Scrooge is mighty busy at England's three most important museums; a postscript

Apologies to the National Gallery or rather Nicholas Penny, its outgoing director, and its Trustees for singling them out in my earlier post. It seems that the Victoria and Albert Museum AND the British Museum, too, are shut on the 24, 25 and 26th of December. The three most important art museums in the city--in the country-- are in the hands of philistines who appear to believe that no one would want to be in a museum when they could go shopping or watching Downton Abbey.
   Oh to be in Amsterdam. The Rijksmuseum is OPEN EVERY DAY OF THE YEAR. Yup Christmas Day included. Paris or New York wouldn't be bad:  The Louvre is closed for three days IN THE ENTIRE YEAR. (December 25, January 1 and May 1.) The Metropolitan closes for four: January 1, May 1, Thanksgiving Day and  December 25.
   All the hot air about London being a culture capital and the town can't even keep open its great museums when people have the most time to visit them.  As for the people in charge of tourism; they spend millions luring tourists to the city and then shut the door to one of its biggest attractions.

Not so ho ho: London's National Gallery is a holiday NO GO .

On this chilly, sunny Christmas Eve, I reckoned that what with last minute shopping and the exodus of locals this would be a great moment to spend more time with that grandest old man, Rembrandt. 

 I checked that the underground and buses would still be running when I left the museum to come home.  I reckoned that the NG would probably close early--say 4 or 5 pm. It was only fair to give staff time to get wherever they were going to spend the night before Christmas. All looked good and off I went.
  I got out of the Underground, crossed Trafalgar Square, climbed the steps and headed for the Sainsbury Wing. And then I saw it:  All gates shut. The place looked like a fortress not a house of revelations, never mind a refuge.
   Back at my desk (each to her own Christmas treats or tortures), I Googled.  The National Gallery chose to close all day, every day, from Christmas Eve until December 27. Take that all of you who would rather spend time with Rembrandt or Piero or Holbein or.... than do last minute shopping or join the stampede at the sales.
   Nick Penny has marked his last Christmas as Director of the National Gallery with a big Bah Humbug, shutting its doors for a preposterous three days straight. He and those other Scrooges, the Trustees should be ashamed. My Christmas wish to one and all of them is coal filled stockings on the morning of the 25th.

Tibet erased at Christie's Hong Kong auction

"News flash" is the headline of  the press release announcing that it took 22- minutes of  bidding at Christie's current auction in Hong Kong before Liu Yiqian became the new owner of this 15th-century thangka, an exceptional example of Tibetan Buddhist painting on cloth, The prize cost him $45million US dollars; a world-auction record, we are told for any Chinese work of art.. The release goes on to quote Mr Liu talking about proud he is to bring this work of art back to China!  Christie's should be ashamed of itself for adopting the Republic of China's attempt to remove from history the country of Tibet with its long and distinctive culture, religion and art. No news flash is necessary to remind us that the bottom line is a slippery, muddy place.

Rubies for lunch

Cartier c.1930  est £30,000-40,000

An aunt of mine took me to lunch where she told me that she was going to buy me a ruby ring, my birthstone, but then she found out how expensive that would be. I don't think anybody pays attention to birthstones any more. Maybe the market in colored gems is so strong, it isn't necessary or maybe it is even counterproductive. After all why restrict desire to only one of 12 gems stones? Still I have a soft spot for these once upon a time emblems of July. And at a Bonham's lunch for people who write about jewels, (Almost everyone else writes about fashion; I the lone representative of those who not only love the beauty and craftsmanship but believe jewels are or certainly can be works of art.) I saw some honeys--all of them early twentieth century delights.. Along with colored diamonds (and just plain white ones), emeralds and sapphires the price of rubies keeps heading higher. These are jewels for people with plenty of what's called disposable income. It is the color of the ones I illustrate here that is so sensational...Burmese red that is more like purple-pink. Pigeon blood rubies these are not. They will have to wait for another time.

