Michael Savage
posted 17 January 2006

This is what exhibitions ought to be, although I don't recommend that you go. It is a small show of superficially very similar paintings, all portraits done in a similar style by the same artist. The appeal is in technical minutiae of conservation, dating and attribution. Of course, I loved it. But I am a pretentious geek with a penchant for the Northern Renaissance. This show isn't meant for everyone.

The Frick has taken some notable risks in putting on rather obscure exhibitions, not all of which have been successful. Since loans are typically reciprocal, and none of Frick's original bequest can be lent, it has never been able to put on the biggest crowd-pulling exhibitions. It's just as well, since the gallery is so small.

The exhibition itself is perplexing. Memling has been the subject of an exemplary recent monograph by Dirk de Vos, but it is clear that this book hasn't resolved the problems around this early Bruges master. The differences of style and particularly of quality make it difficult to accept that all are by Memling. To some extent this is due to different states of preservation - some are better preserved. But that does not account for all of the variation.

The sublime brilliance of, say, the 'Portrait of a Man' in Washington, compared to the horrid Montreal 'Portrait of a Young Man', is hard to accept as the same artist. Some artists are variable, but many of the details of physiognomy are depicted very differently. For example, the ear of 'Tommaso Portinari' (not in the exhibition, but nearby at the Metropolitan Museum of Art) is convincingly articulated. The 'Fragment of a Male Portrait' has a single lobe jutting out, as if the artist knew there ought to be something there, but couldn't quite say what. De Vos accepts this travesty as a Memling, noting that the awkward shading might be a later addition. The catalogue accepts this attribution, but the exhibition should be an opportunity to reject this nonsense.

Most intriguing is the Jacob Obrecht, which is dated 1496 - after Memling's death in 1494. It is one of the best paintings in the exhibition, but it cannot be by Memling. De Vos speculated that it might have been left unfinished at Memling's death and completed by a student, but the two year gap should prompt more thought about the circle of artists around Memling. The variation in quality might be explained if we posit the existence of some other talented - but anonymous - artists close to Memling. The exhibition ducks the question by assigning it to his school, without pausing to consider what this might mean for the attribution of the other portraits.

In the early twentieth century there was a trend towards identifying anonymous masters by collecting works under assumed names, 'Master of …', typically named after a particular painting. Many of these have stuck, and some have even been identified with specific named artists. But others were spurious, and there has been a reluctance to upset things too much in recent monographs. Another reason is that the kind of meticulous scholarship that sorted out autograph works from related works is now passé, and perhaps few scholars have the requisite technical expertise.

The catalogue is timid in its respect for established attributions. It is a substantial book, with a series of valuable essays, good entries on the paintings, and superb reproductions. Whilst a major work of scholarship in its own right, there are two problems with this sort of catalogue. First, when much of the best art historical research is now presented in exhibition catalogues, it means that paintings excluded from exhibitions are neglected by scholarship, primarily those too fragile to lend (which excludes most larger works), but also those that cannot be lent under the terms of bequests. Our view, already limited by the vagaries of survival, is thus further distorted.

Second, it is too definitive - it sets out in advance answers to the questions that the exhibition should be addressing. There seems to be a desire to be definitive, and a fear of uncertainty in exhibiting today. Attributions are generally advanced with confidence - no question marks or qualifications are allowed. It is quite reasonably assumed that most visitors are uninterested in these details. But an exhibition such as this should be an opportunity to parade ignorance and uncertainty, to invite consideration and debate that is necessarily excluded from more permanent displays. Instead, they divide the world into professionals on the inside and a public in need of constant assurance and encouragement on the outside - the middle ground of informed, motivated and interested amateurs has largely been squeezed out. It's especially sad because this is exactly the audience that the Frick's idiosyncrasies appeal to.

Exhibition over.