British Museum blog

Facing Enlightenment – reflecting after the event

Facing Enlightenment event
Peter Sheppard Skӕrved wrote a post in November about his then upcoming performance in the Enlightenment Gallery. Here he reflects on the event.

On 13 December, I returned to the British Museum for the next stage of my adventure with the wonderful Enlightenment Gallery. A joy of this unique room is that it is not only an exhibit concerning the histories of ideas, but a place in which to have ideas. As a musician, I well know that until I spend time in a space, I cannot predict what will emerge. Nowhere is this more the case than with ‘Room 1’.

Every time I work here, I am struck how the Enlightenment Gallery quietly shifts its visitors into a salon environment, whether they are expecting it or not! I decided to begin my salon alone. I arrived early, before opening, to sit with my violin, to play, watch and listen, to see what new ideas began to flow. At various points during the day, there were changes of pace: my harpsichordist, Julian Perkins came to hang out and play a little in the morning and it was a fantastic chance to watch him respond to the architecture, the sounds (this is, after all, a room which is about people), and the objects in close proximity. We worked on the 17th-century works by Walther and Matteis, and they began to change, in tangible and intangible ways, finding their way as the room found its way to them.

Peter Sheppard Skӕrved performing in the Enlightenment Gallery

Photo courtesy Benedict Johnson

Playing in this gallery informally affords me the opportunity to watch my audience: some people will, without doubt, find it a nuisance (they don’t want a violinist in a museum), and that’s their prerogative, which I respect. I watch others relishing a ‘counterpoint’ between objects and music – they’ll often talk to me about it; there was great excitement that the violin that I was holding was older than nearly all the objects in the cases, and even more that this 16th-century violin is a tool which can be used, and can continue to offer new sounds, new ideas, today. Many younger people have never been close to classical instruments played ‘live’. For generations brought up on digital recordings, there is a shock in the physical impact, the sheer quiddity (‘thing-ness’) of an ancient violin, or the excitement of a harpsichord, which clearly, for many people, is almost as weird a sound, and an object, as a UFO.

Peter Sheppard Skӕrved talking to the audience in the Enlightenment Gallery

Photo courtesy Benedict Johnson

A few hours into the day, filmmakers from The Economist appeared and talked to me about the excitement of the space, and my project. They filmed me playing Torelli, which became part of the opening sequence of a video, A world of new museums, about a new enlightenment spirit in today’s museums and museum goers.

Late in the afternoon, my string-playing colleagues arrived, and we played composer David Gorton’s new ‘transfigurations’ of Dowland, a few feet from Dr Dee’s ‘shew-stones’, with the box made for them by Horace Walpole. The trajectory of these objects – originally Aztec obsidian mirrors, re-imagined by Queen Elizabeth I’s geomancer, later treasured by the high-priest of the ‘gothick’, the coiner of the word ‘serendipity’ – epitomise the message of this room and the music we choose for it. How can we find our way to the future, through the many discoveries of the past? What tense do we choose to speak, to write in, and does it matter?

And then the chairs went in; the audience arrived. I looked out and saw, among all the new faces, filmmakers, craftspeople, writers, teachers and artists, a true salon, the essence of this marvellous room, and the kindly spirits who grace it – Merian, Hamilton, Delaney, Sloane, the whole crew – alive and inspiring us to creativity and optimism. After the concert, it dawned on me that I had played the violin, without stopping, for 7 hours. But I was not tired, but buoyed up, invigorated by the chance to practise my craft in such company.

If you would like to leave a comment click on the title

Filed under: At the Museum, ,

2 Responses - Comments are closed.

  1. knotrune says:

    Lovely. And it’s not often I come across a word I don’t know. I shall be adopting quiddity as my Word of the Year!

    Like

  2. I confess that I got the word from the fascinating art historian Simon Shaw Miller, who I have collaborated with many times – his work sits in the space between art and music, so he has been very helpful in projects such as this one!

