Can small cultural exhibitions hit the headlines and are they worthwhile in the age of 'blockbuster' shows? A case in point is Handel and the Castrati.
The first necessity for a successful exhibition is a good subject. That might mean an already popular topic (Monet, say, or dinosaurs), or an unfamiliar subject that is well documented and deserves exposure. Only major museums can really pull off the first sort of exhibition. The second is where little museums can score.
It certainly helps if they can find intriguing subjects, and Handel House must hope that it has found one with the castrati - male singers who were emasculated by choice, so that their voices became as high as a woman's.
This phenomenon, as the museum's acting director, Jane Cockcroft, points out, evokes a variety of reactions today, including 'bizarre' and 'frightening'. You won't meet castrati today, but you could hear them from the late-16th until the early-20th century, usually in church.
The architect, Thomas Graham Jackson, visited the Lower Church in Assisi in 1878: 'The ancient walls were ringing with the full power of the chorus when suddenly the mood changed, the choir was silent… and out of the distant gloom rose a single soprano voice, low at first but rising into a grand passionate wail that filled the building… The effect was indescribable, the mysterious voice, though exquisitely beautiful, seemed unearthly, almost dreadful.' An Italian bystander said to him: 'It always seems as if they are weeping'.
Although most castrati worked in church choirs, the exhibition is about the few who made it on to the operatic stage, and specifically the seven who sang most frequently in Handel's operas - Senesino, Nicolini, Bernacchi, Carestini, Caffarelli, Conti and Guadagni. These singers were superstars.
The exhibition literature refers to their 'vast egos', their 'insatiable desire for social advancement', their 'star tantrums and amorous intrigues'.
This Hello-style razzamatazz, though, is not consistent with the exhibition itself, which is relatively low-key. It occupies two rooms in the museum, an 18th-century house in Mayfair, and offers information with a leavening of exhibits. Perhaps 13 text panels is rather on the heavy side, but they are well designed.
The exhibits include a Meissen figurine, paintings, prints, and caricatures sending up the physical appearance of some of the castrati. There are also scores, with earphones beside them so that you can hear the music you are looking at, including a 1902 recording of the last castrati, Alessandro Moreschi, who died in 1922. Visitors can also contemplate two sets of castratori - the snippers which were used to operate on the singers.
The exhibition is professionally arranged, comprehensible and comfortable in its space. But when one reads that one of the castrati wore 'gold-embroidered tiger-skins' and 'was followed everywhere by a monkey and a parrot', one wonders whether some touches of baroque extravagance might not have been profitably introduced.
This raises the question of resources, always a problem for small museums, even for one which, like Handel House, has a vigorous support constituency. Handel House belongs to a group of
museums which, for want of a better term, can be called 'celebrity houses'.
In London these include the former residences of Carlyle, Dickens, Dr Johnson, Keats, Hogarth, and Lord Leighton; up and down the country (and indeed, the world) are many others. These are not 'stately homes', because they are usually quite small. Many of them are independent, and on a fairly tight rein financially. Consequently their resources, both of space and money, will not often run to special exhibitions, and in the past they tended to refrain from doing them.
But almost all do them now, if only occasionally - presumably on the principle that they encourage repeat visits. This is certainly a policy at Handel House (the present exhibition is the third in five years), which also has an energetic programme of musical recitals and workshops to make a museum visit a 'vibrant' experience. Indeed, the recital programme accompanying the castrati exhibition is a vital part of the project.
Celebrity-house museums try to make the most of the idea that 'he was here, his presence lingers'. (It is usually 'he', though the houses of Jane Austen and the Brontës help to redress the balance.) So the evocation of a domestic atmosphere is usually paramount. It is rare that a house's interiors remain untouched from the time when the famous occupant was there; usually a reconstruction has to be done.
This was the case at Handel's House, which opened in 2001 after a searching, scholarly restoration. Fortunately, the museum extends into the neighbouring house, where there is a special exhibition space (and where, incidentally, rock musician Jimi Hendrix lived in 1968-69).
Celebrity-house museums may present merely as the bare domestic environment, but most build up collections. Handel House has a small but growing collection, and has used many of its own items in the exhibition, alongside loans. Private collectors are usually happy to lend to celebrity-houses, but other, larger museums may be less willing.
Almost any subject that a small museum can tackle will benefit from loans from national collections. But the nationals' strict rules about security and environ-mental conditions are often beyond the reach of most small museums.
Handel House is fortunate that it came on the scene so recently that it built these standards into its practices from the start. Museums that have evolved over the years face a harder struggle to come up to scratch. Yet much material in the nationals, which could be seen to advantage in small, specialised museums, may never get its chance there.
Of course, it is right to have the highest standards for material that is especially prized. But perhaps there could be a sliding scale of standards that would allow lesser cultural material to be loaned to smaller museums? This raises questions of natural justice and cultural value, but it surely ought to be explored.
We don't want Monet and/or dinosaurs every day. There are many small subjects of cultural importance that the nationals will never get round to exploring. It is perhaps proper for 'local' museums to concentrate on local issues, but figures such as Handel are for the world, for all time. It can only be a good thing for celebrity-house museums to continue to produce small high-quality shows such as Handel and the Castrati.
