Art
Many happy returns
Evan Anthony
It doesn't take long for any perceptive art reviewer to realise that he shouldn't take on the job expecting it to earn him the respect, admiration or envy of friends that, say, a film or theatre man easily commands as his due. Fat chance that an art critic will get to anything as exciting as the premiere of a significant creation like The Godfather or Jesus Christ Superstar. I was thus surprised and delighted this past weekend, when the phone never stopped ringing, with just about everyone I've ever known dying to know, "Is The Age of IV eo-Classicism exhibition at the Royal Academy and the Victoria and Albert Museum really as fantastic as we've been reading it is?" Who says there isn't an artgoing public waiting to be whipped into a frenzy? And, actually, yes — it isn't at all a bad little show. Thus far, though I must confess I've only skimmed through it, I've found just one mistake in the 1,000-page catalogue; and I'm willing to be more Charitable than the lady from Osterley Park House (where a subsidiary exhibition IS on view), who rapped gently on No 1,910, and triumphantly reported that the German cast-iron table with marble top (as listed) was really only marbled. I suppose every age has its lesser pieces.
Marbled table apart, 'overwhelming' seems a fair and modest enough adjective to use in describing the total effect of Asits to the RA and V and A. It could well take from now until November 19, when The exhibition closes, to digest the wealth Of information aril aesthetic delights encompassed by tht almost-2,000 neo-classical items. This fine celebration of a Olden age of creativity makes it seem even more regrettable and bizarre that that (loomed country mansion of the neo-clasical period, Grange Park, seems to be 'leaded for the knacker's yard. The name — The Age of Neo-Chussicism aptly conveys what the international organisers had in mind while preparing this treat for historians and indefatigable "archers after things of beauty and joys L°rever. With wrist-straining catalogue in '1,4W to guide you, you will be made privy `.0 an exceptional re-creation of a time 1:vben artists, philosophers and politicians Joined to exert an influence over a liferstYle that would last a century and be felt 1°rever more.
Hugh Honour's general introduction and u..ther essays contributed by distinguished '?holars provide a mini-course in neo-clas sicism which should greatly help those with failing memories to grasp the significance of the design of the exhibition and to feel more secure while wandering through the Academy's labyrinth of galleries and the complexities of the period. A return to the classical tradition meant more than simply the aping of the past. The search for truth, purity, nobility and honesty is an admirable enough aim for any age and by the mid-eighteenth century, with a rococo heritage, it was not too surprising that the rejection of that highly decorative art resulted in an almost overzealous concern with a return to the truth of the laws of nature. And so began a period of "sharp action and innovation" ripening into an era of "response and reflection." Hugh Honour reasonably suggests that " Neo-classicism deserves to be judged by its own high standards, by its beliefs rather than the internal conflicts they imply, by its aims and achievements rather than its outcome, by its masterpieces rather than later deviations from them."
Happily, the masterpieces are ample — David's Death of Marat; Houdon's bust of Jefferson; Ingres's Torso of a Man 1800; David's Cupid and Psyche 1817, with Cupid's classically painted body supporting a very contemporary youth's grinning face; Greuze's The Drunkard's Return with the faces of the wife and children suitable for use on coins while the husband looks a character from a morality play; Benjamin West's magnificent The Death of Wolfe 1770, looking at once heroic and romantic; Canova, Fuseli, Piranesi, Winckelmann, Goya (just to drop a few extra names).
At the V and A the rooms are beautifully laid out, elegantly furnished: tapestries, wallpaper, the baby bed of the King of Rome, late-eighteenth-century Wedgwood pieces, an early nineteenth-century table with birdcage and fishbowl housing real live 1972 birds and fish (they never had it so good), bookbindings, medals, a candelabrum lent by HM the Queen, dinner services. Not the least remarkable thing about this exhibition is its international nature; it is clearly shown that neo-classicism spread throughout Europe and North America. The Arts Council has done a first-rate job in co-ordinating the organisation of the show. One can almost forgive them little foolishnesses like that 'New Art' at the Hayward.
And speaking of foolishness, if I had £3,000 to squander and the life-style to go with it, I might be recklessly tempted to spend it on one of Allen Jones's paletteshaped tables, capably supported by a bare-breasted young lady on her hands and knees, outfitted in leather gloves, cap, boots and panties. But then, would I hate myself in the morning, and what's the resale value? While Jones's large, brightlycoloured, empty canvases can amuse and engage the interest for at least two minutes, there is something suspiciously facile and single-minded about the fantasies he inspires. The work is very much in vogue — it must be, otherwise the Marlborough Fine Art, Old Bond Street, wouldn't be bothering to show it — and I shall have to examine more thoroughly my sense of outrage at the prices asked.
To get back to serious matters: at the Tate, Caspar David Friedrich's Romantic Landscape Painting in Dresden (1774-1840) is an example of work by an original talent resisting the neo-classicist movement with some passion. It is a sexless passion, manifested in the use of deep and vivid purples and the transposing of recognisable bits of fandscape to compose a painting that suited his romantic moodiness. The skies threaten; cloud formations and mists are shamelessly dramatic. They are pictures that, prettied up, could appear on biscuit tins; but when they succeed, my, my — how easy to succumb.
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