LONDON — Now You See Us, the title of an exhibition currently at Tate Britain, alludes to one half of the phrase “now you see it; not you don’t,” typically signaling some sleight of hand or trickery. The missing second clause reflects curator Tabitha Barber’s ambitions with this showcase of more than 110 women artists, all absent from the standard art historical canon due less to sleight of hand than to the limitations of their patriarchal societies. The sheer volume of unfamiliar names — more were investigated than could fit into the show — is awing. Organized chronologically, it spans 1520 to 1920, and attempts to put the artists back on the map.
The foundational question of Linda Nochlin’s seminal essay “Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists?” comes to mind here. Each artist’s name is accompanied by a research-based caption outlining where she lived and worked and her artistic career path. Time and again, careers and recognition are thwarted by the ingrained attitudes of the artists’ societies, in answer to Nochlin’s question.
One of a group of miniatures attributed to 16th-century artist Levina Teerlinc is encased in a gold frame bearing the name “N. Hilliard,” indicating that it was previously attributed to the more famous male miniaturist Nicholas Hilliard. Similarly, Artemisia Gentileschi’s work, also on view, was often assumed to be by her father, Orazio. Despite their technical accomplishment, we are told that as women Teerlinc and fellow miniaturist Susanna Horenbout could not be employed as artists, but instead worked as staff in the households of Elizabeth I and Anne of Cleves, respectively.
Four women named in historian William Sanderson’s 1658 list of artists active in England at the time are exceptions to the rule; typically, women in the 17th century were limited to the domestic sphere and governed by their fathers and husbands. Mary Beale’s accomplished portraits are clearly extant today because her husband documented all her activity in the studio. In contrast, Anne Killigrew created her art and poetry in secrecy: With no access to art or anatomy training, her paintings are the curious result of raw talent without academic cultivation. Another example of this is Sir Joshua Reynolds’s sister, Frances Reynolds, whose portrait of Elizabeth Montagu copies his most superficial painterly treatment without the anatomical understanding to give her model weight and form, as she was denied the training opportunities from which he benefited.
In the same vein, a small collection of drawings demonstrate how women, barred from life drawing classes, studied anatomy from classical statues. Angelica Kauffman, one of two female founding members of the Royal Academy, arranged a life study of Royal Academy model Charles Cranmer, but baring only his arms, shoulders, and legs, and always in the presence of her father.
Flat-out denial of recognition and access abounds. Margaret Sarah Carpenter, active in the 19th century, was regularly singled out for praise in Royal Academy exhibitions and calls were made for her to become a Royal Academician, yet twice her nomination was denied. A century earlier, Mary Black hoped to charge Messenger Monsey £25 (∼$33) for painting his portrait — half what Reynolds charged — then halved the amount upon his complaint. Monsey felt that even expecting a fee was damaging to her reputation, and referred to her as a “slut” in a letter to his cousin.
Kauffman recently enjoyed a survey at the Royal Academy that established her as an exception to the rule due to a combination of social factors and venturing into the lofty arena of history painting — usually reserved for men. Fellow Academy founder Mary Moser was not so daring, and focused on painting flowers. Indeed, subjects such as flowers that were deemed suitable to women spanned media and genres. An entire room dedicated to flower imagery details how women found work as botanical illustrators. Even fabulous examples, such as Martha Darley Mutrie’s “Wild Flowers at the Corner of a Cornfield” (c. 1855–60), an apparent response to John Ruskin’s criticism of works by the artist and her sisters at the Royal Academy in 1855, according to the caption, are denied entry to the art history annals simply by their subject matter.
Likewise, art history favors the mighty oil medium; in 1770 the Royal Academy banned “needle-work, artificial flowers, cut Paper, Shell-work, or any such baubles.” Women could practice these disciplines in domestic setting with relatively little equipment, and some made these into reasonably profitable enterprises; Mary Knowles’s embroidery portrait of herself at her needlework was commissioned by Queen Charlotte in 1771.
Tellingly, only in the final room, covering the first two decades of the 20th century, are more recognizable names, including Laura Knight, Vanessa Bell, and Gwen John; the period coincides with increased recognition and rights for women, such as voting. Yet the RA continues to be a means by which women gain access in the art world, or indeed defy in order to forge their own paths.
In a show that covers 400 years of art history, with the primary purpose of foregrounding artists excluded from historical recognition, commenting on artistic quality a moot point, especially because it invites comparisons with the male artists we know well. The artists’ talent and technical skill — often without the benefit of tutoring or means of support automatically granted to male counterparts — speaks for itself. The captions demonstrate the vast range of regional, private, and stately collections to which these artworks belong, confirming that women enjoyed some success outside of and paralleling the popular canon represented by major institutions. The viewer will also notice several “new acquisition” stickers, indicating that these major institutions are actively trying to up their female quota in their permanent collections. Along with such enterprises as the Illuminating Women Artists monograph series, which centers on neglected artists, academic shows such as this help to correct the canon. What’s clear is that these artists were excluded because of sociopolitical factors, not artistic merit.
Now You See Us: Women Artists in Britain 1520–1920 continues at Tate Britain (Millbank, London, England) through October 13. The exhibition was curated by Tabitha Barber.
