one of the great U.S. artists who worked in America, Thomas Eakins or Winslow Homer, rather than working abroad like James McNeil Whistler. But that is a small matter, when compared with the otherwise expansive coverage and clarity of detail.

Perhaps a more controversial point is the fact that nearly a third of the book is devoted to art since 1900. Given the ever-growing complexity of modern art, the burgeoning forms of artistic media to be covered and the diversity of individual expressions, the decision to devote so much space to such a comparatively short period was understandable, indeed correct.

Paul Klee, Fish Magic, 1925

If some major modern artists are not accorded "star treatment" - Alberto Giacometti gets only a brief mention - others, like Paul Klee, receive their due. I was particularly impressed with the analysis of Henri Cartier-Bresson's 1932 photo of a man hopping over a puddle of water near the Gare St. Lazare train station in Paris. 

Life and art intersect in Cartier-Bresson's wonderful photo. The "decisive moment," as it came to be called, occurred when the French photographer poked his Leica camera through a gap in the fence to record this incredible instant.

Thousands of years ago, the "decisive moment" occurred when the first artist dabbed mineral pigment on a cave wall. The moment came again and again as Praxiteles, Michelangelo, Vermeer, Turner, et al, followed suit.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018)

Henri Cartier-Bresson's 1952 book, The Decisive Moment,

 with the photo Behind the Gare St. Lazare at left

The decisive moment comes as well every time art lovers commune with great art. Sometimes, as we mentioned earlier, the duration of the encounter is brief - 28.63 seconds. Hopefully, we will learn to savor the moment at least a few seconds longer. 

Thanks to the wise counsel and enlightening format of Art: the Whole Story, this "decisive" moment is readily at hand.

***

Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved

 Art: the Whole Story book cover and image of page spread , courtesy of Thames and Hudson.

Introductory Image: Johannes Vermeer, The Kitchen Maid, c. 1658. Oil on canvas: 18 x 16 inches (45.5 x 41 cm)  Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. Courtesy of Rijksmuseum.  https://www.rijksmuseum.nl/en/collection/SK-A-2344

Unknown Artists, Inspecting the Fields for Nebamun, 1350 BC. Fresco: 18 1/8 x 42 1/8 inches (46 x 107 cm) British Museum, London. Courtesy of British Museum, Creative Commons.

Andrei Rublev, Old Testament Trinity, 1410. Tempera on wood: 56 x 45 inches (142 x 114 cm) State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tretyakov_Gallery#/media/File:Angelsatmamre-trinity-rublev-1410.jpg

Jacapo Pontormo, Deposition from the Cross, 1525-1528. Oil on canvas on wood panel: 123 1/4 × 75 5/8 inches (313 × 192 cm)  Barbadori Chapel, Church of Saint Felicita, Florence, Italy.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Jacopo_Pontormo_-_Deposition_-_WGA18113_(cropped).jpg

Lakota "Exploit" Robe, c. 1800–1830, Central Plains artists. Native tanned leather, pigment, porcupine quills, 58 3/8 x 88 ¼ in. (148.3 x 224.2 cm) Musée du quai Branly, Paris. Gift of Chaplain Duparc (71.1886.17.1)

Ustad Sahibdin (Indian, c. 1601-1700) Krishna Lifts Mount Govardhan, c. 1690. Paint on Paper: 11 x 7 7/8 inches (28.5 x 20 cm) British Museum, London. Courtesy of British Museum, Creative Commons.

Paul Klee (Swiss, 1879-1940) Fish Magic,1925. Oil and watercolor on canvas on panel: 30 3/8 × 38 3/4 inches (77.2 × 98.4 cm) Philadelphia Museum of Art # 1950-134-112 The Louise and Walter Arensberg Collection, 1950

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018) Henri Cartier-Bresson, The Decisive Moment (Simon & Schuster, 1952), p. 39-40.  Images shown are the 1932 photos, Behind the Gare St. Lazare, Place de l'Europe, Paris, France (left) and Allées du Prado, Marseille. 

Art Eyewitness Book Review: The Wyvern Collection: Byzantine and Sasanian Silver

 

                                      The Wyvern Collection:                             

    Byzantine and Sasanian Silver, Enamels & Works of Art

  By Marco Aimone

Thames & Hudson/$95/552 pages

Reviewed by Ed Voves

The Eastern Roman Empire, or Byzantium, survived the fall of its western partner in 476 by almost a thousand years. Despite the amazing tenacity of the Byzantine emperors, Edward Gibbon characterized the history of their realm as “a tedious and uniform tale of weakness and misery.” 

