As March 13th came and went, I’ve been contemplating my year of lockdown and desperately wishing for a time when this immobility and isolation becomes a thing of the past.
I know that I’m not alone. Nearly every person on the planet is confronting this same crisis, remembering last meals with friends, hurried hugs, final goodbyes and the long months of loneliness and despair that have followed. For some, like my colleague Bing Wang’s mother in China, those anniversaries were months earlier than our own here in Salem. As a nurse in Tianjin, she was on the early frontlines, valiantly coming out of retirement to train medical staff heading to Wuhan in January. I remember sitting with Bing and Stephanie Tung in the staff conference room that January as we refined the checklist for our upcoming Early Photography of China exhibition. We were desperately worrying about Bing’s mom, but I never truly contemplated that those faraway struggles would become our own less than two months later.
A curator’s life often involves travel – it’s one of the joys of my job to connect with works of art and people around the globe. With the arrival of my daughter in 2014, I scaled back my peripatetic life a bit but even then, travel remained a central component of my work. Until 2020.
This past year, I haven’t traveled anywhere. My nearly seven-year-old is young enough that she can’t even remember a time when I didn’t put her to bed every night. Since lockdown, I have been present for all but three of those bedtime stories, one of the many silver linings of this terrible year.
Another blessing, of course, has been the ability to learn from and connect with colleagues and inspirational speakers from around the world through the blue light of a computer monitor. Last Monday’s virtual discussion to celebrate International Women’s Day - Hillary Clinton! Amanda Gorman! Nancy Pelosi! Chrissy Teigen! - was just the latest in a year’s worth of inspiring content from the comfort of my armchair.
But, as I impatiently await my turn for “the new jab,” I want to mark this anniversary by revisiting my final research trip - a convoluted journey on which I have fed intellectually and emotionally since we were all grounded in March.
My last trip was to Romont, Switzerland in the middle of February 2020. I was slated to give a talk centered on PEM’s collection of Chinese export reverse paintings on glass at a two-day scholarly conference hosted by the Vitromusée Romont.
The conference was organized in conjunction with a major international exhibition featuring Chinese reverse glass paintings from Vitromusée Romont’s permanent collection as well as works from two private collections in France and Germany. I joked with many of my colleagues that this was destined to be a “conference of extreme focus,” but I was eager for the chance to see the exhibition and the museum’s permanent collection. I’ve always been fascinated by this type of smooth, limpid painting on the reverse side of a piece of glass. First introduced to China by Jesuit priests at the Forbidden City in the middle of the 18th century, the practice of reverse glass painting in China was taken up in earnest in the 1780s by the emerging community of artists in Guangzhou who catered particularly for foreign clients.
These vivid paintings on the backs of imported, slightly irregular, hand blown sheets of glass were often based on European prints. In this Chinese export watercolor, an artist carefully paints on the reverse of a framed sheet of glass, adapting the European print of a woman mounted for reference in front of him.
PEM’s storied collection of Asian export art includes a rich and largely unpublished group of over sixty Chinese export reverse paintings on glass. Many survive with early histories in Massachusetts and most are based on European prints. One familiar subject in reverse painting – a portrait of George Washington – was at the center of an early American lawsuit.
In 1801, when John E. Sword, Captain of the ship Connecticut headed out on his second voyage to China, he brought with him a portrait of Washington he had purchased from Gilbert Stuart. While in China, Sword commissioned 100 copies of the Stuart portrait in oil on canvas and reverse glass from artists in Guangzhou, which he proceeded to sell in Philadelphia to a community eager for their own portrait of the first President. When Stuart learned of these Cantonese versions of his Washington portrait, he successfully sued Sword for copyright infringement in the Philadelphia courts. How ironic then, that even the ‘original’ Stuart painting was in fact also a copy of sorts – one of over 60 replicas Stuart painted of his Athenaeum portrait and sold widely for $100 apiece.
