Man in Jiffy-Pop Hat? Dude with ‘Tude?

If Dude is an image, rather, of a Russian “boyar,” or nobleman, as put forth by the Rembrandt Research Project, then surely this is a send-up of an aristocrat and not a serious picture. I see more Chef Boyardee than boyar in this poor fool whose cheap ensemble, including the pompous van dyke, looks fresh off the rack at Party City. It’s a work of “laughable absurdity,” as one of the co-curators of Rembrandt in America, Tom Rassieur, described it.

Thank goodness Dude has been absorbed into the hand-rolled q-tips of deft restorers. It survives today as merely a photo, a thumbnail illustration on the wall label for Rembrandt’s beautiful Self-Portrait with Shaded Eyes.

It’s incredible to think that for almost 400 years, however, Dude successfully masked Shaded Eyes, which Rembrandt painted in 1634, at the height of his Amsterdam fame, when there was a market for his likeness. Once all the offending overpaint was removed—the last vestiges were lifted in 2002—and a stunning, original self-portrait of a 28-year-old Rembrandt emerged, the long-hibernating masterpiece fetched over $7M at auction, bought at the time by Las Vegas casino mogul (and English lit. major) Steve Wynn.

We sometimes hear about Old Master works of art being sloppily painted over to escape the eye of Nazi “collectors” in WWII, but this painting was intentionally disfigured only a few years after Rembrandt finished it, according to the Rembrandt Research Project, the venerable organization brought in to conduct tests on the outer paint layers and assess the possibility of there being something superb underneath. According to the world’s authority on Rembrandt and the head of the RRP, Ernst van de Wetering, “the overpaintings were so old one had to entertain the possibility that they had been done in Rembrandt’s own workshop.”

Seriously?

Rembrandt may have overseen this?

Perhaps—suggests Van de Wetering, in his Rembrandt: A Life in 180 Paintings—once the original self-portrait didn’t sell. The RRP speculates Rembrandt may have overestimated the market for his self-portraits, and when Shaded Eyes wasn’t purchased, it went back into his studio (where Rembrandt trained many apprentices) to be converted first into a more up-to-date image of the master and then into a tronie, a character study considered “very popular wall decoration in Rembrandt’s time.”

What’s equally fantastic is how the RRP’s expert restorers went about taking off the overpainting. “This is the most challenging type of restoration to pull off,” said NCMA conservator Noelle Ocon, “old oil paint over old oil paint.”

Refined removal takes place at the molecular level. Initially aided by x-radiographs and ultraviolet luminescence that help delineate layers, restorers work on a painting under a microscope “the way surgeons use ultrasound” and other advanced imaging technology. “Thousands of scientific and stylistic decisions go into what to leave on and what to take away.” It also helps that the chemicals restorers use aren’t what you’d apply to strip furniture. “My strongest solvent,” said Ocon, “won’t touch a coffee stain. Water is stronger.”

Death by subtle swabbing. Gone, after hundreds of years, are the trapped eyes and ridiculous whiskers. Revived is Rembrandt’s confident gaze, under brilliant shadow. And there’s a silver lining: such hubris kept the hidden masterpiece in fairly decent condition.

I went back through the exhibition the other day and paused before this self-portrait, one of three in Rembrandt in America, feeling lucky to see something so fresh and new to the world. Thank you, modern conservators, for the years you put into your training; your willingness, given your considerable talents, to live out of the limelight; and your scientific devotion to art.

We owe you.

Now, can you lift those devil horns I drew coming out of my math teacher’s head in my junior-high annual? He was a very smart man and certainly more patient than I was good at understanding coefficients. I’m no art historian; but I may be something of a sheepish expert in early disgruntled pupil, and I say it’s no mystery how Rembrandt lost his dignity. For a time.

Image: Rembrandt van Rijn, Self-Portrait with Shaded Eyes, 1634, oil on panel. 27 7/8 x 21 3/4 in., Private collection, New York

In all honesty I must begin my comments on Rembrandt in America with the admission that I am really not a Rembrandt person. Clearly Rembrandt stood head and shoulders above his contemporaries during the Dutch “Golden Age,” and it goes without saying I would thrilled to have an autograph Rembrandt painting come to the Museum (unfortunately, the three we thought we had have all been de-Rembrandted!). My interests have centered elsewhere in the field, however—specifically Frans Hals and painters in his circle, among them Jan Miense Molenaer. Readers might recall the Molenaer exhibition I did at the NCMA in 2002. So, naturally, one might wonder why a “non-Rembrandt” person would agree to devote most of the last three years of his life to a large and complex Rembrandt exhibition.

