Previous Posts: March 2014

Though it is far too cramped and small, playing second fiddle to a once fashionable photographer — David Bailey in this case, but my objection applies to every other who might have been so honoured, so foolish is this misjudgment of priority. I am grateful to the NPG for this exhibition. It falls between too many stools and concentrates on only one campaign, the long-drawn Western Front, but it is to some degree a reminder of the horrors inflicted by war. My diminishing generation needs no such reminder; in my childhood before the Second World War, on every street in London I could see the living wreckage of the Great War, men limbless, eyeless, dreadfully damaged, selling matches and bootlaces for a penny, or, in hope of a penny, singing (often rather well), playing the accordion, the saw (outside St Mary Abbots, Kensington) — yes, the saw — and a harp outside Tattersalls in Knightsbridge. The fortunate legless might have a wicker chair on wheels, the unfortunate a simple wooden chassis paddled along with the hands. A curious child, I wonder how such damaged beings emptied their bowels and bladders, where they slept, how they could eat. Now I see them only in my memory and in the dreary northern paintings of Laurence Lowry. The Great War did not create a world fit for heroes — it threw them on to the street.

It did, however, establish lasting loyalties and affections. Only once did my stepfather speak of that war, though he fought throughout it — in France, the Balkans, Gallipoli, Mesopotamia and the Holy Land — and that was when I unwisely developed an interest in Lawrence of Arabia (who is among the many not included in this exhibition) whom, I learned, my father had good reason to think “a boastful little shit”. But his loyalty to those with whom he fought was quite extraordinary and to be found in no other of his interests; he joined his soldier peers once a month for dinner, even in the blackouts, the Blitzes and the Buzzbomb Summer of the Second World War, until his death in 1962. I experienced something of that loyalty as a National Serviceman with not an enemy in sight — but had there been an enemy, that loyalty would have been much more intense and lasted longer.

But these are the maunderings of an old man in melancholy mood inspired by the pathos of the young so early dead. As the experience of war in any form, in the armed forces or as a civilian, is now the privilege of very few in Britain, I doubt if many will share my powerfully empathic response to this exhibition but I beg them to try. Having done so, having watched the film clips (cramped and uncomfortable) and perhaps having gleaned something of the inglorious sufferings of the soldier, cross the road towards Pret A Manger and, glancing to the left, spare a moment for Edith Cavell, nurse, executed by the Germans in October 1915, for there is her monument, “Patriotism is not enough”, the inscription — her last words, we are told. And it is not, but how now are we to interpret this Delphic utterance when young Gavrilo Princip’s patriotism proved to be so much too much?

The weakness is a jarring curatorial voice that makes bombastic claims that are quite unnecessary; the pictures tell their own story. But the wall text offers questionable generalities like this: "The appalling consequences of [new] weapons suggested that human nature itself had changed, compassion snuffed out by unbridled cruelty and hatred. Such altered perceptions raised profound questions for artists". Was it really new weapons? Was it really worse than, say, the thirty years' war? And even if it was, why should other horrific conflicts not have caused such questioning? Were changed perceptions really caused by war? Virginia Woolf thought human nature changed in December 1910; why do the curators think it was later? These questions are better left for visitors to ponder. Less would have been more in this otherwise fine show.

I would have to disagree with you and had hoped that the National Gallery would have acquired it.  Indeed, following its appearance before the RCEWA in 2006, they were looking seriously into it. At that stage it was valued at £2M but: “Prior to the end of the second deferral period, a serious intention to purchase the painting was made by a UK institution. Before the end of the second deferral period the applicant withdrew their application.”  

They clearly had a change of mind when it came before the Committee again in January last year as they made no effort to acquire it at £4.25 (there are some interesting reports in the records about the valuation including the applicant making direct representations to the Secretary of State in order to up the price).  I guess the trustees of the National Gallery were in the midst of negotiations to bring the, wholly inappropriate, Bellows to London and couldn’t afford it.  So where now are they going to get a major example of 16thc Spanish portrait painting?

The export position does seem quite curious. The Kimbell Director is claiming it as one of the 5 or 6 best 17th century Dutch landscapes in the world. [...]

If there was a licence application, it makes one wonder what was said on it.

