M Leuven | Audio guide: Recent Episodes
M Leuven
In this display, we can see three paint samples taken from the central panel of ‘The Last Supper’. They show us the glazing technique that was essential to Bouts and other Flemish Primitives.
This particular technique involves applying multiple semi-transparent layers of paint on top of each other. These layers are called 'glazes'. A glaze consists of a relatively large amount of oil with a little bit of pigment. Each glaze has a slightly different composition. As light passes through the various layers, vibrant colours, deep shadows, and seamless transitions — characteristic features of the Flemish Primitives – are created.
In Bouts' workshop, his assistants would craft the paints themselves by rubbing pigment into oil. Each layer of paint had to dry for several days. So Bouts had to carefully plan the desired end result before putting down the first brushstroke.
We can find out how Bouts' applied his paints and their composition by studying paint samples. A scalpel is used to extract a miniscule paint sample, which is then cast in resin. This creates a cross-section in which the different layers are clearly discernible.
When paint samples are taken, no matter how small, a piece of the painting is removed. Therefore, it is justified only when other research techniques fall short. Samples are taken from the edge of the painting or in a lacuna in the paint layer. Furthermore, they are not discarded but remain available for further study and new research methods.
The paint samples of the blue and green cloak, for example, were taken more than 70 years ago. At the time, they were studied under a microscope. This led to tentative conclusions about the materials used, which were written down — as can be seen here on the table. Today, chemists can identify pigments and binders with great certainty.
On two of the three samples we see a thick white layer of lead white on the bottom, dating back to the 19th century. At the time, a restorer performed a very invasive procedure, called a 'transposition'. This involves removing the paint layer from the original panel and transferring it onto a new support.
To remove the original support, the restorer sanded the panel all the way down to the back of the paint layers. On that back, he applied a thick flattening layer of lead white. Heaffixed a mesh to the lead white layer, before finally glueing it to a new panel.
'The Martyrdom of Saint Hippolytus' is one of Bouts' last paintings. He died before he could finish it. Based on stylistic analysis, there is a hypothesis that the left panel, featuring the patrons' portraits, may have been painted by Hugo van der Goes. This hypothesis is reinforced by research conducted using infrared reflectography, abbreviated as IRR. Yet, what is IRR exactly, and what insights can it provide?
We are continuously surrounded by electric and magnetic waves, collectively referred to as electromagnetic radiation. We are quite familiar with some of it: we perceive the waves ranging from 380 to 750 nanometres in length as visible light. Wavelengths ranging from 750 to 300,000 nanometres are classified as infrared. Although we cannot see them directly, we can convert them into the visible spectrum using special cameras.
Infrared reflectography or IRR employs a specific spectrum of infrared waves, typically ranging from 950 to approximately 1700 nanometres. These waves penetrate the paint layers. To an IRR camera, the paint layer is as transparent as the varnish layer is to the human eye.
Below the paint layer lies the underdrawing. This initial outline of the composition is typically executed with charcoal, black chalk, or ink. These materials contain carbon, which absorbs infrared rays, whilst the white preparation layer reflects the rays. Due to these characteristics, images made with IRR can make the underdrawing visible.
The underdrawing gives us invaluable insights. Frequently, the underdrawing is created by the master artist himself. As part of the design process, an artist makes compositional changes. These alterations offer us a glimpse into their quest for the ideal composition. The underdrawing thus provides insight into the painter's creative process even before he starts painting.
In the case of 'The Martyrdom of Saint Hippolytus’, this underdrawing has been hidden under the paint layer for 500 years. Thanks to IRR, we can once again see the underdrawing. This furthers our understanding of the creative process. You can explore some of the key findings of the IRR study using the screen on the table.
'The Martyrdom of Saint Erasmus' was restored in 2019. Today, the restoration of such a precious work is almost unthinkable without thorough preparatory research. Scientists have employed a wide range of techniques for this purpose. These include a relatively new imaging method: macro-X-ray fluorescence scanning, abbreviated as MA XRF Scanning.