1905 necklace estimate £30,000-50,000

 The necklace above with beautiful matched rubies, is remarkably delicate in feeling, especially the drops which seem to be dangling down with only the faintest support. And now for the ring my aunt might have bought for me all those years ago --it would have been a lot cheaper, too, even adjusted for changes in money value. It, and all the above, is being offered at auction in London on December 4. 

Art Deco (1930) £50,000--£80,000.

 

Art and PW on the move

Late Rembrandt at the National Gallery, London. Just go. The paintings are bruising and comforting; beautiful and moving. Any more from me, even I would think is waffle. Go early, they say, when it is least crowded. I
go late.

.

                           

Just published my Economist story about the new Aga Khan Museum for the arts of Islam:

http://www.economist.com/blogs/prospero/2014/11/aga-khan-museum   will take you to it.

:

While at economist.com type Lauder in the search box you will find my recent story about the Metropolitan Museum of Art's big show of Cubist paintings that Leonard Lauder has promised to give the museum. Not as off-- putting as you might think and I certainly expected.

Still a star after 3500 years

Go ahead, ask me "What it is the most beautiful, poetic and desirable object among the 50 works of gold on view in The Queen's Gallery at Buckingham Palace?" Because I want to pipe up with my answer: It is a cup, not teeny, but small enough to rest in your palm--or mine as I began to imagine it as soon as I saw it. A powerful, mellow even modern design but made circa 1700 b.c. Still a star after 3500 years. Don't think this show (on until February 29), lacks more immediately eye- catching pieces. In fact I didn't notice the Rillaton Cup right away. For one thing it is at the far end of the large, long gallery. For another there was a hard to decipher object up close--maybe it was a comb but maybe it was an instrument for making music. 

Above: The Rillaton Cup    

Neither turned out to be right. It is a flat beaten crown with a plume that stands straight up--like stylized feathers. It is also exceedingly rare. The piece was dug up in Ecuador in 1854 and given by the country's president to Queen Victoria. Until recently it was assumed to be Inca but recent research suggests it was made well before the Inca's conquered south Ecuador in the 16th century. Bold but not something to hold attention or anyway mine. My eyes wandered. They were caught by a tiger. 

Pre-Inca Crown

This gold cat (below) was made in India in the 18th century from sheets of gold placed over a wood base. It was then etched and punched with designs that suggest fur but also battle scars. The latter were altogether appropriate..

Tiger head from Tipu Sultan's throne

Smaller, jewelled, images of tiger heads decorated the throne. (One is currently on view at the Metropolitan Museum in New York in a show of jewels owned by the Emir of Qatar.) This big guy was the throne's centerpiece.
   Tipu Sultan who ruled the kingdom of Mysore was opposed to the British presence in the subcontinent. He played the French against them as he tried to extend his realm. During the Fourth Battle of Mysore, British troops broke through their defences. It is believed he could have escaped but chose not to. "One day of life as a Tiger is far better than thousand years of living as a Jackal," is his alleged comment when that was proposed. He was killed. 
  This tiger, with its fierce yet thoughtful and magnificently decorated face survives. Part of the throne on which sat an ambitious, warrior Sultan who lived to die as a tiger became war booty and entered the English Royal Collection where it is proudly displayed today.  His tongue sticks out and moves--the better to make people approaching the Sultan feel more nervous. Today, alas, it makes it look more like a clever, luxurious toy. And then I saw the cup. Here is its story:

  

In 1837, men working at Rillaton on windy, bleak Bodmin Moor in Cornwall helped themselves to some stones piled up in an ancient burial mound. They uncovered a ceramic vessel inside which was this Bronze Age treasure. The land belonged to the Duchy of Cornwall--the Crown. The treasure belonged to the King and off it went to the palace.  Lucky us--it is on long term loan to the British Museum where all can see it when this show ends.                                                                                                             

Art and Soul at the National Gallery

Vote No: Keep Freud's Auerbachs in London

A great show; an Arts Council blunder.