Anthony Burton was formerly a curator and is a museum historian, author of a history of the Victoria and Albert Museum, a biography of Sir Henry Cole, and articles on celebrity-house museums
Project data
Cost: £27,000
Funders: individual donors, Italian Cultural Institute in London
Curator: Nicholas Clapton
Exhibition graphics: bartdesign.com
Exhibition ends: 1 October
The first necessity for a successful exhibition is a good subject. That might mean an already popular topic (Monet, say, or dinosaurs), or an unfamiliar subject that is well documented and deserves exposure. Only major museums can really pull off the first sort of exhibition. The second is where little museums can score.
It certainly helps if they can find intriguing subjects, and Handel House must hope that it has found one with the castrati - male singers who were emasculated by choice, so that their voices became as high as a woman's.
This phenomenon, as the museum's acting director, Jane Cockcroft, points out, evokes a variety of reactions today, including 'bizarre' and 'frightening'. You won't meet castrati today, but you could hear them from the late-16th until the early-20th century, usually in church.
The architect, Thomas Graham Jackson, visited the Lower Church in Assisi in 1878: 'The ancient walls were ringing with the full power of the chorus when suddenly the mood changed, the choir was silent… and out of the distant gloom rose a single soprano voice, low at first but rising into a grand passionate wail that filled the building… The effect was indescribable, the mysterious voice, though exquisitely beautiful, seemed unearthly, almost dreadful.' An Italian bystander said to him: 'It always seems as if they are weeping'.
Although most castrati worked in church choirs, the exhibition is about the few who made it on to the operatic stage, and specifically the seven who sang most frequently in Handel's operas - Senesino, Nicolini, Bernacchi, Carestini, Caffarelli, Conti and Guadagni. These singers were superstars.
The exhibition literature refers to their 'vast egos', their 'insatiable desire for social advancement', their 'star tantrums and amorous intrigues'.
This Hello-style razzamatazz, though, is not consistent with the exhibition itself, which is relatively low-key. It occupies two rooms in the museum, an 18th-century house in Mayfair, and offers information with a leavening of exhibits. Perhaps 13 text panels is rather on the heavy side, but they are well designed.
The exhibits include a Meissen figurine, paintings, prints, and caricatures sending up the physical appearance of some of the castrati. There are also scores, with earphones beside them so that you can hear the music you are looking at, including a 1902 recording of the last castrati, Alessandro Moreschi, who died in 1922. Visitors can also contemplate two sets of castratori - the snippers which were used to operate on the singers.
The exhibition is professionally arranged, comprehensible and comfortable in its space. But when one reads that one of the castrati wore 'gold-embroidered tiger-skins' and 'was followed everywhere by a monkey and a parrot', one wonders whether some touches of baroque extravagance might not have been profitably introduced.
This raises the question of resources, always a problem for small museums, even for one which, like Handel House, has a vigorous support constituency. Handel House belongs to a group of
museums which, for want of a better term, can be called 'celebrity houses'.
In London these include the former residences of Carlyle, Dickens, Dr Johnson, Keats, Hogarth, and Lord Leighton; up and down the country (and indeed, the world) are many others. These are not 'stately homes', because they are usually quite small. Many of them are independent, and on a fairly tight rein financially. Consequently their resources, both of space and money, will not often run to special exhibitions, and in the past they tended to refrain from doing them.
But almost all do them now, if only occasionally - presumably on the principle that they encourage repeat visits. This is certainly a policy at Handel House (the present exhibition is the third in five years), which also has an energetic programme of musical recitals and workshops to make a museum visit a 'vibrant' experience. Indeed, the recital programme accompanying the castrati exhibition is a vital part of the project.
Celebrity-house museums try to make the most of the idea that 'he was here, his presence lingers'. (It is usually 'he', though the houses of Jane Austen and the Brontës help to redress the balance.) So the evocation of a domestic atmosphere is usually paramount. It is rare that a house's interiors remain untouched from the time when the famous occupant was there; usually a reconstruction has to be done.
This was the case at Handel's House, which opened in 2001 after a searching, scholarly restoration. Fortunately, the museum extends into the neighbouring house, where there is a special exhibition space (and where, incidentally, rock musician Jimi Hendrix lived in 1968-69).
Celebrity-house museums may present merely as the bare domestic environment, but most build up collections. Handel House has a small but growing collection, and has used many of its own items in the exhibition, alongside loans. Private collectors are usually happy to lend to celebrity-houses, but other, larger museums may be less willing.
Almost any subject that a small museum can tackle will benefit from loans from national collections. But the nationals' strict rules about security and environ-mental conditions are often beyond the reach of most small museums.
Handel House is fortunate that it came on the scene so recently that it built these standards into its practices from the start. Museums that have evolved over the years face a harder struggle to come up to scratch. Yet much material in the nationals, which could be seen to advantage in small, specialised museums, may never get its chance there.
Of course, it is right to have the highest standards for material that is especially prized. But perhaps there could be a sliding scale of standards that would allow lesser cultural material to be loaned to smaller museums? This raises questions of natural justice and cultural value, but it surely ought to be explored.
We don't want Monet and/or dinosaurs every day. There are many small subjects of cultural importance that the nationals will never get round to exploring. It is perhaps proper for 'local' museums to concentrate on local issues, but figures such as Handel are for the world, for all time. It can only be a good thing for celebrity-house museums to continue to produce small high-quality shows such as Handel and the Castrati.
Anthony Burton was formerly a curator and is a museum historian, author of a history of the Victoria and Albert Museum, a biography of Sir Henry Cole, and articles on celebrity-house museums
Project data
Cost: £27,000
Funders: individual donors, Italian Cultural Institute in London
Curator: Nicholas Clapton
Exhibition graphics: bartdesign.com
Exhibition ends: 1 October