    Like

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 16,361 other followers

Categories

Follow @britishmuseum on Twitter

British Museum on Instagram

In this second watercolour from the ‘Flower Book’ of Pre-Raphaelite artist Edward Burne-Jones, we can see the goddess Venus walking through the night’s sky with doves. This painting is titled ‘Rose of heaven’ – a name given to the plant campion, a small pink flower. Burne-Jones took inspiration from the name of the flower and its connotations, rather than what the flower actually looks like. The depiction of Venus seems to be heavily influenced by Botticelli’s ‘Birth of Venus’, with flowing blonde hair and a dynamic pose.
#EdwardBurneJones #BurneJones #PreRaphaelite #flowers To mark the birthday of Pre-Raphaelite artist Edward Burne-Jones (1833–1898) this week, we’re featuring paintings from his ‘Flower Book’ – a sketchbook full of watercolours and drawings that contained fantasy artworks inspired by the names of flowers. This painting is titled ‘Love in a tangle’ – a name sometimes used for the climbing plant clematis. The scene suggests the story of Ariadne, who gave Greek hero Theseus a ball of golden thread to unwind as he wandered through the labyrinth in search of the minotaur (a mythological creature – half-man and half-bull). Here she waits anxiously for her lover to follow the thread back out of the maze. The clematis and its maze of tangled foliage inspired Burne-Jones to represent this story from ancient Greek mythology in his Flower Book.
#EdwardBurneJones #BurneJones #PreRaphaelite #flowers #mythology Here’s a #regram from @mrapachekat. Doesn’t this lion look majestic? The Museum’s Montague Place entrance is just as grand as the more-visited Main entrance on Great Russell Street. This part of the Museum contains the King Edward VII galleries, and the foundation stone was laid by the King in 1907. This side of the building was designed in the Roman style rather than the Greek Revival of Great Russell Street. It features numerous imperial references, including the coat of arms above the door, and sculptures of lions’ heads and crowns. The architect Sir John James Burnet was knighted for his work designing these galleries, and the building was opened by King George V and Queen Mary in 1914 (Edward VII had died in 1910). #regram #repost #architecture #BritishMuseum #lion Another brilliant photo of the Museum’s Main entrance on Great Russell Street – this time by @violenceor. The perspective gives a good sense of the huge scale of the columns. The Museum has two rows of columns at the main entrance, with each being around 14 metres tall and 1.5 metres wide. Designer Sir Robert Smirke used 44 columns along the front elevation. This design of putting columns in front of an entrance is called a ‘portico’, and was used extensively in ancient Greek and Roman buildings. #regram #repost #architecture #neoclassical #BritishMuseum The Museum looks spectacular with a blue sky overhead – especially in this great shot by @whatrajwants. You can see the beautiful gold flashes shining in the sun. This triangular area above the columns is called a ‘pediment’, and was a common feature in ancient Greek architecture. The copying of classical designs was fashionable during the late 18th and early 19th centuries, and was known as the Greek Revival. The sculptures in the pediment were designed in 1847 by Sir Richard Westmacott and installed in 1851. The pediment originally had a bright blue background, with the statues painted white. #regram #repost #architecture #neoclassical #sculpture #gold #BritishMuseum Concluding our short series of gold objects from the Museum’s collection is this group of items found in the Fishpool hoard. The hoard was buried in Nottinghamshire sometime during the War of the Roses (1455–1485), and contains some outstanding pieces of jewellery. 1,237 objects were found in this hoard in total. At the time it was deposited, its value would have been around £400, which is around £300,000 in today’s money! The variety of this collection of objects includes brilliant examples of fine craftsmanship. The turquoise ring in the centre was highly valued as it was believed that turquoise would protect the wearer from poisoning, drowning or falling off a horse.
#hoard #gold #jewellery #turquoise #treasure
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 16,361 other followers

%d bloggers like this: