Displaying items by tag: Poussin

In 17th-century France, Charles Le Brun was as hot as any artist could be. He created work for the Cathedral of Notre-Dame in Paris, for the Galerie d’Apollon in the Louvre, for Hôtel Lambert on Île St. Louis, for the Château de Vaux-le-Vicomte and for much of Versailles. Louis XIV declared him “the greatest French artist of all time.” Whatever he produced made an impact.

Now, after a nail-biting three months for officials at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Le Brun’s presence will make a difference there, too.

The government has barred the export of a tender early painting by Picasso, his 1901 Child with a Dove, in the hope that a museum or gallery may manage to raise the £50m price and keep it in the country. The painting has been in British collections since 1924 and on loan to public collections in Britain for decades.

However it will take a miracle, or an exceptionally benevolent millionaire donor, to keep it here: the pockets of major museums and grant-givers are almost empty after a string of recent high-profile campaigns for other artworks.

The freak act of rage has kick-started another debate on the viability of London’s free gallery entry system.

The event happened shortly before 5pm on Sunday afternoon, one of the gallery’s busiest times. An alarm was raised by a member of staff shortly after, a suspect was arrested, and the two Nicolas Poussin paintings, The Adoration of the Golden Calf and the Adoration of the Shepherds, were removed. (The Guardian have a picture of the damage)

The paintings have already been restored and returned to their hanging positions in the gallery’s permanent collection (room 19).

Was it an accident waiting to happen? The Guardian’s Jonathan Jones calls The Adoration of the Golden Calf “a sitting duck” this morning.

Admittedly, the event exposed a fatal blind spot in National Gallery’s policing. Our galleries, compared to most major international collections, appear relatively relaxed. Getting into Madrid’s Prado collection, for example, is like being admitted to a top security prison.

But the question is, would queuing, bag checking and paying for entry really stop these rare freak acts of violence? What fuels someone to do such a thing in first place?

Historically, most acts of vandalism against great works of art have been committed either by wannabe artists trying to make a statement - as per, in 2007, artist Rindy Sam kissed the canvas of Phaedrus by Cy Twombly, leaving a red lipstick mark, and was subsequently arrested - or by people who have been proved psychotic. The famous serial vandal Hans-Joachim Bohlmann (1937–2009) ended up in an institution, as did the school teacher who famously attacked Rembrandt's Night Watch in the Prado in 1975.