Saints, Sinners, Lovers, and Fools: 300 Years of Flemish Masterworks
I liked this exhibition. Really. I did. I felt art history nostalgia from my Medieval and Renaissance Art classes at college. To be fair (and humble), I wouldn’t call myself an art connoisseur, far from that. Still, I enjoy the occasional (free) visit to museums, Maisons de la culture, and other cultural centers holding more or less timely exhibitions. Oh, to be young, wild, and free (and a student under 25 residing in the city)!
On a superficial level, I appreciated the exhibition’s organization in sections with a common theme and aesthetic. Not only did it make it easy for visitors to move around admiring the Flemish artworks, but it transported them, as though every time they entered a different room, they were entering a new portal to learn about a part of this historical period. The colour-coding sequence of each room added to this immersive experience; namely, the red room showed vivid scenes rich in propaganda and war imagery and its impact on art.
The plastic language and formal elements of the featured artworks highlight the skillful mastery of Flemish artists. From portraiture to still life, it is with astounding realism and attention to even the most diminutive details that artists employ their brushes and palettes to create the naturalistic textures with appropriate and modelling of faces, as light appears to hit them from one side while shading the other. The lusciousness of fruit plates, like strawberries, apples, and grapes, also employed the same techniques. The stark realism in these representations of every day realities was delightful to experience. There was a clear difference between animal fur and feathers; their depictions do much justice to their real-life counterparts.
Further description of formal elements and details in the varied selection of artworks demonstrate the intricate composition common among them. With astounding meticulousness and unparalleled naturalism, Flemish masters depict even the most insignificant puffs of smoke coming out of chimneys or in the background of some tableau to signal conflict at the horizon.
Every detail matters: the artists’ goal is to transform these artworks into immersive experiences in their own right and mimic the same depth and colour palette. An example of this prowess is the architectural depth of the interior of a cathedral building, whose pointed arches seem to be directing the viewer inside the painting. Its walls seemed naturalistic due to the skillful amalgamation of architectural accuracy, shading and modelling, and a naturalistic colour palette. The authenticity achieved intends to defy the viewers’ perception of reality and show the artist’s prowess and feat in accomplishing the desired effect; in fact, most showcased artworks aim at doing the latter. A concrete example of this artistic “flexing,” prideful but not unfounded, is the large painting showcasing various other paintings and portraits depicted inside, demonstrating acute attention to detail and a superb mastery of perspective, all to glorify artistic efforts and deployment through this large, ingenious meta painting.
Visiting the exhibition was a moment of reminiscence about the knowledge I gained about the Northern Renaissance from my Art History lessons; for instance, the use of oil painting instead of tempera produced the highly sought-after glazed effect of peoples’ faces in portraits, and the use of intuitive perspective (alongside its linear counterpart) is also a Flemish innovation. From scientific knowledge to integrated architectural elements similar to the tradition of the Gothic cathedral, the Flemish School shows unquestioned mastery of their craft.
Their landscapes transport me, their still lifes entice me, their triptychs stand tall on clothed tables, recreating religious imagery of altarpieces on their altars with nothing left to faith (pun intended), every detail conveys part of the story. The result of conjoined efforts from artists, donors, and curators transcends generations to offer a colourful, universal experience. This exhibition defines art as a teller of history through paintings.
Perhaps a visual proof of this humane interconnectedness is in the humanized portraiture in its depiction of important figures by which the personalities of both artists and models show through the characterized stillness of the facade; of course, seeing the various tableaux was almost like gazing at real-life individuals with quirks, mannerisms, and vécus of their own. The rich array of silly facial expressions also expresses the characters’ intents and emotions in the various paintings depicting folly, sin, and overall silliness. Rubens’ Sailor and Woman Embracing illustrates with utmost clarity and soundness the primal lustfulness in the man’s piercing gaze, creating an implied line to the woman who seems to be standing there, uncomfortable, half-smiling at the viewer, maybe calling out for help, not sure of what to do in the sailor’s arms, which hold her in a tight, firm embrace, not budging, not letting her go.
The exaggerated facial expressions make me laugh, especially the intensity of the sailor’s gaze, and yet, there is a moral seriousness behind the apparent silliness portrayed in the commonplace occurrence of a comedic, unassorted couple: this scene is still relevant in contemporary society when talking about consent and women’s rights, specifically through the ambiguity by which the woman conveys her true feelings through a socially (and physically) limited position, finding the adequate response, the nuanced facial expression that shows restraint and masks her true self, so as not to “offend” but not “arouse” the sailor either. Rubens’ purposeful ambiguity in the complexity of human facial expressions astutely leaves the painting open to interpretation of the couple’s story and ending. And yet, one thing remains true about the woman and the sailor: their feelings transcend eras.
If I found so many things delightful in this exhibition, why did I start this article in the manner I did? To refer back to my first line, “I liked this exhibition. Really. I did.” And I’ll repeat it as many times as possible, perhaps to emphasize an insisting tone, to ensure readers that I am telling the truth about the impressions this exhibition left on me, that is before I begin to criticize it.
