Category Archives: Uncategorized

Bayeux Tapestry to return to the UK … 900 (or so) years after it left!



Much speculation this morning about an announcement, due to made tomorrow by Emmanuel Macron, who, it is thought, has agreed to loan the Bayeux Tapestry to the UK. Usually exhibited at the appropriately named Musée de la Tapisserie de Bayeux in Normandy, it will be the first time that the tapestry — which isn’t technically a tapestry at all, since it is embroidered (and, interestingly, usually thought that most of the embroidering was undertaken by women) — has been in the UK since it was produced here (? Kent) in the 1070s (? finished by 1077). The agreement is being hailed/”spun” as evidence of the strength of Anglo-French relations following Brexit … hmm. More here.


Requiem for Hieronymus Bosch



“Orchestra” from the Hell wing of Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights, c.1490; Prado, Madrid

Markus Stenz conducts.

Markus Stenz conducts:

2016 was a big year for Bosch. Put on to mark the 500th anniversary of his death, major retrospectives of his work were staged at the Prado and the Noordbrabants Museum in the artist’s hometown of ‘s-Hertogenbosch, while 2016 also saw the publication ( … finally) of the findings of the Bosch Research and Conservation Project, in two sumptuously-illustrated tomes.

One thing I missed among all of this, though, was the appearance of a major new choral work inspired by the painter and his work, composed by Detlev Glanert of the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra and performed in November 2016 in Sint-Janskathedraal, ‘s-Hertogenbosch. It’s a gripping listen, which merges the structure of the requiem mass with thirteenth-century poems and songs, alongside the accusatory roaring of David-Wilson Johnson, whose initial summoning of Bosch — who must subsequently stand and defend himself against charges of sin — is just ever-so-slightly terrifying. As Andrew Clements put it, the Requiem is ‘an outstanding choral achievement, a work of great power and intensely vivid invention, which uncannily finds musical parallels to Bosch’s surreal imagination, and to the extremes of his visions of heaven and hell, grandeur and intimacy.’ Well worth a listen and widely available to buy, but also on Spotify. 

Alternatively, want to know what the ‘butt music’ being played in the Hell wing of Bosch’s Earthly Delights sounds like — the music being conducted by a hideous pink monster with an enormously wide beak, and whose sheet music has been tattooed to some poor guy’s arse (pic. at top of post)? Go here.

Review: Wanting to Say: Finding a Place in the Past (New Art Gallery Walsall)

ROZEENA JABEEN (second year joint honours student in History of Art and English)


The Wanting to Say: Finding a Place in the Past exhibition, now on at The New Art Gallery Walsall (13 October – 22 December 2017), opened as part of Black History Month, alongside the launch of Midlands Art Papers on 12 October. The exhibition examines works from the region’s public art collection and presents them in reference to themes including storytelling, history, memory and identity. Curators Dr Greg Salter and Dr Kate Nichols, from the Department of Art History, Curating and Visual Studies at the University of Birmingham (where I’m currently studying Art History as an Undergraduate), put together an exhibition that I found very interesting and thought-provoking, not least of all because it sums up what we might call an evolving West Midland’s identity: it’s a wonderfully multicultural place, whose identity might still be taking shape but which is partly already defined by diversity. In fact, the exhibition provides a great opportunity to view a series of works side-by-side that explore the ways in which artists – who may well have been marginalised by the official art establishment – have nevertheless found a place for themselves in the past, partly through their art, and features works by black, LGBTQ, Jewish and Irish artists.


Eugene Palmer, Wanting to Say I, 1992; The New Art Gallery Walsall.
(Image from:



The title of the show Wanting to Say was taken from Eugene Palmer’s Wanting to Say I (1992), a work that is exhibited in the exhibition, which shows a black woman looking out at the viewer from what appears to be ship’s porthole. As such, this work immediately brings to mind histories of slavery and of (forced) migration; but, significantly, it also evokes black selfhood in the contexts of movement, which is conveyed most successfully by the steady gaze of the painting’s female subject. Indeed, I found this work particularly fascinating as Palmer encourages an awareness on the part of the viewer of the dynamics of looking itself, of looking and being looked at, and their implications, and forges a moment of self-recognition that is intended to be unsettling: in the history of western art, it is exceptionally meaningful to find a female figure that returns the gaze of a viewer, and this is perhaps especially true of a black female figure. For in the western tradition – and, certainly, this is the case in pre-modern art – women in art are conventionally represented as objects to be looked at: as passive objects that are subject to the heterosexual male gaze. However, in this exhibition, Palmer’s work, which is positioned alongside other works relating to the theme of ‘on the move,’ asks the viewer, or even compels the viewer, to enter into a dialogue about the histories of migration, about identity, movement, ownership and empire, women’s agency, and so on.


