Exhibitions
CRANACH, ARTIST AND INNOVATOR
Compton Verney (temporarily closed due to the virus)
Philip Melanchthon, the Lutheran reformer and philosopher, graded the three greatest German 15th- and 16thcentury painters as genus grande (Dürer), genus mediocre (Grünewald) and genus humile (Cranach).
This did not mean that Cranach (1472-1553) was a humble man, or even a painter of low subjects, but his art was unambitious, especially when set against the aesthetic of Renaissance Italy.
In fact, he was extremely successful, both socially, being ennobled as court painter to the Electors of Saxony, and commercially, running a workshop and producing too much. There were many copies by his son and followers.
It is as well to have some understanding of the Reformation politics and religion – essentially the same thing – that formed his art. Cranach was a friend and passionate supporter of Luther, and his are the first true Protestant paintings. Most saints, other than the Apostles, were no longer acceptable subjects, and Mary was shown principally as a mother, rather than as the Queen of Heaven. Mythology replaced Catholic imagery, allowing for seductive nudity in the form of pagan goddesses.
These are among the first painted ladies, who attempt to seduce us directly as well as their companions in the pictures. Some of Cranach’s figures and portraits, especially the women, may seem a little naïve at first glance, but that is deceptive; they are full of strength and character.
The core of this show, organised in association with the National Gallery, is Compton Verney’s own Cranachs: a Venus and Cupid, the Portrait of Sigmund Kingsfelt and a Lot and His Daughters, together with loans from the NG and other national institutions. As usual nowadays, his influence on modern and contemporary artists is explored.
The Aubrey Beardsley exhibition at Tate Britain provoked irritation and hilarity by ‘woke’ labelling.
As a cutting found in my first edition of Salome shows, Victorian critics were less mealy-mouthed: ‘We noticed Mr Oscar Wilde’s Salome when it first appeared in the original French version. We have now to notice a fantastic and extraordinary volume entitled Salome: A Tragedy in One Act, translated from the French of Oscar Wilde; pictured by Aubrey Beardsley. The translation is the work of Lord Alfred Bruce Douglas [Oscar Wilde’s lover], as we learn from a dedication prefixed by the author.
‘To our thinking, this very unattractive tragedy is even less attractive in its English rendering than it was in the original French. As for the illustrations by Mr Aubrey Beardsley, we hardly know what to say.’