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

Israel and the Law is part of an ambitious cycle of murals created by Sargent to decorate a palatial hall in the library. Titled “The Triumph of Religion,” the murals chart the evolution of Western religious thought from polytheist beginnings in Egypt and Mesopotamia to the “enlightened” monotheism of modern times. A central theme of the cycle is the dialogue between Judaism and Christianity carried out in corresponding paintings that occupy the spandrels of the vaults, three on each lateral side of the hall. In Israel and the Law, a cowled Jehovah, his face unseen, crouches on a mountaintop teaching the Divine Law to the boy Israel. The pair is protected by a ring of warrior angels.

Judging by the number of drawings made for Israel and the Law, Sargent worried over this painting more than any of his other murals.  In addition to the drawings, now at Harvard, he made two full studies in oil. The Museum’s painting is most likely the first of the two. Close examination reveals clear evidence of the artist fine-tuning the composition. For example, in the group of angels at right, one can see under the buildup of paint where Sargent adjusted the placement of the winged figures. The other study, in the collection of London Royal Academy of Arts, has few editorial changes. It was probably made for exhibition, whereas the Museum’s painting is a true study, all the more interesting for showing the artist at work.

Israel and the Law is unique in our American collection for being essentially a work of civic art, not intended for a private home or even a museum. It was composed for a grand public space and meant to be viewed from below. This posed a challenge for us. The painting arrived at the Museum in a handsome gilt frame that made the picture “behave” as though it were any easel picture circa 1900. That was clearly the wrong message. As a corrective, we looked back to the practice of American mural painters of Sargent’s generation. We found that it was common for artists to paint small versions of a proposed mural for approval by a client or architect. Some of these paintings were framed in elaborately constructed and painted frames that would give the client a suggestion of the architectural context for the final mural. One such frame was designed by the artist Elihu Vedder for his study for Rome, or the Art Idea. Using that frame as inspiration, we asked Raleigh furniture maker Evan Lightner to build a frame for Israel and the Law. The design incorporated some of the beaux-arts architectural features found in Sargent Hall at the Boston Public Library. We then asked decorative painter Rosa Patton to paint the frame using marbled colors matched to those in Sargent Hall. The resulting frame endows Sargent’s mural study with appropriate majesty and distinguishes it from the rest of the American paintings.

On February 24 Israel and the Law was unveiled in a special single-painting exhibition in West Building in the space immediately preceding the Judaic Art Gallery.

And all of this followed from one phone call.

NOTE: “Israel and the Law: The Key to a Missing Keynote,” is the subject of a public lecture by Yale University Professor Sally M. Promey to be presented as 12^th annual Abram and Frances Pascher Kanof Lecture, Sunday, March 25, at 2 pm in the Museum Auditorium.  The lecture is free to the public. More info

Who would have imagined that treasures of English Judaica would end up in North Carolina? In mid-January we placed on display in the Judaic Art Gallery a major new acquisition: Torah ornaments from the Orthodox Synagogue of Plymouth, England. Consisting of silver and gilt finials (rimmonim) and matching pointer (yad), these superb pieces are among the earliest complete sets of English Torah silver.  How did they come to North Carolina?  Therein lies a tale. But first, some background.

The Orthodox Synagogue in Plymouth lays claim to being “the oldest Ashkenazi synagogue in the English-speaking world still in regular use.” Founded by German and Dutch immigrants, the synagogue was built in 1762 by carpenters and other artisans from the nearby shipyards of the Royal Navy. Though never large, the Plymouth Jewish community attained a degree of prosperity that is reflected in the sophistication of the synagogue furnishings and ceremonial art.