Sophie Anderson, Scheherazade; The New Art Gallery Walsall.
(Image from:


Another work in the show, Sophie Anderson’s Scheherazade, especially fascinated me as it depicts the narrator of The Arabian Nights: a collection of tales I read as a child and which deeply resonate with me because of my Islamic and South Asian background. Perhaps in spite of the Victorian inclination towards “Orientalism” here, Scheherazade displays a woman whose ability to tell stories ensures her survival; a woman that again presents a sense of self and of agency, articulated once more through her direct gaze. Contextually, Anderson was a pioneer for women artists, as it was still very difficult for women to train and practice successfully as artists; Anderson, however, was one of the first women artist to have a painting purchased for a public collection in 1871. In the history of Western art, women, not only as subjects in art but as actual artists, have traditionally been marginalised if not actually debarred from the art world, yet Anderson challenges this notion by asserting, to a degree, female agency and autonomy that may well have been intended to inspire women viewers who, by and large, were confined to the gendered space of the home and the role of housewife.

This show, then, draws on a range of artistic traditions, stories, and fragments from the past and is a reminder of how migration shaped British art and how the western tradition in art has operated a system of exclusion rather than inclusion, which, when it is brought out into the open and subjected to scrutiny, can hopefully pave the way for greater inclusivity in the future. The Wanting to Say: Finding a Place in the Past exhibition at The New Art Gallery Walsall is an enlightening and thought-provoking show: it is fascinating for me to see how diverse artists working across time found a place for themselves in the past through their art. The exhibition also reveals some insight into what research and projects the lecturers of the Art History, Curating and Visual Studies Department here at The University of Birmingham get up to – which is encouraging to upcoming graduates such as myself!

Settler States: Cultural Studies of the Colonies – a conference at the Barber Institute of Fine Arts, 23-24 May 2017

Professor Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll is organising a conference on art history in settler states. It will also feature papers by our very own Dr Kate Nichols and Dr Greg Salter – read on to find out more!

The legacy of cultural studies has included a potential expansion of art histories beyond a geographic complacency, singular notion of heritage and time. In the birthplace of cultural studies, global art history in Birmingham studies the perspectives of artists outside the Euro-American academy. This conference focusses on what can be learned and written about art history in settler-colonial states. Taking the expansion of objects, methods, and the canon into account, how can we rewrite the art history of settler states? In realising that the current frameworks for working with Indigenous art are ill-equipped to handle the challenges and reality of our globalized world, Art History in Settler States will focus on developing new tools to respond to the various dynamics of settler-colonial societies that were a part of the British Empire.

Burning of the Boyd, Whangaroa Harbour, 1809 by Walter Wright

Burning of the Boyd, Whangaroa Harbour, 1809 by Walter Wright

Keynote speakers from five countries – Canada, Australia, New Zealand, The United States and South Africa – will guide this analysis. The colonisation of these nations, defined at the time as virgin or empty land, sought to replace the Indigenous population in order to inhabit the land themselves. The Anglo model of setter-colonialism also colonised any prior settlers and thereby enforced a subsequent pattern of forced and voluntary migration. For these nations the settler is not a homogenous or fixed figure, but one upon whom the history of settlement has been inscribed. We will explore comparisons to exploitation colonies like India, and to the problems of other settlements around the world.

By replacing the narrative of nationhood with an emphasis on the processes and impacts of the settler-invader, settler-colonial art history responds to the indigenous challenge to recognise that colonising practices continue to structure daily life in countries that have generally preferred to think of themselves as post-colonial. Thereby, settler-colonial art history is not only about the settlers, it is also art history authored by settlers who are cognisant of their historical position and who actively seek new ways to respond to both ethical and epistemological dilemmas created by settler-colonialism.