Gibbon was a scrupulous scholar but had limited access to the astonishing works of art created in the Byzantine dominions. Many of these were only discovered long after Gibbon finished writing The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Had Gibbon been able to study the magnificent new volume of the Wyvern Collection series, he would likely have modified his negative estimate of the "weak" and "miserable" successor of Imperial Rome.

The Wyvern Collection: Byzantine and Sasanian Silver, Enamels and Works of Art is the third volume to analyze a private collection whose works of art are rarely displayed in museum exhibitions. Published by Thames & Hudson, this latest book enables us to grasp the broad range of the Wyvern collection. The earlier volumes dealt almost exclusively with the art of the medieval West and I mistakenly stated in my first review that "the Wyvern collection has only a few works of art from the Byzantine Empire."

I stand corrected. 

Volume III of the Wyvern series provides insight on stunning Byzantine art works, dating from Late Antiquity to the time of the Crusades. These masterpieces refute any remaining misconceptions of Byzantium as "weak" and "miserable." 

Page spread from The Wyvern Collection: Byzantine and Sasani

an Silver, showing Plate with a horse & rider attacked by a lioness, 12th century. 

©The Wyvern Collection &Thames & Hudson, Ltd.

Not only were the high standards of ancient culture preserved by the artists of the Byzantine Empire, but many of the brilliant works of art discussed in this magnificent book reveal an unprecedented upsurge in spirituality, the Christian Revolution.  

Byzantium, based on its capital city of Constantinople, was a Christian empire. The conversion of the Roman emperor, Constantine I (272-337) to Christianity decisively shifted the religious orientation of the Roman Empire eastward. There, in Syria and in Egypt, Christianity had been embraced by ever-growing numbers of the populace, especially in leading cities like Antioch and Alexandria.

Perhaps the key work of art of the entire book is the Processional Cross, made in the mid-eleventh century. It is a Latin-style cross with five roundel images on each side. Those on the front were gilded, with the icon of Christ Pantokrator (cosmic ruler) in the center. The reverse side features images created in the niello process. Mary, the mother of Jesus, occupies the central placement. Mary is depicted in the Virgin Hodegetria pose, "She Who Points the Way."

                       Byzantine Processional Cross, mid-11th century.                      

  ©The Wyvern Collection &Thames & Hudson, Ltd.

Throughout the book, we see this Latin cross in many forms, a cross from a book binding, a reliquary cross, a cross engraved in the center of a Eucharistic dish or paten. All testify to one of the supreme events of Christian history, the crucifixion of Jesus, and to a moment of high political drama, as well. This was the Battle of Milvian Bridge, October 28, 312. Just prior to the battle against a rival for the Imperial throne, Constantine saw the shape of such a cross in the sky, accompanied by the words, "In this sign, conquer!" 

Up to that point, Constantine had shown little interest in the Christian religion. Yet, something mystical must have happened. Constantine heeded the vision and went on to win the battle. The victory set the stage for his eventual conversion to Christianity, which Byzantine artists never ceased depicting.

I had the good fortune to be able to study a similar cross, The Adrianople Cross, from the Benaki Museum in Athens. This inspiring object was positioned at the entrance to the 2013 Heaven and Earth exhibition at the National Gallery in Washington D.C. It was an unforgettable moment, underscoring the importance of art to religious belief - and vice versa.

A counterpart to the Adrianople Cross and the Processional Cross, shown above, will be familiar to art lovers who have seen or studied the mosaic of the Emperor Justinian and Archbishop Maximian in the church of San Vitale in Ravenna, Italy. Indeed, examples of the other objects depicted in this famous scene - the glittering presentation vessel carried by Justinian, the incense-burning censor held by a clergyman in the retinue - are analyzed in considerable detail in this new volume of the Wyvern series.

                                                                           

Detail of the mosaic of The Emperor Justinian and His Retinue,

from the Church of San Vitale, Ravenna, c. 547

If many of the objects in the Wyvern Collection bring to mind similar works of art displayed in museums, others are less familiar and indeed are "wondrous strange." None fits this description better than the Enkolpion of Constantinos. 

