At every turn, during a recent visit, in rooms with colourful walls (including one that’s bright orange, which may cause consternation among those who prefer their galleries taupe), familiar artworks, awaiting installation, were propped on foam blocks, like so many Paddington Bears beside the lost-property office, sporting labels attached by string.
Here is Oliver Cromwell, glowering behind protective cellophane. There, William Shakespeare, with a bling earring and that familiar bald cranium, as smooth as an ostrich’s egg, in the famous Chandos portrait of c.1610, perhaps the only likeness of him painted from life. Back home after travelling to South Korea, the Netherlands, Australia and Taiwan as part of the NPG’s international exhibition Icons and Identities, this was the gallery’s first acquisition. On its tag, there’s a single number: 1.
Both sitters, of course, are men, but nearby, temporarily strapped to a trolley, I spy a portrait of Charles II’s mistress Nell Gwyn, showing off her breasts. Downstairs, the increased visibility of female sitters is unmistakable. A large self-portrait by Laura Knight, for instance, in which the artist, wearing a dark hat as dashing as any musketeer’s, depicts herself painting a full-length nude model, seen from behind, with pink-tinged buttocks, occupies a prominent spot. ‘When we reopen,’ Cullinan announces, ‘post-1900, we will have gone from 35 per cent of the people on the walls being women, to 48 per cent.’