'The First Actresses' exhibition
October 20 2011
Picture: National Portrait Gallery, London
I saw the National Portrait Gallery's new 'First Actresses' exhibition yesterday. It's well worth a visit; a nicely set out show of celebrated actresses from the 17th and 18th Centuries, from Nell Gwyn to Sarah Siddons. The exhibition's curators have selected some fine works. The highlights for me were two of Gainsborough's finest full-lengths, Madame Baccelli (Tate) and Elizabeth Linley, on loan from the National Gallery of Art in Washington. The NPG have also rebuilt their temporary exhibition space, with great success.
The catalogue has some informative contributions, and sets out actress's (sometimes precarious) place in society with clarity and panache. However, if you're interested in the portraits themselves - say, their provenance or the circumstances surrounding their creation - then you'll be disappointed. I looked in vain for any information on the newly discovered portrait of Nell Gwyn. Both catalogue and exhibition are devoid of any meaningful research on the artist's role in the portraits. And surely it was thanks in part to the artists that the actresses achieved their fame (not least when it came to popular engravings). Some might say this is worrying in the National Portrait Gallery, and perhaps tellingly two portraits are exhibited with tentative attributions (and there's at least one attribution I have great trouble believing). Where have all the portrait experts gone?
Before I start ranting about connoisseurship again (and it really doesn't detract from this splendid exhibition), let me turn to condition. The two Gainsborough full-lengths here are in excellent preservation, and hung low so you can really look into them - a great treat. Likewise, George Romney's Emma Hamilton on loan from Kenwood House is, in its uncleaned but readable state, a glowing endorsement of what is called 'country house condition'. Sadly, the same can't be said of Verelst's daring and beautiful portrait of the naked Nell Gwyn. This has been cleaned for the exhibition, and, as can be glimpsed from the photo above, has lost something of its original delicacy. Verelst is known for his porcelaineous finish and crisp drawing, as can be seen in Nell's hand. But while the picture may have been succesfully cleaned, its restoration, the process of repairing the damaged and missing areas of original paint, leaves something to be desired. For example, there are too many missing glazes, such that the curls in her hair and the shadows around her face don't read as they should. Even the purple drapery looks overly bruised and damaged.
Succesful conservation is about so much more than technical skill - it requires a degree of artistry, and a sense of art history, that not all conservators are blessed with. Those restorers who lack that artistic feel often make a conscious decision to leave damage exposed - and call this approach 'minimal intervention'. But, while nobody likes an over-restored picture, there is a middle ground, which involves the careful re-introduction of retouching medium in the manner the artist would have intended.
The most succesful conservation is often a collaboration between restorer and expert, rather like a talented violinist under the guidance of a veteran conductor. The conductor may not be able to play the violin themselves, but in having spent their whole life studying, say, Beethoven, knows better than the violinist how the bare notes on a page should translate into a characterful performance. In Nell Gwyn's case, therefore, a quick refresher course in Verelst might reveal where the picture would benefit from judicious intervention - a retouch here, and a glaze there, and suddenly a picture can be transformed.