Created around the same time as the Processional Cross, the Enkolpion of Constantinos was a small devotional object, measuring 7.1 x 5.9 cm (approximately 3 inches by 2.5 inches). Suspended on a thin chain around the neck, it was worn over the chest. There are other enkolpions studied in the present volume which were carved as single images, just like a religious medal today. Not so, the Enkolpion of Constantinos!

 

The Enkolpion of Constantinos, 11th century.

 ©The Wyvern Collection &Thames & Hudson, Ltd.

The Enkolpion of Constantinos opens to form a miniature triptych. It measures 11.4 cm or 4 1/2 inches in width. Two side panels show Christian saints and a central scene (shown above) portrays a Byzantine emperor worshiping at the feet of Christ Pantokrator. In essence, this enkolpion is a miniature altar piece. It is a small wonder indeed!

The Wyvern Collection: Byzantine and Sasanian Silver, Enamels and Works of Art is a wonder too, though hardly a small one. It is splendidly illustrated, authoritative in its analysis and  - within  the parameters of scholarly writing - very readable. The main text was written by Italian scholar, Marco Aimone, a senior curator for the Wyvern Collection. A supplemental essay on Byzantine enameling technique was provided by Jack Ogden. This, by every standard, is a definitive examination of one of the most sensational of all Byzantine art forms. 

As the title of the book proclaims, works of art from the great rival of early Byzantium, the Sasanian Persian Empire, are also studied. Although ever bit as accomplished as those of Byzantium, these Sasanian art works were backward-looking in theme. The hunting scenes are a deliberate throwback to ancient Persian, indeed Assyrian, art. The more sensual motifs, likewise, recall Hellenistic Greek art. The same applied to much late-Roman art, also examined in this book.

Byzantine art was much more dynamic - an accolade seldom given to this reputably "static" civilization. Byzantine art is moving art. Byzantine art, including icons, moves our minds, our hearts, our souls in transcendent directions.

Bronze vessel in the shape of a dove, 3rd-4th century

 ©The Wyvern Collection &Thames & Hudson, Ltd.

This bronze vessel, with silver inlay from the beginning of the Byzantine period, might represent the Holy Spirit or may be just a dove. It might have served a liturgical purpose or functioned as an unguentaria, a cosmetic receptacle. The superb naturalism of its form serves either purpose and succeeds so brilliantly that our imaginations take flight just looking at it! 

What better comment or praise can we give to wonderful works of art, such as these, or to the mighty volume which presents them to us? Though hardly bed-side reading, The Wyvern Collection: Byzantine and Sasanian Silver, Enamels and Artwork is a worthy successor to the earlier volumes. It is a book to be cherished, a feast for the eyes and the intellect and balm for the soul.

***

Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved  

Images from: The Wyvern Collection: Byzantine and Sasanian Silver, Enamels and Artwork ©  2020 The Wyvern Collection, Design and layout ©  2020 Thames & Hudson Ltd, London

The Emperopr Justinian and His Retinue; detail of mosaic from the left side (north wall) of the apse, San Vitale, Ravenna, Italy. Courtesy of the University of Michigan - Art Images for College Teaching. EC251

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 Book Review: John Nash by Andy Friend

 

John Nash: the Landscape of Love and Solace

By Andy Friend

Thames & Hudson/$40/352 pages

Reviewed by Ed Voves

In one of the most memorable tales of Greek mythology, Narcissus looked into a pond and glimpsed his own image. He swiftly became infatuated, remaining oblivious to the love of the nymph, Echo.

Narcissism is a danger which can befall any human being, but is especially dangerous to artists. After all, they seemingly have god-like powers of creation and it takes a strong personal character not to succumb to debilitating self-regard.

In his new biography of the British artist, John Nash, Andy Friend charts the working life of a creative spirit who steadfastly avoided the fate of Narcissus. Nash frequently depicted ponds or woodland streams in his paintings, but when he looked into reflections in these watery mirrors, it was Nature itself which he beheld. 

Unknown Photographer. John Nash, 1918

During his long life, John Nash, 1893-1977, frequently needed to call upon his reserves of fortitude. From childhood on, he encountered "Colonel Depression" and struggled against a life-long undertow of suffering and loss. Fortunately for Nash, there was a nymph in his life, whom he did not ignore. This was his wife, Christine, and Nash's eventual success as an artist was in no small part due to her. 

