Month: November 2009

This is a good week to be thankful, and I am especially grateful to everyone who made the launch of De meester van de schaduw in Antwerp such a success. Pub day itself began with a formal launch at the Rubenshuis, presided over by director Ben van Beneden and Rubens scholar Leen Huet. Attendees, including some twenty Antwerpers who had won space in a lottery held by the Gazet van Antwerpen (the city’s major daily), then followed me on a tour of Rubens sites (the home of Nickolaas Rockox, the Cathedral), culminating with a champagne reception at City Hall. By tradition, we ended the day with a round of Bollekes at the Engel. A few links and images:

ATV’s segment on me and the book on the show Onder Cover.

A tour of Antwerp and interview with journalist Ann Rootveld for the Radio1 program Mezzo, “Special Agent Rubens.”

Some images from the day:

Top Row [l-r]:
-My appearance on ATV
-The festive crowd at the Rubenshuis
-The festive crowd at the Rubenshuis

Second Row:
-Leen Huet discusses Rubens and his career
-Departing Rubenshuis
-The tour heads to Rockox House

Third Row:
-Looking at the Descent at the Cathedral
-Reception at City Hall
-Erick Rinckhout, Toon van Mierlo, me, Hal Lamster

Fourth Row:
-Feature in De Tijd
-Feature in Gazet van Antwerpen
-Feature in De Morgen

I’ll be giving a talk on Rubens and his diplomatic career at the Ringling Museum’s extraordinary Asolo Theater this Friday at 2:00 PM. There’s a nice preview of the event in the Sarasota Herald-Tribune: Master Artist, Master Spy. If you’re in the area, please stop by. Worth it for a look at the theater, if nothing else.

A nice synopsis and very generous assessment of Master of Shadows appears in the forthcoming issue of Library Journal:

“This book relates the exceptionally active diplomatic career of acclaimed painter Peter Paul Rubens (1577-1640). It’s a story unknown to most readers, even admirers of Rubens’s work. Serving the kings of Spain but also the archduke and archduchess who governed the Spanish Netherlands, Rubens crisscrossed Europe for over 25 years, negotiating treaties and seeking accommodations among Europe’s sovereigns. Though in the top ranks of the Flemish bourgeoisie, Rubens was still only a commoner. That he was tapped to lead these diplomatic efforts testifies to his standing as both an artist and a man of personal qualities. His network of friends and correspondents put him in a unique position, but in the end, his efforts failed, swallowed up in the deluge of destruction of the Thirty Years’ War. Lamster explains all this without simplifying the labyrinthine politics of this tumultuous age. An added benefit is his appreciation of, and ease in explaining, the complex iconography and artistic values exposed to view in Rubens’s great artworks. VERDICT An exceptional book that should appeal to history lovers and art lovers alike.”—David Keymer.

Thank you Mr. Keymer!

Nearly thirty years ago, Tom Wolfe made quite a splash with his reactionary little attack on modern architecture, From Bauhaus to Our House, his premise being that radical modernism imported from Germany had reduced American building to an impersonal frigidity. It was a dubious argument then, and a new show at MoMA demonstrates surely that it is flat out ridiculous. “Bauhaus: 1919-1933,” curated by Barry Bergdoll and Leah Dickerman, surveys the Dessau school’s history; if you think of the Bauhaus as a sterile, dogmatic place, you will surely be stunned by the scope of work done there, and inspired by its humanity. All the favorites are here: Albers, Gropius, Mies, Klee, Breuer, Feininger. But there are many voices that will be unfamiliar, too, and working in all disciplines—photography, textiles, architecture, typography, graphic design, product design, etc. Walk through the show and it’s impossible not to point at objects and think “Want Want Want.” An Albers lounge chair? Want. A Bayer poster? Want. A very Diebenkorn-y Klee? Want. Don’t miss it.

What’s in a name? Tomorrow the Metropolitan Museum will put on display a sculpture of a boy archer that made headlines about a decade ago when a New York art historian claimed it was the work of Michelangelo. At the time it was placed with no great ceremony in the lobby of a Fifth Avenue mansion used by the French government for cultural programming. I recall seeing it there during an exhibition of work by the cartoonist Sempé, and thinking nothing much of it. Kathleen Weil-Garris Brandt, the professor in question, thought differently, and made the attribution.

Is it really a Michelangelo? Experts are divided. To the extent that the controversy drums up attendance at the museum I don’t see much harm in the debate, which is probably only good for the field in the long run. The evidence supporting the claim is entirely circumstantial and based on connoisseurship—that is, it looks like something he would have done and uses techniques he was known to use. Of course, naysayers have pointed out any number of ways it differs from the master’s work, including an analysis of the poor boy’s swingers. In lieu of any hard evidence, specifically, contemporary documentary evidence linking the piece to Michelangelo, I’m hard pressed to believe any claim that it’s his work. Connoisseuship has proven, over and over and over again, to be an unreliable method of authentication. We see what we want to see in things. History is filled with anomalies and black holes that undermine what appear to be logical assumptions.

Rubens generally took a liberal view of the concept of authenticity. He often recommended that clients purchase paintings from his workshop rather than signature works by himself, because he thought the two were indistinguishable in quality and the former could be had at much lower prices. That is to say, what concerned him most was the quality of the object itself. Of course, clients preferred to have the works by his hand, nevermind his suggestion. Part of the attraction of art is association with its creator, especially if that creator is thought to possess a mysterious “genius.” Which goes a long way to explaining the fascination with the Young Archer. Is it by Michelangelo? Maybe. But if it’s not, is it even worth looking at?

Does the air around here seem just a bit more rare on this fine Monday morning? Well it should. Master of Shadows appears in the privileged upper-right quadrant—that would be “highbrow” and “brilliant”—of New York Magazine’s weekly Approval Matrix feature. Impressive, and considerably better than Philadelphia, placed toward the top left for its “undistinguished architecture and culture.” Can’t say I totally disagree, but at least they’ve got this, which, come to think of it, is probably a nice illustration of how certain residents of that city are feeling this morning.

The full “Highbrow” and “Brilliant” quadrant after the jump:

Continue reading Master of Shadows: Highbrow + Brilliant