Tuesday, 15 December 2015

Europe 1600-1815; or, artefacts which make me feel feelings about history


The Victoria and Albert Museum has a new permanent exhibition about European cultural artefacts from 1600 to 1815. I went to see it today, and it was – how shall I put this – fantastic. While my devotion to the British Museum remains sincere and unalterable, there were displays here which made me glow with happiness, and I definitely intend to go again. (And again. Visitors to London, this is where I will be dragging you next.)

It is a large exhibition, with variation in both cultural origin and societal usage. We start with Napoleon in Egypt, move through the French Revolution to home decorations and local fashions throughout Europe (I particularly liked the Norwegian wooden tankards), a brief interlude in a Venetian masquerade (where they have a wii-like game in which you can dance with a harlequin – I would have tried, but there was a group of very enthusiastic old ladies before me. NEXT TIME.), to neo-classicism, literary salons, and Louis XIV, finishing with some lovely Berninis.

There were several pieces I loved. Cutlery with slogans from the French Revolution was a delight, and I made a special point of checking if the gift shop had any modern replicas for sale (they did not). Which is a shame, because  I would have bought them and gleefully used them. But I also appreciated the curation here; it is one thing to know that political events influenced the production of goods, and quite another to have those goods presented in their original context. Not only was there information about when and where they were made, but it was also clear that there were competing production lines for different political affiliations, pro-king and pro-revolution, and that this was a way to demonstrate your views. As well as to manufacture and sell a brand. One thing I would have liked to see was more information about who owned these particular objects. I appreciate that space is limited and that provenance is not always available, but it would have been interesting to know who bought a mug with Louis XVI hugging his family goodbye.


© Victoria and Albert Museum, London


Another favourite was an eighteenth-century French tray for salon board games, in which players travel from meeting to friendship and love (or acquaintance, or apathy, or contempt). Last year I attended an evening of French salon games at the Warburg Institute, and this game was one of the options offered (We were also invited to make our own. I don’t remember what I put in mine but I remember enjoying it immensely, which is slightly ominous in retrospect). The whole evening was highly entertaining; we played a memory game involving tragic sighs, attached beauty spots to interesting places, and told romantic stories competitively (I won). The lady who had organised the event mentioned that she was interested in arranging something similar as an evening at the V&A – perhaps she knew they had an original board – but I’ve not heard of any such things happening. It would, I think, be a draw. Certainly I would draw all my friends in.

The last part of the exhibition which I will particularly mention (I have saved some for next time, because there were so many delightful things) is the inclusion of three small rooms: a mirrored room from Lombardy, the cabinet of a Parisian noblewoman from 1778, and an interior with wood panelling and classical motifs. These were gorgeous, and inspired the aforementioned glow, because they showed not only the objects and the decorations, but also how they may have looked in their original context and, moreover, how they would have been used. The mirrored room has a harp; I knew that ladies in the eighteenth century played music, but this showed me where they might have performed, what kind of an instrument they might have used, what they could have looked at while they played. Or, I knew that ladies had closets in which they retired to read and write (Samuel Richardson’s novels are full of ladies with private closets, and are ostensibly mostly written in them), but I hadn’t realised what one such room might look like: a fireplace, a few chairs for receiving visitors, decorated walls so that she would have something pleasant to look at as she read. In both cases, we get a sense of what it would have been like to occupy that space. And that, as an imaginative endeavour, was both fascinating and highly enjoyable.

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