For more information on the speakers and the project see:

The conference will take place in the Barber Lecture Theatre, University of Birmingham, Edgbaston, Birmingham B15 2TS, United Kingdom from the 23-24 May 2017.
The conference is free to attend and open to the public.

Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll joins us as Professor of Global Art

This year, the Department of Art History, Curating and Visual Studies welcomed Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll who joins us as Professor of Global Art.  An expert in global contemporary art and colonialism as well as the history of museums and collecting, she completed a Ph.D. in 2009 on Aboriginal Art at Harvard University, with the thesis entitled: Imaging Nation: The Resilience of Indigenous Australian Art and its Colonial Representation. Following her studies at Harvard, Khadija lectured at the Academy of Fine Arts Vienna, University College London and the University of Cambridge.

Photograph of Professor Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll

This year Khadija has lectured on the MA module Criticism and Methods and Theorising Exhibitions. Next academic year she will be teaching a new final year undergraduate special subject entitled Global Contemporary Art as well as contributing to the design of a new Art and Law module. Also engaged in the Barber Institute of Fine Arts, Khadija is organising a conference on Art History in Settler States: Cultural Studies of the Colonies with Settler Colonial on 23-24 May 2017, which we’ll be posting about shortly.

Khadija is the author of Art in the Time of Colony (2014), a book that investigates encounters between colonial visual cultures, unveiling new perspectives through complex biographies of five key objects. Among numerous published articles her most recent work includes articles ‘The Art of Dissident Domesticity’, a collaboration with Jesse Shipley and Michal Murawski in Social Text and ‘Botanical Conflicts: Marianne North’ in Third Text. She is also co-editor of the journal Third Text as well as a regular contributor to Art Monthly Australasia. She is also currently working on a book entitled Fragile Crown: Empire, Collection, Restoration.

As an artist, Khadija has exhibited at the Venice Biennale, Savvy Contemporary Berlin, Haus der Kulturen der Welt Berlin, Pitt Rivers Museum, and the Marrakech Biennale. Her work ranges from writing to performance and video installations, and often focusses on alternate histories. She has also curated/co-created various international exhibitions such as The Lost World (Part 2), Kranich Museum, Vienna Zocolo, and Homebase IV Berlin. Currently, she is the artist in residence at Border Criminologies within the Law Faculty at Oxford University, where she works on an immigration detention archive, and a play which premiered in Switzerland at the Konzerttheatre Bern on March 16, 2017.

Together with that of Dr Gregory Salter, Professor Carroll’s appointment significantly expands our teaching and research expertise in modern and contemporary art.

Read more about Khadija on her birmingham profile here.

From Gothic Churches to Contemporary Art, via Smoky Underground Wine Cellars: The Second Years take on Prague, by James Quarterman


View of Prague and the Vltava

Early morning on Sunday, 12th February. As Ubers drew up outside the Barber Institute and the sound of trundling suitcases filled the air, 30 or so 2nd Year Art Historians, accompanied by Matthew Rampley, Nora Veszprémi and Markian Prokopovych, boarded the coach and began the week-long study trip to Prague, capital of the Czech Republic, as part of the module Art History in the Field. For this module, the students had to find a work of art, group or theme that particularly interested them, and undertake study in situ, all in preparation for a presentation in the summer term. As such, the lecturers organised tours of the major highlights of the city, and students were subsequently given optional extras or lots of free time to seek out their own interests. Prague has to be one of the most underrated capitals of Europe; easily on par with other major cities such as Paris, Berlin and Rome, but comparatively less well travelled. Over the course of the week the students and staff explored the great variety of fine and applied art, architecture, and design Prague had to offer, thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere, blessed by beautiful sunshine every day (and not shivering too much), in one of the finest cities in Europe.

We arrived at Václav Havel International Airport and were greeted by a guide, who took us  to the hotel, and gave us a brief rundown of the city and how to act like a local, as well as some very useful maps marking out major attractions, transport lines, and most importantly, good pubs. Arriving at our Communist-era hotel at Olšanká (personally I thought it was better than I expected it would be), we checked in and grabbed a bite to eat from local restaurants.


