The Art of the Actress: Fashioning Identities. By Laura Engel. Review by Victoria Joule

The Art of the Actress: Fashioning Identities. By Laura Engel. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2024. Pp 78. £17.00 paperback), ISBN 9781108977906.

The cover image of Laura Engel’s The Art of the Actress is not of an eighteenth-century actress, but instead features the moody tones of Donato Creti’s Astronomical Observations: Comet (1711). Although not discussed within the book – indeed, Engel may not have chosen the image – the significance is clear. Set against darkening skies, the glowing comet shines out much like the actresses discussed in the text; their dazzling images and performances are moments in history that artists and actress-artists alike attempted to capture in solid form for posterity. In this book, Engel offers the reader a visually and intellectually stimulating insight into the literary, cultural and material legacy of the actress. The Art of the Actress is part of Cambridge Elements: an extensive collection of shorter academic works covering a wide range of disciplines. Engel’s work is published within the Eighteenth-Century Connections series that explores ‘connections between verbal and visual texts and the people, networks, cultures and places’ with attention to ‘oral, written and visual media’. Cambridge Elements can be purchased as affordable print or electronic editions, and some are also open access.

The paperback version of Engel’s book is about the size of a journal but lighter and softer to handle, and the cover image is beautifully reproduced. The text is divided into four parts: part one concentrates on the use of pearls in portraiture; part two is on the relationship between artist and actress; part three focuses on another material object – a muff; and part four cleverly reads the style of ‘unfinished’ art against the in/ability to capture the actress’s image. Engel effectively selects specific material objects and specific actresses to provide ‘a visual exhibition highlighting the representations, creative works, collaborations, and experiences of both well-established and lesser-known performers’ (3) in the eighteenth century. In Engel’s terms, ‘The “art” of the actress thus refers to the actress represented in art, as well as the actress’s labor and skill in making art ephemerally through performance and tangibly through objects’ (2). Throughout the study, Engel highlights the fascinating web of theatrical connections between artists and actresses, demonstrating how ‘women fashioned their identities on- and offstage, as well as how audiences perceived women in the public sphere through theatrical lenses’ (3–4).

Part one immediately establishes Engel’s aims using a piece of jewellery to observe the complex history it brings to different visual portrayals. A string of pearls can tell a story about the actress and her infiltration into the higher echelons of society, but it also conveys the pearls’ murky history in terms of slavery; furthermore, ideas about beauty and competing metaphors of virginity and sexuality show the actress’s ‘[occupation of a] precarious and significant place in the early modern world’ (18). The section concludes with a concise but fascinating examination of pearls as stage accessory in portraits of actresses, providing links between the parts they and others played.

Part two develops the concept of the actress as artist/artist as actress. With a focus on Anne Damer (amateur actress and sculptor) and Angelica Kauffman (artist), Engel demonstrates how involvement in acting had an impact on their representations of women. Engel provides an expansive backstory to a selection of portraits showing how Damer and Kauffman’s private and public lives, as well as public theatre and private theatricals – and even specific performances, costumes and contemporary fashions – fed into their artistic creations. Damer, present in the public eye as an actress, sculptor, and quite a character with her ‘dazzling, over-the-top costumes’ (38), was inevitably subject to satiric attacks. Engel provides an empowering reading of the ongoing presence of these women’s work in museums and galleries as testimony to their valuable contributions to the arts.

The penultimate section focusses on one figure and an emblematic object: Mary Anne Clarke and her strategically held muff. Clarke appeared with a huge white muff at the scandalous court case concerning her selling of army commissions to fund decoration of the house given to her by her lover, the Duke of York. Taking theory and knowledge of actresses’ self-fashioning and their contemporary reception and portrayal, Engel reads the subsequent images of Clarke in comparable ways: ‘Although Clarke was not an actress on the stage, her theatrical maneuvering and publicity stunts established her as a performer to be reckoned with’ (48). The validity of this approach is reinforced by the section on Thomas Rowlandson’s collection of prints featuring Clarke and actress Dorothy Jordan, in which Engel persuasively highlights connections between the satirical portrayals of the two women. Engel concludes with a more uplifting comment on Clarke’s later attempt to control her image through neo-classical sculpture.

