This post is a followup to

Sir John Scott (1564–1616): Oxford-educated, knighted officer in the queen’s army, member of Parliament, knight of the shire … gardener?

Yes, Sir John Scott, whose portrait came into the NCMA’s collection in 1967, was a man’s man, busy with jousting, dueling, and fighting the Spanish, but apparently his real passion was his garden. He spent much of his fortune on it, even building a bridge for easier access across the Medway (a river inconveniently located in his backyard). Sir John’s 17^th-century garden was no doubt a formal space, bent to the square and formal views of the times, and probably maintained by a small army of servants. The expense almost certainly added to his downfall. After his death much of his monumental manor house, Nettlestead Place, was pulled down, the salvaged building materials sold to pay his debts. Even the bridge was dismantled.

On a recent research trip, I visited the ancestral Scott stomping grounds in the county of Kent, known as the “garden of England.” I found Sir John’s house rebuilt and surrounded by beautiful gardens once again—full of modern art, no less. But like Sir John’s private garden, the present-day Nettlestead Place is a private home, off limits to all except family and guests.

Just a short walk away, though, I discovered a different garden, one that you could say grew from Sir John’s demise. Rock Farm House is a garden lover’s jewel, listed in many garden tour books of England. Not the product of the rich and entitled or the labor of servants, it’s the work of one tireless soul, Sue Corfe, whose husband, Paul, bought this farm some 50 years ago. Over the years they made their living growing hops and fruit but also from Sue’s plant nursery. Sue specialized in ornamental plants that would grow in the chalky alkaline soil of Kent. Today Rock Farm House is a B&B, and the gardens are open to the public during the summer.

In part Sue and her husband were drawn to this property because of the lovely Kent red brick farmhouse, centuries old. The interior walls of white plaster and half timbers seem the embodiment of old England. Set into those ancient walls, just above the huge fireplace, is a large plaque with the Scott coat of arms that clearly dates from the time of Sir John. It was probably salvaged from Sir John’s Nettlestead Place, like much of the rest of the materials used to build the house. So it would seem that Sue Corfe can tell us how Sir John’s garden grows. Her beautiful plants spring from the seeds sown by Sir John some 400 years ago, metaphorically at least.

—Perry Hurt is associate conservator at the NCMA.

With renewed interest in this area of our collection, these paintings are now undergoing an in-depth study so we can understand their history and prepare them for conservation work. Preliminary research has revealed a number of intriguing details.

The paintings, which have not yet been attributed to an artist, appear to date from approximately 1590 to 1620, an interesting period in British history that includes the end of Queen Elizabeth I’s reign, the ascension of King James I, the founding of the first British colonies in North America, and the continuing religious conflicts between Catholics and Protestants. Our research has revealed that Sir John Scott (at center) was a member of Parliament and a member/contributor to the Virginia Company that established Jamestown. Sir John was also implicated in the famous Essex rebellion against Queen Elizabeth, which landed him in the Tower of London; he narrowly escaped the chopping block.

Sir John’s second wife, Lady Catherine Smythe Scott (at left in white), was first married to a mayor of London. She may have been the “strong-willed wife” who was said to have escaped confinement in her own home by using a bodkin to tunnel her way out.

Of particular interest to connoisseurs of fine beverages and incantations would be Reginald Scott (far right). Reginald was a bit of a nonconformist, highly educated, a writer. His first well-known book concerns hops and helped spur that crop’s cultivation in England. Reginald’s second great book was The Discouerie of Witchcraft, wherein the Lewde dealing of Witches and Witchmongers is notablie detected. This book is cited as one of the first to debunk the idea of witchcraft, calling for an end to witch hunts. It was also the first to document sleight of hand and magic tricks. An extremely popular book during Reginald Scott’s lifetime, it also took bravery to write, since most people strongly believed in magic and the need to prosecute practitioners. The book was eventually banned and ordered burned by King James I—the same King James who’s famous for the King James Bible, which was 400 years old last year.

NCMA research on the Scott paintings, made possible by the Jim and Ann Goodnight/Andrew W. Mellon Foundation Endowment, started about two years ago and is expected to continue for several more years. Next month I’ll be traveling to the UK to continue research. The trip will include plenty of meetings with specialists and hours in the archives of art and history museums. It will also include an event that is truly a very odd coincidence, the rededication of the tomb monument for Lady Catherine Smythe Scott in Nettlestead, Kent. The tomb is located in the same church with that of her husband Sir John Scott, the church next to the house where they lived 400 years ago. The rededication service will be attended by the local community as well as historians and Scott family descendents. I’m sure the Scott family stories will be flowing, hopefully along with some of that hoppy magical brew that the Scotts helped bring about. Maybe we will even get to the bottom of this bodkin escape tale.

The Duchess, née Barbara Villiers (1640–1709), is possibly one of the best-known mistresses in history. She became the very public favorite of English King Charles II in 1660, even though she was married to Roger Palmer at the time. The duchess was famous for her beauty: “Tall, voluptuous, with masses of auburn hair, slanting, heavy-lidded blue-violet eyes, alabaster skin, and a sensuous, sulky mouth,” as described by Antonia Fraser in her book King Charles II. The duchess was known for her charm as well as her extravagance, foul temper, and promiscuity. For 13 years her influence over the king waxed and waned in the quagmire of court intrigue, earning her the nickname “the uncrowned queen” but also “the curse of the nation.”

