It was announced a few weeks ago that Ian Dejardin, the current director the Dulwich Picture Gallery, in southeast London, would be moving to become executive director of the McMichael Canadian Art Collection in Kleinburg, Ontario.
Dejardin began at Dulwich as a curator back in 1998. Museums Journal caught up with him about his time there and his new role.
You’ve been at Dulwich Picture Gallery for about 18 years. Is change daunting?
It will be 19 years by the time I actually leave. Daunting? Yes and no. On one hand, I know Toronto pretty well, and love it there, it’s a fantastically vibrant city; and as a Scot I feel a real kinship with Canadians. I am very much looking forward to living in Canada. And the McMichael is another magical place to be associated with.
I really pick them – the Royal Academy, Kenwood House, Chiswick, Dulwich Picture Gallery – I have always worked in places that have something special and different about them. I think it’s amazing to have been handed the opportunity for such an adventure at this stage of my career – after all, this will in all probability be my last big post. And if so, what a fantastic way to end a career.
On the other hand, any move is daunting. I finally have to face what lurks in the loft and sort through it, and believe me that’s no task for the faint-hearted. I’m also being forced to confront something I’ve avoided all my life: when I was 18 I refused to learn to drive, for sound ecological reasons.
In Canada, I’ve decided I will have to bite that particular bullet. I also think that it will be politic of me to brush up on my French, which is not really good enough. Unfortunately, with my name, everyone assumes I’ll be fluent, so it’s time to live up to my French heritage. And that’s daunting.
What’s the most significant thing that’s changed during your tenure?
Generally, and beyond my control: the web, and technology. Access to information and the means to communicate it have utterly transformed the sector. Lectures used to involve glass slides – remember them? – and projectors that always jammed. Research used to involve trips to libraries to read actual books. Now we have Powerpoint, Google and Wikipedia.
“Word of mouth” used to actually involve talking – now we have social media, which has transformed marketing and visitation patterns and created a world where reaction is immediate and communication of opinion a universal right. Fantastically varied layers of information can now be provided discreetly on iPads within exhibitions.
And of course, the new audiences who have grown up with all these things and take them for granted are – at least to someone of my generation – like a new species, with new language, new expectations, new focus, new attention spans, new tolerance levels; all of which has to be engaged with, positively and actively.
What are you most proud of about your time there?
The exhibition programme – though I say it myself, it has been a thing of beauty, and I see exhibition programming as an art form in its own right. I’m deeply proud that Dulwich held the first exhibition devoted to Gerrit Dou, to Adam Elsheimer, to Tom Thomson and the Group of Seven, to Emily Carr, to Nikolai Astrup, to Winifred Knights, to Adriaen van de Velde and so many other names that have been overlooked, forgotten or neglected.
I’m also pleased that Dulwich was the first gallery to show Norman Rockwell’s work over here. I wanted to confront what I saw as snobbery in the art establishment’s refusal to acknowledge him as an artist and phenomenon. I am absolutely allergic to the snobbery that lurks so close to the surface of so-called connoisseurship.
Brian Sewell rose triumphantly to the bait and was particularly rude on that occasion (I miss teasing him!); but it was one of the most popular and appreciated exhibitions we’ve ever put on. The Escher show too. Mission accomplished.
Oh, and the visitor numbers: in 2005, when I took over, we welcomed 98,000 visitors. Last year we had 226,000 through our doors. I’m very proud of that.
Funniest moment?
The aforesaid Brian Sewell’s review of Norman Rockwell. It was a peach. (But I had the last laugh: 51,000 visitors came, and loved it.)
What do you hope to be remembered for as director there for 12 years?
I genuinely think that the atmosphere of the place has transformed during my time here. People comment about how “buzzy” it is now; different from how it used to be. I think I must be able to take credit for that – so I hope that’s one way that I’ll be remembered. But I also hope I’ll be remembered for my ability to communicate my enthusiasm for art in an accessible and relaxed manner – my mantra has been: art history CAN be boring, but art never is. But I may just be remembered for my socks (I knit them myself) – and that’s ok too.
The McMichael Canadian Art Collection is in Ontario - when do you move?
I will move to Canada, probably in March 2017; I start work at the McMichael in April.
What are you most looking forward to about working there?
I have become a great fan of Canadian art; my knowledge has been necessarily selective up to now, focused around the exhibitions I’ve mounted at Dulwich on the Canadian artists Tom Thomson and the Group of Seven, and Emily Carr, so I am hugely looking forward to working with the fantastic team of fellow enthusiasts at the McMichael and being a champion for Canadian art in general.
Also, the McMichael is such a magical place – not just the art, but the building and the woodland setting. It will be wonderful to work in a place that seems to embody so much meaning to a Canadian audience.
What are the strengths of the collection there? And have you got any ideas up your sleeve for collaborations between the McMichael and UK galleries?
The collection is unique in Canada in that it is devoted entirely to Canadian art. Its greatest strength probably remains with Tom Thomson and the Group of Seven and their early 20th century contemporaries, and with some astonishing First Nations art. The latter has been a relatively recent discovery for me, and it is a joy that just keeps on giving.
Ideas up my sleeve? Of course I have! At Dulwich, almost by accident, I stumbled on the goldmine of Canadian art, which has so much to offer. I will never forget the queues that formed to get in to see the Group of Seven in 2011 – it was such a vindication of the risk we took. It’s time the rest of the world got to know Canadian art better – and I want the McMichael to take the lead in making the introduction.
The Canadian shows at Dulwich set out to, on the one hand, introduce artists to a British public almost entirely unaware of them; but equally importantly, they had to reintroduce those artists in an interesting way to a Canadian audience almost too familiar with them. I think we succeeded in that difficult juggling act, and I hope that experience will stand me in good stead when I’m, as it were, on the other side of the fence.
