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| Leonardo Da Vinci, 'A Study For The Head Of St. Anne', Black Chalk (Partially Wetted) on Paper, 1510-15 |
I found time to
call into Nottingham Castle the other day to take a look at the ‘Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection’ exhibition. It
would have felt like bad manners not to really: it’s not so often that such
things make it to the East Midlands - after all.
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| Nottingham Castle Museum & Art Gallery, September 2016 |
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| 'Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection', Nottingham Castle Museum & Art Gallery, September 2016 |
It’s fair to say
that the work of so-called Old Masters has hardly loomed large in my
consciousness of late as it once might have.
And I certainly don’t feel beholden to the Monarch for granting us to
the favour of seeing artifacts that should really be on more permanent display
in a public museum. But, I suppose we
should be grateful that anyone could still raise the insurance premium, (us
all, indirectly – I suppose). Whatever
the ins and outs, there is a kind of timeless mystique that attaches to
Leonardo, both in terms of a certain ineffable quality within his work, and how
he epitomises (like no other) the cliché of the ‘Renaissance Man’. Most of all, of course, the old boy could
draw a bit.
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| Leonardo Da Vinci, 'A Male Nude', Red Chalk on Paper, 1504-05 |
Indeed, I’m sure
you don’t need me to deliver an essay on the genius or significance of Leonardo
here. You can get all that from far more
learned authorities than I, with very little effort. Suffice it to say, modest though the ten little
pages on display in Nottingham may be - it’s difficult not to be swayed once
again by that combination of delicacy, precision, transcendence, and the sense
of a fearsomely rational mind trying to work stuff out - way outside any
contextual box. There’s something fairly
thrilling about being able to view, in one room, the sublime ‘A Study For The Head Of St. Anne’, the
apocalyptic ‘A Deluge’, and a survey
plan of damage caused by weir-currents to the banks of the Arno (nominally
prosaic – but visually stunning).
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| Leonardo Da Vinci, "A Deluge', Black Chalk on Paper, 1517-18 |
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| Leonardo Da Vinci, 'A Map Of The Arno East Of Florence', Ink & Wash On Paper, 1504 |
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| Leonardo Da Vinci, 'Expressions Of Fury In Horses, A Lion And A Man', Ink on Paper, 1504-05 |
Such things speak
for themselves, really, and anyone with even the most superficial interest in
drawing would do well to take a look, whenever the chance arises. But what I really want to spend the rest of
this post highlighting is the sheer weight of interpretation surrounding the actual
drawings. It seems to speak volumes
about contemporary priorities and the role of the Curator in constructing
numerous inescapable frames through which we are invited to view such cultural
treasures. In all honesty, ten little
scraps of antique paper, bearing often quite minimal lineaments of chalk or
ink, can rarely have been more diligently explained and interpreted, or
presented in quite such a thoroughly meta environment.
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| Leonardo Da Vinci, 'Cats Lions And A Dragon', Ink & Wash Over Black Chalk on Paper, 1513-18 |
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| Leonardo Da Vinci, 'Studies For Casting An Equestrian Monument', Ink & Red Chalk on Paper, 1492-93 |
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| Leonardo Da Vinci, 'The Heart Compared To A Seed', Ink Over Black Chalk, 1508 |
Indeed, in order
to reach the pieces themselves, the visitor must first pass a display of other
examples of ‘serious’ drawing, and rooms containing the responses of
contemporary artists to Leonardo’s achievements. Once in the exhibition proper, they then move
through an ante-chamber, larger than that in which the actual drawings are
shown, whilst being info-bombed by large graphic panels - detailing the
artist’s historical and cultural context, his wider oeuvre, and the significance
of the Renaissance as a moment in cultural History. They might watch a video on the importance of
drawing, or peruse what I think is a catalogue of Leonardo’s work, but which I
didn’t really have time to examine - before a helpful museum attendant was inviting
me to download it as an app. Should
they feel so inclined, they could also commemorate their visit with a cardboard-cutout
selfie as the Mona Lisa.
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| Leonardo Da Vinci, 'Studies Of An Infant's Limbs', Metalpoint & Ink on Prepared Paper, 1490 |
Once in the inner
sanctum, one finally encounters the drawings themselves - encapsulated in
double-sided glass display units, or mounted on walls on which more extensive
information texts demand attention.
Other wall legends fill in yet more vital context, or justify the
importance of the Royal collection. The
prevailing decor scheme is Blue and gold and, whilst I understand the
Conservator’s need for subdued lighting, I doubt the survival of the work
depends on it being quite so theatrical or reverentially manipulative.
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| 'Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection', Nottingham Castle Museum & Art Gallery, September 2016 |
If this all
sounds overly critical, I do understand the need to wring every last ounce of
educational and cultural capital from the rare, peripatetic appearance of such
trove in a regional, municipal museum.
And it is a museum, after all – with all that implies. Also, having shelled out seven quid for
admission [1.], perhaps the average Nottingham punter is
entitled to expect a bit of a show, along with some attempt to explain exactly
why they should be so impressed.
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| 'Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection', Nottingham Castle Museum & Art Gallery, September 2016 |
And yet, part of
me wonders how my reaction to Leonardo’s drawings might have differed were they
to have been allowed to speak for themselves to a greater extent. It is of course quite valid to fill-in interesting
background detail, not least where a drawing is essentially evidence of
Leonardo’s researches, or just him talking over problems with himself
visually. I’m not quite so sure that I
need my information graphics to be picked out in glistening gold, however. It also feels slightly strange to be writing
a blog post about ten fragments of such supposed artistic/cultural resonance,
in which the main discussion and, dare I say it – perhaps the lasting
impression, is of the lavish manner of their presentation. The sad fact is that, however breathtaking
those little drawings might be, they ultimately feel somewhat lost in the midst
of it all.
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| 'Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection', Nottingham Castle Museum & Art Gallery, September 2016 |
Ultimately, I’m struck
by just how routinely we are invited to consume an ‘Experience’ - rather than to
actually absorb things on their own terms, these days. But it is the twenty-first century, I suppose,
- and I’m sure Leonardo himself would have been fascinated by all the
technological and academic resources at the curator’s disposal. Actually, I expect he’d have been downloading
the app without a moment’s hesitation.
[1.]: It doesn’t seem that long since I was moaning about shelling-out a fiver to get into the same gaff!
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