‘Under the auspices of lord Burlington and lord Pembroke, architecture, as I have said, recovered its genuine lustre. The former, the Apollo of arts, found a proper priest in the person of Mr. Kent. As I mean no panegyric on any man, beyond what he deserved, or what, to the best of my possibly erroneous judgement, I think he deserved, I shall speak with equal impartiality on the merits and faults of Kent, the former of which exceedingly preponderated. He was a painter, an architect, and the father of modern gardening. In the first character, he was below mediocrity; in the second he was a restorer of the science; in the last, an original, and the inventor of an art that realizes painting, and improves nature. Mahomet imagined an Elysium, but Kent created many.’ (Horace Walpole, Anecdotes of Painting)
Walpole’s typically pithy and eminently quotable summary is an appropriate introduction to William Kent (c.1685–1748) and his work. Kent was a polymath — a gifted architect and designer — and his influence upon Britain’s visual and cultural landscapes was profound. Nevertheless he is a somewhat mysterious figure in the history of eighteenth-century design. There are significant gaps in our understanding of his work (particularly untraced drawings and correspondence) and, despite strenuous efforts, he has been partially overlooked in modern scholarly literature. Timothy Mowl’s recent and engaging, though at times controversial, biography of Kent (William Kent: Architect, Designer, Opportunist, Pimlico, 2007) sheds light on the man, his life and his work. Even so, a substantial art historical interpretation of Kent and his work has been notable by its absence — that is, until now.
William Kent: Designing Georgian Britain has been eight years in the making. Curated by Julian Bryant, Keeper of Word and Image at the Victoria and Albert Museum, and Dr Susan Weber, Iris Horowitz Professor of Decorative Arts and founder of the Bard Graduate Centre, New York, the show and its accompanying catalogue directly address the paucity of modern scholarship on, and awareness of, Kent on both sides of the Atlantic. They refocus our attention on Kent as a flexible, imaginative and highly adaptable designer whose influence suffuses early Georgian design, even though some of his proposals, including those for the Houses of Parliament, never progressed beyond the page.
It is clear, particularly from the gilt furniture and metalwork on display, that Kent’s style was opulent and poles apart from the modest design that we commonly think of today as ‘good’ eighteenth-century taste — the omnipresent ‘neat’ mahogany furniture seen in eighteenth-century country house interiors across the length and breadth of Britain, for example. Kent’s work is undeniably glamorous and self-confident, or, in modern parlance, ‘bling’. His showy style, consequently, resonates with current aesthetic trends, and therefore makes him and his work relevant to the modern world. The considered orchestration of space, applied design and works on paper at the V&A leave us in no doubt of this. Be they torchères from Chiswick, an X-frame chair originally from Devonshire House, London (now removed to Chatsworth), a chandelier for the Leineschloss, Hanover, or architectural designs and interior perspectives, the objects convey this aesthetic opulence. Each is presented as an object worthy of examination in its own right, yet simultaneously as part of complex and interconnected narratives. The result is clear — each work is elevated in status, due to the generous spacing, as well as considerate lighting that focuses our attention.
This theatricality is subtly and imaginatively conditioned from the outset. Upon entering the venue, visitors are greeted by a cartouche, projected onto a paper-like translucent screen wall, which gradually and organically takes on a gilt effect. This impression is consistent throughout the show. The final ‘room’, the Elysium, is awash with the cheeps of birds, and dappled yellow/green light projects onto the floor — one is presented with Kent’s settee for the Praeneste, Rousham House, and transported to his gardens. Kent’s doodles (including a dog) and designs (particularly architectural features) are scaled-up and applied to the screen walls at life size. They supplement the exhibition’s looped videos by allowing us, as visitors, to understand and interact with Kent’s architectural work on a relatable scale. Curatorial imagination is similarly evident in the incorporation of a door and doorframe from the East Drawing Room (later Dining Room) at Devonshire House. The exhibition team has transformed what could have been a flat installation into an active one: the door is set open, and we, as visitors, can pass through it and examine the surface and carved detail close up.
The theatrical and engaging arrangement of exhibits is complemented by the show’s layout. The lofty space housing William Kent is masterfully structured and guides the viewer round a snaked course. Viewers are led through a series of spaces which appear like pages in a book concentrating on particular commissions, stylistic phases, patrons and works. We start, for example, by looking at William Aikman’s well-known portrait of Kent (c. 1723–25) for Lord Castlemaine’s Great Hall at Wanstead, Essex. The show’s theatricality applies to this portrait as well: it is placed up high, as it was at Wanstead above the overmantel. Three similarly-proportioned rectangular holes puncture the screen walls that structure the exhibition space so that every now and then, whilst progressing through the show, one catches sight of Kent surveying us, as well as his work. These holes align with an oval cut-out in the wall defining the exhibition’s final space, the Elysium, so that Aikman’s painting of Kent is framed as a traditional oval portrait. This Kentian prospect provides a cohesive backbone to the show, and facilitates our interpretation of the objects on display as the work of one polymath.
The show’s highlights are three-dimensional objects; in particular the magisterial wooden model for Richmond Palace. The model’s presence is amplified within the exhibition because of its scale relative to the other exhibits, but also by curatorial strategies. A mirror is applied to the rear wall of its display case, which introduces more light into the space, but also doubles the model’s scale. This also affords a view of the palace’s back façade, which would otherwise be obscured by the screen wall used to hang additional material on the opposite side. Despite the pomp of this model, the gilt silver epergne, or gilt furniture, including the armchair and stool from the Red Saloon, Houghton Hall, it is Kent’s drawings that dominate the exhibition. Some remained as proposals, whilst others are the only or best record of Kent’s no longer extant, or irrevocably modified works. They are sympathetically clustered and ranged alongside furniture, paintings and additional objects to provide context where possible. The contrast between paper, gilt wood, damask and oil paintings provides a dazzling display to the eye, and is complemented by Handel’s celebratory Water Music.
The book accompanying this exhibition is equally magnificent in form, content and appearance. It is a masterful compilation and analysis of Kent’s varied corpus, which is represented in a substantial number of colour illustrations (over 600). Despite the scale of this catalogue, it is, not the less, limited — a lot of images are cross-referenced and referred to in other chapters. Given the book’s mammoth size (688 pages), it becomes slightly awkward to navigate when cross-referencing and attempting to locate images. Despite such complexity, this book is more than a run-of-the-mill exhibition catalogue. It is an important and interdisciplinary repository of essays and interpretations covering Kent’s life, varied career and works. Essays probe various parts of his oeuvre, including sculpture, metalwork, public and private commissions, works for royalty, the country house, garden architecture and furniture. Articulately expressed, each chapter marshals important examples to illustrate central themes, and also provides copious endnotes to aid further research. Consequently it is indispensable to the casual reader as well as to art and architectural historians.
It is impossible for a single-volume study of an architect and designer as prolific and inventive as Kent to be exhaustive. Nevertheless, Kent and his work are examined here head-on, with in-depth analysis beyond the limited space offered in other publications. For example, the discussion of Kent’s patrons extends beyond Richard Boyle, 3rd Earl of Burlington, which existing scholarship tends to centre upon. Kent’s town houses are also given weight, and Julius Bryant’s chapter succeeds in providing a thorough and detailed analysis of Kent’s work at country houses. This section alone could be extended to monographic proportions, but as it stands is both informative and efficient within the parameters of a nearly 700-page tome. Two central themes emerge: Kent was tremendously inventive (though on occasion not), and there is a notable paucity of evidence available to significantly advance our understanding of his work. The resulting frustration is evident throughout the book. Nonetheless, robust scholarly analyses of Kent’s oeuvre as well as traceable primary sources are combined with rigorous stylistic and comparative analysis to help fill in some of the blanks.
Combined, this exhibition and accompanying publication promote Kent and his works to new heights. The quality and imagination expressed by both have set the bar in terms of interdisciplinary projects and eminently referenceable scholarly works.
William Kent: Designing Georgian Britain is at the Victoria and Albert Museum, London, from 22 March – 13 July 2014. It was previously shown at the Bard Graduate Center, New York, from 20 September 2013 – 9 February 2014.
The exhibition is accompanied by the publication William Kent: Designing Georgian Britain, edited by Susan Weber (Yale University Press, 2013).
Image at top of page: William Kent by William Aikman, ca. 1723–25. Oil on canvas © National Portrait Gallery, London.