Looking down Wenceslas Square

The first day of exploration was upon us. Group A began a walking tour with Markian of the medieval Old Town and across the famous Charles Bridge to the splendid Baroque masterpiece St. Nicholas Church. Meanwhile, Group B accompanied Matthew on a tour of the New Town, highlighting buildings and works of art from the nineteenth century onwards, a period of great nationalistic revival. As a member of Group B, I did Matthew’s tour first (more on Markian’s later). Starting at Josef Myselbek’s impressive nationalistic Monument to St. Wenceslas in Wenceslas Square, we walked down the grand Parisian boulevard, passing many interesting architectural designs, ranging from neo-classical and secessionist to art nouveau, art deco and modernist. We also briefly viewed David Černý’s parody of the Wenceslas monument, to which no description of mine can do justice. We passed the grand old Carolinum theatre (site of the premiere of Mozart’s Don Giovanni), the cubist House of the Black Madonna, and walked on past the much-restored Powder Tower and back to the Old Town Square (again, more on that later). Heading into the Jewish Quarter, we passed the distinctly Moorish Spanish Synagogue and the ancient Old New Synagogue and Jewish cemetery, finally ending up at the nineteenth century Rudolfinum, which had served as concert hall, art gallery, and seat of the Czechoslovak parliament.


Exhibit in the Kampa Museum

After a much needed lunch break, students were given the option of visiting the Kampa museum (the only attraction in Prague open on a Monday), which housed a fine collection of Czech modern to contemporary art, and a series of paintings by the great early Czech abstract artist František Kupka. At other parts of the afternoon small groups went to the John Lennon wall, a random wall on the west side of the river which became a site for graffiti artists and disgruntled citizens to express their disapproval of the Communist regime. Nowadays it’s a great background for candid photography and Facebook profile pictures.


The Cathedral

The second day of exploring was made up of a large chunk of free time and a visit to the Veletržni Palác, the former Trade Fair Palace and current site of the late nineteenth and twentieth century Czech, German and French art collections of the National Gallery with Matthew and Nora. My tour was in the afternoon, so myself and John visited the Hradčany (castle complex) on the north-western side of the town, within which is a veritable treasure trove of architectural complexity. The crowning jewel of the complex is the oft-photographed protruding Gothic spires of St. Vitus Cathedral, begun by Matthias of Arras in 1344 at the order of Charles IV on the occasion of Prague’s elevation to archbishopric, continued and expanded by Petr Parléř until 1399, and then worked on in patches by various architects over 100s of years, finally being completed in 1929. Walking inside and around this masterpiece of composite architectural styles, and on through the Prague Castle Gallery, Old Royal Palace and Basilica of St. George, was a feast for the eyes and an art historical mental workout too.


In the Veletrzni Palac

Then it was time for the tour of the Veletržni Palác, which holds a fabulous collection of artworks by a great range of Czech artists such as Josef Manes, Alfons Mucha, Emil Filla, Bohumil Kubišta, Jan Zrzavý, František Kupka and Otto Gutfreund, as well as works by many foreign artists such as Delacroix, Pissarro, Renoir, Monet, Degas, Cézanne, Gauguin, Van Gogh, Picasso, Toulouse-Lautrec, Rodin and Edvard Munch (the latter two artists had a profound effect on Czech sculpture and painting respectively). Such an impressive collection makes it one of the finest (and newest) modern art galleries in Europe, and walking around the complex ably guided by Matthew was one of my personal favourite experiences of the trip, leading me to make the shocking declaration that I, a lover of all things Renaissance, Italian and Baroque, preferred Prague’s modern works in comparison to its older ones.


In Old Town Square

The third day was Group B’s walking tour of the Old Town with Markian (while Group A went off with Matthew round the New Town). Beginning in the Old Town Square next to Ladislav Šaloun’s extraordinary Monument to Jan Hus, an Art Nouveau masterpiece reminiscent of Rodin’s finest works, we analysed the layout of the square, and viewed the impressive Old Town Hall’s famous astrological clock bell-ringing at the striking of the hour. We journeyed into the first baroque St. Nicholas Church in Prague (there are two), and also into the contrastingly bare Hussite Church of Our Lady of Tyn, and explored the old town’s narrow streets, passing the Bethlehem Chapel (where Jan Hus first preached his sermons), and stopping off at a delicious hot chocolate café. From there we headed across the Charles Bridge, swarming with tourists of course but nonetheless very picturesque, and into the Malá Strana (Little Quarter), to visit the second, larger, St. Nicholas Church. Inside we witnessed a masterpiece of Baroque architectural design and trompe l’oeil ceiling painting that wouldn’t have looked out of place in Rome, magnificently decorated and theatrically grandiose.