Never mind all the guff about how collections tell us a lot about the collectors who have made them. Usually they do not. Often a collection doesn't even add to our appreciation or understanding of the individual works that make it up. But exceptionally, when a collector has a good eye and is in sympathy with what he is acquiring, the results can be powerful and illuminating. And so it is with the 40 works by Frank Auerbach owned by Lucian Freud at the time of his death in 2011. The paintings and drawings (and birthday cards) are temporarily on view at Tate Britain. Go see it if you possibly can. It is the best Auerbach retrospective London has known. You will have to hurry. The show closes November 9, After that Freud's Auerbachs are to be broken up; the collection dispersed. What a mistake!

Rebuilding the Empire Cinema, Leicester Square
1962

Freud (b.1922) and Auerbach (b.1931), both child-refugees from Nazi Germany, grew up to ambitious artists not lacking in competitiveness. They spent their working lives in London. Even such a vast metropolis can be too small for some artists to share but these two men became close friends.

They exchanged paintings but Freud also bought Auerbachs. He built a collection of works dating from the 1950s through to 2007. Following Freud's death, this collection was accepted by the Arts Council which administers the in lieu scheme. As a result, the death duties owed by Freud's heirs have been substantially reduced and museums around the country will be given works by Auerbach works. If Freud's was a so-so collection the idea would be fine. But it is revelatory; a delight. The Arts Council has made a huge mistake. 

Yes, it ticks the box "We are not elitist" and no, it does not tick the box, "London gets all the goodies," So the Arts Council has been politically correct. It has also been artistically blind .   

  
  The Tate already owns (or has on loan) 77 works by Auerbach. Why not chose 40 of these and distribute those around the country and KEEP FREUD'S AUERBACHS TOGETHER AT TATE BRITAIN IN LONDON. Public appreciation or Auerbach's on- going achievements will soar and Freud will be lauded for his not always appreciated generosity of spirit and his good eye. Visitor numbers to Tate Britain will rise. Go for it Arts Council. Admit you got it wrong and make it right.

  

Dead or Alive, England's greatest artist

Don't miss Late Turner: Painting Set Free at Tate Britain if you can get to London.  I felt like crying from start to finish and not from grief but from the wonder of what a great artist can do--and did  In case this does not translate well:

James Mallord William Turner, baptised in St. Paul's, in Covent Garden, died in 1851. He was 76 and had never lost his Cockney accent. There is nothing rough and tumble; nothing- in- your- face "Don't mistake me for a refined man"  about these works of his last 10 years on earth. They are the most thrilling, poetic, sometimes disturbing, pictures created by an Englishman. Before --or since.
    Some artists--DeKooning more recently and Picasso before him-- lose power in their last years. Not Turner. His late pictures could not seem more fresh nor more daring. So many are seemingly abstract or very nearly yet always the oils and watercolours seem to have been observed with exquisite attention to detail. The water shown in the painting of a storm at sea at the top of this post has the lush density and soft sheen of sheared fur. You look and understand that water alive; it can cause mayhem even death or be transporting to ride upon or gaze at.  There visions of pastoral paradise, too.  If ever there was a case where less is more, JMW Turner makes it exquistely.

Taught to know nothing

A multicolored blank tablet

 

When I was a school girl grammar was out. In my art student days, teachers gave critiques and otherwise kept out of the way. For decades before and after, art students were taught to be ignoramuses--at least about technique. I say "taught" because if something this basic is not on the curriculum, it is natural to assume it should not be; that it is not necessary.  At university, I took art history because I thought it would be an easy A. It turned out to mean hours shut in a dark room looking at slides. This was followed by the requirement to memorize names, dates, genres and categories; a nightmare. No wonder so many art historian/curators are unimaginative and uninspired; so many of their exhibitions corral paintings into the only categories they had been told existed or "adventurously" mix up the categories, a.k.a. juxtapose. (This is not entirely fair, but almost.) So much for background.

  

 If the world of visual artists--and we who look at their work--can be divided into those for whom line is central and the others for whom color is the heart of the matter, I have always been in the color camp.   Matisse is my man; I love much of Picasso but when I look at his paintings I often feel that they were conceived in black, white and shades of gray and then colored up.  . 

