The National Gallery of Victoria is a presence distinct from the heavily commercialised and corporatized nature of its home in Melbourne’s central business district. It demands reverence and introspection from the visitor and actively slows down the pace from the bustling streets a few metres beyond. Firstly, to arrive at the NGV, the visitor must physically remove themselves from the city through walking over Princes Bridge and spending several minutes proceeding past prominent arts venues, including the Arts Centre, being impressed by the social importance of arts and cultural institutions in Melbourne. Once arriving, the visitor is free of city distractions, parallel to the still of the Queen Victoria Gardens. The gallery’s façade immediately absorbs its audience, presented as a domineering and formless tomb that does not hint at the countless works of art inside but sets the message that it is unlike the consumer inducing businesses of the CBD and is a place of serious reflection.
The plainness and starkness of the exterior architecture accentuates the water features which serve as a barrier between the treasured art of the interior and the implied depravity of the exterior world. The bordering pools of water and fountains actively separate the gallery from the outside world and the water wall within the arched entrance shields any outside glimpses of the gallery’s interior. The water barricaded building declares any outsiders must consciously cross the divide to access the cultural treasures. Before even entering the building, the visitor is already prodded into behaviour that is reflective that they are in a sacred space.
After the ritualised disconnection with the outside world, the institution prompts the visitor to enter. However, despite the intense preparation of the visitor as a solemn participant of a sacred space, after passing the water walland going down a dark corridor, the visitor is immediately face to face with the “Design Store”. Despite gaining some traction with the visitor’s self-reflection of their identity in relation to the cultural institution, this sends a sense of confusion as they are bombarded with the commercialisation they were just detached from. Here, the NGV reminds the visitor, despite earlier messages, commercialism is still part of the game plan. The solemn ambiance of the institution in which the audience is ushered inside and slowly integrated into the spaces of art is strangely contrasted with being crudely introduced to the art through reproductions at an affordable price.
Notwithstanding the glow of the store near the entrance, the visitor finds themselves in the immense space of the lobby and is reminded of the impending experience. Like the façade, there is little evidence of art and unless the visitor is already familiar with the holdings of the institution, what they would understand so far is that the institution, itself, is grandiose and important- although, somewhat morbid. The visitor is integrated inside the tomb as they are swallowed by the hollowness of the lobby and are unable to glimpse outside due to the water-wall at the entrance. In this dark enigmatic space, the lack of visual stimulation allows the visitor to become increasingly curious and their critical mind switches on. With the escalator into the main gallery in view, the visitor understands that to enter they must let their outside selves die, momentarily, to access the immortalised world of art inside.
Throughout the second level, the NGV utilises exhibition spaces to communicate the purpose and significance of Western art through diverse curatorial styles. This is strikingly evident in the contrast between the 17th to 18th century European Painting Gallery and the Language of the Ornament. The two exhibitions are physically close in the gallery but are presented in two diversely different styles which both celebrate the history and value found within European art. The 17th to 18th century European Painting Gallery represents the NGV’s transfixion upon a novel period within European art. The Language of the Ornament, however, is not a glorification of just a moment, but rather a surveyed exploration of symbolic ornaments throughout Western history. While their broad sweep of European art cannot give the visitor a clearer sense of cultural identity, especially in an Australian context, the exhibitions display the NGV’s ability to diversely engage with their audiences, who come in their thousands and hold distinct and personal aesthetic tastes and educational needs. The visitor is given a variety of prompts to view, engage and interpret the exhibition spaces and are, hopefully, able find something valuable to them. Within the immense institution, which lacks no energy conveying that it is vast in value and collection, a variety of techniques are needed to create great and lasting impressions.
The visitor enters the 17th to 18th century European Painting Gallery after proceeding through similar traditionally styled galleries of the era which take up much of the 2nd floor. Despite references of the European content of the gallery, the works are entirely Venetian. The four walls have evenly spaced and contrasted Venetian folk art against portraits of prominent Italian dukes and musicians and paintings of grandiose religious scenes against Rococo and Baroque masterpieces, such as Pittoni’s The Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes (1725) and Tiepolo’s The Banquet of Cleopatra (1743-44). Evidently, this collection is held in the highest esteem, and themes of elitism, religion and grandeur are amplified significantly. The visitor’s participation is encouraged by chairs in the centre of the room in which they can sit and be in awe of the works.
There is no option to sit and dwell in nostalgia in the Language of the Ornament. Moreover, the curatorial agenda of the gallery pursues collection engagement by different objectives. Compared to the well beaten path leading to the 17th to 18th century European Painting Gallery, most visitors would come upon this gallery by chance. The gallery is positioned in a dark hallway prompts the visitor to pass through rather than to spend time contemplating.
