“The Cult of Beauty” at the V&A

Having loved the Women War Artists exhibition at the IWM, I was all set to be wowed by the V&A’s Cult of Beauty show, a look at the Aesthetic movement of the latter half of the nineteenth century.  Sadly, the wows didn’t really appear.  This is not to say this was not an extremely well researched show, nor a very well presented show — clearly money has been spent on beautiful presentation — but it was simply too much: too broad a scope, too many artists included, too many works to be able to take in at all satisfactorily.  (Also too many people: I was there on a weekday morning and it was almost as unpleasantly busy as the Van Gogh show at the RA last year.)

There were some fantastic pieces — I was particularly impressed by the actual brown suit Wilde wore in some of the most famous images that exist of him, as well as a gorgeous early (first?) edition of his children’s stories; a fabulous black-letter edition of Chaucer’s works, seen through the press by William Morris and Burne-Jones; and numerous brilliant pieces by Aubrey Beardsley.  And I learnt quite a bit.  My age and upbringing mean that my first and most enduring exposure to the name of Whistler and the idea of his art is inextricably linked with the 1997 Bean movie, and as such this show served as a useful corrective; Whistler was situated for me amongst his contemporaries, and his use of sparing neutrals was, in the context of his contemporaries, as much a statement as the showiest piece could be.

Whistler’s Symphony in White, No. III — which a contemporary critic said was “not precisely a symphony in white” because it also included other colours, a quibble so hilariously pedantic that I laughed aloud in the exhibition at this caption.

But it was an overwhelming show, covering not only a variety wide variety of painting but sculpture, costume, interior decor, books, printed ephemera and all sorts of knick-knacks.  By the time I got to the exit I was suffering from serious exhibition fatigue, and I think that may well be inherent in this particular period — Aestheticism is hardly an artistic phase which is renowned for holding back when it could instead stick in three or more full-lipped, big-boned women looking classical in a rich setting anywhere that offered.  Which is not a bad thing, but some effort could be made to make a show like this less of an onslaught.