  

 Yet for all my passion for color, I never got beyond its ABCs—the stuff about how yellow and blue make green and what the various complements are. You can learn a lot, nearly everything, by listening and looking, experimenting and practicing. I could have educated myself about color as I tried teach myself about so many others things but somehow I was skittish; scared. It embarrasses me to have been so long ignorant of artists’ techniques; at the same time it is probably one of the most normal things about me.

Then I was sent the book [the subject of my previous post] which has been published to coincide with “Making Colour,” the National Gallery’s current exhibition (on view until September 7). I read and reread it. When the show opened, I was there to look and learn from Degas and all his reds and all the others whose colors light up those subterranean exhibition rooms.  

 

“Making Colour” is a revelation. It also teeters on the brink of fun. What would have pushed it over that edge? A workshop annex off to one side where I could have sat down with pigments mixed with different mediums—oil, gouache, tempera, water color, glazes and a variety of painting surfaces on which to dab them and see the results. A kindergarten for grown ups.  What could be more basic, more enjoyable and more eye opening? I'm ready. Where can I sign up?.

Artful Dodgers: Painters and their colourful tricks

“In order to tell the truth you have to make things up.” Fiction writers crank out this truism so often it as all the revelatory impact of a fortune- cookie message. Worse yet, huffing and puffing will blow it away. This is one cliché that has no roots in the fertile soil of fact. Yet when an artist uses paint rather than words, it is essential. Consider this, one of many possible examples:

The Adoration of the Magi  Giotto di Bondoni, circa 1320

 The thin sheets of gold leaf that Byzantine artists applied to the surface of their pictures look more artificial than the illusion of gold created by later artists using yellow and white pigments mixed with oil.

 As Leon Battista Alberti observed in his fifteenth century treatise “On Painting,” (Della Pictura), when gold leaf is used “some planes shine where they ought to be dark and are dark where they ought to be light.”

Portrait of Jan Pranger  by Frans van der Mijn 1742

 To successful create the illusion of a plausible three dimensional world on a two dimensional surface requires the deployment of quite a bag of tricks not least among them the manipulation of colour.  And yet:                                   

When people stand in front of a work of art and talk about how an artist uses colour they almost always sound pompous, so know-it-all ---and so beside the point—that my ears shut down and my legs move me away. Maybe for me this is because colour is the most important aspect of a picture; more important than line. In reading about technique, when colour comes up my reaction has always been much as it was when I was in tenth grade and Lettie Lee Craig tried to teach us algebra. Blind panic.  It wasn’t lack of interest exactly: As a graduate student in physiological psychology, I specialised in visual perception—how the brain and eye communicate, and the results. But about how artists use colour to create the colours I look at in the work, I remained ignorant and helpless to do anything about it. I am happy, even excited, to use the past tense. I’ve just finished reading “Colour.” It has been a revelation. Big applause and much gratitude to its authors, David Bomford of the Getty and Ashok Roy at London’s National Gallery. This small book (it is less than 100 pages) is the latest in the NG’s “A Closer Look” series. (Others have been about such topics as Angels, Allegory and Frames.) “Colour,” is clear and logical with many useful illustrations from the gallery’s collection used as examples, yet it is also lively and engaging, it doesn’t pack too much into a paragraph. It gave me time to take in an idea—like Alberti’s about the supremacy of paint over actual gold to create a believable image of gold—before going on.  Now the use of glazes makes sense. I understand the connection between Venice's position as a key trading post made pigments available to local painters like Veronese and Titian which were hard to get--or prohibitively expensive--to those elsewhere. And so much more. If you have had any of the kinds of gaps I regret having had, you will learn a lot too.

The publication of “Colour” is pegged to the National Gallery exhibition “Making Colour,” which opens June 18.  I'll be there and post.

  By the way: The illustrations here come from the Metropolitan and the Rijksmuseum. The National Gallery's images don't seem to want to join in with cut and past. 

An application for a non-existent job,or, Dear Tom Campbell

Dear Thomas P. Campbell, Emily Rafferty and readers of Art Darts,

This is an application for a position that does not exist from someone who wishes to have it in fantasy, only.
   I want to be writer-in-residence at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. After all, the best way to see art is to live with it. There are other reasons, also.
   When I was recently in New York from London for five days and overwhelmed by all I wanted to see in the museum, could not and--when it comes to special exhibitions like the Roof Garden--now never will.  I did see the Charles James show--the best fashion exhibition I've ever seen. Fantastical gowns were a treat but what made me visit three times in my short stay were the video screens with deconstructions of the patterns, the way the patterns were cut and then the reconstruction; rebuilding, of these architectural monuments to gorgeous and luxury.

Charles James Clover Leaf ball gown

Then there was Lost Kingdoms. (About which I have written for ASR, Anne Summers Reports. It should be up on line next week.I'll tweet.) Curator John Guy's ambitious, revelatory survey of the early religious art of the firth to ninth century kingdoms that later become the nation-states of Southeast Asia. There was far too much to take in during my two visits, one of which included the curator's gallery tour. A real art historical adventure story with so much new and unfamiliar that it requires time to take hold in these eyes and this brain. And I kept wanting to see these examples of first millennium Hindu and Buddhist Indian influences sculpture alongside what had already been created in India and the Buddhist sculpture of China of the same era. Lost Kingdoms is an amazing feat--it cost a lot of money; required exceptional loans. The show I imagined would have required removal of a floor of the permanent collection and a hefty benefaction from Bill Gates or equivalent.

Khin Ba Relic Chamber Cover  6th Century from what is now Myanmar.

A month at the Met would give me time to get a grip on these two shows and then there is so much more.
The Savoy Hotel has a writer- in- residence. But I would not demand room service. I'd have a picnic basket for dinner. I am a well trained litter picker upper. Or maybe the mail room would accept Pret deliveries. And if I got cabin fever--some cabin--I could take a bike ride through Central Park. (I feel sure the Met would let me keep my bicycle in the underground parking lot at the back.) It would be good to see the Temple of Dendur from outside as well as from my sleeping bag, assuming I'd be allowed a night camping in its shadow. Truth is I'd rather camp at the feet of Sekhmet but she, is nearby.
    It happens that much as I like dreaming, I am also practical, even often realistic. If this job did exist, I would not be at the top of the list of those asked to fill it. But as I already said I would have to refuse even if asked. The wrinkle, for me, is this: I would not want to feel obliged to produce a single word for publication or perusal. Seeing and drifting are what I want to do. Spending an hour with Tiepolo (either father or son) and then heading for China or vice versa.  But productivity is the measure applied by others and that I could not--and would not want to--guarantee. Still, by moving in, if only in my imagination while writing this job application, I keep thinking of new works of art I'd like to go to sleep near and others I'd like to see first thing when I wake up in the morning. In my eyes I begin to see some of the so- big collection in a new way. I recommend it. And this way, you avoid the crowds.

Men in pearls--go for it.

Maharaja Bhupinder Singh of Patiala 
Delhi, c. 1911

Today when kings, actors and billionaires want to dress to show off their riches and power their means are restricted to a bespoke suit and topcoat; handmade shoes and shirts, a Swiss watch....a signet ring, perhaps. Not much, really, when you think of what bigwigs had available to do the job. It is not a new idea that advertising not only familiarizes folks with the brand, it grows it. To do that big time there is no substitute for jewels and for a millennium, at least, men had them and wore them.