About 1783—the year the American colonies won their independence—an unknown member of the Plymouth community went to London and commissioned a pair of finials and pointer from John Robins, a silversmith with a fashionable clientele. Robins responded with pieces that in their refined proportions and playful elegance typify the best of Georgian silversmithing. A respected authority on English silver has judged the finials to be “one of the two most effectively original pairs of rimmonim of pure English character made in London in the 18th century.” Whether intended or not, the bulbous shapes of the finials suggest the origin of the term rimmonim—pomegranates. Gilded bells dangle from three tiers of fancifully designed brackets, adding a celestial tinkle to the procession of the Torah scroll during religious services. Topping each finial is a very English hooped crown, symbolizing the sovereignty of the divine word.

For 226 years the Robins-made finials and pointer played a central role in the ritual life of the Plymouth synagogue. However, in recent decades the once-thriving community has declined, so that today it reportedly numbers about 50 people. “We are a dying community,” admitted one of the leaders of the synagogue to a reporter for the London Times in 2009. She was explaining why the congregation took the drastic decision to sell 23 silver items, including the Robins-made finials and pointer. She further confessed that “we don’t use the items, and we are very short of funds. I’m not sad to see them go …There is no point keeping silver in the bank that we are not using.”

The decision to sell the Torah ornaments sparked a brief furor. Besides the Times, the story was reported by the BBC, London’s Jewish Chronicle, and as far afield as the Jerusalem Post and New York’s Jewish Daily Forward. Inevitably, voices were raised decrying the loss to Jewish—and English—heritage. Even so, despite the ruckus, no one stepped forward to assist the Plymouth Synagogue, and the objects were consigned to auction at Bonham’s in London in November 2009. Nicholas Shaw of Bonham’s praised the Plymouth silver as “the earliest and rarest set of English ritual Torah furnishings to have come up for auction.” Interest was high among collectors of Judaica. Some people expected London’s Jewish Museum to bid on the finials and pointer in an effort to “rescue” them for England.  In the end no rescue materialized, and the pieces were bought by a respected London dealer in antique silver and jewelry. After some minor conservation—primarily replacement of a few lost bells—the finials and pointer were offered to the North Carolina Museum of Art for our Judaic Art Gallery.

This presented an opportunity that would not come twice. In strengthening the Judaic art collection, a top priority has been to extend the geographical range of the collection in order to represent the variety of interpretations of ceremonial art across the Jewish Diaspora. Our collection had no English Judaica. And we had few pieces of any kind from the 18th century. Then, too, our goal has always been to acquire only Judaic art of superb artistry. After all, we are an art museum. The Plymouth ornaments were not only historically important; they were also visually dazzling. We had to have them.

The price, however, even after considerable bargaining, was high, and the resources then available in the Judaic Art Fund were substantial but not enough. The dealer in London granted us time to raise the remaining funds. An appeal went out to the Friends of the Judaic Art Gallery, and happily several North Carolinians stepped forward with generous contributions that completed the purchase.

Plymouth’s loss is certainly North Carolina’s gain, but we do not intend to ignore, much less forget, where these beautiful objects came from. So many pieces in our Judaic art collection—and in the Museum’s other collections—have lost their histories as they have passed from one hand to another, sometimes with war intervening. With these Torah ornaments, we have the full and very human story: objects created to honor God and enhance communal pride, cherished by 10 generations of Plymouth’s Jews, and finally, sadly sacrificed as the Plymouth community dwindles. The story is well worth sharing.

Images: John Robins, Torah Finials and Pointer, 1783–84, silver: hollow-formed, repoussé, cast, chased, partly gilded, velvet crown caps; finials: H. 14 1/2 in., pointer: L. 11 in., Purchased with funds from Wendy and Mike Brenner, Alice and Daniel Satisky, Phyllis Shavitz and Family in Memory of Stanley Shavitz, and other Friends of the Judaic Art Gallery

Related: Join the Friends of the Judaic Art Gallery on Saturday, March 11, for Purim Madness!

Before I had the opportunity to work with the North Carolina Museum of Art, I thought integrating art into my classroom meant drawing pictures and coloring diagrams. After spending time with Museum educators, I learned that art integration includes observing, interpreting, critiquing, and using pieces of art to relate to the science curriculum. It also includes having students create their own paintings, drawings, and sculptures. By using art in my classroom in these new ways, I have come to the realization that art and science have many connections. And now that I see these natural connections, bringing art into a science classroom has become an easy way to engage, empower, and excite students about learning.

