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Rebels
and Martyrs: The Image of the Artist in the Nineteenth Century
National Gallery of Art, London (28 June-28 August 2006) |
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Rebels and Martyrs: The Image of
the Artist in the Nineteenth Century did not draw crowds to the
Sainsbury wing of the National Gallery of Art, London (28 June-28
August 2006). The quality of the works would have appealed to a wide
audience as the curators had gathered important paintings, prints,
and sculpture from leading international collections. The exhibition's
theme was also engaging and suggested a show that would explore dominant
myths of nineteenth-century art. Perhaps the advertising could have
been more appealing: banners displaying half of Abel de Pujol's face
from Self Portrait, 1806 (cat. 7), gave an image of classical
beauty and academic precision from the early nineteenth century that
seemed in tension with the exhibition's subject.1 A comparable
fragment of Courbet's agitated Self Portrait (Private Collection;
hors catalogue) would have been more compelling. As a late
addition to the exhibition, it was not available for either publicity
or the publication. Courbet's disheveled persona and genius guise
did, however, ensnare viewers as the centerpiece of the second room.
The downfall of the exhibition was neither the publicity nor the caliber
of the works on display. Where it failed was in its methodological
approach: the exhibition presented leading mythologies of nineteenth-century
art without questioning their consequences. |
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The exhibition's
seventy-three works were organized by seven themes and ranged from
an early, despondent Self Portrait by Barry, an oil on paper
of circa 1780, to as late as Schiele's provocative ink and black crayon
drawing from 1912, Self Portrait as a Nude (cat. 71). These
two works convey a sub-theme of inner self-questioning that reemerges
throughout the exhibition. None of that interiority is present, though,
in the first room devoted to the theme Hero of the Establishment.
Here, self portraits by Reynolds, Vigée Le Brun (fig. 1) and
Roslin, as well as Eckberg's portrait of Thorvaldsen present the lavish
clothing, medals, and social status select artists attained and used
for further self-promotion. While each work is skillfully rendered
and a pleasure to behold, they depict neither rebels nor martyrs,
but rather embody the structures against which others resisted or
sought acceptance on their own terms. |
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The four large-scale, self-confident
portraits in Hero of the Establishment juxtapose well with
the more apprehensive subjects of the next theme, Romantic Hero.
Here the modest scale, tentative outward glances, and even media in
which the works are executed evoke the outsider status the artists
held or, in some cases, sought to exploit. As the outer appearances
of self-confidence and fashionability disappear, the viewer is invited
into the artists's inner psychological sanctuary. In Self Portrait
at the Easel (cat. 12) Janssen presents himself as a prematurely
stooped figure. Only one small corner of canvas suggests his work
at the easel, while his muscular yet emaciated, bare torso is staged
before a narrow bed against bare walls that conveys the simplicity
of his daily life. Janssen's refined technique and purposeful pose
accurately frame his expression as one of inner strength and calm
resolve. Fuseli's Self Portrait Study (cat. 6) is considerably
more tentative. In this economic black and white chalk drawing, Fuseli
successfully reveals an astonishing degree of self-doubt. Objective
distance seems to be possible only in the hands of an artist other
than the subject, as is the case in Kersting's painting Friedrich
in his Studio (cat. 9). Friedrich appears isolated in the corner
of his studio, studying the work on his easel. Bathed in light, Friedrich
looks calm and enjoys a certain privilege studying the work, a position
Kersting denies the viewer who sees only the blank back of the painting
and its stretcher. We are left to imagine the peaceful and likely
symbolic scene that Friedrich considers. |
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From the subject of the Romantic
Hero, the exhibition shifts to consider origins and the theme
of the next room is Romantic Myths. Here, I must admit a bias
as the author of a study of Rembrandt and the nineteenth-century.2
The artistic persona critics molded for Rembrandt made him the principle
prototype for non-conformist, anti-traditional artists in the nineteenth
century. In keeping with the Rembrandtmania that flooded museums in
the four-hundredth anniversary of the Dutch artist's birth, he is
surprisingly absent. Rembrandt's paintings were the subject of a special
display in the National Gallery's permanent collection but his absence
is inexplicable in this exhibition. |
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The selection of works on the subject
of Old Master veneration is otherwise quite successful, although narrow
in its scope. Two works by Révoil and Moreau present a talented
young Giotto drawing (cats. 14 and 15). Révoil depicts the
moment made famous through Vasari's Lives as Cimabue recognizes
Giotto's talent, even in the schematic rendering of a flock of sheep.