Before treatment the painting was very dark and yellow-brown in appearance. The curtain in the background at right was so dark it could barely be seen, and the garment at bottom left was an odd, unsightly green. Conservation work focused on removing several layers of very old varnish, grime, and previous restoration. Careful cleaning revealed that the curtain area at left was damaged and had been largely repainted in a past restoration. The green garment at lower left was also buried in old restoration paint, but cleaning uncovered the original light blue painted garment, which proved almost damage free. This depiction of light blue silk is relatively common in paintings of this period and, in this case, was probably achieved using a pigment called smalt. (Exact identification of the pigment requires analysis that was beyond the scope of this project). A product of the glass industry, smalt made beautiful transparent blues, but it was unstable in a paint film and frequently turned brown over time. In this case it is well preserved. Smalt fell out of use by painters when better-performing blue pigments came along.

Now that the duchess has been restored to her former beauty, she is ready for her close up. She’s now on view in West Building.

Image:

Sir Peter Lely and Studio, Barbara Villiers, later Duchess of Cleveland, circa 1662–1665, oil on canvas, 50 x 40 in., Gift of the Van Diemen-Lilienfeld Galleries and the Dalzell Hatfield Galleries in memory of William R. Valentiner

As part of his study of Anatsui’s work, Perry created a small model of a metal wall sculpture using similar materials (metal wine bottle caps and 24-gauge wire). He cut and flattened the caps into strips about 2 inches long by ¾ inch wide, then poked holes in the strips and joined them with the copper wire.

This not only gave him insight into the artist’s processes but also provides a useful educational tool that can be handled by the public (unlike Anatsui’s work or any other art in the Museum). Examining Perry’s creation, one can experience firsthand the skill and ingenuity behind the construction—as well as its fragility.

The piece has sharp edges that can’t be removed or filed down, as the metal bottle caps are too thin. Perry has found that sharp edges are part of the handling experience of a real El Anatsui work, too; gloves can be shredded, clothing gets snagged, and the wall sculpture can snag on itself when being moved.

Each section of the finished model fits into a 1-gallon plastic zipper bag to protect the “viewer” from the sharp edges and to permit handling of the work in educational settings.

The exhibition El Anatsui: When I Last Wrote to You about Africa is on view in East Building through July 29; the Museum’s own El Anatsui work, Lines That Link Humanity, is part of the permanent collection in West Building. For more on Perry’s work with El Anatsui, check out the interview on nc artblog (Part I and Part II).

Giotto di Bondone and assistants, The Peruzzi Altarpiece, about 1310-15, Tempera and gold leaf on panel, Gift of the Samuel H. Kress Foundation, 60.17.7

Two weeks ago I brought our wandering Giotto back home to North Carolina. Giotto di Bondone’s Peruzzi Altarpiece (c. 1315) was the star of TWO once-in-a-lifetime exhibitions in Italy: Giotto’s Legacy, Art in Florence between 1340 and 1375, at the Uffizi Gallery in Florence (from June thru November 2008), and Giotto & the Fourteenth Century at the Vittoriano Complex in Rome (March thru July 29, 2009). Both of the exhibitions were wildly popular. The exhibition at the Vittoriano was extended for an extra month by popular demand and was even visited by President Obama and the First Lady (while in Rome for the G-8 Summit). To top it off, between those exhibitions, our Giotto was on display in “the greatest single gallery of early Italian paintings anywhere in the world.”

The Peruzzi Altarpiece is one of our most important artworks. This is the one and only time it has ever left the collection in the history of our museum. All of our artwork receives the best of care when traveling, but the altarpiece got the VIP treatment.

I served as courier on the trip which means I stayed with the artwork every step of the way from Rome to Raleigh, part bodyguard, part traveling companion, and part nanny…or maybe more like a team doctor in the NBA, or a manager for a world-famous rockstar. A courier handles the paperwork, monitors the environment, and basically makes sure that the other twenty or so people involved are doing their job (the other museum’s art handlers, registrars, airport cargo movers in two countries, customs in two countries, truck drivers, etc). It’s a bit stressful, but it helped that the Giotto was so well protected, with its custom-designed crate (designed and built by the fine staff of the NCMA, and packed on site at the Vittoriano by six art handlers, two exhibition coordinators, and two conservators). Not to mention the fact that the Giotto’s frame contains its own microclimate (thanks to NCMA Frame Conservator David Beaudin), protected from outside air. The exciting part was when the Giotto went sliding down the old museum’s numerous stone stairs on a nifty sled, of course guided by the loving hands of six big Italian art handlers (who said 600 year-old paintings can’t have some fun).

I didn’t need to babysit the whole time, though. While the Giotto was prepped for travel, I conducted research for my upcoming presentation on Classical Greek and Roman sculpture entitled: Nude White Gods Seek Colorful Past: Ancient Greek and Roman Sculpture Revisited, September 25 at Café Parizade. I met up with Eowyn Kerr, who interned in the NCMA conservation department in 2002. She helped with my research project and guided me around Rome, which was a real treat. Eowyn works and lives in Italy where she practices conservation, teaches art history, and works for one of the best tour companies in all of Rome. (She literally wrote the book on Rome.)

When it was time to fly, I grabbed the painting, lined up in security and tried to squeeze it through the x-ray machine for carry-on bags. Just kidding. After my 4 a.m. wake-up call, I met up with a dozen art handlers and coordinators to take the Giotto to the airport. I supervised while the altarpiece was lovingly prepared for the flight at the cargo facility at Leonardo da Vinci Airport. Twenty-three hours after leaving my hotel (and one last great cup of cappuccino), Giotto and I were back in Raleigh. NCMA art handlers and conservators unpacked the crate, inspected the work of art (not a scratch!), and welcomed our old friend back home.