Rulers had first choice of the largest and finest jewels on the market and most, although not every single one of them was a fellow. In Europe almost all gems were imported.  But for Maharajas, dazzling raw materials were close by. For at least 3000 years India was the source of all the world's diamonds. Production did not begin in South Africa until well into the 19th century and by then Indian mines were pretty well played out. Even now, the most sought after (and expensive) sapphires come from Kashmir. Gem dealers did not have to travel far to get their hands on prized Burmese rubies. As for pearls: Divers risked the lives in the Arabian Gulf bringing up more than enough for even the most lavish swags that were looped around the necks of Sultans and Maharajahs. (We need not leave out export to the West or the use of such jewels by women:  Elizabeth I, Queen of England and Catherine the Great Empress of Russia--as well as countless courtesans in the Most Serene Republic--were also given to swaddling themselves in gems including an abundance of pearls.)
  In 1468, Afanasy Nikitin, a Russian horse trader with ambitions--set off for India. He was stupefied by the number of jewels he there. He took a particular shine to the city of Bidar and its Sultan whose palace was itself a jewel; every surface carved and gilded. The saddle the Sultan rode on was made of gold set with sapphires; a huge diamond was embellished his headdress.[A related turban ornament illustrated below,] An account of Nikitin's travels appears near the beginning of  "India: Jewels that Enchanted the World," the lavishly illustrated, intelligently written book that accompanies an exhibition of the same name. Nikitin was one of the first Europeans to reach India and remained there for four years. The account left by the 17th century French gem merchant Jean-Baptiste Tavernier is far better known but including Nikitin forges a link welcome to the show's organizers. This exhibition which is on until 27 July opened in Moscow on April 12. It is a major production.

Turban ornament (sarpech) 
Rajasthan, 19th century; gold, diamonds, emeralds, emerald beads, pearl, enamelAdd caption

Some 300 jewels and jewelled objects [see for example the hookah below] are on display. They range from pieces made in the 17th century to those fabricated recently. It is said to be the largest ever exhibition of its kind--anywhere,  The show is collaboration between the State Museums of Moscow Kremlin, headed by Dr Elena Gagarina and the Indo-Russian Jewellery Foundation. According to the press release the foundation was founded by "diamond and jewellery connoisseur Alex Popov." Mr. Popov also happens to be a diamond merchant who set up the Moscow diamond bourse (one in an international network of independent diamond exchanges.) Not for the first time in a museum exhibition aesthetics and business snuggle up cosily. India today is a major market as well as home to some of the most skilled gem cutters and setters in the world.

AWater vessel (huqqah) and tobacco bowl (chilam) support from a water pipe 
Mewar, c. 1700
Gold, enamel

    Lenders have been generous. Pieces have been borrowed from the al-Sabah Collection in Kuwait, the British Museum, the Doha Museum of Islamic Art and the Victoria&Albert Museum.  Commercial lenders include the Khalili Collection, Cartier, Van Cleef & Arpels and Chaumet: In the early years of the 20th century, the Maharajahs and their consorts sent their fabulous jewels to Paris to be re-set in accordance with contemporary European taste. The old and the new thereafter cohabited. A full- length black- and -white photograph of the Maharajah Yeshwantrao Holkar II of Indore shows him wearing a sash formed not by a broad ribbon but by multiple, long strings of pearls; the diamond and emerald ornament decorating his headdress had been recently designed for him in Paris by the firm of Mauboussin. The rocks were his own and include a huge tear-drop diamond that dangles from the tip of the diamond feather at the top while six large, tear-drop cabochon emeralds  hang from the diamond bar along the bottom. What a light show it must have been when the Maharajah took even a couple of steps. Surely he couldn't have been carried everywhere==all the time. Anyway not by the mid 1930s when the photograph was taken. And the Maharajas did not stop draping themselves in precious stones then. Even today in India deals are done with jewels that are excess to requirements. Excess. Requirements. It is not a concept that fits.

In Paris strolling with Watteau

"From Watteau to Fragonard: les getes galantes" is a honey of a show. It is at the Jacquemart Andre museumi in Paris until the 21st of July. It is bound to be a delight even in the heat (and tourist, sardine can) of summer. But now in Spring it could not be better. Cold, wet, windy winter is over! Time to drift out into the city; to stroll and to loll about under the trees. Why not do it in the company of Jean-Antoine Watteau (1684-1721) and those who soon followed--Nicolas Lancret (1690-1743); Jean-Baptise Pater (1695-1725) and even those Johnnies come later, Jean-Honore Fragonard (1732--1806) and Francois Boucher (1703--1770). But earlier is better certainly here, now in Paris and at the same time, then in the bloom of the 18th century. Afterwards, walk in the evening and dream of the marionette vendors, the flirts, the gowns and floppy- bow trimmed shoes.

