Writing Museum Wall Labels: A Case Study

Recently a new rotation of works on paper--featuring prints and drawings reflecting the Renaissance interest in anatomy--went on view in the Italian galleries. I was asked to create the wall label to accompany it. Wall labels in museum galleries are concise blurbs about a work, or works of art, written in a way meant to be easily understand-able and accessible to the public. Prior to writing the label for this rotation, I had only worked on two labels for photographs in the 2016 exhibition Cyanotypes: Photography’s Blue Period, with each label representing a single work of art. In this case, I needed a label that would tie together and clearly present three works as a single grouping in 150 words or less. It was the same amount of space, but I had to squeeze in discussions of two additional pieces of artwork.

In order to create a cohesive didactic label for three artworks, I had to locate a single central theme to unite them and narrow down my focus. In this case, I focused on the significance of anatomical study to artists during the Renaissance. Understanding how to render the human body accurately was tied directly to successfully depicting a nude figure. All three images include at least one nude figure despite differences in medium, the artists’ personal styles, and the subject being depicted. While the print Bacchanal with a Wine Vat by Andrea Mantegna’s subject is more or less a standard mythological scene, the two other prints are a nude depiction of The Last Supper and a rather theatrical image of skeletal and flayed figures. With three diverse images, the narrative I conveyed needed to be observable to the visitor viewing the grouping of these works. Working within the 150 word limit, I was able to point out one element of each work on paper relating to the overarching theme of anatomical study, while still leaving room for the viewer to make their own observations within the theme and discover the works of art for themselves.

Through my own experience I can say that artwork has so much to say that it feels easier to write a book than it does to write a quick blurb. It is easy to go down a research rabbit hole when writing on a work of art, and thus it can be equally tempting to overwhelm a casual viewer or stray off subject. Sometimes you find more questions than answers. While looking into these objects, I discovered theories about how Skeletons and Ecorches by del Barbiere may have been intended for use as an illustration in an anatomy textbook, but it seemed too embellished with curtains and props for a book of that nature. Could it have had another purpose? If it was intended for a book? If so, which book? I also was fascinated by an ongoing debate over the artist attribution of the drawing of The Last Supper. In the past it was attributed to Rosso Fiorentino, but through formal analysis the curator and others agreed that his association with the drawing was not secure.  In addition to the unknown status of the artist, was this drawing a study for another work of art that exists today? Was it drawn by Andrea del Sarto? What about an unknown student in a workshop? Are there any other artworks or sketches connected to this piece somewhere out there? These questions may never find their answers. Limiting the subject matter discussed in the label prevents it from turning into a book or dissertation, and leaves room for others to enjoy the mysteries and speculation that make art history so fascinating.

--Gabrielle Belisle, Fellow for Prints, Drawings and Photographs, Worcester Art Museum

Contributions of Southern African American women artists explored

I’m thrilled to announce that my chapter, “Contrary Instincts: Art History’s Gendered Color Line,” was published in Central to Their Lives: Southern Women Artists in the Johnson Collection.

This catalogue, years in the making, acknowledges the achievements of female artists working in and inspired by the American South. Spanning the decades between the late 1890s and early 1960s, the volume examines the complex challenges these artists faced in a traditionally conservative region during a period in which women’s social, cultural, and political roles were being redefined and reinterpreted.

My essay looks at the mutual marginalization of trained and self-taught southern African American women artists. For Boston-born Loïs Mailou Jones (1905-1998), Clementine Hunter (1886-1988), and Minnie Evans (1892-1987), the challenges posed by their race were complicated by an additional barrier: their gender. As limited as the opportunities were for African American male artists, meaningful opportunities were even rarer for women. Trained or untrained, Southern African American women artists had to overcome extreme disadvantages in order to create art. Furthermore, the American South looms over their artwork: the rich and complex cultural and historical dynamics of Southern life are manifested in subject matter, medium, and even reception by the art world. In considering artists such as Alma Thomas (1891-1978), Selma Burke (1900-1995), and Augusta Savage (1892-1962)—alongside Evans, Hunter, and others—this essay seeks to explore their similar struggles, their connections to the American South, and their range of creative expression.
 
--Erin R. Corrales-Diaz, Assistant Curator of American Art

Learn more about Central to Their Lives: Southern Women Artists in the Johnson Collection:  http://www.sc.edu/uscpress/books/2018/7954.html)