The Linda McCartney Retrospective at Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum, its first UK showing, explores the photographer’s work from 1960s to her death in 1998. In addition to her photographs of well-known 20th century celebrities, it also includes more personal images of family and friends. The show is curated by Linda’s husband, Paul McCartney, and her children, Mary and Stella. The three of them clearly enjoyed celebrating her life and personality.
Grounded in reality
Holiday snaps of Linda in Scotland taken by Paul are immensely relatable, and this strand of normality continues throughout the show. Candid family snaps are threaded through the exhibition, whether that is bathtime with the children or Paul messing about and pulling daft faces. Images such as these, when presented alongside the many photographs of the “great and the good”, keep the exhibition grounded in reality and make it more powerful.
The main message is that Linda McCartney was an exceptional photographer, and that the retrospective succeeds in its aims to summarise a whole artistic career and present it to its best advantage. However, in some ways this exhibition is a victim of its format. Interpretation is short, concise and well written, limiting visitors’ fatigue when presented with hundreds of photographs. Biographical detail is spread across the gallery, but it lacks in-depth analysis. An opportunity to delve deeper is missed.
The retrospective is supplemented by cases of objects – diaries, photographic equipment, album and magazine covers – but they do not reveal much outside of Linda the photographer. There is also a room with two photo-slideshows shown on a loop. I thought this a mistake: instead of interviews or moving images, we get a slideshow with music projected on a screen. It might have been nice to have had something exploratory about the art or artist, rather than a continuation of what is on the walls.
This is understandable and in some ways unavoidable. Firstly, the choice of the term “retrospective” indicates a deliberate intention to present a comprehensive body of work. Secondly, it has been curated by family members who are still very much in the public eye, so privacy is paramount – to delve deep into the grit and psyche of the artist might have been viewed by them as inappropriate and the whole project was dependent on their involvement. As it is, enough of Linda’s character is revealed to explain her approach and it is sufficient to enhance the viewer’s appreciation of the work. But it left me wanting more.
Missed opportunity?
Something that was absent was any comparison with current trends in photography and its consumption: much of Linda’s work was ahead of its time in terms of its intimacy, humour and compositional nature. Although I am loathed to admit it, whenever I saw a self-portrait of Linda, camera in hand, capturing her reflection in a mirror or window, I thought selfie rather than self-portrait – lowbrow of me, perhaps.
Space is also given to two walls of polaroid photos, where wonderful ephemeral moments are captured forever in the medium. Given that Instagram is a modern equivalent of the polaroid and has carved a niche in hosting disposable snaps of fleeting moments, the method of display of Linda’s polaroids in a wall grid seemed to be begging comparison, but none is made. It might have been a worthwhile connection, it might not, but I noted its absence.
There was a great variety of techniques and processes on display: polaroids, cyanotypes and ghostly sun-prints. In each section there is a proliferation of good photographs and a sizeable number of truly excellent works, again underlining just how good Linda was in her artistic medium.
The real success of this show is that Linda’s work steps out of her husband’s shadow. It presumably always did to those in the know – her 1968 photograph of British rock star Eric Clapton was the first ever picture by a woman to appear on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine, for example.
But to those like myself, who were not around during her peak, her works are presented in such a way as to make it clear that she was an artist in her own right, distinct from the career of her singer-songwriter spouse and her subsequent career promoting vegetarianism.
Overall, this retrospective is a straightforward presentation of Linda McCartney’s photographs. However, it does rather leave the onus on the viewer to piece together what they can about the photographer herself in a sometimes patchy narrative.
Matthew Bellhouse Moran is a curator at the Scottish Maritime Museum, Irvine
The retrospective is displayed in Kelvingrove’s basement gallery, a sprawling Victorian cellar with cloistering arches that support the museum above and divide the space into about a dozen sections. Potentially claustrophobic, this subdivision instead lends an intimacy to the exhibition and helps to contain groups of works into broad themes. I found the lighting to be a little dim, but from the angle of collections care, this is to be expected in a photography exhibition.
