Spanning a monumental four hundred years (1520 – 1920), Tate’s “Now You See Us” rightfully unveils the works of over one hundred female artists and recovers from oblivion a collection of stifled female voices of the British art world. In an attempt to navigate the position of the woman artist and her place in art history, “Now You See Us” deconstructs the meaning of the term artist from the 16th to the 20th century by reinserting women into the exhibitory space. In the foreword to the exhibition catalogue, Alex Farquharson (Director of Tate Britain) recounts that in 1952 the Tate Gallery held a memorial exhibition on female artists: Ethel Walker, Frances Hodgkins and Gwen john; this exhibition was deemed the “only exhibition (solo or collective) ever staged by Tate on women artists who worked before 1920.”[1] Now, 72 years later, Tate is determined that “Now You See Us” will shape the perception of women artists from 1520 – 1920 by giving them the exhibitory space, and agency, they so rightly deserve.
“Now You See Us” traces the varied and arduous journeys of female artists in Britain, beginning with the earliest named women artists at the Tudor court: Susanna Horenbout (1503 – 1554) and Levina Teerlinc (c. 1510s – 1576). There remains, however, the absence of a corpus of works for either artist; both women were employed by the court as “gentlewomen”, though paintings in online archives have been sporadically attributed to them, and their artistic skill was praised by contemporary historian: Lodovico Guicciardini (1521 – 1589). The decision to give voices to these two relatively unacknowledged female painters, with little attestation to their work, exemplifies Tate’s commitment to enliven the lost echoes of women artists in Britain, and simultaneously epitomizes the gap in the gender discourse. In the same room, visitors encounter the works and story of Artemisia Gentileschi (1593 – 1656); acknowledged as having worked for Charles I and Queen Henrietta Maria. Interestingly, while Teerlinc and Horenbout were not officially employed as artists due to their gender (and their works are difficult to trace) Gentileschi’s story provides a paradoxical counternarrative; the exhibition attests that Gentileschi’s status as a woman “augmented” her fame as an artist, this is especially intriguing since women were for the most part, criticised on account of their gender, not commended for it.
While women artists at the Tudor Courts (with the exception of Gentileschi) were not traditionally employed as artists, the second exhibitory space weaves the history of the first professional female painters; the focus of this space foregrounds the contention associated with women attempting to forge careers in art and signals a shift in the social position of early modern women. The information board provides the relevant context relating to a woman’s role in the domestic sphere, and her limited agency or power over her own life. For many women, art was a private subject, carried out in the domestic setting, not the public sphere of wealth and commerce (this sphere was reserved almost exclusively for men, who often began as art apprentices or assistants in the studios of professionals). Works by the first, documented, professional women artists: Mary Beale (1633 – 1699) and Joan Carlile (1606 – 1679) adorn the walls of this room. Visitors to the exhibition encounter the following portraits of Beale’s son: Sketch of the Artist’s Son, Batholomew Beale, in Profile (1660), Sketch of the Artist’s Son, Bartholomew Beale, Facing Left (1660), and The Young Bacchus (1660 – 65). Beale is celebrated as having “pushed the boundaries of straightforward portraiture” by using her son as the model for Bacchus. The visual placement of Beale’s self-portraits together with portraits of her son amplifies Beale’s relationship with her children and could be reminiscent of a woman’s naturally allotted role as “mother” in the 17th century, and yet also remains illustrative of how women strategized their womanhood and everything which it encompassed in visual portrayals of their children, feminine heroines, and narratives featuring female protagonists, to navigate their position as female artists. The staging of Beale together with portraits of her son foregrounds her maternal role; thereby legitimising her work as an artist in a largely patriarchal space.
The overarching theme of the third exhibitory space is centred on the first female art exhibitors, specifically. In Britain, the first public art exhibition took place in London in 1760; it is anticipated that around 900 women exhibited their work between 1760 and 1830 at venues including (but not limited to) the Society of Artists (1760 – 91), the British Institution (1805 – 91), and, from 1768 onwards; The Royal Academy. In this space, visitors can marvel at the intricate pieces by Angelica Kauffman, Mary Moser, and Maria Cosway’s astounding work: A Persian lady worshipping the rising sun (1784). Though both Angelica Kauffman and Mary Moser are celebrated as the only two female founding members of the Royal Academy, their artistic styles are incredibly different. Kauffman is better known for challenging the boundaries of contemporary women’s art; women in 18th-century Britain were discouraged from painting powerful historical scenes, and the academic training required to paint such scenes was often reserved exclusively for men (women were denied access to life-drawing classes as it was deemed “improper”). Despite the many barriers to women’s artistic training, Kauffman successfully took on classical and mythological narratives such as: The Return of Telemachus (1775) and Andromache fainting at the unexpected sight of Aeneas on his arrival in Epirus (1775) and is praised in the exhibition for her ability to “foreground heroines and show narratives from a woman’s perspective”. Mary Moser, on the other hand, is better known for her traditional flower pieces. Discouraged from pursuing narrative paintings, Moser also received criticism owing to her success, with some suggesting that her acceptance to the Royal Academy was largely due to her father’s status as a Swiss artist and Royal Academician.[2] This exhibitory space effectively draws our attention to the barriers faced by women artists in the 18th century; such as the difficulties associated with a patriarchal system that held male artists in higher esteem and diminished women’s achievements as “not their own”.
Now You See Us culminates with the first two complex decades of the 20th century; a time which – defined by a shift in attitudes, and social ideologies – paved the way for the birth of modernism, the “New Woman”, and women’s suffrage. Tate’s Now You See Us expertly breathes life into the forgotten histories of women like Moser and Kauffman who were experts in their field and explores how women artists were integral in driving social change. Many of the women made visible in this space (especially in the early modern era), drew upon themes of motherhood and / or heroism to strengthen their professional profiles, often exploiting constructed versions of femininity to aid them in their plight for public recognition as artists; as Tabitha Barber notes “a woman painting female heroism had an appeal”.[3] Mary Beale is deemed “the most prolific” female artist, working in Britain in the 17th century; known not only for her artistry, but also for her involvement in the call for equality of the sexes with her 1667 publication: Discourse on Friendship. Now You See Us skilfully fulfils its aims in ensuring that these women are “not only seen but also remembered”. In the words of Alex Farquharson (Director of Tate Britain) “this exhibition is not a one-off: it signals a continuing commitment to inclusion in how we tell the story of British art.”[4]
[1] See: Now You See Us, Women Artists in Britain 1520 – 1920, edited by Tabitha Barber, “Director’s Foreword”.
[2] Her father was George Michael Moser.
[3] See: Now You See Us, Women Artists in Britain 1520 – 1920, edited by Tabitha Barber, 2: Artemisia Gentileschi.
[4] See: Now You See Us, Women Artists in Britain 1520 – 1920, edited by Tabitha Barber, “Director’s Foreword”.