To conclude, Engel effectively examines the transitory nature of performance by turning to ‘unfinished’ artwork. Engel uses a selection of Sir Thomas Lawrence’s unfinished portraits to show how they ‘are inextricably tied to the theater, an art form that is by definition fleeting, ephemeral, and open-ended’ (63). Again, Engel reveals the intricate web of theatrical connections behind and feeding into artistic works. The unfinished portraits are of the actress and playwright Elizabeth Inchbald, and of Lady Cahir who performed with Lawrence in one of Inchbald’s plays at a private theatrical. Engel extends the reading of theatrical influences on portraiture to a brief analysis of other portraits. One is ‘almost too finished’ (68) compared to the others: ‘these portraits are alive because they are not done yet’ (65).

One lasting impression this condensed book gives is just how theatrically infused culture was in the eighteenth century. Because of the impressive scope of Engel’s work in exploring the connections and conversations between artists and actresses, visual art, performances and more, there is less space at times to delve into detailed analysis and deepening of concepts, such as how the eighteenth-century actress ‘is central to understanding unfolding anxieties about nation, race, gender and heteronormativity’ (4). For example, the ‘unexpected analogy’ between an enslaved (female) child and duchess (in Duchess of Portsmouth with an Unknown Female Attendant) could be developed further using broader post-colonial studies, particularly in relation to the subsequent portrait of Nell Gwyn (with black male slave) which Engel presents as an echo (17). Sometimes the cruder, more explicit aspects of the material are left unsaid: for example, we can consider exactly how Gwyn is (erotically) ‘making’ (or stuffing or washing?) sausages and how Clarke’s muff (like Sophia Western’s in Tom Jones)is representative of female genitalia. These kinds of questions, however, also point to the effectiveness of Engel’s style, which encourages an interactive engagement. Engel often poses questions or makes references to online reproductions of portraits for readers to follow up in addition to the extensive range she discusses. I found myself setting up another device to look at these images while reading this book. I can imagine students and scholars alike being inspired to pursue new research projects. As a kind of condensed monograph, in an age when time seems to be as short as ever and new research is published rapidly, this easy-to-read book serves as a model and inspiration for future study.

Victoria Joule is an independent scholar based in Wales. Victoria has published on women’s writing of the long eighteenth century with particular attention to self-representation and literary forms. She co-edited and contributed to the essay collection with Emrys D. Jones, Intimacy and Celebrity in Eighteenth-Century Literary Culture: Public Interiors (Palgrave Macmillan, 2018).

The Tudors: Art and Majesty in Renaissance England

An exhibition review by Valerie Schutte

The Tudors: Art and Majesty in Renaissance England is a dynamic exhibition of Tudor artifacts currently touring the United States. On 14 May 2023, it wrapped up the second leg of its tour at the Cleveland Museum of Art, which was preceded by three months at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, from 10 October 2022 to 8 January 2023, to be followed by three months at the Legion of Honor, San Francisco, from 24 June to 24 September 2023.

The accompanying exhibition catalogue is filled with full-page color images of every item, though not all are on display at all three museums. It also includes entries for items not on display at any of the exhibition stops because some of the loans were cut by the time the exhibition opened in October 2022, being delayed from its original autumn 2020 opening date.

As I saw the exhibition twice in Cleveland, I was unable to see many of the items related to Queen Mary I that were not displayed at this venue. These items included Hans Eworth’s 1554 portrait of her, as well as the cartoons for the panels donated by Philip and Mary for the Last Supper “King’s Window” at Sint-Janskerk, Gouda, though they are both beautifully represented in the catalogue. As a scholar of Mary I, I also have minor objections to the descriptions of some of the entries. For example, item number 27 is a 1557 copy of Juan Luis Vives’ Instruction of a Christen Woman on loan from the British Library. The catalogue description was written by Sarah Bochicchio, a PhD Candidate in art history at Yale University. While Bochicchio points out that Vives was a spiritual advisor to Catherine of Aragon and a director of Mary’s studies, she also writes that the text informed Mary and Elizabeth as inheritors of a gendered hierarchy of leadership. Furthermore, on the object label at the exhibition, Catherine of Aragon is not even mentioned, while the description highlights how both Mary and Elizabeth navigated a gendered duality during their queenships. While this is accurate, I am frustrated that such a powerful monument to Catherine and Mary must be discussed in terms of its importance to Elizabeth, thus fortifying the public perception of Elizabeth being a more important or worthy Tudor queen.