In the Castle Grounds

That afternoon a group of students accompanied Nora around the National Gallery collections of Old Master paintings in the Šternberk Palace, which holds works from the fourteenth through to the seventeenth century by foreign artists such as Lorenzo di Monaco, Benozzo Gozzoli, Lucas Cranach the Elder, Albrecht Dürer, Bronzino, Jan Gossaert, Peter Breughel the Elder, Van Dyck, Peter Paul Rubens, and Rembrandt – a fine collection of names if ever you saw one. To finish off the day we popped into the Schwarzenberg Palace across the square to view some works of Baroque and nineteenth century Bohemian artists.


Vitkov Hill

The fourth and final full day of exploring started with a walk up to the National Memorial on Vitkov Hill, with the huge but relatively conventional twentieth century equestrian sculpture of Jan Zizka by Bohumil Kafka. Within the memorial were housed the Military Museum’s post-1914 collections, including exhibitions on Czech resistance during the 2 world wars, a tomb of an unknown soldier, and a rather creepy underground exhibit featuring the tomb and re-created mummification lab of Klement Gottwald, the first president of the independent nation of Czechoslovakia. However, for most of us the highlight was the café on the roof, which offered great views of the surrounding city and plenty of opportunities for photographs.



The Church of the Sacred Heart

For the afternoon students were given two options: a walk with Markian around the Vinohrady district, or a visit to a Czech contemporary art museum with Matthew. I chose the former of these options, and was rewarded with a chance to see the less touristy side of Prague, which nonetheless had within its area a number of architecturally interesting buildings. The largest and most important of these was Jože Plečnik’s Church of the Sacred Heart, built between 1929-33, which looms over the gardens of the square in which it is situated. Inspired by a combination of early Christian basilicas and Egyptian temples, yet uncompromisingly modern, the church features a clock tower as wide as the building itself, with a glass clock resembling a rose window, measuring 7.5m in diameter. Inside one can gawp at the wide single-aisled interior with unfaced brick walls, marble floors, and a marble altar featuring statuary of Bohemia’s patron saints. Our walking tour also featured a Hussite church with concrete bell tower, a market pavilion and a few nationalist and neo-classical buildings.

Each and every evening the students took full advantage of Prague’s vibrant night life and enjoyed the local delicacies of the restaurants, bars and pubs. Amongst the locations frequented by students were smoky underground wine cellars (the Czech Republic has not yet banned indoor smoking in pubs and bars) filled with friendly locals, and thriving jazz bars which featured expert musicians performing all night long, some of whom undoubtedly had done so since the days of the Communist regime, when jazz was the musical language of rebellion. A plethora of pubs served hearty Czech food such as beef goulash, roast Moravian pork, and chicken schnitzel, all served with potato/bread dumplings and washed down with copious amounts of cheap (and exquisite) Czech beer and wine. And for those desiring more familiar tastes, one could find Italian, Chinese, Indian, American, Vegetarian and Vegan restaurants serving equally fine food and drink.


Group Shot

All in all, this trip was incredibly enjoyable. Surrounded as we were by culture at every turn, every single student found something to enjoy in Prague, whether it be paintings by Old Masters, Czech nationalists or inspired modernists, great monumental sculptures and small scale portraits in bronze, buildings exquisitely crafted in every Western style under the sun, or simply the city’s ambience and novelty. Undoubtedly this trip was a highlight of this year for every student, and our thanks go to Matthew, Markian and Nora for organising and leading a trip from which we all have lasting memories.


‘Speaking Statues’

Dr Kim Woods (Open University)

Wednesday 15 March
4:10 pm
Barber Institute Lecture Theatre


Many statues and works of sculpture made in the late Gothic and Renaissance period are represented with mouth open, as if caught in a mid-utterance. These ‘speaking statues’ have received remarkably little comment from art historians. What are these speaking statues saying? How can we tell? What do viewers ‘hear’ and how are they intended to respond?

Might this the illusion of speech be just another aspect of the illusion of life that constituted such a strong theme in late Gothic art and the Renaissance? Accents of an intensely lifelike character might serve not just to impress but to enhance the persuasive character of a work of art and encourage interaction with the viewer. Understood this way, the illusion of speech is one aspect of a portfolio of persuasive virtuoso features that served artistic purposes but also had the capacity to engage a response on the part of the viewer.