The answer lies in the fact you can’t really function as a 17th-century Dutch painting curator without dealing with Rembrandt. The long shadow he casts over Dutch art touches nearly everyone, and one can argue that his popularity has never been stronger than it is today. Certainly much of this interest centers on the lingering controversies over whether a particular painting was painted by Rembrandt or by one of his assistants. So, as one deals with the myth, reality, and especially the marketability of Rembrandt, I asked myself, what is the glue that could hold these concepts together? More important, how do these concerns relate to the North Carolina Museum of Art? The answer was simple—William Valentiner, the NCMA’s first director.

As one of the world’s foremost authorities on Rembrandt during the first half of the 20th century, Valentiner was largely responsible for expanding the accepted number of Rembrandt paintings. His flawed accounting would eventually embrace more than 700 works. This expansion happily coincided with a huge appetite for Rembrandt paintings by American collectors, an interest that began just after the Civil War. These “Gilded Age” collectors—many were often described as “robber barons” (or “the 1 percent,” to use today’s terminology)—snagged some of Rembrandt’s greatest masterpieces. Others, however, bought studio works, imitations, and even outright forgeries. To their credit, though, many eventually gifted their “Rembrandts” to American museums.

Thus, it was my idea to link Valentiner with Rembrandt and the collecting of his paintings in America. Since collecting history has long been of interest to me (note my Sinners and Saints exhibition), I was returning to a comfort zone as I considered the viability of Rembrandt in America. With the help of my co-curators, we created a project that was intellectually sound, visually exciting, and certainly worth pursuing. Long story short, we successfully made our case to the museums and individuals who agreed to lend works to the show. So while I am exhausted, I couldn’t be prouder of the exhibition, its installation, and the accompanying catalogue. And yes, I guess I have become a Rembrandt person!

Dennis P. Weller is the NCMA’s curator of Northern European art and co-curator of Rembrandt in America.

John Knox is the Director of Operations for the NCMA.

Image above: Rembrandt van Rijn, Lucretia, 1666, oil on canvas, 43 3/8 x 36 3/8 in., Minneapolis Institute of Arts, The William Hood Dunwoody Fund, 34.19

A few steps outside the Rembrandt exhibition in East Building is another exhibition, titled Self, Observed. Conceived and organized by our Education Department, this exhibition is a juried college art competition. Over 160 online submissions of original self-portraits in various media were received from all over the country. The jury, made up of college students from the Curatorial Projects class at UNC–Chapel Hill, selected 41 works for display, plus two video entries. Other entries can be viewed on a video screen.

This project is unique for the NCMA in several ways. It is our first juried college art exhibition. I will admit the suspense was thick over the summer as the entries seemed slow to arrive, but as soon as the fall school semester started, the whole thing went viral. The entries poured in.

Another twist is that the jury was made up of college students. The Curatorial Projects students (under the leadership of professor Elin o’Hara Slavick) selected art for the exhibition and wrote label copy. They provided not only enthusiasm and thoughtful perspectives, but also another layer to the outreach programming for which our Education Department is known. That reaching out and taking the Museum experience into different communities creates connections and partnerships that enhance the art experience for us all.

As the designer for this project, my original challenge was to design a room with only 18 works. By the time final entries were received, the challenge was to design a room with so many. The curatorial students wrote what we call “extended” labels, which take up more than the usual amount of wall space. I felt it was important to allow each work to have enough space to be seen on its own and not simply as part of the whole. I believe a good balance was created between the individual self-portraits and the groupings of works.

Self, Observed is an inviting and contemporary companion exhibition to Rembrandt in America. Congratulations to those students whose work was selected. Between these students and Rembrandt, there really are masters among us!

Image above: Mark Wroblewski, I’m Trying to be Serious, 2011, Charcoal, 13” x 19”. Self, Observed is on view on Level B in East Building at the Museum.

Approaching the painting, the very first in the exhibition, I knew I would gaze at a masterpiece.

I had heard curators speak of the artist’s incomparable skill, but it was not until I had a visceral response to the painting that I understood. Prior to that moment I could only imagine (admittedly rather skeptically) what they all had described as Rembrandt’s uncanny ability to show dignity, nobility, piety, or anguish to get to the soul of his subject.

Through precision in the finest details—the intricate lacework, the soft curls of fine blond hair, the thoughtful (and ofttimes piercing) gazes—we are invited into the moment. Unquestionably, a better understanding of the circumstances of Rembrandt’s work and the backdrop of the city of Amsterdam in that era enriches the appreciation of the works of art. (The audio tour or the UNC–TV documentary in the adjacent gallery does an incredible job of telling the story.) However, the Rembrandt in America experience is at its essence a personal, even evocative, encounter.

Look closely at the paintings; you will find yourself moved (and perhaps struck by the sense that many of the people depicted look as though they could step out of the frame and join you in the gallery). A master? No question. Even if, like me, you have not studied art history, you will leave with the absolute contentment of being in the presence of pure genius.

Image: Rembrandt van Rijn, Self-Portrait, 1659, oil on canvas, National Gallery of Art, Washington; Andrew W. Mellon Collection; 1937.1.72

Melanie Davis-Jones is the Director of Marketing at the North Carolina Museum of Art.

