Exhibitions
The Model Modern Art Gallery (Pallant House, Chichester, till 11 October)
Small is beautiful
Andrew Lambirth
In 1934, a man who was both art patron and art dealer, decided to do something different. His name was Sydney Burney and what he wanted was to design a Model Modern Art Gallery.
The idea came from a desire to raise funds for the blind, and Mr Burney's par- ticular solution was to create a mini muse- um in which mini works of art by artists of the day should be exhibited. The result, a scale model interior stocked with little pic- tures and little sculptures, would be placed on public display. Not one to hold back, Mr Burney approached leading contemporary artists, and persuaded them to contribute to his scheme. Some names are bigger than others now, but the mere fact that he man- aged to persuade the likes of Paul Nash, Henry Moore, Augustus John and Barbara Hepworth to contribute work speaks not only for his personal taste, but for his con- siderable diplomatic skills.
If you had the choice, who would you put in your doll's-house art gallery? Well, Syd- ney Burney cast his net wide and managed to snare a remarkable and diverse collec- tion. It was difficult enough to get the right names, but to ask them to produce minia- tures? Hardly anyone had done this kind of art seriously since the 18th century. But this was a project with a guiding force that ensured it was done. The result? A minor masterpiece. Of the 34 works of art origi- nally commissioned and installed (at Chesterfield House in Mayfair), 23 are now on show at Pallant House in Chichester, supplemented by two close substitutes. Some have been lost, but most were redis- covered recently and fortuitously by the retiring curator of Pallant House, David Coke. He has assembled the remaining col- lection in an elegant display which echoes the original enchantingly.
In two show cases the survivors of the 34 Gallery, as it was known, have been installed in a reconstruction of the Gallery made from a couple of photographs of the original published in the Illustrated London News. (The architect of that original was Marshall Sisson.) The result is a little like a theatre model, but because the scale is so carefully maintained (one and a half inches to the foot), the pictures and sculptures look life size; impressive, if not monumen- tal. The pine floors, white walls with white pilasters, and miniature furniture complete the illusion. The plinths for the sculptures have been newly made. By a rich coinci- dence, the Pallant House gallery in which the exhibition is mounted was itself built in 1934.
The key painting, the gem of the collec- tion, is by Ivon Hitchens, a gorgeous abstracted still-life arrangement in pale greens and mauves, ignited by a near cen- tral outcrop of orange. Called 'Spring Mood', it is apparently effortless, a fine example of an artist responding brilliantly to the restrictions of size without being hampered in spirit. There's a brisk but gen- tle little pastoral of Cumberland by Ray- mond Coxon. (The last survivor of the exhibitors, sadly he died earlier this year aged 100.) Less familiar names such as John Cooper, Vera Cunningham (once a mistress of Matthew Smith) and Florence Englebach turn in creditable performances. There's a pawky but not unsubtle frippery by Augustus John.
One of the finest of the other paintings is a slightly surreal pinky abstract in tempera by Edward Wadsworth. It compares very favourably with the best S.W. Hayter, a composition based on the theme of Leda, made from sculpted board, collage and oil paint. If one had to choose between the two Paul Nash paintings, the miniature early version of 'Objects in Relation' is the `Still Life' by Duncan Grant clear favourite. A dream-like marine scene of embedded anchor and beached boats by Tristram Hillier completes the abstract/sur- realist quorum. A terrific holed reclining figure carved out of the lead-like African wonderstone by Henry Moore sits well beside a loaned Hepworth alabaster of a mother and child. Two sculptures by John Skeaping (Hepworth's first husband) demonstrate just how good he was early on. One depicts a torso in ironstone, the other an ascendant seabird in fragile Cor- .nish Serpentine.
What happened when the show ended? Ben Nicholson and Barbara Hepworth, grand even then, demanded the return of their works. (The two miniature Nicholsons are among the nine untraced items.) One sculpture, a relatively fragile terracotta by Frank Dobson, was played with a little too roughly by the children of the house, and then thrown away as broken. The bulk of the collection was stored in an old suitcase, only now to see the light of day once more. It was a lovely idea and a substantial achievement and it's to be hoped that Pal- lant House will eventually be able to acquire the collection and keep it on per- manent display.
By Cedric Morris there is a red-legged French partridge, tilted slightly against a mountainous background, and with an uncertain grip on the world. Morris was one of the earliest teachers of Maggi Ram- bling (born 1945), who is one of the 30 artists exhibiting in the companion show at Pallant House, Eight by Eight. The title refers to the maximum dimensions of the art works involved, a show of small pieces by contemporary artists to complement Mr Bumey's extravaganza. Again there is a mix of the known and the less-known. Ram- bling shows three watercolour and ink com- binations on the subject of fire. Pink and grey, Indian red and black, their delicate flickering tracery is oriental and calligraph- ic. An unusual and compelling departure for this artist. Sculptor David Nash con- tributes a satisfyingly rough-hewn oak box entitled 'Cut Corners Block'. The redoubtable Beryl Cook offers a typical genre scene with literally popping eyeballs called 'Hello Dearie'. A trio of dark moody post-Cubist paintings by Anthony Whishaw complement two geometrical wooden tableaux by Michael Kenny.
The multi-talented Tom Phillips turns his hand to sculpture, contributing 11 pieces from the 'Game of Silence'. This is Phillips in Indian mode: the tiny green or brown bronzes depicting phallic totems, ziggurats or enclosed globes. A glass dice sits in a bronze cage. Elsewhere are six pairs of gold-leafed double-doors by Derek Hirst, a clutch of Mary Fedden still-lifes and three typically mystic Alan Davie paintings. Peter Blake's daringly loose copy of Velasquez's portrait of Pope Innocent X adds a satiric touch. Both these rewarding shows demon- strate that, as the old saying should go, scale is more important than size.
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