[For more on this fascinating story, see Maggie Cao’s article]. A related work, a Chinese reverse painted memorial to Washington, will be featured in the upcoming Putnam Galleries of American and Native American art, slated to open in November 2021.
In Romont, I encountered an audience nearly as (in some cases even more!) fascinated by these complex works of cultural and artistic hybridity as I am. Vitromusée Romont, a museum devoted entirely to the glass arts, is housed in a former castle first begun in the 13th century.
The collection includes a diverse range of historic and contemporary works of art in glass including stained glass, glass objects, and tools and materials related to the glass arts.
The “new” wing of the castle, which dates to the 16th century, houses the largest collection of reverse painted glass in the world. The complex also includes the Vitrocentre, a partner institution dedicated to scientific research on glass arts.
The conference brought together senior and emerging scholars from Asia, Europe and the Americas to explore one specific artistic medium from multiple perspectives. For two days, we listened to astonishingly wide-ranging talks on Chinese reverse paintings: not only new research on works made for 18th century clients in London, Paris and Amsterdam, but also examples which survive in Vietnamese and Southeast Asian Buddhist temples (and desperately need to be better documented and preserved), talks on works made at Beijing workshops for the Qianlong Emperor, and even a talk on 19th century Japanese export reverse paintings (a new collecting goal for PEM!)
Content is critical at events like this and we were rewarded abundantly, but these types of gatherings are also essential for networking and cross-pollination. The conference opened dialogues between people working in widely disparate areas of Asian and European art history. Within the stone walls of the 13th century castle and over hot cups of Swiss chocolate during breaks between talks, we hatched dozens of ideas for future research and exhibitions. These hothouses of deep conversation are where the seeds for future international collaborative projects are sown. It may be years before some of these ideas bloom, but the feeling was palpable that something significant was happening at this gathering in a little village in Switzerland. Later this year, Vitromusée Romont will publish the proceedings from the conference, sharing some of this new research with a much wider audience.
Regrettably, it was soon time for me to bid au revoir to old and new friends so I could get home for bedtime stories with my daughter. What should have been a relatively straightforward series of trains and flights from Romont to Salem, ended up being a comically convoluted 39 hour trip home thanks to European Storm Dennis, “one of the most intense extratropical cyclones ever recorded.” In the process, I got waylaid in Amsterdam overnight.
Last minute, I managed to see my dear friend and Asia in Amsterdam co-curator Femke Diercks for dinner and meet her new baby for the first time. In retrospect, the whole trip – even getting stranded overnight at Schiphol – now seems like a gift. If I wasn’t going to be able to go anywhere for a long time, it seemed appropriate to end my travels with a stimulating and convivial conference and then to see a host of friends old and new before hunkering down for a full year.
"Schiphol, have I told you lately that I love you?" Amsterdam's airport is - without a doubt - my perennial favorite. After a late dinner at Femke's house, I headed back to the airport where a lovely man at Passport Control let me back through security. A few hours later I was off to my early morning rerouted flight to Paris and from there onto Boston. Look at us standing so close together and without masks! Good times.
Interacting with the world through a computer monitor throughout this period also has me thinking about the inevitable distortions and artificiality of other kinds of lenses, a notion intimately connected to my current project. For September 2022, PEM Associate Curator Stephanie Tung and I are co-curating Early Photography of China: Imagining Hybrid Worlds, an exhibition drawn from PEM’s large and important collection of 19th century photographs of China.
Photography emerged as a new form of art and technology in the 1840s during a period of profound changes in the way China engaged with the rest of the world. Photography offered the world new impressions of China, suggesting an unbiased vision of the country and its people that was actually as fabricated as the representations we’ve seen in earlier reverse glass paintings. I’m looking forward to sharing more on this topic as our exhibition project progresses in the months ahead.
For now, as the days get longer, the forsythia begins to bloom, and vaccines become more widely available, I’m allowing myself to dream of stepping away from the distorted looking glass of my computer monitor to see parts of this wondrous world with my own eyes again….
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