A popular and easy criticism to make of the Vermeer&Music exhibition on show at the National Gallery until 8th September 2013, is the distinct lack of Vermeer paintings. Certainly the show may be lacking in volume, but considering there are only 19 known Vermeer paintings in the world, five isn't so bad. Who can blame the gallery for using the snappy, big celebrity name of Vermeer, rather than simply calling it Music and the Golden Age of Dutch Painting, which would an altogether more apt title.
Overlook the poor titling however, and the exhibition is joy. The work if Vermeer and his contemporaries is incredibly noisy if you're willing to look closely enough and this exhibition, though extensive use of musical instruments displayed alongside the paintings allows us to hear what has been silently captured in an image.
The Academy of Ancient music have teamed up with the National Gallery for this exhibition and are performing original 17th-century musical scores on original 17th-century instruments in the exhibition space. The overall effect of which is bewitching.
The concert, at the time Vermeer was painting, did not refer to a large dance hall, but simply a gathering of friends in the home who would play music together. The lead would strike up his instrument and play the first few notes of basso continuo, which in baroque music means bass-line. This carries melody and the rest is improvisation. What this means is that no singular performance if the same piece will ever be the same. The selection of vanitas still lives displayed in the first room of the exhibition really capture this idea of music as a moment, ephemeral, to be savoured but cannot be kept.
More intimate than a concert, was the music lesson. Rarely could young men and women spend so much time alone together than under the guise of musical tuition.
Johannes Vermeer's The Music Lesson from the Queen's Collection captures perfectly this intimacy. Whilst it seems innocent enough on first glance, the artist reflects for us in the mirror above the virginal the young woman plays, a tender exchange of a loaded glance between tutor and pupil. The warm sunlight streaming through the sash window engulfs the young pair in a balmy, amorous glow. If further and direct allusion to the pairs romantic involvement were needed, it can be read directly from the virginal 'MUSICA LETOTIAE COMES MEDICINAL DOLORIS', music is the companion of joy, the medicine of sorrow.
This exhibition has also provided the National Galley the opportunity to show off the work of the scientific department. On loan from Kenwood House, Vermeer's Guitar Player has been thoroughly examined whilst in the National Gallery. The findings show that it is still on its original canvas and from the same period as Woman Seated at a Virginal and A Young Woman Standing at a Virginal from the National Galleries own collection.
Seeing these three paintings if similar subject and size displayed together is a real and rare treat. Whilst the two paintings with virginals show the young woman engaged both with her craft and the viewer- the women peer out at us, placing us in the position of tutor and therefore probably love interest- the guitar player glances away. Her attention has been caught elsewhere and we are left to wonder what we can't see rather than dwell on what we can. What this display of the three paintings reveals therefore is Vermeer's acute understanding of both the relationship of tutor an pupil, and of painting and viewer. His pictorial devices that make us want to cross the yard and climb through his lit windows to the woman inside, have also made us want to strike up the harpsichord and join in the lesson.
This exhibition is alive. There's so much energy and noise and romance that its nice to catch a break. My favourite painting in the exhibition isn't a show-stopping Vermeer, nor a unique ivory lite, but a tiny oil painting by Carel Fibritus. This tiny canvas depicts a market square in the early morning. The vendor can be seen yawning just behind his instrument wares. Shuffling along the dusty street alongside the gentle water of the pond are a mother and daughter walking together. If you listen carefully the peace is broken only by the merry chiming of the church bells. In this case, depicting silence is as powerful as depicting music.
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