However, the more than 80 items on display in Cleveland showcased visual art as a formidable tool of monarchical power, from paintings and drawings to cups and bowls, and suits of armor to giant hanging tapestries. Various museums and private collections across Europe and the United States contributed displayed items. The Devonshire Collection at Hardwick Hall lent the “Sea Dog” table, a drawing table so called because of the sea dogs carved into its walnut legs, the Victoria and Albert Museum lent the Heneage Jewel, and the Kunsthistorisches Museum of Vienna lent Hans Holbein’s painting of Jane Seymour, while the newly-crowned King Charles III lent a miniature of Henry VIII and drawings by Holbein from the Royal Collection. These are only a few of the museums and collectors who participated in fielding these artifacts.

While some of the displayed items are well known, such as the painting of Henry VIII from the workshop of Hans Holbein and both the Sieve and Rainbow portraits of Elizabeth, many are lessor known artifacts that still portrayed the magnificence of the Tudor court. These include the ewer and basin engraved with portrait medallions of the monarchs on loan by the Boston Museum of Fine Arts and the embroidered portrait of Elizabeth I in a garden loaned from a private collection. 

Altogether the exhibition overwhelms its viewers with images of majesty, power, and Renaissance ideas of humanism and antique glory. The Tudors: Art and Majesty in Renaissance England is not to be missed, as this variety of Tudor objects and artifacts is not likely to be showcased in the United States again anytime soon.

Valerie Schutte is a historian who specialises in books dedicated to Tudor queens. She has published two monographs and her seventh edited collection will be published later this year – Mid-Tudor Queenship and Memory: The Making and Re-Making of Lady Jane Grey and Mary I. She is editing a special issue of the Royal Studies Journal to be published in December 2023 on Tudor royal sexualities. Schutte is currently writing a cultural biography of Anne of Cleves and is working on several essays on Queen Mary I.

Angelica Kauffman. Edited by Bettina Baumgärtel. With contributions by Inken Maria Holubec, Johannes Myssok and Helen Valentine. Munich: Hirmer Publishers. 2020. £35 / $45 (hardback), ISBN: 978-3-7774-3462-9 (English edition).

In June 1780, Angelica Kauffman (1747–1807) was paid one hundred guineas for a prestigious commission: the creation of four ceiling paintings at Somerset House in London. Representing ‘The Elements of Art’ – Invention, Composition, Design and Colouring – critics lavished praise on ‘the celebrated Angelica Kauffman’, whose ‘very capital pictures which adorn the ceiling’ had ‘an infinite deal of character, and sweetness’ (cited on p.18). The four paintings commemorated Somerset House’s new function as home of the Royal Academy of Arts, where Kauffman was one of the thirty-six founding Members, one of only two women Members. It is these roundels– the only known examples of murals painted by a woman artist in the eighteenth century –which would have been at the heart of the Royal Academy’s exhibition, which was scheduled to open on 27 June 2020.

Members of the WSG will have greatly lamented the cancellation of the London iteration of Angelica Kauffman, which was one of the first exhibitions to be removed from the RA programme due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Given the sheer number of international loans that made up the show (from at least 34 institutions, plus private collections), it may have proved too difficult to coordinate a delayed installation in London. Instead, the catalogue’s good quality, 144 colour illustrations now serve to remind us of what fresh research and exciting loans we have missed. It is not clear if the show will be rehung at a later date (as we have seen with the National Gallery’s rescheduled Artemisia Gentileschi exhibition) but the German instalment, at the Kunstpalast Düsseldorf, has been extended to 29 September 2020.