The Mellon Centre event looks interesting... but it's nowhere to be seen on their website (even though they have stuff on events happening much later, in July). Do you think it's because they are themselves deeply ambivalent about connoisseurship?

"[the basic skill of art history is] the ability to assign a date, place, and, if possible, a name on the evidence of style. I know no art historian who is not aware of the fact that this skill could not be practised in splendid isolation. The historian of art must be a historian, for without the ability to assess the historical evidence, inscriptions, documents, chronicles, and other primary sources the geographical and chronological distribution of styles could never have been mapped out in the first place."

I think there is a struggle to hand as the general run of art and art-history theorists believe that connoisseurship needs to be locked away in a cupboard (probably dark brown 18th century gothic revival) and not mentioned.

It’s an enormously important area and I wonder about finding another name for it so that ordinary folk don’t get frightened off... ?

In your recent blog you asked for views on connoisseurship. Perhaps an obvious point but one which does not seem to be stressed much is that science i.e. proof of facts such as pigment identification, dendrology  etc.  can only really be used to prove unequivocally that a painting is not by a given artist. (I do not include fingerprints or handwriting in this which are subjective fields and, speaking as a  lawyer,I know how woeful the track record for these is.  ). Whilst science  may contribute towards a positive identification it is hard to see how it could ever do so unequivocally on its own. So long as positive identification is desired therefore connoisseurship will be essential. Or am I being simple minded?!

Their isn't any certain recipe for attributing a work of art about which a doubt exists or should exist. Connoisseurship is a tool in authentication and attribution.  It isn't the only tool, but it is an essential one.

If one thinks of a hierarchy of authentication: first is a signed work with documents that show that it was by a particular artist, science that validates the materials, and a provenance that can trace this particular piece to the artist, which only leaves the possibility of intentional fraud by the owner who could have substituted a copy with the right materials for the original.

After that all of the tools of authentication must be applied to the work.

Provenance - documentation and historical support.

Scientific examination - of the pigments, canvas, wood, and other materials.

And then Connoisseurship.

In general, scientific data can only disprove an attribution.  It can only show that a work could not have been created by a particular artist or in an positive sense, that it might have been created by a particular artist.  Even a work on a piece of canvas cut from the same larger piece of canvas as a work by Vermeer could be (admittedly unlikely but still possible) by a contemporary, but for an artistic examination of the work itself.

If documentation is lacking and the work passes the other tests, and probably some which I have overlooked, connoisseurship is still necessary.

Two identical or similar works of the same vintage are often by two different artists and could pass other tests including provenance, both possibly having had the same original owner who wanted a copy, and ultimately it is style, brushwork, peculiarities of signature or other indicia (Strong noted how dates were indicated), and the other elements of connoisseurship that can attribute (provide an informed opinion regarding) the authorship.

Like science, connoisseruship isn't a proof of anything only a statement that a particular artist could have created, might have created, or is very likely to have created a work.  It can also suggest that there is evidence to disprove an attribution.

Then, when there is a individual work, aside from deliberate fraud which is a separate topic, there is the question of whose hand created it or which parts of it which, in the absence of other proof, requires connoisseurship.

But this still only an informed opinion.  A great difficulty with connoisseurship is assessing the agenda and qualifications of the expert.  There are both professional and financial pressures at work here.  And the expert is only a human.

Why consider connoisseurship, because the scientific  tools are also inconclusive, and C adds evidence to build an opinion.  The work, in general, must speak for itself.  Res ipsa loquitor.

As a painter the bit I'm always troubled by is something that is rarely spoken about in the art world - some experts are colour blind and some others have no spacial awareness and that's why for many it's easier to talk about scientific analysis and provenance, without looking at the picture concerned and asking basic questions about why, what's achieved and how.  

Sometimes with a collector one can tell what their strengths and weaknesses are from the art they collect and that's true also with gallery owners who choose and put on exhibitions - I can think of several who I think might be colour blind! (I won't name anyone)  But 'experts' are opaque about their abilities / prejudices and preferences.  And frequently they are unable to either explain decisions or engage in debate about these decisions.  I can understand why they back off - especially if the other party has a financial incentive to prove a picture.      