This compelling biography recounts the unconventional, open-marriage which sustained Nash and his wife through two world wars, long stretches of near-poverty and the terrible calamity of the death of their only child in an automobile accident in 1935. 

Nash's life and work were also much affected by his relationship with his artist brother,  Paul. It would be misleading to emphasize sibling-rivalry as a major factor. Paul Nash's enthusiasm and support were crucial in John's decision to become an artist. Yet, as Andy Friend  relates, their careers came to a point where their paths diverged. Paul went on to become one of the leading proponents of Modernism in British art. In 1933, when he founded Unit 1, an association of avante garde artists, Paul excluded his brother from its membership.

The defining event which initially linked the Nash brothers as artists was World War I. Both served in the British Army on the Western Front. Both were commissioned as war artists during the conflict - John at the very end - and both responded to the "Great War" in ways which shaped much of their outlook on life after the shooting stopped.

Paul received an officer's commission and, after he became an official war artist, had a staff car placed at his disposal in order to tour the British sector. He witnessed the appalling carnage at close hand and was frequently exposed to German artillery fire.

John's experience was very different. He served as an enlisted man, spending long stretches hauling supplies, engaged in road construction and monotonous - and dangerous - tours of sentry duty and trench patrols. 

John Nash, Oppy Wood, 1917. Evening, 1918

As a private soldier, John was forbidden to bring any artist's supplies into the front line. Apart from some hurried sketches, he had to rely on his memory to record the impact of war.The long, tedious hours spent in the front line at Oppy Wood, near Arras, would be summoned to life in one of his major paintings, completed after the Armistice of 1918.

On December 30,1917, John's company was hurled into the Battle of Cambrai. A few weeks earlier, the first massed use of tanks had ripped-open a gap in the German lines. But the British high command bungled this great opportunity by failing to bring in reinforcements. The Germans, clad in white winter uniforms, launched a devastating assault. John's unit, conspicuous targets in their olive drab battle gear, counter-attacked across the snow-covered No-Man's Land. John was one of the few survivors.

This atrocious debacle might have broken a lesser man but John Nash turned the experience into a powerful testament to the human spirit amid the folly of war. Andy Friend, who curated a recent exhibition of Nash's work in Britain, brilliantly analyzes the preparatory drawings which Nash made from memory, using them to compose his masterful painting of men in battle.

John Nash, The Counter-Attack; Study for "Over the Top", 1918

Nash's Over the Top is literally, as well as emotionally, a moving picture. By his brilliant use of cropping and the subtle variations in the pose of his protagonists, Nash propelled the action from the trench, toward the unseen German lines. There most of the company would fall, killed, wounded or pinned-down by machine gun fire. 

   John Nash, "Over the Top"  1st Artists' Rifles at Marcoing,

 30th December 1917, 1918

So vivid and believable is Nash's depiction of advancing troops that we half-expect to see combat medics follow them on to the picture plane, in order to carry the wounded and dying back to a field hospital. And we must never forget that Nash is recording, from memory, the sacrifice and death of comrades from his own unit, the 1st Artists' Rifles. These men are not just faceless "poor bloody infantry" plodding to their doom over a landscape of blood-tinged snow. Nash knew each of them by face.

Commenting with great insight on Nash's experience of war, Friend writes:

John's oeuvre of war art was a major personal achievement of recall and creativity. He had dealt with bitter experiences, extended his range as an artist and produced a unique contribution to the national collection, instantly appreciated for its authenticity by those who had been there.

Friend, however, goes on to note that, following Over the Top and Oppy Wood, Nash would seldom "ever make human beings central to an oil painting." I was moved to compare Nash's postwar landscapes with those of his American contemporary, Charles Burchfield (1893-1967). A World War I veteran, Burchfield painted forests and fields, deserted by humanity, haunted by some malign spirit. Eventually, Burchfield achieved a level of spiritual transcendence in his paintings. 

Were similar forces at work in Nash's art? 

Nash's landscapes in the years just after World War I do strike me as having similar death-tinged nuances. In 1923, he painted The Moat, Grange Farm, Kimble, which evokes the setting of Oppy Wood. Instead of a trench there is a water-filled moat surrounded by leafless, misshapen trees. There is no evidence of human life and, strangely, the reflections of the trees in the water seldom conform to the shape of overhanging tree trunks and branches. These are not mirror images, but rather apparitions.