The exhibition catalogue is edited by Dr Bettina Baumgärtel, the exhibition curator and Director of the Angelica Kauffman Research Project (AKRP). Generously illustrated and handsomely designed, it opens with four relatively short, thematic essays. The first and the longest is a chronological account of Kauffman’s extraordinary life, written by Baumgärtel, and contains research that will be familiar to many Kauffman scholars. Baumgärtel covers Kauffman’s early years, her training in Italy, her arrival in London in 1766, her cultivation of female clients and finally, her return to Rome. Next, Helen Valentine writes on the RA’s four ceiling roundels, which, she confesses, languished in the basement of Burlington House for thirty years in the mid-nineteenth century – representative, no doubt, of Kauffman’s secondary reputation at that time. In the third essay, Johannes Myssok is concerned with the friendship between Kauffman and the sculptor Antonio Canova, whom Kauffman counted as her ‘amico pregiatissimo’ (highly prized friend) and who went on to coordinate her funeral in 1807. Opening amongst the cosmopolitan milieu of late eighteenth-century Rome, Myssok’s new research is based on unpublished documents and provides a fascinating glimpse into the companionship enjoyed by these two artists. The final essay, written by Inken Maria Houlbec, makes a technical examination of two paintings in the collection of the Kunstpalast Düsseldorf: Agrippina Mourning over the Ashes of Germanicus (1793) and Portrait of the Impromptu Virtuoso Teresa Bandettini Landucci (1794). These mature and sophisticated compositions were created in Rome, and Houlbec’s astute scientific analysis is illustrated with helpful cross-sections and coloured details.

The majority of the book is given over to the catalogue, which is organised into nine sections, detailing eighty-one familiar and surprising works. Reciting the organisation of the catalogue gives an indication of the exhibition’s contents: ‘I. Stagings of the Self’; ‘II. Training in Italy’; ‘III. The History Painter: The Homer and Shakespeare Revival’; ‘IV. Founding Member of the Royal Academy of Arts’; ‘V. The Portrait Painter as the Arbiter of Fashion’; ‘VI. New Heroines’; ‘VII. Beautiful Young Men as beau idéal’;VIII ‘Parnassus of the Muses: Masquerades and Role Play’ and finally ‘IX. Rome, Residence of the Fine Arts, and International Commissions.’ Collectively, the one-page introduction to each section, as well as the individual catalogue entries, offer much to learn for those unfamiliar, and familiar, with Kauffman’s ouevre. Furthermore, the extensive six-page bibliography will be of great use to students of both Kauffman and eighteenth-century women artists more broadly.

A closer examination of Kauffman’s printed oeuvre, her designs for the print trade, and more of her engagement with the decorative arts, would have been a welcome element to the catalogue. It seems that these media were included in the exhibition, as indicated by the Kunstpalast’s website, but there is little discussion of their importance for Kauffman’s reputation, and income, in the catalogue. For more on these, we eagerly await Dr Baumgärtel’s forthcoming, and no doubt highly illuminating, catalogue raisonné.

Once they return from Düsseldorf, Kauffman’s four roundels will be installed back in the entrance hall ceiling in Burlington House. Thankfully these paintings, as well as the preliminary oil studies in grisaille which are housed at the V&A, will be available for us to view once again. Yet, as former Tate Curator, Martin Myrone, lamented in a recent article: ‘There are important pictures elsewhere in the UK, but, given that she was one of the most celebrated artists of the day, Kauffman remains woefully underrepresented’ (Tate Etc. Issue 43: Summer 2018). The exhibition catalogue testifies to the great level of collaborative research that went into coordinating this exhibition, which would have been an important opportunity to revisit Kauffman’s work and recover her status as one of Britain’s foremost eighteenth-century artists. Sadly, it looks like London will have to wait a little longer before she is given the attention that she deserves.

Hannah Lyons

Birkbeck, University of London

Hannah Lyons is a PhD candidate at Birkbeck, University of London and the V&A. Her dissertation explores the role, status and output of women printmakers in late eighteenth and early nineteenth-century Britain. Previously she was Assistant Curator at Tate Britain and Curatorial Assistant at Christ Church Picture Gallery, University of Oxford.

Angelica Kauffman is currently on sale in the RA shop for £20 plus postage.