I'd happily try to devise an exam in practical skills in which experts could demonstrate their understanding and sensitivity to line, colour, texture, composition, sculptural qualities and pattern.  Maybe a if an expert could analysis - for example which colours he/she can see in a shade of grey or do a quick sketch to demonstrate their understanding of the work they are looking at, this would inspire greater confidence in them.

If we really are talking about a national divorce in this case—and let’s not forget the polls tell us it is highly unlikely—it would be difficult to see how the thorny issue of a division of spoils could be avoided. The pain could, however, be mitigated if the institutions themselves, unlike our politicians, could begin to consider one or two preliminary ideas, at least in abstracto.

The outstanding collection of around 1,400 Old Master drawings and prints that the British Museum acquired from the estate of the Scottish clan chief John Malcolm of Poltalloch in 1895 could certainly be the subject of a cross-border concordat. This single acquisition, which includes important works by Michelangelo, Leonardo and Verrocchio, among others, raised the museum to the same level as the Louvre overnight. There is no reason why these could not, from time to time, be shared with Scotland on an agreed loan basis. 

Similarly, the Tate could release a number of drawings by William Blake that have a Scottish provenance. Even the British Library could help out. It is something of an anomaly that it holds the country’s most significant collections of Pictish and Celtic survey drawings, most of them Scottish. It would hardly be much of an intellectual sacrifice to send them north.

On the other hand, even if Scotland does opt for independence, the subject may never come up. I contacted the office of the Scottish government’s culture minister, the SNP’s culture spokesman in Westminster and the Scottish National Party press office in Edinburgh to ascertain their views on the matter. I have yet to hear from any of them. Perhaps they don’t much care—in which case the curators of Millbank and Great Russell Street can probably rest easy in their beds.

The books in the Virtual Library come from three of the Getty’s programs: the Getty Conservation Institute, the Getty Research Institute, and the J. Paul Getty Museum. The over 250 offered here today—and the many more we will continue to add into the future—represent a significant portion of our publishing list. Still, they are just a modest part of what is becoming an important, informally networked library, spread across multiple institutions and spanning thousands of years of art historical knowledge. Our virtual library proudly joins those already created by the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Guggenheim, LACMA, and others. We hope you will explore and use them all. The books they hold are treasures meant for all, and now easier than ever for all to access and enjoy.

In 1714 George I ascended the throne as the first British monarch of the German House of Hanover. With the dawn of a new dynastic age came a silent revolution – one of the most dramatic periods of change across all aspects of British political, intellectual and cultural life. 

To mark the 300th anniversary of the beginning of the Georgian era, The First Georgians: Art and Monarchy 1714-1760 explores royal patronage and taste in the reigns of George I and George II as a product of a time when Britain was the world’s most liberal, commercial and modern society. It brings together over 300 works in the Royal Collection from royal residences across the UK.

If George Clooney feels so strongly that works of art should be returned to their place of manufacture, perhaps he could take this work back home with him...

Barely a year after the 195-year-old London gallery Agnew’s closed down, it is to reopen under new ownership. Backed by Boston Old Master collector and investor Cliff Schorer, Agnew’s is to be revived, with Old Master dealer Anthony Crichton-Stuart at the helm.

Crichton-Stuart was previously head of Old Master paintings at Christie’s in New York, and subsequently a director of Noortman Master Paintings, an art dealing subsidiary of Sotheby’s that also closed down last year. When Agnew’s closed, outgoing chairman Julian Agnew kept the company’s name, some remaining stock, and a valuable library and archive, all of which has now been sold to the new owners. “Agnew’s is more than a name,” said Crichton-Stuart, alluding to the value of prestige, without revealing its price. “It represents one of the most successful art dealing businesses in history.”

Very interesting news about the sale and revival of Agnew's, but the wonderful Agnew's archive is not part of the transaction. It has actually been (or is in the process of being) acquired by the National Gallery. The University of Manchester and the National Gallery will shortly announce a new PhD studentship to work on the archive. Even better news for students of the history of the market and collecting.

