Devin and Laura run into each other while crossing Binz to enter the Audrey Jones Building at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. It is during the holiday season, and the place is bustling.
Devin Borden (DB): (in his thickest southern drawl) As I live and breathe, it’s Laura Lark! What are you doing here?
Laura Lark (LL): (deadpan) I’m on a mission from Glasstire.
DB: Same! I’m visiting my painting now.
LL: Me too. Funny. Now we’re going to have to do it together.
DB: Let’s do it! More fun than a barrel of monkeys!
They cross. Lark describes an old New Yorker cartoon on her kitchen bulletin board:
DB: (laughing) So curious — what painting did you pick? .
LL: Philippe Mercier’s A Young Woman Pulling on Her Stocking.

Philippe Mercier, “A Young Woman Pulling on Her Stocking,” c. 1745–1750, oil on canvas, 50 × 40 inches
I don’t think it’s really my favorite, but every semester, when covering the syllabus, the subject of historical context and dress code arises and I put that painting up on the screen and ask if any of them can speculate as to what this girl’s occupation was. Few say “working girl.” I usually wind up mentioning that at least this harlot isn’t putting her sweaty, janky ass onto the communal, vinyl seats at HCC.
DB: Is it a Blaffer painting?
He checks his phone as they enter.
DB: It is! This is crazy — I’m doing a Blaffer painting, too.
They mount the escalator and slowly ascend.
LL: Which one?
DB: I struggled. I had a short list with Redon and Vuillard from the Beck Collection, but settled on this wonderful painting by a Dutch guy whose name I can’t say.
LL: Let’s go find ’em.
DB: (checking his phone again) It’s pronounced more or less “Uteval” but spelled Joachim Wtewael. Good luck with that. Great painting, lousy name.
(Passing the cabinet of curiosities in the Blaffer Collection. They walk in.)
DB: I was thinking about doing a piece from this room, the Blaffer Kunstkammer. Let’s face it, this is one of the coolest things in town, this room full of a little bit of everything under the sun — art history incarnate!
LL: It’s always stymied me. The Witnesses room at the Menil feels specific, like stepping into a Surrealist’s studio, but this is all over the place, periods, subjects. Maybe it’s more interesting. Every single thing in here is a gem.
DB: I respect the way little adjustments are made in here every six months or year and it just keeps getting… (searches for the word.)
LL: Richer.
DB: Yes! There seem to be new paintings appearing with each visit, at least to my eyes.

Christian Luycks, “A Vanitas Still Life with Musical Instruments, Sheet Music, Books, a Skeleton, Skulls, and Armor,” c. 1655, oil on canvas, 29 3/8 × 36 3/4 inches
LL: (looks at the Luycks appreciatively) Why’d you change your mind?
DB: One of the skeletons started freaking me out. I fled in terror. It’s a little much. How about this little boy blowing bubbles in the background? Vanitas: life as fleeting as a soap bubble. I love it.

Christian Luycks, “A Vanitas Still Life with Musical Instruments, Sheet Music, Books, a Skeleton, Skulls, and Armor,” detail, c. 1655, oil on canvas, 29 3/8 × 36 3/4 inches
(They turn the corner and ponder)
LL: You know I’m not even sure my girl here is a great painting. Your shepherd painting is a good painting, formally, and better the more I look at it.
LL peeks around the corner.
LL: But I do like to see it next to this Reynolds, which actually is a favorite. The proximity of the two is subversive. I love (the Reynolds): the skin tones, the pinks. I’ve been reading a lot about him in Edith Wharton and the Visual Arts.
They cross the gallery to examine Reynolds’ Portrait of Mrs. Jelf Powis and her Daughter.