Over the top? Over the Himalayas

What a trip across time and sensibilities. Within 36 hours in Paris I saw the Treasure of Naples at the Musee Maillol; "From Watteau to Fragonard; les fêtes galantes" at the Jacquemart-Andre and the Treasure of Saint- Maurice d'Agaune at the Louvre. First to Naples. Tomorrow to Watteau; the day after to the radiant medieval enamels from an ancient abbey in a Swiss mountain pass.

In New York in the fall I often went down to Little Italy for the Feast of San Gennaro. Inside the church on Mulberry Street a statue of the saint was covered in paper money. Outside in the courtyard spitting fat from cooking sausages fell onto the coals. (I was among the sausage eaters not the money- attachers.) Gennaro's congealed blood is kept in a reliquary in Naples' cathedral and taken out on feast days. During one such occasion in the the 14th century it started dripping. It has been dripping on most feasts days ever since. Plague came and pestilence and Vesuvius belched. The story goes that in the sixteenth century prayers to Bishop Gennaro--who had been martyred a millennium earlier--saved Naples from these threats. People thanked him lavishly and not only Neapolitans. But in recent years who knew that these treasures--the enormous silver statues, gold chalices and opulent jewels given to the people of Naples to celebrate their patron saint? Not many. Now for the first time 70 pieces-- said to be as valuable as England's Crown Jewels-- have left Italy and are on view in Paris. (There is airport style security entering and leaving.) To call these treasures over the top is feeble; over the Himalayas is more like it. It must have been raining emeralds over the Naples cathedral between the late 17th century well into the 19th when these pieces were made. The lagoon-clear Colombian emeralds, however, probably arrived in Europe with the Spanish Conquest. It is something to see. Judge for yourself if this is a must- see. (Captions below.)




The composite collar above was begun in the late 17th century and added to into the 19th. It was worn on the chest of the reliqaury bust of Gennaro. Royalty and aristocrats and the every day very rich were donors; one of the pendant crosses was a gift of Napoleon Bonaparte.
Below is the stiff, gold bishop's mitre created in 1713 for a reliquary bust. It is embellished with 3,326 diamonds, 168 rubies and 198 emeralds large, small, medium and wowee.

TWO EARS GOOD: FOUR EARS BAD or bring on the year of the horse

Moved to tears by the sight of a horse's ears?  It happened and the horse in question was not a snorting, snuffling, sugar- cube loving, living creature but a statue.

   Until I saw the Renaissance bronze "Prancing Horse" modelled by Giambologna (of which this is  detail) the only image of a horse that I'd ever been thrilled by was George Stubbs's "Whistlejacket,"

at the National Gallery in London.   "Whistlejacket" painted in 1762 is an enormous 292x246 cm. --colossal for an 18th century portrait. Yet standing before it, I accept without thinking that such a giant-sized canvas was needed in order to do justice to majesty and high spirits of this beautiful creature. I might feel scared of such a beast up close and in person but in the gallery I look at Whistlejacket and feel nothing but joy. I just stand there and smile.

   Two days ago I visited "Renaissance and Baroque Bronzes from the Hill Collection," which has just opened at the Frick in New York. On view are 33 bronzes from the Collection of Janine and J. Tomilson Hill. Mr. Hill is big in money (Vice-Chairman of the Blackstone Group). He collections paintings also. Three of them--two by Cy Twombly and one be Ed Rucsha are also on view--a first showing of contemporary art for the Frick.  By Mr. Hill's reckoning, he is one of about 15 major bronze collectors world wide--"major" defined as people who can spend $3 million or more on a single piece. More importantly for this viewer, he appears to have a good eye and good advice. There are many fine and lively works; some French, a few German but most Italian. To my surprise (I am doggy not horsey) while I admired and enjoyed many of the bronzes, I fell for the "Prancing Horse." Cast around 1573, it is 25.1x28.7 cm. -a statuette and a midget compared to Whistlejacket. Yet it is every bit as arresting. The whomph it packs is different however; it is not the power of joy but rather the power of tenderness. The show is terrific and this prancing pony is its star.