One lesson that has been successful in my classroom is using art to discuss texture in geology. After learning about types of rocks, students are introduced to the painting Orange Outline by Franz Kline. I guide a discussion about the painting and then use it to introduce the students to texture and scale, words that relate to both science and art. I ask the class to compare and contrast how texture is used in art and how it is described in terms of rocks and geology. As a final product, the students create a rock painting. They choose a rock and make careful observations of a small portion of it. They use that small part of the rock to create a larger-scale painting, referring to the rock as often as needed to help complete the painting. I encourage them to use layers of paint, brushes, sponges, and other materials, such as sand and glitter, to add texture to the painting, similar to Orange Outline. Afterward the students complete a reflection that assesses their knowledge of geology as well as their understanding of the art techniques used in this activity.

Using art in a science classroom is a way for me to connect with my students. All students—AIG, EC, ESL, and everyone in between—can have success through art integration. By observing different works of art, students are able to make personal connections, use higher-level thinking skills to analyze the work of art, and learn to value the thoughts and opinions of their peers. Art gives the students a different way to look at the science concepts, which ultimately gives them a better understanding of what is being studied.

Jennifer Rogers is a math and science teacher at Hunters Creek Middle School in Onslow County.

The thought processes behind designing games, as well as the development of games throughout history, are elements of a new online high school course, The Art of Game Design, that the Museum created in partnership with the North Carolina Virtual Public Schools, funded by the Wells Fargo Foundation. The multimedia course uses two works of art at the Museum to teach about one of the earliest known sports, referred to as “the ball game.”

Artist: Unknown, Ball Court Marker, circa 550-850

The game, which resembled soccer, was played by the ancient Mayans and may have been the earliest team sport. But this was anything but a friendly Saturday competition. The players’ survival depended upon the outcome—the captain of the losing team was sacrificed. It sounds like something out of The Hunger Games rather than our history books! Read this article from the Ball State University Museum of Art for more about the ancient Mayan game.

To learn more about the ball game, listen to the story behind the Ceremonial Ball Game Yoke in this video that accompanies the audio tour in the Museum. You can also visit this interactive Web site created by the Mint Museum. My inner soccer mom finds plenty food for thought in our Museum’s Ancient American Gallery and invites you to join me on your next visit in contemplating the power of games throughout history.

Now, 22 years later, 15 of my photographs are in the permanent collection of the North Carolina Museum of Art. One of them—Reidsville, North Carolina, June 2003—is included in the exhibition Landscape Sublime: Contemporary Photography, which closes November 13.

I have met some very good souls along the way. One of them is Huston Paschal, a long-time associate curator (now retired) at the Museum. When I began exhibiting my photographs in 1990, Huston, unbeknownst to me, started following my progress. I was exhibiting everywhere I could (photographs I’d made on Ellis Island), including the just-opened Cup A Joe on Hillsborough Street in Raleigh and the Weems Gallery at Meredith College. When I began to photograph around the Tar Heel State, Huston quietly watched as my new work—and I—progressed.

On the eve of my 50th birthday in 2003, I received a fateful phone call: Linda Dougherty (the NCMA’s current curator of contemporary art) was on the line. Would I like to schedule a time to bring a selection of my work? She and Huston wanted to see it, with a purchase in mind. Well, happy birthday to me!

I am grateful to Linda and to the NCMA and, now, to Jen Dasal, assistant curator, for including my work in the current exhibition. But mostly I am grateful to Huston, who saw in my work, and in the work of other North Carolina artists she watched grow and mature over her years as curator, something worth paying attention to.

David Simonton is a photographer living in Raleigh, N.C. See his work in the exhibition Landscape Sublime: Contemporary Photography through November 13.

