Now comes "Copper as Canvas: Two Centuries of Masterpiece Paintings on Copper, 1575-1775."
This sensational exhibition of a little-examined area of "Old Masters" art should attract anyone who loves great painting. Though it lacks the popular Indiana-Jones appeal of Egyptian tomb furnishings, its ambitious scope and scholarship--a weighty catalogue is due out in February--make it an even greater milestone for the museum.
The show's 87 paintings come from some of the world's more notable museums and private collections. The works are from such renowned artists as Frans Hals, El Greco, Rembrandt, Chardin and Jan Brueghel the Elder. And there's a great mix here of lesser and little-known artists--all from Europe and North and South America--who excelled at the demanding craft and near-miniature scale of painting on copper.
It would be foolish to think this is the first serious or important exhibition Phoenix Art Musuem has undertaken in its nearly 40-year history. Its previous exhibitions of Frank Lloyd Wright's drawings, Diego Rivera's cubist paintings, 18th-century Chinese paintings and Victorian works from John Ruskin's era came with similar cultural heft. However, "Copper as Canvas" is a rare convergence of topnotch images, curation and institutional collaborators. The fact that it sits down the hall from the Egyptian show bolsters the notion that PAM is evolving into one of the premier art museums in the Southwest.
The exhibition was organized by PAM's chief curator, Michael Komanecky, with the cooperation of the Nelson Atkins Museum in Kansas City and the Royal Cabinet of Paintings at Mauritshuis in the Hague--both of which will host the show after it leaves Phoenix.
Komanecky says artists working in Florence, Parma and Rome popularized the use of copper around the 1530s. From there the practice spread to northern Europe with artists who had studied in Italy.
It isn't difficult to understand why, for some painters, copper was king. The colors in these works have a jewel-like detailing and intensity that simply can't be achieved in paintings on canvas or wood panels--the two other surfaces most often used by artists in the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries.
Part of that is due to the difference between the surface texture of copper and that of the other materials. Early in the exhibition, two displays comparing the look of paintings on these varied surfaces reveal what a clumsy partner the weave of fabric and grain of wood could be in a dance with paint.
What's clear is that flat copper plates--similar to ones used to create engravings--enabled artists to achieve surfaces that were startlingly smooth and serene.
Komanecky says that initially the smoothness of the plates posed some technical difficulties. Oil paint often flaked off the slick sheets. So, artists learned to abrade them with pumice or ash, and found that garlic helped to degrease the copper and give it the necessary tooth to hold paint.
A few artists here--most notably Rembrandt and Hals--experimented with the heavier, more expressive brush strokes favored by later centuries of artists and collectors. However, most of the painters built their images on copper out of gossamer layers of pigment.
If modern painting lives on the surface, the reality of these works appears to exist beneath it. Copper provided an ideal ground to accentuate the extraordinary post-Renaissance illusion of people, animals, things, vistas and spaces inside the painting.
Christian Seybold's "Portrait of an Old Woman," is one of the more breathtaking examples. It's painted with a clarity and delicacy that seem to transform the pigment into the very stuff of life. The fur stole around the woman's neck has a softness that practically tickles. And the face itself appears real enough to fog a mirror. Godfried Schalcken's dual portraits of his wife and himself have a similar though more distant hyper-reality.
Komanecky says the highly refined surfaces and details of many of the show's paintings can be traced to tricks of the craft. Instead of using brushes, for instance, which leave discernible surface strokes, some artists relied on feathers, fingers or the palm of a hand to apply a smooth base layer of color.
Still, the most compelling trick is optical. The reflection of light off the copper and back through the transparent layers of paint gives these works a glow and bigness that belie their relatively small size--often no larger than the screen of a lap-top computer.
Paintings on copper were a showoff medium of virtuoso performances in paint. And not only for the painters. Their refinement and portability made them prized possessions of wealthy, influential collectors, who often kept them in cabinets and brought them out for friends to ogle and pass around. Many of these works were made at a time when the spread of books and bookmaking technology--particularly in northern Europe--was freeing artists from having to paint Christian liturgy. Yet papal patronage continued to keep Christ in the picture. Moreover, copper clearly added some zip to the appearance of holy light that biblical scenes required.
Whether you're looking at Denys Calvaert's "Flight into Egypt" or Guercino's "Dead Christ Mourned by Two Angels," you can't help but see the bond these artists must have sensed between the miracle of light and the idea of holy creation.
Adam Elsheimer's "Stoning of St. Stephen" is one of the real gems in this show. Elsheimer was a painter's painter whose works were owned by the likes of the great painter Peter Paul Rubens. Given the caliber of the one here, it's little wonder. Though not much larger than a notebook, it is an immense work with modern resonance.
There's the wounded saint--oddly enough the patron saint of stonemasons--on his knees, blood streaming from a gash in his head. And there are his tormenters, stones raised in their hands to finish him off. It could easily be the scene of Reginald Denny's beating during the Los Angeles riots.
The other show-stoppers are Jan Brueghel the Elder's series of paintings, around the corner from the entrance to the show. The son of Pieter Brueghel the Elder and brother of Pieter Brueghel the Younger, he painted works of astounding humanity, light and space. Every glowing face in his "Harbor Scene with St. Paul's Departure from Caesarea" and "Christ and the Apostles in the Tempest on the Sea of Galilee" belongs to an individual. No two are alike. And the Where's Waldo concentration of people in his harbor scene of St. Paul offers a remarkable lesson in how to build drama into a subject by not making it the center of the picture's attention.
The clues come in pink. At the heart of the picture, amidst a crowd of men and women buying and selling fish, is the back of a man wearing a pink frock. The only other pink like it in the painting adorns St. Paul and two hunched figures who appear stage right, slouching ahead of the imperiled preacher past an angry crowd toward the shore--and safety.
Brueghel's beautiful control of color and light in these pictures was matched by his ability to build those effects into a convincing space. The curving and diagonal lines--look at the bow of the boat in "Christ and the Apostles in the Tempest on the Sea of Galilee" and the shoreline and outline of crowds and moored boats in "Harbor Scene with St. Paul's Departure from Caesarea"--give the eye quick and easy access into and across the scene.
His pictures contain the seeds of modern landscape painting. And, like many of the other beautiful images in this show, they are filled with virtual realities that just don't quit.
"Copper as Canvas: Two Centuries of Masterpiece Paintings on Copper, 1575-1775" runs through Sunday, February 28, 1999, at the Phoenix Art Museum, 1625 North Central. For more information: 257-1880 or www.phxart.org