Macro XRF examines an object by firing powerful X-rays at it. That object - like everything else in the universe - is composed of chemical elements: iron, mercury, potassium, titanium, or other old acquaintances from the periodic table. In reaction to these X-rays, these elements subsequently start to emit X-rays themselves. The wavelength of the emitted X-rays is specific to each element. As such, by capturing and measuring this radiation, we can identify which elements are present within the object and where they are located.
Macro XRF generates a distribution map of each element. This map represents the distribution of the specific element across the painting in black and white. The darker a particular point, the lower the concentration of the element, and the lighter the point, the higher the concentration. On the screen on the table you can see some of these distribution maps yourself.
With Macro XRF we can date paintings and obtain invaluable insights into the artist's techniques and materials. It can also assist in uncovering hidden layers or detecting alterations. For instance, it can reveal if an artist painted over an existing image or modified their composition.
With Macro XRF we can also identify non-original paint layers. Elements such as titanium, zinc, barium, and chromium were not present in pigments during Bouts' era. When we find these elements, they can indicate overpaintings by a 19th or 20th-century restorer.
The 'Triptych with the Descent from the Cross' is one of the largest works by Dieric Bouts.
The analysis of a painting of this nature starts with a regular visual inspection, with the naked eye or a magnifying glass. To do this, unlimited access to the artwork is, of course, required. In practice, only a select few individuals have this opportunity to intensively study the painting up close. Fortunately, macro photography provides a more accessible solution. Using a hundred-megapixel camera, we can capture highly detailed images of the artwork. These are stitched together to create an ultra-high-resolution mosaic image. This allows one to zoom in on the tiniest of details.
The combination of naked eye observation and macro photography has provided many new insights into the 'Triptych with the Descent from the Cross’. These insights will prove invaluable during the restoration process. That is the task that the Royal Institute for Cultural Heritage will undertake following this exhibition.
Especially the central panel is in poor condition. There are many lacunae - areas where the original paint has disappeared. Subsequent restorers have covered these areas with paint, but in some instances, they seem to have also overpainted the original paint layers. Also, the paint they used ages differently compared to Bouts' original paint. This is clearly visible, for example, in the stone arch on the central panel: the brown blots were once the same colour as the original paint layer.
These later added layers of paint will be removed, fully uncovering Bouts' original paint layer. The lacunae will be retouched, this time using reversible paint that can be easily removed in the future.
The side panels are in better condition than the central panel, yet they too require restoration - especially to remove the yellowed, non-original layers of varnish. The dirt it accumulated over the years, causes Bouts' colours to appear dull and brownish. The final step in the restoration process is the application of a new coat of varnish. This will protect the painting from dirt for the near future, and can easily be removed when needed. The new varnish will also restore the colours' shine. Compare this work, for instance, with the recently restored 'Martyrdom of Saint Erasmus' elsewhere in the room.
Panels like this ‘Mater Dolorosa’ and ‘Christ Crowned with Thorns’ were highly popular in the 15th and 16th centuries. Believers would display these artworks in their homes and use them for private devotional practices. Dieric Bouts painted quite a few of them. His son, Albrecht, likewise continued this tradition. So the question at hand is: who painted these panels, Dieric or Albrecht?
To address this question, we can turn to dendrochronology, the scientific discipline dedicated to dating wood samples. To achieve this, it measures the growth rings of trees.
The thickness of growth rings varies. During cool, dry summers, trees experience limited growth, resulting in narrow growth rings. Warm and humid summers on the other hand lead to the formation of wider growth rings. The sequence of growth rings can be represented in a graph that scientists call a dendrochronological series.
In these kinds of graphs, peaks represent favourable growth years, whilst low points indicate years of limited growth. Dendrochronological sequences of trees from the same region and time period have a significant resemblance to each other.
Both father and son Bouts painted on panels made from oak trees sourced from the Baltic Sea region. The dendrochronological series of these panels can be compared to reference chronologies of the Baltic region. This analysis allows us to determine the period when the oak tree that provided the panels was growing and to identify the year corresponding to the youngest visible growth ring.