Image: David Simonton, Reidsville, North Carolina, June 2003, 2003, printed 2004, gelatin-silver print, 9 11/16 x 9 13/16 in., Purchased with funds from the William R. Roberson Jr. and Frances M. Roberson Endowed Fund for North Carolina Art, © 2004 David Simonton

Recent visitors to the Museum will have noticed a new addition to the paintings in the American galleries. Dock Builders by George Bellows is the latest promised gift of Ann and Jim Goodnight. Bellows (1882–1925) was one of the most influential and beloved American artists of the early 20^th century. He dropped out of college to play semiprofessional baseball before pursuing a career as a painter in New York. There Bellows studied under Robert Henri and through him fell in with a group of young urban artists. The “ashcan school” advocated painting contemporary American society in all its gritty reality. Though more famous today for his boxing pictures, Bellows painted a wide variety of subjects, capturing the bustle of life around him.

Painted in 1916 during a summer in Camden, Maine, Dock Builders is one of a series of pictures depicting the hard laboring lives of Down East people. It gives a noble dimension to men and horses struggling to move logs into position. Bold, slashing brushstrokes give a sense of movement to this otherwise carefully ordered composition. Bellows’s painterly gusto spills out along the rocks at the bottom as his thick, churning splashes of color encrust the sunlit shoreline. There is a playfulness in Bellows’s handling of the brush. Perhaps the relaxed atmosphere of coastal Maine and the joy of working outside encouraged him to paint more freely. In a letter to Henri, he wrote, “I have done a number of pictures this summer which have not arrived in my mind from direct impressions but are creations of fancy arising out of my knowledge and experience of the facts employed.” Whether it was the sea air or a desire to try new things, it is exciting to see an artist enjoying himself in this “creation of fancy.”

For all the freedom of Dock Builders, Bellows was also experimenting with a systematic approach to composition. The smoothly contoured figures are carefully arranged in an underlying structure of intersecting diagonals. Also, along with several other members of the ashcan school, Bellows was intrigued by the color theories of Hardesty Maratta. Maratta devised a system that assigned each color to a corresponding musical note. He then directed artists to combine colors at prescribed intervals, using “chords” to achieve a harmonious effect. We do not know if Bellows used a color keyboard [see image below] when he was painting in Camden, though it seems likely that he had the balanced triads of the Maratta system in mind.

Combining freedom and restraint, Dock Builders adds something new to the Museum’s galleries. Celebrating men at work, the vibrant colors and innovative technique showcased in this landscape represent a pivotal moment in the history of American art.

Laura Fravel, Curatorial Intern

Hardesty G. Maratta’s color keyboard. From The Maratta Scales of Artists’ Oil Pigments, 1916. John Weichsel Papers, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C.

Image: George Wesley Bellows, Dock Builders, 1916, oil on canvas, Promised gift of Dr. and Mrs. James H. Goodnight

Thanks to funding from the North Carolina General Assembly to support character education in K–12 public schools, the ELA section of the Department of Public Instruction and the North Carolina Museum of Art had the privilege of hosting these young people and their teachers for a Character Education Teen Residency Project. Under the leadership of artist Peg Gignoux and writer Susie Wilde, students transformed their ideas into images and words that tell the story of what it means to be a good person. (See photos of the event on Flickr.)

Carolyn Crutcher, an English 10 teacher at New Technology High School at Garinger in Charlotte, N.C., reflects on her experience.

Participating in the residency was such a rewarding experience for my students and me. First, in the words of Moe Win: “I had so many new experiences in a few days. The environment at the NCMA made me feel so creative. As I was an author/writer, I learned so much about showing not telling, revising, and editing for the story. I am not the type of person who likes to work with a team, but I learned that it is more fantastic to work with others. We were discussing and helping each other while writing our story. Another good opportunity was visiting the art galleries. I loved the tours Ms. Rusak guided. The art work invited me to think more about the purpose of the artists.”