Alternatively, could it be that the illusion of speech is an aspect of animism, the suggestion that a statue is in some essential sense alive? Legends have certainly come down to us recounting stories of statues coming to life and speaking to the onlooker. A more conservative alternative is that the illusion of speech enhanced the potential surrogacy of the statue: in other words that a statue apparently speaking or acting echoed the hopes of the viewer that the figurehead the statue represented would also speak or act on the viewer’s behalf.

There is another possibility: that a speaking statue is actually ‘saying’ something quite specific that the viewer in some sense would have ‘heard’ as part of their viewing experience. It is not difficult to find instances where this was undoubtedly the case. It begs many questions though. What exactly does a specific statue ‘say’? Who decides what it ‘says’ and indeed whether it speaks at all? Were there conventions of ‘speaking’ that a period eye might understand and we no longer do? The aim of this paper is to begin to unravel this illusion of speech and the agency it implies.

Biographical Information:
Kim Woods is a senior lecturer in Art History at the Open University. She specialises in northern European late Gothic sculpture c.1330-c.1530, materials of sculpture and cultural exchange. Her first single-authored book, Imported Images (Donington, 2007), concentrated on Netherlandish wood sculpture. Since then she has been working on alabaster sculpture and her new book, Cut in Alabaster 1330-1530, a study of a material and its European traditions will be published by Harvey Miller in 2017. Her co-published Open University work includes the Yale/Open University Renaissance Art Reconsidered volumes (2007); Medieval to Renaissance, the first volume of the Tate/Open University Art and Visual Culture series (2012); and most recently a chapter on Spain and the New World for European Art and the Wider World, 1415-1550, the first volume of the new Open University course Art and its Global Histories, to be published by Manchester University Press in 2017.


‘O Say Can You See: American Art, Propaganda, and the First World War’

Professor David Lubin (Wake Forest University & Terra Foundation Visiting Professor University of Oxford)

Wednesday 1 March
4:10 pm
Barber Institute Lecture Theatre

Co-organised with the American and Canadian Studies Centre, University of Birmingham


Childe Hassam, Early Morning on the Avenue in May 1917 (Addison Gallery, 1917)

In the mid 1910s, American artists, photographers, and graphic designers played an engaged and sometimes controversial role in helping their countrymen decide whether to intervene in the Great War or remain neutral. Focusing on a painting by the American Impressionist Childe Hassam, which shows a panoply of Allied flags flying above Fifth Avenue shortly after the United States declared war on Germany, David Lubin considers how patriotism, religion, gender, banking, and pacifism were all called into play visually as the First World War sucked America into its vortex.

Biographical Information:
David Lubin, the Charlotte C. Weber Professor of Art at Wake Forest University and Terra Foundation for American Art Visiting Professor at Oxford University, is the author of Grand Illusions: American Art and the First World War (Oxford University Press, 2016) and co-organizer of World War I and American Art, an exhibition now on view at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts in Philadelphia.


‘Disalienation: ownership, performance, repatriation’

Professor Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll (University of Oxford)

Wednesday 22 February
4:10 pm
Barber Institute Lecture Theatre


Penacho: Pracht & Passion exhibition installation view, Museum für Völkerkunde, Vienna, 2012. APA-PictureDesk.

This lecture reflects on a process of disalienation that drives repatriations, the performances, replications, and provenance research involved. In a case study I focus on the inbetweenness of ‘Montezuma’s Crown’ – el Penacho – which comes to stand for all museum objects, suspended in a shock-proof vitrine in the Weltmuseum in Vienna. While Mexican tourists press against the glass case, making a pilgrimage to see the crown as a way of connecting with a lost Aztec heritage, the uncertain provenance of the headdress makes this an ambiguous relic. The historical movement of the Penacho from Central America to Central Europe instead speaks of Austria’s thwarted imperial ambitions, while conservators’ insistence that the crown cannot be moved due to its fragility is now used as an excuse to rebuff demands by the Mexican government to repatriate it. I trace the various ways in which the Penacho straddles ontological and epistemological domains and how its suspension in the museum’s vitrine represents a metaphor for the political stalemate in which it is now caught. Relationships between art and ideology are refocussed through the lens of fascism, trauma, and colonial claims for restitution that refer to cases of Nazi looting. The lecture will present examples from contemporary art and museum practises that challenge notions of origin and forms of property ownership.

