Title : Vermeer and Contemporaries - A Bunch of Plagiarists
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Vermeer and Contemporaries - A Bunch of Plagiarists
Finally I had the chance in early September, and went to book tickets (I had persuaded my entire family to come too, other than the teenager who is ploughing her own furrow at the moment). Surprise! Sold out. And for the following weekend. Disaster. There was only one slot left on a day that I could make it and it was the last day of the exhibition. I booked it, worrying that they'd decide the day before that enough people had seen it, they'd hit their target and the pictures could go back to Amsterdam or Rotterdam or wherever.
The movie, Vermeer, Beyond Time, introduced us to lots of the Dutch Masters as well as Johannes. Yes, I may have shut my eyes briefly during the movie, but that was the bit where Vermeer is standing at the edge of a canal in the dark, with dry ice (mist) wafting around his feet. It's very soporific. My mother decided she'd love to come to the exhibition too, despite having slept soundly through the movie alongside my dad Paddy and their mate Gerry. "Pearls before swine," I said to my mother, who, surprisingly, was not offended. I myself didn't really feel they deserved to go the exhibition, just saying.
The exhibition came with little black phones which everyone else seemed to work out how to use a lot faster than me (including my children), but then I don't get out much. My mother, father and their pal Gerry knew immediately what to do with them, because they spend a lot of time at exhibitions: Mum and Gerry because they both paint and Dad because he enjoys going along for the ride and likes art anyway. Plus he is usually guaranteed to say something completely left-of-field about whatever we're looking at. I always try to sidle up to him at any event to see if he can say something bananas to make me laugh.
The exhibition, which was packed, was about how the Dutch Masters all copied each other and were quick off the block to see what each other was up to, then dash to their own studios. There was a lot of competition and everyone had to have an edge of some sort. It was a hugely fruitful time in art, there was a lot of money about and a lot of rich people who needed everyone to know how refined and arty they were (plus ça change). The paintings were arranged into groups with similar themes. So you'd have five paintings of women reading a letter. Then four of women sweeping the floor. Then five of young ladies at their toilet being startled by prospective lovers. No, not that kind of toilet, but nonetheless the gents had no business startling them. The narrator on the little black phones was a woman but the writer was clearly a man. The ladies in the paintings never "looked" at someone, they always "gazed erotically" or wore "come hither" expressions. True story. To me, they were just looking, but that might say something about my own powers of seduction. (Note to self: buy book of pictures of ladies in Dutch Masters paintings.) In the above sketch, the theme was "Doorkijkje" - views through doorways. They were beautiful - probably my favourite of the exhibition.
But what of the Master himself? What about Vermeer? To my amazement, he was just as quick to copy his contemporaries as anyone else. There he would be, in the middle of a row of "women doing housework" paintings. Or - and you've seen them all - a row of women playing musical instruments. I have to be honest though and say that there was simply no comparison between the Vermeers and the others. They were all magnificent, no doubt about that. But Vermeer was unbelievable. The skin tones were so soft and delicate and the brushwork so invisible, but this contrasted sharply with the roughly-applied cream and white of the blouses and the yellow bodices. And of course his palette...totally chimes with my view on palettes at the moment, which is to keep your colours to a minimum. Where Vermeer's contemporaries had a lot of red and a lot of everything else, Vermeer's were pared back. One painting would just be white and cream, yellow and navy. Another would just have blue, white and cream, navy and maybe a few browns. All with the addition of subtle skin tones, of course.
The funny thing was, though, that it seems Vermeer didn't really go around his house becoming suddenly inspired to paint his womenfolk. He decided in advance what he wanted to paint, after having seen his contemporaries' work - not so impromptu after all. Still, so what? I came away very inspired to paint in oil, but I still believe that the power of an urban sketch to capture the here and now is the beginning point of all genre art. Is that the word for paintings of people doing stuff? It was used a lot in art college. and I always meant to ask.
After the paintings - I think there were 63 in all - I did my sketch and toddled off for a cup of tea and a sandwich. Gerry was ahead of me in the queue. I was already in an irritable mood because he'd nipped in ahead of me. He is a gentleman of well over 80 years old so I should have invited him to go in front of me but I'm not that kind of person. The girl serving him addressed him very politely. "Anything else with that, sir?" etc. I starting brooding crossly on how in Ireland there is always "sir" but rarely, if ever, "ma'am" or "madam". I decided I should say something to her. I would explain that it's not right that women in Ireland are not addressed properly. In fact, I would ask to see the manager, and tell him. I would tell him they needed to change their policy, and then I would inform all the cafés I visited. (Gerry was taking a while.) Suddenly I had my chance. "Anything else with that, madam?" she said.
Fabulous exhibition. My kids and husband loved it. Mum was delighted to go, delighted to have been able to invite Gerry and Dad said some nutty things about the paintings. Sandwiches were superb. Great day had by all.
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