Here are Ivan Gaddy’s reflections: “I wanted to go to Raleigh, but I was nervous because this was the first time that I had gone somewhere and spent more than one day without my family. The main thing I was worried about was the way we had to make the art. Before the residency, I had only used pencil and paper for drawing. Also I was afraid that the groups weren’t going to agree on anything. I am so glad that my assumptions were wrong. It was nice hearing the other groups’ stories and seeing how they drew the main character, “Bird.” I liked making the collages out of fabric, and I hope to use that form of art in the near future. The trip was great and I hope to go again.”

For me, as the teacher, it was sheer pleasure to have this time with such talented young people on such a creative project. I spent most of my time with the writing groups, but to my delight, I also got to help cut out fabric for the illustrations and even helped a little with sewing. When we toured the galleries, I was deeply moved by Michael Richards’s bronze sculpture, Tar Baby vs. St. Sebastian, especially when Sandy Rusak told us that Michael died on September 11, 2001, in his art studio in one of the Twin Towers.

I used a picture of the sculpture and Michael’s story to introduce the essential question for a recent literature project: How do beliefs and attitudes affect the lives of individuals? First I showed the students a picture of the sculpture and instructed them to look at it and think about it. Then I had them read about Richards. With a partner they discussed these questions and wrote their answers:

1. What is ironic about the bronze statue?
2. Explain the allusions in the title Tar Baby vs. St. Sebastian.
3. Who were the Tuskegee Airmen?
4. How did Michael Richards’s beliefs and attitudes shape his art?
5. How did the beliefs, attitudes, and actions of the young men who flew the planes 9/11 affect Michael Richards’s life?

When the students completed their research, we had a stimulating class discussion. Although only two of my students were able to participate in the art residency, I was able to share one of the pieces of art with all my students.

In commemoration of the anniversary, numerous galleries and art centers have come together as part of a citywide event, titled “Remembering 9/11: The 10th Anniversary.” All told, more than 50 institutions are partaking in exhibitions, readings, and performances dedicated to honoring those lost in the terrorist attacks. Now that a decade has passed, it seems that some artists now feel that their wounds—personal, physical or psychic—have healed enough to revisit, leading to a proliferation of works.

The Brooklyn Museum is presenting Ten Years Later: Ground Zero Remembered, an exhibition featuring works by two artists, Michael Richards and Christoph Draeger. The inclusion of Richards is especially notable for NC Museum of Art visitors, who may be familiar with Tar Baby vs. Saint Sebastian, currently located in our Modern and Contemporary Galleries. During his tragically short career, Michael Richards frequently addressed issues of social injustice, creating stunning sculptures that criticize oppression. Tar Baby vs. Saint Sebastian commemorates the Tuskegee Airmen, African American pilots whose heroic contributions to World War II were recognized only in the past few decades. The sculpture itself, cast from the artist’s own body, represents a gold-painted airman penetrated on all sides by small airplanes, reminiscent of the arrows shot at St. Sebastian, an early Christian martyr and saint. The title of the work, with its double reference to the saint and a southern folktale of entrapment, pays tribute to the Tuskegee pilots—and to all who suffer intolerance and unfairness.

The back story of the sculpture, though, is a haunting one, and is quite pertinent to the anniversary of 9/11. The work itself, in effect a self-portrait, now seems an eerie foretelling of the artist’s death. Richards was a victim of the World Trade Center terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001—his studio was on the ninety-second floor of Tower One. Tar Baby vs. Saint Sebastian, too, was feared lost in the wreckage, as it was not found in the remains of the artist’s studio, or at his home. It was only revealed later to be stored in a relative’s garage outside of New York City. Now housed at the NCMA on long-term loan, the work is a commemoration of the artist’s life and talents and a memorial, of sorts, for September 11. Stop by over the weekend and include this as a must-see on your list.

Image: Michael Richards, Tar Baby vs. St. Sebastian, 1999, body cast in resin and fiberglass, painted, and supported by steel shaft, with airplanes cast in resin and fiberglass, painted, and attached by steel bolts, On loan from the estate of the artist