Biographical Information:
Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll is an artist and Professorial Fellow of Global Art History at the University of Birmingham. She is the author of the book Art in the Time of Colony, and related exhibitions that include Ore Black Ore in the Allegory of the Cave Painting at Extracity Antwerp; Investigated at Savvy Contemporary Berlin; Artists in Residence at the Pitt Rivers; Embassy Embassy at Haus der Kulturen der Welt Berlin. Her installations and texts have been exhibited and performed at the Venice Biennale, Institute of Contemporary Art London, Pesta Bonka Festival Indonesia, and the Marrakech Biennale. An expert in contemporary art and colonialism as well as the history of museums and collecting, she wrote her M.A. and Ph.D. at Harvard University about Aboriginal Art. She is an editor of the journal Third Text, and has also been the curator of various international exhibitions including Julie Gough: The Lost World (Part 2) which has just formed the basis of her most recent book The Important of Being Anachronistic: Contemporary Aboriginal Art and Museum Reparations.

She is currently completing an edited volume Botanical Drift: Economic Botany and its Plant Protagonists, and a book about the Immigration Detention Archive that she is adapting for the stage in a new commission from the Konzerttheatre Bern. She is also working on a book project that provides the basis for this lecture, Fragile Crown: Empire, Collection, Restitution, which is about the complexities of restitution arguments for the return of cultural property.

All welcome; refreshments served
Enquiries to Sara Tarter:

What’s in a Bruegel? Not a “h,” according to Jonathan Jones


One of the things people often ask is ‘how exactly do you spell Bruegel: is it with the “h”? or without?’ Truth is, it’s both. Bruegel signed his name both ways, and, in his early career, there were other spellings besides those two main ones. In fact, if you wanted to be precise – and a bit of pedantry can go a long way – you could rephrase the simple question ‘is it spelled with the “h”? or without?’ as the much more cumbersome: ‘so is with the “h,” or without? but what about the “u”? should I include a diaeresis over the “u”? or is it a macron that I need?’ And, to be honest, it’s not just a matter of how it’s spelled, because there’s also the matter of how Bruegel styled his signature: is it lowercase, in italics? or is it uppercase, with all sorts of other idiosyncrasies thrown in for good measure (which letters should be given as a ligature, for instance?). For in the corpus of autograph paintings and drawings by Bruegel, all of these varieties and more are encountered: from ‘brūeghel,’ to ‘brueghel,’ to ‘BRVEGEL’. (This, by the way, is to say nothing about how people outside the Netherlands coped the artist’s name – to Italians, for instance, Bruegel’s Dutch name was not only a bit tricky to spell but also, I guess, difficult to pronounce, and so we find yet more variants: the Bolognese doctor Scipio Fabius, for instance, plumped, in 1561 and again in 1565, for ‘Petrus Bruochl’.)

What this all means, in reality, is that Pieter Bruegel willingly played around with how to spell his own name. In early works, from the 1550s, we find him using variants on the ‘brueghel’ type of signature (lowercase, in italics, often with the “h,” with all sorts of other variations); then, in about 1559, he decided to adopt, with greater consistency than before, the now more familiar form: ‘BRVEGEL’ (usually uppercase, sometimes with the “V” and “E” in ligature, and that pesky “h” now eliminated). Here’s how some of those signatures actually look in a few works by the artist (1. the 1556 drawing for the Big Fish Eat the Little Ones; 2. the 1559 Netherlandish Proverbs; 3. the 1559 drawing of Charity):

B signatures .png

It’s stating the obvious, but what this shows us is that Bruegel couldn’t quite make up his mind when it came to spelling his name and signing his works. Up until about 1559, that is. For from that date, he went as ‘BRVEGEL’. And the reason for this change is a simple one: for ‘BRVEGEL’ has a more Latinate feel than the decidedly Dutch ‘brūeghel‘ and its variants. The signature change was, in other words, about cultivating a particular image: the Latinising, or “Latinisation,” of the name signalling the artist’s social, cultural and intellectual pretensions. (If proof is needed, we can just cast about almost at random in Bruegel’s milieu and find other examples of people doing exactly the same thing: ‘Domenicus Lampsonius,’ to take just one example from Bruegel’s extended circle, is a Latinised version of ‘Dominique Lampsone’.)