John Nash worked through and transcended his feelings of loss in order to find  solace in the landscape of England. We can readily see this emotional transformation in a later work, The Lake, Little Horkesley Hall, painted around 1958.

                  John Nash, The Lake, Little Horkesley Hall, c.1958                 

©Royal Academy of Arts, photographer: J. Hammond

In this beautiful, lyrical, work, the reflections match "spot-on." Instead of the picture being devoid of people, Nash places us there in the role of direct, if unseen, observers.  And what is there to observe? It is nature regenerating itself, quietly preparing to burst into bloom when spring comes again.

Nash spent much of his life "regenerating" from World War I and, it should be noted, from a continuing cycle of the deaths of close friends and loved-ones. These losses included not just his little son, William, but the artist, Eric Ravilous, the subject of an earlier biography by Friend. His brother, Paul, who had battled asthma for much of his life, died soon after the Second World War.

Nash's life is a salutary example of the beneficial effects of work. Constant effort, dedicated attention to craft, insight infused with light from the act of daily looking and living with nature - this was the great drama of John Nash's life. Paul Nash was correct, whatever his motivation, for not enlisting him in Unit 1.

Unknown Photographer, John Nash, ca. 1930

Nash had to make a living, especially as his landscapes often went unsold. He earned his bread by mastering woodcut engraving and lithography. His illustrations for books and magazines rank among the best examples of these art forms, which were such a staple of commercial art during the early decades of the twentieth century that it is easy to overlook their brilliance.

Among the many merits of John Nash: the Landscape of Love and Solace are the quality of design and careful production values which are very evident when perusing its pages. Rather than being a large-format museum catalog, the book has an "old-fashioned" feel to it, like a quality novel from the 1930's. 

Books of the 30's and 40's certainly did not have so many colored pictures - brilliantly integrated with the text - as the present volume does. But the woodcuts featured in the book grab our attention and hold our interest just as they did in times past, when the number of illustrations was much fewer and far between than it is now.

The same exceptional merit is due to the text and the author who wrote it. Andy Friend has summoned John Nash back to life and introduced us to him. Nash had a great capacity for making friendships, all the more poignant for the many early losses through war and disease. Nash never stopped embracing  new friends even in old age. 

After finishing John Nash: the Landscape of Love and Solace , I was very pleased to have made the acquaintance of its protagonist and to have enjoyed his company in this deeply satisfying book. 

John Northcote Nash might well have spent his life in Narcissus-like, self-absorption. Instead, he reached out to his fellow human beings and focused on the mirror of Nature, which reflected back the quiet splendors of the world around him.

***

Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved                                                                                Cover and image of page spread, courtesy of Thames and Hudson. 

Introductory image: cover art of John Nash: the Landscape of Love and Solace

Unknown Photographer. John Nash, 1918. Vintage snapshot print: 3 1/4 in. x 2 1/8 in. (81 mm x 55 mm). Given by Ronald George Blythe, 2004. National Portrait Gallery, London, Photographs Collection. NPG x127171  ©National Portrait Gallery                                   

John Nash (British, 1893-1977) Oppy Wood, 1917. Evening, 1918. Oil on canvas: 1828 mm x 2133 mm. Imperial War Museum, UK. IWM ART 2243.

John Nash (British, 1893-1977) The Counter-Attack; Study for "Over the Top", 1918. Watercolour, pencil and ink on paper: 252 mm x 341 mm. Imperial War Museum, UK. IWM ART 3908

John Nash (British, 1893-1977) "Over the Top" 1st Artists' Rifles at Marcoing, 30th December 1917, 1918. Oil on canvas: 798 mm x 1080 mm. Imperial War Museum, UK. IWM ART 1656.

John Nash, RA (British, 1893-1977) The Lake, Little Horkesley Hall, c.1958. Oil on canvas: 606 mm x 760 mm. Royal Academy of Arts 03/1007 ©Royal Academy of Arts, London; photographer: J. Hammond

Unknown Photographer. John Nash, ca. 1930. Cream-toned bromide print:12 1/4 in. x 14 3/8 in. (311 mm x 364 mm). Given by Ronald George Blythe, 2004  National Portrait Gallery, London, Photographs Collection. NPG x127169  ©National Portrait Gallery

Page spread from John Nash: the Landscape of Love and Solace by Andy Friend. Courtesy of Thames and Hudson.