Moreau's much more interesting watercolor of a solitary Giotto entranced
by his own skills positions the viewer as Cimabue stumbling on the
prodigious shepherd. Two other works reflect the misguided emphasis
on Italian artists in this section of the exhibition: Ingres' The
Death of Leonardo da Vinci (cat. 13) and Delacroix's Michelangelo
in his Studio (cat. 18). Ingres's work depicts King Francis I's
strangely sensual adulation of Leonardo, the expatriate artist who
died at Amboise, south of Paris. In contrast to external accolades,
Delacroix's interest in Michelangelo focuses on the artist's relation
to his work: the melancholic sculptor sits in isolated contemplation
of his creations. |
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The exhibition includes another vein
of Romantic Myths: the introspection and anxiety that often
accompany creativity. In The Young Poet (Portrait of the Artist)
(cat. 16) Hughes portrays himself as a visionary. The only potential
external source for his anxious energy is the fertile landscape in
which he reclines. Solitude turns into despair in Wallis's Chatterton
(cat. 21) where the construction of a narrative ended in the poet's
miserable death in 1770, with what was then believed to be a suicide.
There is some relief from these dejected subjects in Nieto's Satire
on Romantic Suicide (cat. 22), in which a depressed artist prepares
both to stab himself and jump off a cliff, but only after ceremoniously
displaying his works next to a commemorative cross and floral wreath. |
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The theme then slips quite naturally
into Bohemia, a room that includes many of the exhibition's
treasures. Manet's The Artist (Marcellin Desboutin) (cat. 35)
cuts a striking figure in what was the last of his full-length philosopher
types (fig. 2). Manet's tactile surface and Desboutin's almost imploring
expression make this work, on loan from São Paolo, a centerpiece
of the show. It dwarfs in scale, but manages not to eclipse the adjacent
painting: Degas's Desboutin engraving with Vicomte Lepic (cat. 36).
Despite the successes of the Société des Aquafortistes
during the later half of the Second Empire, artists such as Desboutin
and Lepic were on the periphery of printmaking circles and the medium
itself remained marginal. Desboutin is likely at work on a drypoint,
the technique for which he was most famous. The work's title reflects
a loose translation of the French "gravure" with its multiple
significations. As Desboutin and Lepic intently study a subject outside
the painting's frame, Desboutin casually props a copper plate on his
knee. Degas successfully captures the spontaneity of drypoint, what
Desboutin and his contemporaries considered the most original printmaking
practice. That raw immediacy encapsulates much that the bohemian identity
was believed to represent. |
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| fig. 3. Paul Cézanne, The Stove in the Studio, probably
1865-70. Oil on canvas. © National Gallery, London. |
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| fig. 4. Curator Alexander Sturgis in the Bohemia gallery of Rebels
and Martyrs exhibition with view of Courbet's The Meeting
(Bonjour Monsieur Courbet!) and Renoir's The Inn of Mère
Antony. © National Gallery, London. |
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| fig. 5. Edouard Manet, Music in the Tuileries Gardens, 1862.
Oil on canvas. National Gallery, London. |
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| fig. 6. The Creativity and Sexuality gallery of Rebels and Martyrs
exhibition with view of Modersohn-Becker's Self Portrait
on her Sixth Wedding Anniversary, Moreau's The Poet and
the Siren, and Rodin's The Sculptor and his Muse.
© National Gallery, London. |
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Likewise, two magnetizing scenes of
artists's studios depict stoves that assume a near-human presence
and evoke the reality of a counter-culture lifestyle. Cézanne's
The Stove in the Studio (fig. 3, cat. 32) and Delacroix's Corner
of the Studio, the Stove (cat. 33) present rudimentary creative
spaces with uncanny appeal. In The Artist's Studio (cat. 28),
Tassaert even manages to make the humble meal of boiled potatoes appear
heroic. The subtle interiority of these works juxtaposes well with
the public posturing of bohemiansism, as in Courbet's The Meeting
(Bonjour Monsieur Courbet!) (cat. 29), and Renoir's The Inn
of Mère Antony (cat. 31) (fig. 4). A display of lithographs
including Daumier's Wood is expensive and the arts aren't going
well (cat. 23) and Gavarni's The Artists (cats. 25 and 26)
complete this richly layered view of nineteenth-century bohemian identity.
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The parallel phenomenon of the next
theme, The Dandy and Flâneur, is more problematic. It
seems unlikely that it was simply a question of space, but this section
does not do justice to constructs that have recently received scholarly
attention. The exhibition should have explored the historically masculinized
identity of the flâneur and considered the flâneuse
as an integral facet of the persona.3 Besides Manet's Concert
in the Tuileries the public nature of the theme receives too little
attention (fig. 5, cat. 41). Instead, the focus on portraits of male
artists either in their studio environments or posturing as gallant
gentlemen presents works that are not clearly distinct to the theme.