Presented on the table is a reference chronology of oaks from the Baltic region alongside the dendrochronological series of the ‘Mater Dolorosa’.
The results are enlightening: the youngest growth ring can be dated back to the year 1481. As Dieric Bouts passed away in 1475, it is impossible for him to have painted this ‘Mater Dolorosa’. Instead, it originates from the workshop of his son, Albrecht.
For ‘Christ Crowned with Thorns’, the results of the dendrochronological study cannot definitively answer whether this painting was made in Dieric or Albrecht Bouts’ workshop. It can only be determined that the tree was felled sometime after the year 1417.
Take a look at the cross-section of a tree trunk on the table. It will teach you more about the different types of wood found in a tree, and what role the soft sapwood plays in dendrochronology.
Radiography is the technical term for making X-rays. Most of us are acquainted with X-rays, as they are commonly found in our medical records. The technique has been in use for more than a century. A radiologist directs a beam of X-rays toward the body part they wish to visualize. A photographic film is positioned on the other side of your body, serving as the medium that captures the X-ray picture.
Bones are relatively heavy and dense. They therefore stop most of the radiation from reaching the photographic film, leaving it unexposed. On the developed film, these unexposed areas appear bright and translucent. Softer, lighter tissues, such as muscles, are easily passed by the radiation. On the developed film, they appear matte and dark. The degree of darkness thus corresponds to the amount of radiation passing through the tissue - the more radiation reaching the film, the darker it becomes.
Radiography is used in exactly the same way to examine paintings. Lead-based paints or other dense materials block the X-rays, resulting in bright spots on the radiographic image. Lighter materials, such as organic pigments, allow the radiation to pass through, resulting in grey or black tones on the film.
The X-ray you see here was taken when ‘Christ Crowned with Thorns’ was first brought into the restoration studio. The bright white objects visible along the edges are nails with which small, non-original planks were attached to the panel. They were removed as part of the conservation treatment. The two white spots in the centre are the wax seals located on the back of the painting. The X-ray thus allows us to see through the entire panel.
Even though the paint layers are very worn down, allowing a substantial amount of radiation to pass through, we can still infer certain details from the X-ray. The artist started by applying the gold leaf. This partially blocks the X-rays, causing it to light up a little. The area where Christ's head was designed to be depicted was left in reserve, so no gold leaf was applied there. In the 15th century, it was a common artistic technique to intentionally leave areas in reserve.
For the head itself, the artist applied an underpainting in lead white. This underpainting blocks a significant amount of radiation, resulting in it being slightly brighter on the X-ray. The hair is painted with very thin layers. These are easily penetrable for X-rays, making Christ’s hair dark on the X-ray. The white specks on the crown of thorns are highlights applied in lead white.
For the 'Bernard, Paul & Constant' series, Leen Voet drew inspiration from three historical works in the collection of Museum M: 'Model' by Bernard Jos Van Gobbelschroy (1855-1870), 'Het Model' (The Model) by Paul Haesaert (1867) and 'Kunstenaarsatelier' (Artist's Studio) by Constant Dratz (1875-1930). They are typical 19th-century views of artists' studios, which can be viewed as (in)direct self-portraits of the artists. The painters show their studios, and similarly also their mastery as artists, as well as their social achievements. All three works present compositions in which the male painters are given a leading role, and in which the role of women is mainly secondary, as passive models posing for the artist. In these works, no one is questioning the status of the artists, or their superiority to female models.
Leen Voet, however, does raise questions that pertain to issues such as these. In her versions of the works, she removes the painters from their studios, and schematises the space until only essential elements remain: an easel, paintings on the wall, a chair, the model. Similarly, the colours are reduced to basic colours as well: red, yellow, blue, black and grey. The dimensions of the works are larger than the originals. Leen Voet rivals the self-assured, male artists and their obvious authority. It is no coincidence that in the title of her works, she reduces them to their first names only: Bernard, Paul and Constant. This new series is exhibited in the Tower room of the museum in a way that is reminiscent of works in a traditional studio arrangement. The canvases stand against walls or lie on table-like structures. The three monochrome canvases are exactly the same size as the original canvases in the M collection.