That to me seems to be the most plausible explanation of what’s going on here. But, whatever the historical realities are, the ‘is it with the “h” or without’ cliché provided a nice tagline in Jonathan Jones’s recent article in The Guardian on the, in my view ill-conceived, subject of which Brueg[h]el matters; or, put in another way that comes closer to what Jones actually thinks, which Brueg[h]el was any good?

His article was prompted by the upcoming opening at the Holburne Museum in Bath of a new exhibition: Bruegel: Defining a Dynasty, which is the first exhibition ever mounted in the UK on the Brueg[h]el dynasty. I’ll be giving a lecture there in March, on Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s (that’s the Bruegel-without-the-“h”’s) Blind Leading the Blind and its copies. Jones, though, doesn’t think that such an exhibition is worth having, for ‘the only Bruegel worth bothering with is the one whose name is spelled without the “h,” ‘ which is to say, Bruegel the Elder. The “other Brueghels,” namely Bruegel’s sons Pieter Brueghel (usually called Pieter the Younger, to distinguish him from the father) and Jan Brueghel (usually called Jan the Elder, or “Velvet Breughel,” to distinguish him from his own son, Jan Brueghel the Younger … ) are, in Jones’s view, second-rate painters, scarcely worthy of being the focus of an entire exhibition. He simply can’t see why ‘British museums and art dealers such as Christies, which staged a Brueghel show in 2014, [are] so obsessed with these lesser painters?,’ the “lesser painters” in question being the Brueghels with the “h”.

As we’ve now seen, it ain’t quite that simple: as I said a moment ago, a bit of pedantry goes a long way, so let’s just remember that the Elder Bruegel also had the “h”. But, the bigger point here concerns Jones’s idea that Bruegel the Elder’s children produced pictures that are inherently or automatically inferior to their faither’s: Bruegel’s genius produced masterpieces; the Brueghels’ servility produced copies, feeble pastiches, or else pretty inoffensive still lifes:


Bruegel without the “h,” Blind Leading the Blind, 1568; Capodimonte Museum, Naples


Brueghel with the “h,” Blind Leading the Blind


Jan Brueghel the Elder, Flowers in a Wooden Vessel, 1606/7; Kunsthistorisches, Vienna

This is the sort of thing you will have read years ago. And it was said especially often of Pieter Brueghel the Younger, who, in comparison to his brother Jan (whose originality has never really been questioned), has always tended to be thought of as being a totally uninventive, totally servile imitator and pasticheur of his father’s art. But is that really true? Consensus now is that it’s not: Brueghel with the “h” also produced pictures according to his own capacities of invention and artistry. And what he produced, apparently without recourse to an existing prototype by his father, is, in my view, not only good (whatever good means … ) but is also interesting for all sorts of reasons.

But, be that as it may, we can or should object, I think, to the snobbish dismissal of Pieter Brueghel the Younger’s activities as a copyist. All the best artists copy and always have done, and might you not say that Brueghel the Younger’s commercial savvy is something to be applauded: clearly he identified a market demand for Bruegel’s and Bruegelian pictures, which he seized and capitalised on, and clearly made a living for himself. If that makes a man feeble … then …? What’s at stake here, I guess, is how you define greatness in an artist anyway. If absolute originality is the key criteria, then we’re always on shaky ground, because what even is artistic originality, exactly? How is originality defined? And how can we ever be sure that something is absolutely original in the strict sense? (Roland Barthes had thoughts on that matter, on the tyranny of the author-genius’s supposed originality; and even Michelangelo’s inventiveness is best understood as a process of assimilative emulation, according to which he took pre-existing artistic and literary ideas and then put them all together in inventive ways — so, is that originality?) Besides, why can’t commercial success be a marker of greatness? (The idea that art historians should only be interested in seeing greatness in masterpieces produced only by artists who take pride of place among the pantheon of artist geniuses died out, rightly, a long time ago … art history students are habitually taught nowadays to “difference the canon”.)

For me, the lives and works of the Brueghels with the “h” are just as interesting as the life and work of the Bruegel without the “h”. They might be interesting for different reasons; but different, surely, isn’t the same as being “less good than”.

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