The National Gallery has acquired the archive of art dealers Thomas Agnew & Sons Ltd following the firm’s decision to close its Albemarle Street gallery in 2013. The archive, which dates back to the 1850s, consists of detailed stockbooks, daybooks, diaries and huge leather-bound account ledgers that give unprecedented insight into the activity of one of the world’s most important international art dealers. It complements the National Gallery’s own rich archive and establishes the Gallery as a centre of research for the study of collecting, the art market, taste and provenance. Researchers will benefit from improved access to an outstanding and little-studied collection spanning more than 150 years of history.

Agnew’s archive provides a remarkably detailed record of the activities of the firm, which during its history has had branches in London, Manchester, Liverpool, Paris, New York and Berlin. It includes the records of famous paintings that have passed through Agnew’s, including Velázquez’s ‘Rokeby Venus’ and Bellini’s Feast of the Gods. It also holds information about the company’s involvement with major collectors from around the world. Exceptionally, Agnew’s has remained a family firm from its inception and the archive includes items of a more personal or immediate nature, such as Victorian diaries of overseas trips. Letters and digital information will complete the record through the 20th century up to the end of 2013, the later material being transferred to the National Gallery in stages over the next three decades.

The archive was offered at a discounted price of £240,000, for which sum it was generously purchased and donated to the Gallery by the National Gallery Trust.

Julian Agnew said on behalf of Agnew’s, “I am delighted that our fascinating archive has found such a prestigious permanent home, where the records of the firm and of its influence on the history of taste and collecting will be available to both scholars and the general public.”

Nicholas Penny, Director of the National Gallery, said, “Agnew’s has been at the centre of the art trade for almost 200 years and importantly during the late 19th century and early 20th century when major shifts in collections between the UK and USA were taking place. As the largest and most influential dealer of its age, the information held within the archive is of international significance and has outstanding research value.”

The addition of Agnew’s archive to the National Gallery Research Centre is significant in that it is the first time the Gallery has collected an archive that is not closely bound to its own history. The Gallery will catalogue the archive, and this is expected to be completed within two years. However, the Gallery aims to make the archive as accessible as possible during that time.

A Leonardo da Vinci painting discovered by a dealer at an American estate sale was sold last year in a private transaction for more than $75 million.

The painting, Leonardo’s oil-on-panel “Salvator Mundi,” showing Christ half-length with a crystal orb in his left hand, had been owned by a consortium that included the New York art traders Alexander Parish and Robert Simon.

The heavily restored painting, dating from about 1500, was bought by an unidentified collector for between $75 million and $80 million in May 2013, in a private sale brokered by Sotheby’s. The details of the purchase have remained locked in confidentiality clauses until they were revealed this week by trade insiders, such as the London dealer Anthony Crichton-Stuart.

[...] these days you just aren't posh if you can't talk the talk about contemporary art.

Attempts to discreetly snap photos of Michelangelo’s David may no longer have to stay hidden. The Accademia Gallery is taking concrete steps toward relaxing its rules regarding photos inside the museum.

At the beginning of 2014, the Accademia conducted a two-week experiment, allowing visitors to use their cameras, smartphones and tablets as they pleased. Flash photography was still forbidden and visitors were reminded that their images were restricted to personal use. 

Museum director Angelo Tartuferi explained, ‘Over the course of this experiment, we noticed many significant, positive consequences from this relaxation of the rules; museum visitors, tour guides, and, most importantly, our security staff took note of these as well.’

In the past, members of security staff have fought a losing battle trying to prevent visitors from taking pictures. There have even been public clashes between security officials and visitors who continue to photograph David after being instructed to stop.

According to the museum officials, the logic behind this initiative is that there is little harm in allowing tourists to take home a memento of their museum visit, or share artistic treasures with friends on social media. The pending change will still require visitors to be respectful and cautious in their approach to the artworks. Accademia officials have sent a letter to the Department of Cultural Heritage outlining the idea, but are currently awaiting approval.

In fact, according to a recent Pew Institute survey, 81% of museums and galleries believe the internet and social media play a crucial role in supporting the arts. After decades of scaring potential supporters away (and missing out on the youngest generation completely) with endless snail mail and telephone marketing, smartphones and social media are providing museums like New York's Metropolitan Museum of Art and Los Angeles' Getty Museum — each of which boast millions of Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and Instagram followers — a second chance at community-building.