With this new series of works, Leen Voet once again reflects on conventions and relationships in art and society, translating them into paintings that question our relationship with both the act of 'making', and the spectator's gaze as such.
The 'Felix' series consists of 774 pencil drawings on paper. For the first time, Leen Voet is presenting the entire series in an all-encompassing scenography. Felix De Boeck (1898-1995) was a Belgian painter and early representative of Modernism. After a successful early career, he isolated himself from the art world to focus on rural life and painting personal, emotive works. His view of art was very traditional, mystical and religious. He also conceived a personal mythologisation of sorts that centred entirely on himself: the isolated, genius artist.
In 2009, Leen Voet asked the FeliXart Museum – the museum which the artist himself had founded – for an inventory of all the works he had bequeathed to the Drogenbos municipality. It turned out to be a list of no less than 774 works. Leen Voet decided to recreate all of these works in pencil on paper; a task that eventually took two years to complete. The artist experienced the systematic process of copying as an experiential and critical reflection on the rigid system used by Felix De Boeck himself: a working method in which circles and intersecting lines were meant to capture the mysticism of life. The central cross in this space, acting as a carrier for the drawings, refers to this working method. However, Leen Voet only copied Felix De Boeck's compositions, not the colours or true dimensions of the works.
In the 'Felix' series, Leen Voet calls into question the idea of the genius (male) artist. The title of the series suggests a familiarity that runs diametrically opposed to the cult De Boeck had created around himself. With her self-portrait Heilig-Graf, portrait #2, the first in a new series of works, Leen Voet also deliberately positions herself in opposition to Felix De Boeck's oeuvre. The starting point was a self-portrait she made at school (Heilig-Graf Instituut [Holy Sepulchre Institute]) 35 years ago. Leen Voet depicts herself frontally and in no way smiling or idealised.
The title of the installation 'Sint Rita' (Saint rita) (2012-2013) refers to the patron saint of hopeless cases and the impossible. At the same time, Sint-Rita refers to an eponymous brutalist parish church in the Flemish town of Harelbeke. In addition to this church, Leen Voet painted four other interiors of church buildings, mostly from the mid-20th century. She purposefully went to visit and photograph each of the churches because of their specific architecture. The five large canvases, presented on and nailed to wooden structures, bear as titles the name of the patron saint after whom each of the churches is named. The central feature on the canvases are church interiors. In contrast to, say, a museum, in a church one is presented with a collection of objects and details that hover on the boundary between artwork and functional utensil. Think of a candelabra, which may have historical or artistic value on the one hand, yet is simply used as a candle holder on the other.
Photographs of church interiors taken by Leen Voet formed the basis for a series of five compositions. Leen Voet reworked the photos into line drawings, which she then coloured in with bright colours, disregarding the original perspective and shadow effects in the church interiors. The paintings display both depth and flatness – a tension that is heightened by the spatiality of the installation. Although white is a colour in painting that usually evokes a source of light or refers to the spiritual, the colour does not appear in the five Sint-Rita canvases. The lightest colour Leen Voet utilises in her paintings is canary yellow: the colour that also serves as a background on the museum walls, and which, in this way, ties the works together.
Sint-Rita did not arise from a religious experience. On the contrary, Leen Voet's treatment of the sculptures both sculpturally and as painted objects stands in the way of any religious experience, reducing the interiors to spaces devoid of human presence. In this way, Sint-Rita gauges the power of an institution in relation to the individual.
