Art History Honours excursion to the National Gallery of Australia, 26 September 2024 by Calum Boland (Art History Honours Student)
Ten Art History Honours students and two academics travelled to Canberra to see the controversial Gauguin retrospective (NGA 29 Jun – 7 Oct 2024).
University of Sydney Honours students (L-R) Myra, Cameron, Amelia, Milly, Calum, Roger (teacher), Bella, Jess, Issy, and Jen in the SaVĀge K'lub space. Photo: Vick Souliman.
It would be hard to deny that the work put into the National Gallery of Australia’s recent exhibition Gauguin’s World: Tōna Iho, Tōna Ao, is extraordinary.
The exhibition featured 130 artworks sourced from over 65 collections. It was curated by former director of the Musée d’Orsay and Musée du Louvre, Henri Loyrette, and is the first major showing of Gauguin’s work in Australia. Alongside the paintings, the exhibition featured a plethora of sculptural objects, sketches, and ceramics made by Gauguin, and a collection of Polynesian tribal artifacts scattered through the space. The NGA also released a four-part podcast (entitled ‘The Gauguin Dilemma’); organised a film weekend dedicated to Tahitian cinema; and installed SaVĀge K'lub: Te Paepae Aora'i – Where the Gods Cannot be Fooled right on the exhibition’s doorstep. All were designed to confront Gauguin’s status as one of the most controversial artists of the 19th century. Needless to say, Gauguin’s World: Tōna Iho, Tōna Ao sounded like an art history student’s dream.
So, considering all this, what led the dominant verdict amongst our visiting group of students to be “I wish there were more”?
But I am getting ahead of myself.
The exhibition itself was centred around two key axes, one of style, and one of time. Throughout the seven large rooms the viewer charts a course from Gauguin’s early portraits and landscapes in France, right through to his death in 1903.
Inside “Gauguin’s World”. Photo: R. Benjamin.
It was quietly refreshing to see a focus on Gauguin’s early work. Where a litany of previous exhibitions on Gauguin have turned an almost all-seeing eye upon his time amongst Tahiti and the Marquesas Islands, Gauguin’s World: Tōna Iho, Tōna Ao ensured his full career was given time to properly breathe. Being given the chance to ‘watch’ Gauguin experiment with style, form and colour as he was inspired by contemporaries of the time such as Pissarro and Bernard offered an insight into the period I had never previously encountered.
I found myself particularly struck by his 1888 work The Wave (Private Collection). Drawing upon the style of Japanese Ukiyoē masters, the work bears a clear resemblance to Hiroshige’s The Great Wave off Kanagawa (1831) and Naruto Whirlpool (1853). The use of a top-down perspective felt new and refreshing, a viewpoint previously hidden to me amongst the post-impressionist painting I had seen.
Paul Gauguin (1848-1903), La Vague, painted August-October 1888. Oil on canvas. 60.8 x 73.4 cm, Christies, New York
Rocks jut out of the water like weathered spires, climbing up to the heavens only to be battered down by the frenetic waves. The simultaneous juxtaposition of energy and calmness felt almost meditative at points. The beach stands out as a vivid, eye-catching red. Looking around, I found myself noticing the same vibrant red again and again through Gauguin’s works, connecting the paintings together in a symphony of colour and light.
Gauguin’s command of shape and colour is exceptional. His work needs to be sat with to be clearly appreciated: the depth and detail found in Gauguin’s brushstrokes can be unpicked for hours, leaving the viewer wishing for a magnifying glass to inspect more closely.
Paul Gauguin, The Blue Roof, or Farm at Le Poldu, 1890. Purchased by the NGA for AU$10m in 2024. Photo: R. Benjamin.
However.
Much of the curatorial narrative was vague and disjointed, and as an exhibition that promised to critically engage with Gauguin’s personal life, the latter appeared to be glossed over almost entirely. I personally only noted a single sentence addressing his affairs with children, describing them as “underage ‘wives’”. Perhaps stating that some were younger than 14 would have been inconvenient. Another line stated that Gauguin was taken to court and fined for libel – a brief mention easily missed.
At the same time, Polynesian tribal objects were scattered throughout the exhibition like set dressing, becoming nothing more than props in Gauguin’s colonialist depiction of Tahiti. This felt particularly disturbing considering the conversations that have been going on within universities and galleries on the importance of providing agency to the First Nations objects held in Australian museums.
More than that however, the consensus reached by the discussions among our Honours group (we gathered in the gift shop to share our thoughts) was that the story of the exhibition wasn’t clear. It felt more like a broad brush covering his life, omitting any details that didn’t feel neat and easy.
Curator’s session (circling L-R): Lucina, Roger, Calum, Milly, Jess, Bella, Nina, Amelia, Issy, Cameron, Myra. Photo: Vick Souliman.
Upon leaving the exhibition, we had the chance to sit in the SaVĀge K'lub ceremonial space to speak with the Senior Curator of International Art at the NGA, Lucina Ward. Perhaps the ultimate highlight of the trip – certainly the key to unlocking the exhibition – Lucina was a fountain of knowledge. The frankness with which she answered our questions, and the ease with which she communicated the complicated machinations involved was more than any of us could have hoped for.
When asked about the perceived lack of acknowledgement in the exhibition of Gauguin’s predatory behaviour across French Polynesia, Lucina made two key observations.
First: There were creative differences between the NGA team and Henri Loyrette. The NGA raised issues around the agency of indigenous objects, with the counter-case suggesting the objects were an important part of Gauguin’s journey, and should be involved in the narrative. Curation is, in part, the art of compromise, and the SaVĀge K'lub installation (which deserves far more focus than I have given it) became a method of allowing the objects within the exhibition to have a voice.
Second: When approaching wealthy European and American art collectors who have spent tens of millions of dollars to procure a delicate artwork, it is far more difficult to convince them to temporarily part with it if the exhibition is seen to be attacking the artist.
This poses a fascinating question in terms of exhibition programming: is it best to weaken the critical power of an exhibition in order to fully showcase the art?
Some feel that Gauguin’s work should never be shown again, understandably so considering his actions and the deplorable acts he writes about committing throughout his time in Tahiti and the Marquesas Islands. On the other hand, Gauguin is a clear staple of French post-impressionist art, and without this exhibition, these conversations about his identity wouldn’t have occurred in Australia, nor would his art have been seen. To be able to spend $30 on a convivial car-pool road trip instead of $3,000 on airfares to see work of this calibre felt like an absolute privilege, and I am glad Gauguin’s World: Tōna Iho, Tōna Ao made its way to Aussie shores.
I only wish that these fascinating talking points had been raised by the exhibition itself, and not by a brilliant conversation with a speaker whom I suspect will have forgotten more about curation than any of us could ever aspire to know.
To have had the chance to see such a glut of Gauguin’s work in person, to engage critically with peers over one of the most contentious and fascinating discussion points within current art discourse, and to receive in depth information from one of Australia’s premier curators, this is an experience I wouldn’t have missed for the world. I cannot thank enough Lucina Ward, and Sydney academics Roger Benjamin and Vick Souliman for providing me with a story that I will hold for the rest of my life.
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