However, despite its reprioritisation, the gallery is rich in content. On one side are segmented display cases, opposing blank sandstone walls, which exhibit thematic arrangements of ornaments, including pattern books, drapery, shells and scrolls somewhat suggestive of infamous Cabinets of Curiosities. The adjacent labels, which are duplicated in large print booklets, give highly analytical explanations of the historical, aesthetic and modern day value of the collection which allows the visitor to make ample personal connections. Although condensed, the gallery captivates the senses and attention of the visitor as they survey relatable motifs. The stress on explanation and education is contrasting to the 17th to 18th century European Painting Gallery’s vague labels and spacious presentation which leaves the collection to be highly interpretive.
However, it can be observed that the galleries, despite their differences, work cohesively to underpin the NGV’s overarching themes and messages; in particular, that it is a vault of treasured art. The ceremonial entrance to the institution is reinforced in the galleries’ designs. The 17th to 18th century European Painting Gallery offers bright lighting, high ceilings and ample floor space to pace and seating to absorb the scene; it is here that the expectation set that visitors would witness great art of the past is fulfilled. Furthermore, the NGV as a place where art of the past is stored and protected is strengthened in the tomb symbolism present in the Language of the Ornament. Reminiscent of the exterior and the lobby, the gallery is dim and melancholy. Moreover, the hallway gallery resembles corridors in ancient tombs and the deep set display cases, as the only light source, are suggestive of the torches that would be held to light the passageways. The visitor will be captivated, once again, by the mysterious tones of the institution.
The major display in the 17th to 18th European Painting Gallery (figure 11) reveals three paintings influenced by the Baroque and French Rococo movements in Venetian art in the 18th century. The landscapes illustrate exaggerated motion and drama; despite their contrast in subject they rely on each other and hang cohesively side-by-side on the gallery wall. This display is, undeniably, transfixing to the observer and aesthetically engaging. The works feature energetic and animated compositions with full-bodied colours and lighting, expressed especially in the aspect they all have in common- prominent blue skies that take up most of each canvas which are in harmony with the blue walls of the gallery. Despite the quiet Tuesday afternoon of my visit to the gallery, the display caught the attention of every passing visitor, who would spend several minutes gazing.
The display imposes itself on the visitor and the three works are collaborated through their thematic associations of high culture in 18th century Venice. The gallery attempts to create positive associations with artistic culture in 18th century Venice, evident in this display through the romanticisation of neoclassicism and the celebration of class and success in The Banquet of Cleopatra. Although The Banquet of Cleopatra was depicted from Pliny’s Natural History, the lavish costumes and features of Cleopatra and Mark Antony are overwhelmingly European and the scene’s architecture bears a striking resemblance to the Venetian architecture found in From the Piazetta hanging directly to the right. Moreover, the gallery’s intention is realised through the space surrendered to these three examples of art which amplify the importance of culture, wealth, religion and identity found within a classical past in 18th century Venice. The display not only conveys aesthetic value to the viewer but implies the overarching historical importance of Venetian art and culture in the landscape of 18th century Europe. Hence, the varied collection of folk art, portraits and religious scenes throughout the gallery are justified.
Whilst the masterpieces of Pittoni, Tiepolo and Canaletto are presented in scaled-up grandeur to convey their messages, the Language of the Ornament relies on creative agency to captivate its visitors. Creative potency to explore the power of European decorative arts can be seen in each of the display cases and, in particular, the display dedicated to script. The contents of the Script display case, at first, are juxtaposing and nonsensical, a collaboration of items from England, the Netherlands, Austria, Australia, New Zealand and Italy, dating from 1613 until 2004. The sense of chaos is put at ease through the adjacent label which explains that script, even when illegible and illogical, can be used as artistic embellishment. The artistic intent of each ornament is thoroughly explained on the adjacent label and, consequently, the visitor is connected with the display intellectually.
The central message of the display is the importance of artistic intent in the interpretive power of the ornament. This is communicated especially in Flloyd’s Important Emerging Artist (2004); this sculptural piece is at the forefront of the display, with several letters emerging from a larger pile in the shadows, spelling out in illumination, “IMPORTANT EMERGING ARTIST”. The adjacent label explains that the work portrays how published commentary sets an early career artist out against their peers, but, however, it more purposely serves as a medium of connecting the visitor to the artist and their interpretation of the script ornament. The display further reinforces this relationship between visitor and artistic expression and intent through the use of William Morris’ The Earthly Paradise (1897) as wallpaper in the display. Here, script is used as a beautiful embellishment rather than a form of lingual communication and conveys that script when out of its usual context can be transformed in meaning through artistic expression.
The Script display uses its collection to dismantle any belief in the ornament as passive through exploring artistic expression and intent. Moreover, the display echoes the gallery’s many examples of how ornaments, found within the everyday, are not primarily practical but have intrinsic aesthetic and abstract value. The visitor, even if they do simply “pass through’’ the hallway, cannot miss the plethora of messages being presented and develop an appreciation and connection to the language found within the ornament.