Bond Girls and Bottishelfies: The V&A's take on Botticelli
An undressed Ursula Andress meets us at the exhibition door. Emerging from the sea and clutching a conch shell the bond-girl, featured on a large screen in front, appears like the real life aquatic beauty of Botticelli’s dreams.
Ursula Andress in Dr. No. (Released in the U.K in 1962).
The V&A’s newest exhibition, ‘Botticelli Reimagined’, explores the enduring legacy of Florentine painter, Sandro Botticelli. Quite satisfyingly, the exhibition is curated into an ‘unfolding process’, structured into three parts: the art of the present inspired by Botticelli; his artistic rediscovery in the 19th century and, finally, the most extensive display of paintings and drawings from his workshop, ever assembled in the U.K.
Curious about what fantastical creations might be waiting around the corner. We move into the first room and, are not disappointed. In fact, there’s a sense of being overwhelmed by the number of modern Botticelli manipulations - mainly inspired by The Birth of Venus, as well as some adaptations of the Primavera and Madonna and Child. The dark lighting, broken only by spotlight and the screens showing multi-media imagery, gives the sense of being thrown into a distorted, almost psychedelic, Botticelli underworld.
The vivid colours of Rebirth of Venus are magnetic; beckoning you across the exhibition space. David LaChapelle’s dazzling Venus appears unclothed, sandwiched between two muscular male figures (one concealing her dignity with a conch shell!). The links to Botticelli’s Venus, radiating sexual allure, are a long way from subtle. However, after feasting, wide-eyed, on the intensity of LaChapelle’s creation, the image becomes more nauseating than alluring. Perhaps, under all the excess, there is a comment on our modern culture and values; the unsettling reality of over-sexualisation and the objectification of the human body.
David LaChapelle, Rebirth of Venus, (2009).
Botticelli’s iconic imagery must be a gift to modern artists using the traditional to make subversive statements. Tomoko Nagao’s creation takes the form of a parody; a cartoon Venus materialises from a sea of Italian consumer goods. The flatness and defined outlines echo the visual language of Japanese art, but also share linear aspects found in Botticelli’s work. For me, the magic of the piece hinges on how Nagao and Botticelli are brought into synthesis — two cultures find a union and past is connected to present.
Tomoko Nagao, The Birth of Venus, (2012).
Valie Export wrestles with the traditional imagery of Botticelli’s Madonna of the Pomegranate in her 1976 work Expectation. Mimicking the pose of the Madonna, but cradling a vacuum cleaner rather than a child. The feminist message is unmistakable; a clear protest against the 1970s attitudes towards women, which reduced them to child bearing and domesticity.
Valie Export, Expectation, (1976).
Moving from the first room to the next, the contemporary is left behind. The space is flooded with warm lighting and pre-Raphaelite impressions of Botticelli. It’s weird to think, after vanishing for over three hundred years from art historical documentation, it was the Victorians who rediscovered Botticelli. In this room, we discover the artists who obsessed over the newly recognised and appreciated Italian master and, in fact, are responsible for bringing Botticelli into the spotlight.
Brightly lit, the final room holds the Botticelli originals in all their purity and brings the collection to it’s possibly inevitable conclusion… Some exceptional works of his are displayed: The Mystic Nativity, on loan from the National Gallery, and Pallas and the Centaur, from the Uffizi (shown for the first time in Britain). Critics, such as Alastair Stooke, have taken issue with the fact that neither The Birth of Venus, Primavera or Venus and Mars were able to be sourced for the exhibition. In a sense, yes, this is a shame. However, Botticelli’s originals are not the focus of the exhibition; the intention is to communicate the potency of his influence and the modern works, clearly, illustrate this best. To disregard the exhibition on this basis is not only unjustified but, quite frankly, puzzling. The title ‘Botticelli Reimagined’, at the very least, indicates where the focal point lies - on the legacy, not just the man.
Most importantly, the V&A has succeeded in bringing an old, Italian master newfound popularity - capturing the interest of the young and less knowledgeable about art, too. Even the V&A’s ‘Bottishelfie’ idea (there is a large shell positioned at the entrance of the museum where you can stand and take a picture pretending to be Venus) makes the exhibition attractive, but also much more accessible. More art institutions need to be inventive about the way they communicate traditional art to a modern audience. ‘Botticelli Reimagined’ is as refreshing as it is imaginative.
My 'Bottishelfie'!!