Dejardin began at Dulwich as a curator back in 1998. Museums Journal caught up with him about his time there and his new role.
You’ve been at Dulwich Picture Gallery for about 18 years. Is change daunting?
It will be 19 years by the time I actually leave. Daunting? Yes and no. On one hand, I know Toronto pretty well, and love it there, it’s a fantastically vibrant city; and as a Scot I feel a real kinship with Canadians. I am very much looking forward to living in Canada. And the McMichael is another magical place to be associated with.
I really pick them – the Royal Academy, Kenwood House, Chiswick, Dulwich Picture Gallery – I have always worked in places that have something special and different about them. I think it’s amazing to have been handed the opportunity for such an adventure at this stage of my career – after all, this will in all probability be my last big post. And if so, what a fantastic way to end a career.
On the other hand, any move is daunting. I finally have to face what lurks in the loft and sort through it, and believe me that’s no task for the faint-hearted. I’m also being forced to confront something I’ve avoided all my life: when I was 18 I refused to learn to drive, for sound ecological reasons.
In Canada, I’ve decided I will have to bite that particular bullet. I also think that it will be politic of me to brush up on my French, which is not really good enough. Unfortunately, with my name, everyone assumes I’ll be fluent, so it’s time to live up to my French heritage. And that’s daunting.
What’s the most significant thing that’s changed during your tenure?
Generally, and beyond my control: the web, and technology. Access to information and the means to communicate it have utterly transformed the sector. Lectures used to involve glass slides – remember them? – and projectors that always jammed. Research used to involve trips to libraries to read actual books. Now we have Powerpoint, Google and Wikipedia.
“Word of mouth” used to actually involve talking – now we have social media, which has transformed marketing and visitation patterns and created a world where reaction is immediate and communication of opinion a universal right. Fantastically varied layers of information can now be provided discreetly on iPads within exhibitions.
And of course, the new audiences who have grown up with all these things and take them for granted are – at least to someone of my generation – like a new species, with new language, new expectations, new focus, new attention spans, new tolerance levels; all of which has to be engaged with, positively and actively.
What are you most proud of about your time there?
The exhibition programme – though I say it myself, it has been a thing of beauty, and I see exhibition programming as an art form in its own right. I’m deeply proud that Dulwich held the first exhibition devoted to Gerrit Dou, to Adam Elsheimer, to Tom Thomson and the Group of Seven, to Emily Carr, to Nikolai Astrup, to Winifred Knights, to Adriaen van de Velde and so many other names that have been overlooked, forgotten or neglected.
I’m also pleased that Dulwich was the first gallery to show Norman Rockwell’s work over here. I wanted to confront what I saw as snobbery in the art establishment’s refusal to acknowledge him as an artist and phenomenon. I am absolutely allergic to the snobbery that lurks so close to the surface of so-called connoisseurship.
Brian Sewell rose triumphantly to the bait and was particularly rude on that occasion (I miss teasing him!); but it was one of the most popular and appreciated exhibitions we’ve ever put on. The Escher show too. Mission accomplished.
Oh, and the visitor numbers: in 2005, when I took over, we welcomed 98,000 visitors. Last year we had 226,000 through our doors. I’m very proud of that.
Funniest moment?
The aforesaid Brian Sewell’s review of Norman Rockwell. It was a peach. (But I had the last laugh: 51,000 visitors came, and loved it.)
What do you hope to be remembered for as director there for 12 years?
I genuinely think that the atmosphere of the place has transformed during my time here. People comment about how “buzzy” it is now; different from how it used to be. I think I must be able to take credit for that – so I hope that’s one way that I’ll be remembered. But I also hope I’ll be remembered for my ability to communicate my enthusiasm for art in an accessible and relaxed manner – my mantra has been: art history CAN be boring, but art never is. But I may just be remembered for my socks (I knit them myself) – and that’s ok too.
The McMichael Canadian Art Collection is in Ontario - when do you move?
I will move to Canada, probably in March 2017; I start work at the McMichael in April.
What are you most looking forward to about working there?
I have become a great fan of Canadian art; my knowledge has been necessarily selective up to now, focused around the exhibitions I’ve mounted at Dulwich on the Canadian artists Tom Thomson and the Group of Seven, and Emily Carr, so I am hugely looking forward to working with the fantastic team of fellow enthusiasts at the McMichael and being a champion for Canadian art in general.
Also, the McMichael is such a magical place – not just the art, but the building and the woodland setting. It will be wonderful to work in a place that seems to embody so much meaning to a Canadian audience.
What are the strengths of the collection there? And have you got any ideas up your sleeve for collaborations between the McMichael and UK galleries?
The collection is unique in Canada in that it is devoted entirely to Canadian art. Its greatest strength probably remains with Tom Thomson and the Group of Seven and their early 20th century contemporaries, and with some astonishing First Nations art. The latter has been a relatively recent discovery for me, and it is a joy that just keeps on giving.
Ideas up my sleeve? Of course I have! At Dulwich, almost by accident, I stumbled on the goldmine of Canadian art, which has so much to offer. I will never forget the queues that formed to get in to see the Group of Seven in 2011 – it was such a vindication of the risk we took. It’s time the rest of the world got to know Canadian art better – and I want the McMichael to take the lead in making the introduction.
The Canadian shows at Dulwich set out to, on the one hand, introduce artists to a British public almost entirely unaware of them; but equally importantly, they had to reintroduce those artists in an interesting way to a Canadian audience almost too familiar with them. I think we succeeded in that difficult juggling act, and I hope that experience will stand me in good stead when I’m, as it were, on the other side of the fence.
