Woolfian Boundaries - Clemson University

Woolfian Boundaries - Clemson University Woolfian Boundaries - Clemson University

23.12.2012 Views

128 WOOLFIAN BOUNDARIES black bars of the Oak Eggar caterpillar.… Th ere is something sinister about him; he swarms rapidly across roads; he smudges when crushed; he devours leaf after leaf. (165; see Figure 2) We are left convinced that Woolf might easily claim to be, if not Kapp himself, then certainly a Kapp-of-prose. Woolf’s interest in the brutishness lurking within Kapp’s caricatures (and perhaps, by implication, within civilization itself) might be read as a subtle corrective to another reviewer. As a “publisher’s note” in Kapp’s book makes clear, the twenty-four caricatures were culled from an earlier exhibition of his art, which had taken place in May and June, 1919, at the Little Art Rooms, London. Th e exhibition was well received and many excerpts from the more positive reviews were reprinted at the back of the subsequent book. “His critics are all agreed,” writes Woolf, alluding to this part of the book, “that he combines the gifts of the artist with those of the caricaturist” (164). Among these excerpts was a short review or notice by Jan Gordon, the Athenaeum’s regular art critic, which had appeared in that publication on 23 May 1919. “Mr. Kapp’s caricatures,” wrote Gordon, “are unlike most, without that music-hall bestiality which seems to be the mainspring of so much of our satiric art” (163). Th e very next section of Gordon’s short review was the only part of it not reprinted in Kapp’s book: “for,” he continues, “it is so easy to remember that man is at root an animal.” As we have seen, Woolf will not hesitate to make this “easy” point, nor hesitate to imply that Kapp is encouraging her to make it. Knowing that the Athenaeum had recently published a piece on Kapp’s art and that her readers might recall this, Woolf would have probably made the eff ort to track down Gordon’s earlier piece. If this encouraged Woolf to think about the potential bestiality of Kapp’s caricatures—and to fi nd in them hooves, seals, and Oak Eggar caterpillars—then another, more prominent, article might also have had a bearing on her review. Appearing in the Contents page of the journal, a space reserved for editorials, and in the very same edition as Gordon’s notice, “Th e Usurpation of the Museums” weighs in on a matter that had been increasingly preoccupying cultural commentators in the months following the armistice of November 1918. Th e piece is attributed to “C. B.,” who, one assumes, must be none other than Clive Bell. 1 Figure 2 “Th e facts are simple,” laments Woolf’s brother-in-law: Half the National Gallery, the whole of the National Portrait Gallery, the whole of the Tate, a good part of the British Museum and of the Imperial Institute, the whole of Hertford House, and half the Victoria and Albert Museum have been taken

Borderline Personalities: Woolf Reviews Kapp over by the Government and stocked with offi cials.… Which do you prefer—galleries full of beautiful and interesting objects that cost nothing to keep, or galleries full of dull, ugly and expensive Jacks and Jills in offi ce? (357-58; see Figure 3) 129 As we shall see, Woolf’s review makes reference to this controversy and takes place within (or just outside) two of the institutions Bell mentions. Opting for a digressive format, Woolf’s essay approaches Kapp by way of Trafalgar Square’s sisterly sites, the National Gallery (NG) and the National Portrait Gallery (NPG). 2 Figure 3: Punch, 21 April 1920 By doing so she implies a homology between book space and gallery space and acknowledges that this book had its origins in a gallery. Woolf also uses the essay to explore the physical boundaries and limits of art institutions as she attends to the issue of which objects and which people make it into an art gallery, or else fail in the attempt. Concerned with how gallery space is qualitatively diff erent from other spaces, Woolf will suggest that a gallery’s walls are not impermeable to larger cultural and ideological forces. By helping us to identify these forces, “Pictures and Portraits” provides us with the kind of institutional critique that allows us to imagine the potential emergence of a diff erent kind of art collection. Despite the fact that the journal clearly designates Woolf’s essay to be a review of Kapp’s book, she does not write directly about it until her last lengthy paragraph. Rather, she devotes the fi rst three paragraphs of the essay to a discussion of the NG, the NPG, and the “incessant tide” of traffi c fl owing past these buildings, which are located “on the same promontory of pavement.” “In order to enter either [gallery],” she writes, “it is only necessary to pass through a turnstile, and, on some days of the week, to part with a sixpenny bit.” Psychologically, Woolf suggests, entering is not so simple. “As easily might a pilchard

Borderline Personalities: Woolf Reviews Kapp<br />

over by the Government and stocked with offi cials.… Which do you prefer—galleries<br />

full of beautiful and interesting objects that cost nothing to keep, or galleries full<br />

of dull, ugly and expensive Jacks and Jills in offi ce? (357-58; see Figure 3)<br />

129<br />

As we shall see, Woolf’s review makes reference to this controversy and takes place within<br />

(or just outside) two of the institutions Bell mentions.<br />

Opting for a digressive format, Woolf’s essay approaches Kapp by way of Trafalgar<br />

Square’s sisterly sites, the National Gallery (NG) and the National Portrait Gallery (NPG). 2<br />

Figure 3: Punch, 21 April 1920<br />

By doing so she implies a homology between book space and gallery space and acknowledges<br />

that this book had its origins in a gallery. Woolf also uses the essay to explore the physical<br />

boundaries and limits of art institutions as she attends to the issue of which objects and<br />

which people make it into an art gallery, or else fail in the attempt. Concerned with how gallery<br />

space is qualitatively diff erent from other spaces, Woolf will suggest that a gallery’s walls<br />

are not impermeable to larger cultural and ideological forces. By helping us to identify these<br />

forces, “Pictures and Portraits” provides us with the kind of institutional critique that allows<br />

us to imagine the potential emergence of a diff erent kind of art collection.<br />

Despite the fact that the journal clearly designates Woolf’s essay to be a review of<br />

Kapp’s book, she does not write directly about it until her last lengthy paragraph. Rather,<br />

she devotes the fi rst three paragraphs of the essay to a discussion of the NG, the NPG, and<br />

the “incessant tide” of traffi c fl owing past these buildings, which are located “on the same<br />

promontory of pavement.” “In order to enter either [gallery],” she writes, “it is only necessary<br />

to pass through a turnstile, and, on some days of the week, to part with a sixpenny<br />

bit.” Psychologically, Woolf suggests, entering is not so simple. “As easily might a pilchard

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