The first room contains a selection of photographic portraits of Linda. Some are self-portraits while many have been taken by others, including Paul. Viewed with a critical eye, some of these are underwhelming – akin to family snaps rather than professional photography. At first this seems like a disappointing start, but what’s clearer on viewing the rest of the show is that this room allows visitors to relate to the subject. Grounded in reality
Holiday snaps of Linda in Scotland taken by Paul are immensely relatable, and this strand of normality continues throughout the show. Candid family snaps are threaded through the exhibition, whether that is bathtime with the children or Paul messing about and pulling daft faces. Images such as these, when presented alongside the many photographs of the “great and the good”, keep the exhibition grounded in reality and make it more powerful.
The main message is that Linda McCartney was an exceptional photographer, and that the retrospective succeeds in its aims to summarise a whole artistic career and present it to its best advantage. However, in some ways this exhibition is a victim of its format. Interpretation is short, concise and well written, limiting visitors’ fatigue when presented with hundreds of photographs. Biographical detail is spread across the gallery, but it lacks in-depth analysis. An opportunity to delve deeper is missed.
The retrospective is supplemented by cases of objects – diaries, photographic equipment, album and magazine covers – but they do not reveal much outside of Linda the photographer. There is also a room with two photo-slideshows shown on a loop. I thought this a mistake: instead of interviews or moving images, we get a slideshow with music projected on a screen. It might have been nice to have had something exploratory about the art or artist, rather than a continuation of what is on the walls.
This is understandable and in some ways unavoidable. Firstly, the choice of the term “retrospective” indicates a deliberate intention to present a comprehensive body of work. Secondly, it has been curated by family members who are still very much in the public eye, so privacy is paramount – to delve deep into the grit and psyche of the artist might have been viewed by them as inappropriate and the whole project was dependent on their involvement. As it is, enough of Linda’s character is revealed to explain her approach and it is sufficient to enhance the viewer’s appreciation of the work. But it left me wanting more.
Missed opportunity?
Something that was absent was any comparison with current trends in photography and its consumption: much of Linda’s work was ahead of its time in terms of its intimacy, humour and compositional nature. Although I am loathed to admit it, whenever I saw a self-portrait of Linda, camera in hand, capturing her reflection in a mirror or window, I thought selfie rather than self-portrait – lowbrow of me, perhaps.
Space is also given to two walls of polaroid photos, where wonderful ephemeral moments are captured forever in the medium. Given that Instagram is a modern equivalent of the polaroid and has carved a niche in hosting disposable snaps of fleeting moments, the method of display of Linda’s polaroids in a wall grid seemed to be begging comparison, but none is made. It might have been a worthwhile connection, it might not, but I noted its absence.
There was a great variety of techniques and processes on display: polaroids, cyanotypes and ghostly sun-prints. In each section there is a proliferation of good photographs and a sizeable number of truly excellent works, again underlining just how good Linda was in her artistic medium.
The real success of this show is that Linda’s work steps out of her husband’s shadow. It presumably always did to those in the know – her 1968 photograph of British rock star Eric Clapton was the first ever picture by a woman to appear on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine, for example.
But to those like myself, who were not around during her peak, her works are presented in such a way as to make it clear that she was an artist in her own right, distinct from the career of her singer-songwriter spouse and her subsequent career promoting vegetarianism.
Overall, this retrospective is a straightforward presentation of Linda McCartney’s photographs. However, it does rather leave the onus on the viewer to piece together what they can about the photographer herself in a sometimes patchy narrative.
Matthew Bellhouse Moran is a curator at the Scottish Maritime Museum, Irvine
Project data
- Cost £126,444
- Main funder Linda Enterprises
- Restoration Glasgow Museums Conservation Team
- Exhibition design Glasgow Museums Design Team
- Graphic design Glasgow Life; Glasgow Museums Marketing Team
- Interpretation Fiona Hayes, Glasgow Museums; Sarah Brown, Linda McCartney Archive
- AV and film Glasgow Museums Digital Team
- Lighting Glasgow Museums Logistics Team
- Display cases Glasgow Museums Logistics Team
- Exhibition ends 12 January 2020
- Admission Free for Museums Association members
