Celebrating a perfect space
Martin Gayford visits the recently opened extension to Dulwich Picture Gallery Poland's loss was South London's gain. Much of the collection of Old Masters now at Dulwich Picture Gallery was assembled originally for Stanislaus Augustus, the last King of Poland. Unfortunately for him, and for subsequent Polish art-lovers, that monarch was deposed in 1795 before he had taken delivery of the pictures. As a result, there still is no really rich gallery of Old Masters in Poland (though there are some fine things, including a Leonardo in Krakow and the new John Paul II museum in Warsaw). On the other hand, also as a result, there is a world-class, would-be National Gallery on the suburban line out of Victoria, two stops after Brixton. It is that celebrated institution, Dulwich Picture Gallery, that has just reopened, refurbished and extend- ed by the architect Rick Mather.
This is not the biggest of the various new galleries and gallery extensions which are being revealed to the world this remarkable summer. As a matter of fact, the whole of Dulwich Picture Gallery could be placed in the Tate Modem Turbine Hall and pass for a largish installation by a contemporary sculptor. But any changes to this much loved and venerable place are of the great- est interest: this is, after all, as the publicity says, 'the most beautiful small art gallery in the world — Sunday Telegraph'. .1 realised, after reading this several times, that I had written those words myself. Even so, I think the statement is probably true (though it is also true that there are quite a few small art galleries in the world that I have not inspected, so you never know). The point about Dulwich was that it was not only — more or less — the first purpose-designed art gallery, but that it also remains the model, the perfect space, to this day. It is Dulwich, for example, that Louis Kahn looked at when designing the Kim- ball Art Museum in Fort Worth, as did Richard Meyer when planning the new Getty. Rather incongruously, there is a rack of Dulwich-style galleries inserted into Frank Gehry's extremely unclassical Guggenheim, Bilbao, in order to contain earlier works on display: the Picassos and Braques, the Rothkos and Pollocks. And What makes Dulwich so exemplary is not the exterior, but the inside.
Art galleries are functional places, and the function they perform is displaying works of art. Dulwich — with its overhead, natural lighting and succession of cool, uncluttered, marvelously proportioned rooms — provides an ideal environment for looking at pictures. (The installations, videos and massive, quasi-sculptural objects of contemporary art, require something dif- ferent, something more like Tate Modern.) The exterior, with its sober brickwork and restrained neo-classical touches, had an influence on 20th-century architecture, though it may have been a source of morti- fication to its creator, Sir John Soane, who originally intended something richer in effect. Soane had been nominated as archi- tect by Sir Francis Bourgeois, one of the two men who had been commissioned to put together the royal collection for Stanis- laus Augustus, the other being his friend Noel Desenfans.
In addition to stipulating Soane as archi- tect, Bourgeois's will also called for a mau- soleum to contain the remains of himself, his wife and Desenfans — thus giving Dul- wich its most engagingly weird feature (though, perhaps wisely, the gallery has not so far advertised itself as an ace mau- soleum with a very nice gallery attached). But funds did not allow Soane to execute all his ideas.
Originally Soane had envisaged a quad- rangle, rather than the isolated block that was finally built, and the exterior of the Gallery was at one point to be considerably more opulent, with a second tower to bal- ance the mausoleum. When in 1828 the Revd T.F. Dibdin published some highly unfavourable remarks (`Say what you please, and you cannot say anything so delightfully monstrous as the exterior in question'), Soane was stung.
In fact he was so stung that he had an elaborate composite picture painted by Joseph Gandy with views of the Gallery as built and, as intended, with some sharp remarks about Dibdin, 'liberal criticism', and 'the unshackled freedom of the press' (architects are still the keenest of all to shackle the freedom of the press). Rick Mather's additions in some ways go back to Soane's first ideas. The quadrangle, or part of it, has finally appeared as a dis- creet glazed structure containing a café, educational facilities and other depart- ments not obligatory when Dulwich initially opened to the public in 1817. Some of Soane's arches on the east façade, removed during alterations in the 20th century, have been partially reinstated.
Inside, although there has been a good deal of structural repair, everything seems much as it was — except that there is a look of spanking newness about the place. That has attracted a little unfavourable comment — after all a degree of pleasant dinginess used to be part of the charm of Dulwich. Now it has one of those polished wooden floors that are standard issue for modern art galleries (except Tate Modern, where the complaint is that they aren't pol- ished enough).
I don't think that the newness matters much; a few years of school parties will take the shine off the floor. I am much more concerned that the paintings them- selves shouldn't be overcleaned and end up horribly shiny and new looking. There has already been some overcleaning at Dul- wich, and I earnestly hope it won't continue.
With that proviso, the updating at Dul- wich seems elegant and discreet. Perhaps it will lead more people to pay a visit. When Dulwich first opened, well before the National Gallery, it was a sensation. Hazlitt, for example, wrote eloquently about the collection. But of late the impression has grown that Dulwich is an awkwardly remote spot.
At the opening dinner, one party claimed that it had taken an hour's hard driving to reach the place from Little Venice; a fellow critic I met on the train remarked nervous- ly that she always got lost on leaving West Dulwich station; and some believe that the only practicable way to reach Dulwich from central London is by taxi.
All this is much exaggerated. Trains leave Exterior of Dulwich Picture Gallery, by.1.M. Gandy, 1823 regularly from Victoria. The walk from the station is a brisk seven minutes and is well signposted. There is really no excuse not to visit this wonderful collection in its beauti- ful building. If it had gone to Warsaw instead, no doubt we would all now be hap- pily making pilgrimages to see it.
Previous page