  Now about another two ears; the baddies.  Not far from the Frick, at the Richard Feigen gallery, London dealer Sam Fogg is staging "Wonders of the Medieval World." Among the objects on view is a carved wood, painted "Palmesel" or figure of Christ on a donkey. Such a statue (here as in many others, the figure of Christ is about the size of a 8 to 10 year old) was pulled through the street on Palm Sunday; it represents Christ's triumphal entry into  Jerusalem. This honey of an example is in the collection of the Victoria & Albert Museum in London. (An image of Fogg's proved elusive.)

  The trouble with Fogg's version was the donkey's ears. The problem wasn't that they are clearly replacements. It is a good thing to make plain what is original and what is not. The difficulty was that these large pointy substitutes were wooden; not as in made of wood but as in lacking soul. I was standing alongside the piece thinking about the expressive, touching ears of Giambologna's horse when Sam Fogg strode up in the company of another man.
  "Larry thinks these ears are distracting and should be removed, what do you think?" Sam asked me. Larry I later learnt is  Lawrence W. Nichols Senior Curator of European & American painting and sculpture before 1900 at the Toledo Museum in Ohio. Larry could have been reading my thoughts so I had no difficulty saying that I agreed. Evidently this was a casting vote (or a flourish of showmanship).  Sam gave a gentle tug; the ears came off. He slipped them under the pull- toy like platform on which the Palmesel stands. A big improvement. 

  Two magnificent memorable ears are all New York needs to celebrate the start of the Year of the Horse in the highest possible style. Happy New Year.

Come hither City boys

The Museum of London invites us to "Discover the city of London and its people."  It does not deliver. Should you actually find your way to the vile seventies building on a roundabout in the City you won't see an entrance. That requires another hunting expedition. Hidden inside other buildings on the "mainland" are stairs and escalators to take visitors up to walkways which are open to the wind and rain. When you finally make it to the museum's actual entrance you sense immediately that everything has been done on the cheap. Even its logo is cringe- inducing. It looks like the winner of the booby prize in a first year, design school competition. Far more serious is the shocking fact that entire museum has a whopping total of four curators. They are heroic women and men, dedicated and hard working, but they are attempting to do an impossible job. The place is a disgrace to the city and the City both. Come on city boys and you women in finance, too. Use your expertise--and your dough--to create a museum we can all be proud of. It can be done. They've done it in Antwerp. 

 Visit the MAS (above). This exciting example of contemporary architecture is set in the old port's red-light district. The history and life of Antwerp is imaginatively displayed--its procession of elaborate model ships is thrilling-- something I had not imaged possible. The success of the MAS has led to regeneration of the entire neighbourhood.
    The Museum of London's collections include the 500 pieces of the Cheapside Hoard, the world's largest collection of Tudor and Jacobean jewellery.  Exceptionally all of it is on view for the first time in almost a century but most of it will go back into store in the spring when the current exhibition devoted to it closes. There it will rejoin  a million other objects--A million! Among these treasures are finds from Roman and Saxon London; artifacts of London's life as a major international port --and that means full-size boats. There are 24,000 examples of of  historic and contemporary clothing; impressive collections of tools, toys, paintings and photographs. There is street furniture and shop fronts and the entire archive of the Port Authority. Almost all of this is an all too well kept secret.
   There is no way to fiddle with the current museum. It is an architectural and geographic mistake. Yet, wouldn't you know that this is precisely what is being planned. The only approach that makes sense it to tear down the monstrosity and start again. Raze it and raise the dough to do it right next time around.

 Happy New Year to All