Exhibitions
Art in the 18th century: The Glory of Venice (Royal Academy, till 14 December)
Frothy fare
Giles Auty
There is a widely held view that while the 16th, 17th and 19th centuries were peri- ods of the highest achievement in the visual arts, the 18th century belongs, above all, to great music. Goya, Chardin and Gainsbor- ough are possibly my favourite painters of the 18th century, although the first reserved many of his finer productions for the 19th. Yet somehow none typifies the prevailing spirit of the century as signally as Watteau, Boucher or Giambattista Tiepolo. The 18th century brought resplendent architecture 111 Austria, Bohemia and southern Germany especially, much of it of an ecclesiastical or regal nature, while in France and Britain lesser nobility continued to build magnifi- cent rural retreats. The century of the Age of Reason was also that of the Rococo and of two world-changing revolution's. The major fault of 18th-century Venetian painting is not just that it compares unfavourably with Venetian art of the late 15th and 16th centuries — Bellini, Titian, Veronese — since these were periods of all-but incomparable achievement in paint- ing, but that an overall lightening of mood brought concomitant lessening of intensity and interest. Too much of the art of The Glory of Venice is essentially grand confec- tion, much of it magnificent decoration for the palaces of the powerful in pre-revolu- tionary Europe. But one is never stopped in one's tracks as by late Titian, Caravag- gio, Rubens, Rembrandt, Velazquez or Vermeer. There is too much which is frothy and extravagant and too little which is sober and essentially humane — for my taste, at least. I pray I am not a puritan in this and yield to none in my admiration for the aerial flamboyance of Giambattista Tiepolo, a genius of theatrical extrava- gance. Few would decry the extraordinary force of his 'Martyrdom of St Agatha' c. 1755, yet elsewhere pathos rules a little too often in spite of the artist's incomparable inventiveness.
Here is an immense exhibition which moves on next year to the National Gallery of Art in Washington. Having returned recently from Australia, I am conscious especially of the great privilege enjoyed by north Europeans and Americans in having frequent access to survey exhibitions of this kind. As sheer spectacle any exhibition built around the art of painters such as Giambattista Tiepolo, Canaletto, Piranesi and the sculptor Canova can hardly be faulted. Yet by the time I had come to the end of it, I felt grateful for the cooler and less rich productions of Canaletto's nephew Bernardo Bellotto who brought much of the great Venetian scene painter's tech- nique to cities of northern Europe apart from London, which was his uncle's pre- serve. Even Bellotto's view of Verona, a neighbouring city to Venice, is infused with a cooler and darker light. 'Moat of the Zwinger in Dresden' and 'The Fortress of Konigstein' may even be said to be tinged with northern melancholia yet, after the over-heated fare of the sun-drenched views, bronzed bosoms, and roseate robes, the relief of these paintings is as good as a plunge in a pool.
It is hard to explain adequately why ostensibly cheerful paintings such as Anto- nio Guardi's `Erminia and the Shepherds' or his brother Francesco Guardi's 'Isola della Madonetta in the Lagoon of Venice' tend to give me serious pip. Far from antic- ipating Impressionism or Whistler, they seem to me to foreshadow something rather more formulaic and regrettable. The brothers Guardi never achieved interna- tional reputations in their lifetimes, largely remaining parochial providers for a provin- cial patronage. To compare even their best work with Canaletto's 'The Bacino of S. Marco: looking East' seems little short of sacrilege. Canaletto's command of light, space and credible pictorial unity in this picture is extraordinary, but I fear we have entered an age now when understanding of such aesthetic skills may be dying fast. Per- haps the Guardis are admired by some of the more sociologically-minded today sim- ply because they supplied a wider circle of people than the patrons of Canaletto with affordable art. Continued enthusiasm for productions such as Francesco Guardi's `Capriccio with an Arch in Ruin' from the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York seems hard to explain otherwise.
That the making of art was often a family business in the 18th century is emphasised also by 20 works produced by Giambattista Tiepolo's two sons, Domenico and Loren- zo. Yet neither approached the distinction of the father who remains one of the more Rinaldo and Armida in her Garden, by Giambattista Tiepolo remarkable artists of the 18th century. To complain that a survey such as this is padded with second-rate works just to bol- ster its size may seem impolite to its organisers who will probably claim histori- cal breadth as a basis for many of their inclusions. In such a context, it would be a brave man today who breathed the name of Rosalba Carriera, a rare female incur- sor into the ranks of 18th-century por- traitists. In fact, Rosalba distinguished herself, rather more than purely by gen- der, through the occasional penetration yet sympathy of her pictorial insights, although the extent of her acclaim in her lifetime can hardly but amaze.
One of the more rewarding aspects of looking at art lies in learning to discrimi- nate between different levels of artistic skill, vision, inspiration and even genius. Why was Claude Lorrain a genius while his successor Francesco Zuccarelli, who is well represented in this exhibition, always remained something less? At one time, any degree of connoisseurship depended on the ability to explain such differences. How much will the average viewer derive from the experience through art of an age of privilege and patronage that must seem to him now all but prehistoric? I know lit- tle of the antecedents of this show but sus- pect that the tremendous success at the Royal Academy in 1983 of The Genius of Venice, which dealt with the Venetian art of a century and more earlier, may have had some influence. Will those with good visual memories compare the one with the other and ponder, as I think they should, why so much genius leaked away to be replaced largely with a slightly tainted hedonism and Baroque excess? The Glory of Venice is a sumptuous feast but an unbalanced diet which could lead to indigestion.
Among entertaining exhibitions which have opened in my absence I recommend Patrick Hughes's Retrospectives at Flowers East (199-205, Richmond Road, E8), inge- nious optical illusions in painted relief that can have rather a similar temporary effect on one's balance to flying from Melbourne to Tasmania on a stormy night in an air- craft of modest dimensions. Hughes's cheerful interiors of libraries and art gal- leries affect eyes rather than ears but are quite capable of inducing a state not unakin to mal de mer. They are worked out cleverly and handsomely put together, often with additional artistic wit, making reference to well-known paintings by Edward Hopper and others. Are these the ultimate executive toys or an intriguing new art form? Like many of the works at The Spectator Cartoon Exhibition at Alfred Dunhill (30 Duke Street, St James's, SW1) they can lay serious claims to being excel- lent art as well as worthy entertainment. As is ever the way with jokes, those in car- toons depend heavily on the telling. Some of our graphic raconteurs do a very good job.
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