Blanche's moody Portrait of Audrey Beardsley (cat. 46) and
the reverence for Old Master Cranach that Degas makes explicit in
James-Jacques-Joseph Tissot (cat. 43) could have been included
in the exhibition's earlier themes of Romantic Hero and Romantic
Myths. The complexities of the dandy and flâneur
identities deserve a more in-depth examination. |
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Priest, Seer, Martyr, Christ
was, at least for this viewer, the least engaging of the exhibition's
themes. Gauguin's Agony in the Garden (cat. 51) is a logical
work to include, but his Bonjour Monsieur Gauguin (cat. 52)
seems misplaced, as conceptions of the artist as a wanderer or vagabond
are not implicit in Christian religious practices or even mysticism
in broader terms. Van Gogh's Pietà after Delacroix (cat. 53), Sérusier's Portrait of Paul Ranson in Nabi Robes
(cat. 54) and Bernard's work, which would be more accurately entitled
Vision, Symbolic Self Portrait (cat. 57), are each more successful
displays of artists posturing as High Priests at the altar of sacrificial
genius. |
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The exhibition culminates with Creativity
and Sexuality, a subject that represents both one of the most
successful themes of the exhibition and also suggests an avenue for
further exploration. Women appear primarily in the stereotypical guises
of muse and femme fatale, as in Corinth's Self Portrait with a
Model, Malczewski's The Inspiration of the Painter (cats.
66-69), Moreau's The Poet and the Siren and Rodin's The
Sculptor and his Muse (fig. 6). Schiele's Self Portrait as
a Nude (cat. 71) situates male creativity as an overt extension
of phallic power. His full frontal nudity remains, nonetheless, schematic
and somehow less threatening, even to today's viewers. This author
noted that Rodin's Balzac Study (cat. 65) still manages to
disrupt accepted social codes of display: after identifying the subject
matter, most viewers pass by the plaster and disavow its presence
the exhibition. For the majority of present-day viewers, Schiele's
erotic self-exposure remains a more palatable display than Rodin's
forthright presentation of physical self-love as a source of masculine
creative energy. |
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In addition to Vigée-Lebrun's
Self-Portrait in a straw hat from the exhibition's first gallery
(fig. 1), Modersohn-Becker's Self Portrait on her Sixth Wedding
Anniversary (fig. 6, cat. 72) is the only other work that raises
the question of how female artists in the nineteenth century can be
understood relative to the categories of rebel and martyr. Indeed,
if more female artists had been included in this exhibition the themes
themselves would have been more interesting and less monolithic in
conception. Works such as Marcello's Pythia (bust) from the
Musée Carnavalet would have added to the complexity of the
theme of Priest, Seer, Martyr, Christ. Self portraits by Bashkirtseff
and Morisot would have raised questions that need to be considered
regarding definitions of dandy. A work by Bonheur in Bohemia
would have shifted the theme's focus from a normative masculine and
heterosexual framework. Nonetheless, with Modersohn-Becker's Self
Portrait as a key work in the final gallery, the exhibition suggests
the challenges of establishing a stable female artistic identity within
an overtly masculine paradigm. |
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Rebels and Martyrs held considerable appeal
for nineteenth-century specialists. Its themes created a structured
viewing experience that, despite its limitations, presented a coherent
narrative. That was also the exhibition's main weakness. It did not
question the themes it presented, nor did it initiate debate regarding
the masculine tropes of modernism. Instead, it served to reinforce
well-established stereotypes. It is this very expectation of coherency
and desire for a seamless narrative that must be examined and, ideally,
dismantled. |
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Alison McQueen
ajmcq[at]mcmaster.ca |
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1. For catalogue references see Alexander Sturgis, Rupert Christiansen,
Lois Oliver and Michael Wilson, Rebels and Martyrs: The Image
of the Artist in the Nineteenth Century. Exh. cat. (New Haven:
Yale University Press, 2006).
2. Alison McQueen, The Rise of the Cult of Rembrandt: Reinventing
an Old Master in Nineteenth-Century France. (Amsterdam: Amsterdam
University Press, 2003).
3. Aruna D'Souza and Tom McDonough eds, The Invisible flâneuse?:
Gender, Public Space and Visual Culture in Nineteenth-Century Paris.
(Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2006). Although published
at the same time as the Rebels and Martyrs exhibition, the
subject was explored at the 2001 College Art Association conference
in the session "The invisible flâneuse?: Rethinking women's
experience of public space in 19th-century France."
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© 20078 Nineteenth-Century Art Worldwide and Alison McQueen. All Rights Reserved. |
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