The music of the eminent Dutch poet and composer Constantijn Huygens, whose son Christiaan was a renowned mathematician and astronomer and discovered the rings of Saturn, will be featured. Other composers whose works will be performed include master Jan Sweelinck, known as the Orpheus of Amsterdam; Johannes Schenk, who created the first Dutch opera; and Jacob van Eyck, a virtuoso of the recorder and the carillon, famous throughout the Netherlands in the late 17^th century.

These works provide the soundtrack to Rembrandt’s Amsterdam and the stunning collection presented in Rembrandt in America. The music will be brought to life by vocalist Glenn Siebert from UNC School of the Arts, cellist Brent Wissick from UNC-Chapel Hill, and Jennifer Streeter on recorder—wonderful musicians all.

The concert is part of Sights & Sounds on Sundays—the chamber music series that is produced in collaboration with the Raleigh Chamber Music Guild. It’s the perfect showcase for North Carolina’s extraordinary classical music talent that flourishes from one end of the state to the other.

Image: Rembrandt van Rijn, Joris de Caulerij, 1632, oil on canvas transferred to panel, Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Legion of Honor, Roscoe and Margaret Oakes Collection (66.31)

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

We are reminded of the story of our beginning at the North Carolina Museum of Art today as we open Rembrandt in America 55 years after that first exhibition. With nearly 30 paintings by the master himself, the show assembles the largest number of authentic Rembrandt paintings from American collections ever.

I believe the genius of Rembrandt is readily apparent in this exhibition. It’s the miracle of the human being that begins to be communicated with a sense of the soul, the artistic expression of not only the body but of the soul. It’s easy for us to engage with that, and to come away with an elevated soul of our own after experiencing this stunning collection.

This exhibition represents our Museum at its finest. Our own Dennis Weller, curator of Northern European Art, co-curated the exhibition as well as co-authored the catalogue, also titled Rembrandt in America. Museums and private collectors all over the country have lent works to this important exhibition that has been years in the making.

Rembrandt in America is truly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you simply must not miss. I invite you to come early and return often. When you visit, take your time, study the details, and feel the awe of being in the presence of one of the greatest Old Masters—right here at the NCMA.

Walker is the author of one of my favorite books, The Color Purple. In The Color Purple, Celie, a poor African American woman living in rural Georgia in the 1930s, struggles her way from a place of loneliness, abuse, and being a victim of circumstance to a place of acceptance, finding self-worth, and personal liberation. It’s about overcoming the obstacles in our lives and learning from them. It’s about creating a reality for yourself, not accepting the one that others have forced upon you. Most important, it’s about realizing we are all flawed and, in that understanding, being willing to forgive others for their mistakes.

Although I am a white male, I never took away from the book that it was a “black person’s story.” When I first read it in high school, it had an impact on me because I could identify and empathize with many of the feelings and hardships Celie experienced. They were personal trials many of us have lived through—issues of power and control, of being made to feel less than or unworthy, of learning to trust in your own strength, not what others say you can or cannot do. Celie’s challenges were human challenges. Through her art Walker was able to connect to me as a person.

Each time I walk through the 30 Americans exhibition, I experience that same connection. Although 30 Americans is a collection of works of art by African American artists, the subject matter is often universal. Anyone can identify with issues of race, gender, identity, and history. I, too, ask questions: “Why was I born a male in the United States in the 1960s?” “If my grandparents were Polish, Irish, English, and German, where do I say I come from?” “How does this vessel that houses my soul define me and what I can achieve?” “What is my purpose in the big picture?”

I know that art makes us better. It enlightens us, challenges us to think differently, to question why certain subjects make us uncomfortable, to question what we believe—versus what we were taught to believe—and it makes us explore parts of ourselves that we may have otherwise ignored. It educates us about our history—the achievements and the failures. It reveals truths about the human condition, both our limitations and our amazing potential.

This post is one of a series on staff perspectives of 30 Americans. Robert Mlodzik is Manager of Visitor and Volunteer Services at the NCMA.

The piece itself is a photo of a large black family, probably an extended family, in their finest clothing, mourning what is presumed to be a murdered youth. In and around the photo are words written in yellow that play on the MasterCard commercials, with phrases like “Pistol: $80,” “Bullet: 10 cents,” “Casket: $6,000,” “Burying Your Son: Priceless.” This is a heartbreaking thought. Since those MasterCard commercials were usually so warmhearted and thoughtful, to see them turned by such a horrible event strikes me hard.

I wonder how much less effective the photo might have been if Thomas had not used the commercial element, because advertising is such a strong way to enter our consciousness, traveling down roads of thought like a river travels down a gulch. The piece is really powerful and affected me deeply the first time I saw it. Death always seems to have that effect on people. And so it should.

This post is one of a series on staff perspectives of 30 Americans. Nathan Johnson is a security guard at the NCMA.