Sir Joshua Reynolds, “Portrait of Mrs. Jelf Powis and her Daughter,” 1777, oil on canvas, 93 × 57 inches. This 1777 portrait commission was never paid in full. It remained in Reynold’s studio until his death. Eventually it was acquired by Charles Wertheimer, an astute collector whose brother Asher, also an art dealer, commissioned multiple portraits by John Singer Sargent.
LL: Together, the Mercier and the Reynolds bring to mind Dante Gabriel Rosetti and his career, marrying and sleeping with his models. He and the others in the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood hated Reynolds; they called him Sir Sloshua.
DB: But isn’t that pink amazing? I remember this painting because Andre Leon Talley picked it for the Oscar de la Renta exhibition a while back. Brilliant show. He only included a handful of paintings among the fashion pieces. I guess he liked it too. What I think is trippy about these two is that they both have a very specific gesture. These paintings are hung next to each other, and that can’t be an accident.
LL: I know! Look at that woman (in the Reynolds painting)! What do you think she’s saying to the little girl?
DB: She’s saying, “If you’re not careful, you could end up like this trollop on your left! And all of this (in reference to the sweeping gesture) will be inherited by your younger brother.” (DB steps back)
I dig both of these paintings, but I’ll be honest: The Reynolds is better. The Mercier is… seductive. I guess that’s the point. Bully for Mercier. There are four versions of the Mercier painting. All have different details, but interestingly enough, her leg, which I think is awkward, is exactly the same in the other paintings.
LL: You know I can’t unsee that now. Her body is weird. I’m starting to see things that are unresolved in the Mercier that don’t seem unresolved in the Reynolds or the Wtewael.
DB: I agree. If you look at that tree that is in back on the Reynolds, it’s so loose, but you can tell it’s a sycamore: you can see the peeling bark — it gives you all of this information and your imagination can take over. Now I remember Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette. I read somewhere that there were no pinks in 18th century French fashion, but clearly they’re here.
LL: Well, he (Reynolds) is British, but…
DB: Is it possible that they had pink fabric in Britain but that it hadn’t become popular in France yet?
LL: That couldn’t be.
DB: This painting is 1777, though.
LL: Note to self: Look up “Pink. Eighteenth-Century!” It’s just that the garments in the Reynolds are so amazing. I guess they are done pretty well in the Mercier, too, but nowhere near as glorious as with the Reynolds — I mean, look at this belt!
DB: Well, I love the shoe in the Mercier.
LL: You’re right: that’s fabulous. And I like the print on the kimono.
DB: I totally buy the fabric.
LL: And the pink ribbons! Stuff like that I like.
DB: They look logical. You can follow the fabric in both of these paintings and it makes sense — It’s incredible. In contrast, with the background with the Mercier you can’t quite tell what’s going on in the background. There’s a drapery, and there IS something wrong with her legs. But! It is still a fascinating painting.
LL: (In reference to the girl in the Mercier painting) She’s very alluring. Very attractive.
DB: Apart from there being multiple versions of this painting, I read his model was also his housekeeper. I don’t know if they were doing the dirty, but….
(LL laughs)
DB: Now let’s go look at a religious painting!
Both stand before Joachim Wtewael’s The Annunciation to the Shepherds.
DB: I first saw this work in a tight show of Wtewael’s paintings, and it was a rare treat to see them. Here, you’re situated between Renaissance and Baroque painting. A lot of his paintings are in Utrecht and much of his work is very small and done on copper. But this one is so unusual and large. This painting is absolutely killer. What strikes me at first is that it’s a really weird palette. Look at all of the gorgeous reds and maroons. And aren’t those the best dogs ever?
LL & DB: There’s no blue!
DB: I would think that you’d love this painting, Laura, because you’re fascinated with fabric. And can you see what’s going on at the top, there’s this parting of the clouds.
LL: A big funnel of lightness!
DB: It makes me think of the best advent calendar — did you ever have one of those as a kid, where you open the little doors and you think you’re going to find a piece of candy behind one of these little doors? Each person here is so carefully rendered for the moment in time that is captured. It’s the Annunciation to the shepherds, the holy angels coming down and telling them, “Hey, come over to this barn and check this out!” And they’re all waking up and it looks like maybe they had a little too much to drink the night before. But they’re literally covering their eyes because the light is shining in them at this very specific moment.
LL: Everybody’s affected.
DB: And how about that cow?
LL: That’s the thing I can’t get past: the bovine gaze. Why’s the cow the only one looking at us (the viewer)?

Joachim Wtewael, “The Annunciation to the Shepherds,” detail, 1606, oil on canvas, 66 1/4 × 53 1/2 inches
Everybody else is looking away. Everyone else is completely in awe of what’s going on in the sky. I think they’re all on drugs and nobody else is going to believe them when they say what they saw here. Except for the mute cow. It’s like it’s saying, “Are you getting this? Nothing will be the same afterwards.”
DB: But it is so peaceful! I love it. There’s even mud on her rump from being in the barnyard. But at the same time, they’re the most stylish peasants I’ve ever seen in my life. In a late 16th century kind of way.
LL: And if you look at it, again, you see that every inch of this feels done. Every inch of it feels considered. Every inch feels painted — attended to. When you encounter the Mercier painting after studying this, it just doesn’t feel as accomplished.
(They walk back to the Annunciation)
LL: I admit that the Wtewael painting wasn’t one I initially felt drawn to, but now that we’re standing in front of it and talking about it I find it impossible to look away.
DB: One of the things I got excited about when asked to do a piece with Glasstire is that I do like coming to the museum, I like permanent collections, I like being able to visit paintings multiple times. It’s wonderful that we have a Wtewael in the permanent collection and we can visit as often as we like. You can end up despising a painting that you liked at first, and falling in love with a painting that you’ve passed over a hundred times… all of a sudden it’s like, “Oh! Something’s going on here!” Traveling shows are exciting for novelty, but the chance to visit a painting over and over again, when you can visit it like this, you tend to develop a very personal relationship to individual works. That’s why I love coming up here with friends — especially now, during the winter. Makes me want to go home and bake some cookies!
LL: Makes me want to go home and have a religious experience!
DB: I just had one. Thank you, friend!
Philippe Mercier’s A Young Woman Pulling on Her Stocking and Sir Joshua Reynolds’ Portrait of Mrs. Jelf Powis and her Daughter are on view in the Audrey Jones Beck Building – 218 Blaffer Galleries.
Christian Luycks’ A Vanitas Still Life with Musical Instruments, Sheet Music, Books, a Skeleton, Skulls, and Armor is on view in the Audrey Jones Beck Building – 217 Blaffer Galleries.
Joachim Wtewael’s The Annunciation to the Shepherds is on view in the The Audrey Jones Beck Building – 215 Blaffer Galleries.
All four paintings are on long-term loan from the Sarah Campbell Blaffer Foundation, Houston.
1 comment
Really enjoyed this ‘behind the scenes’ conversation between two friends who obviously love art!