Maybe I’m being overly nitpicky, but there is one thing I did not like about it. Among the rich and diverse curated artworks, from painting to sculpture, the humane, naturalistic depictions of portraits and landscapes give a sense of realism, depth, movement, perspective, characterization, expression, and emotional complexity. However, the value of the transcending human condition, most notable in the selection of humanized portraiture and human vices, betrays itself, as the words “colonial exploits” resound not once but twice in the press kit.
Here are some quotes:
“[Around] 1450 – 1750, the world became increasingly connected through trade, travel and colonial exploits, laying the foundations for our modern globalized society.” (MMFA 9)
“This period saw significant advancements in medicine, botany and geography, which, in turn, shaped the way artists represented nature and the body. Europeans also looked to their ancient past to make sense of the remote, non-Christian civilizations they encountered through global trade and colonial exploits. Then (as now), art, science, technology and politics were closely intertwined” (MMFA 13).
“In the sixteenth century, the bustling port city of Antwerp became a main distribution centre for the Spanish and Portuguese as they expanded their colonial holdings across five continents. Precious metals, spices, sugar and textiles [worldwide] were processed and exported from Antwerp. This global economy, which relied heavily on enslaved labour, generated immense wealth for Antwerp and spurred major developments in banking, industrial manufacturing and the arts” (MMFA 14).
“War ravaged Europe in the late 1500s. The conflict between the Netherlands and Spain began in 1568 and went on for eighty years of bloodshed, looting and destruction.” (MMFA 14).
From an academic and historical point of view, “colonial exploits” could be inaccurate. “Exploits” highlight the exploitation and instrumentalization of people under colonialism, but the word employed as a noun could also mean “a bold and daring feat.” While these words do characterize colonialism, they do so through colonial perspectives, serving as a euphemism for the actual reality of colonization. What “exploits” are there to celebrate? And yet, the way these “colonial exploits” are presented highlights increasing globalization, wealth, and trade. Even the French translation merely talks about “les explorations coloniales.” What about the whole story?
One glance at colonial history (Heart of Darkness, residential schools, experiments in the name of science, anyone?) is enough to understand that there is sheer exploitation in “bloodshed, looting and destruction.” People ought to know the entirety of the story about the provenance of the wealth and progress from where these artworks came to be. Instead, “colonial exploits” or “les explorations coloniales” are at the forefront to “enlighten” visitors about the socio-historical context of the exhibition. Aren’t museums supposed to be disseminators of knowledge in the form of history, arts, and culture? Isn’t this an example of gatekeeping instead of providing said knowledge? I concede there is a partial acknowledgement of this reality through the recognition of “colonial holdings” and “enslaved labour.” Yet, we are still “making sense of the remote, non-Christian civilizations.”
Furthermore, the usage of expressions like “colonial exploits,” “colonial holdings,” “enslaved labour,” and “remote, non-Christian civilizations.” depersonalizes the experiences of the actual human beings who still suffer under colonial rule with an iron fist. The dominant narrative that ensues is that of the Western world and its rule, without little concern for the ethical implications of this mass dehumanization. As much as they are misleading in terms of the information they carry and withhold, the connotations present in such diction do not fully acknowledge the “years of bloodshed, looting and destruction,” which were (are) more horrendous than “the conflict between the Netherlands and Spain” for the sole reason that its consequences are still relevant today (neocolonialism who?) Ironically, while the portraits and paintings described thus far are humane, “enslaved labour,” the depersonalized language used to refer to it, isn’t. Why are people objectified and lumped together under the homogeneity of “labour?” What about their lived experiences? Where are the people, and whatever happened to that word?
I know: I’m being nitpicky; Most people don’t even notice nor care; I’m obsessing over tiny details and expressions scattered here and there, but the words we use reinforce or challenge long-held narratives: they define how we conceptualize concrete and abstract realities. Words are what we use to ascribe meanings to the world around us. Besides, public infrastructures, such as museums, hold partial responsibility for transferring cultural and historical knowledge — all of it, even the most unbecoming — to shape how citizens think and facet their reality. Or is the purpose of the exhibition to show the superficial nature of humanity as it spends its time hoarding cultural wealth in the form of lavish paintings and prideful portraiture meant to inflate the egos of its models, all of it mere celebratory ostentation of the extravagance resulting from even more extravagance in the form of generous donations in the present and “enslaved labour” in the past? What should the viewer make of the materialistic worldview, of the pride and greed present in every brushstroke?
Would this mean that the definition of this so-called human nature, transcendent of time and space, only applies to a select group of people? Would this imply that universal is synonymous with Eurocentric? And what can we do to change that? What must we do to make justice a universal reality instead of an exclusivist ideal? The 21st century is an inclusive era when decolonizing museums and returning stolen artifacts is part of the global conversation as one of the many repairs owed by Europe to more than half of the world population in a post-colonial climate of (hopefully sooner than later) equality. I thus find it interesting to raise similar questions and see what answers people come up with.
Saints, Sinners, Lovers, and Fools: 300 Years of Flemish Masterworks is on at the Museum of Fine Arts (1380 Sherbrooke St O) until October 20, 2024. Information about the exhibition can be found HERE.