Sixty watercolours are hung in a rhythmic sequence in this large, two-part exhibition space. A number of larger, colourful canvases interrupt their rhythm. With this series of paintings, Leen Voet returns to her own experiences in the traditional arts education system of the late 1980s in Belgium. She does this by means of 60 watercolours on paper that she painted at the time, as a teenager. As a pupil at an art secondary school, she took painting lessons from Bert Vandael in the fifth and sixth years. Every week, he tasked his students with painting a landscape in watercolour. With the exception of two watercolours, Leen Voet only painted natural landscapes. The two exceptions were views of factories, which were undetectable in the local landscape at the time, and which she copied from photographs. While she believed that, in doing so, she was rebelling against Bert Vandael, he responded equally positively to the more industrialised landscapes as to the natural scenes. Bert Vandael always initialled the submitted watercolours on the front or back to grade the work. She made sixty small works in total, and carefully preserved them over the years.
In this series of paintings, she adopts a systematic approach, according to a system she devised herself, translating the compositions of the watercolours into pattern drawings. She then paints them in with random colours, without any regard for aesthetics or logic. Finally, she overpaints the works with grids.
The 'Bert Vandael' series is still ongoing. In between working on other series, Leen Voet continues to work on it, with the intention of eventually placing a new work to accompany each watercolour, thus creating 60 duos. It is an immersive work, set within a frame of self-imposed rules and systems; a straitjacket that Leen Voet has put on herself.
In this series, Leen Voet reflects on the art of painting itself, the role of the patron in art, and the relationship between teacher and pupil. In addition, she raises the question of what can be considered art: is it just the recent works, made from her position as an artist? Or can these schoolworks, initially not meant to be shown, also be considered art?
The 'Je fais ce que je veux' series consists of six free-standing canvases, spread across the space, each in duo with a smaller work presented on the wall. The series derived from an excerpt of 'Rendez-vous avec...', a French TV programme of the 1960s. In the programme, Jacqueline Joubert, one of the first female presenters on French national television, would invite a well-known guest every week. On 9 December 1961, her guest was the then very popular comic actor and singer Bourvil. He performs, among other things, the song 'Je fais ce que tu veux'; a playful, slightly ironic song about marriage. The text reflects an extremely traditional image of marriage and family life, with all the correspondent systems, norms and expectations that accompany them and that that have lasted for centuries. In the television performance, Bourvil dances humorously and theatrically throughout the set, around the presenter's chair. Joubert, on the other hand, is hardly an image of emancipation at the beginning of the song: she sits at the ready with pen and paper to jot down Bourvil's words of wisdom. Towards the end of the song, she has disappeared from the scene altogether. The decor consists of six panel doors, each decorated with its own abstract pattern. The open setting prompts reflection. Is Bourvil singing about his relationship with one partner, or with as many partners as there are doors? Or is it a direct reference to the door comedy: a light-hearted play in which the protagonists get entangled in intrigue, usually exacerbated by the various doors in the set through which characters can enter or disappear from the scene at will?
The title of Leen Voet's series 'Je fais ce que je veux' is a deliberate twist on the title of Bourvil's song. She reworked the patterns of the doors into colourful, abstract paintings. The door paintings are arranged freely within the space, as if they were active characters. Painted on the back of the doors are the long titles of the works, each one a different stanza from the song. Each door painting forms a duo with a smaller canvas presented on the wall, reflecting the classic gender roles of the married couple: a free-standing door and the figures as secondary objects on the wall. The six smaller canvases are schematic representations of Joubert and Bourvil: Joubert sitting on her chair, Bourvil moving in an expressive manner. In this way, Leen Voet seems to turn the tables: in this case, it is the people who form the backdrop, and the doors that dance through the space.
The 'Alda & Armand' series consists of twelve large paintings, nine of which are shown here. They depict enlarged patterns of four kitchen towels. One canvas, for instance, depicts flowers with strawberries, another a corn plant with two cobs, while the third and fourth feature a hanging flower plant in two different types of colour combinations. Leen Voet made three painted versions of each of the four kitchen towels, each time a different style variation on the same motif. The first version is a faithful copy of the original towel, a reproduction that reiterates the original motifs as exactly as possible. In the second version, Leen Voet adopted a personal, characteristic style: the drawing is composed in a geometric manner and filled in with simple colour fields. The last version is painted in thick, pasty paint and features more blurred outlines, deliberately reminiscent of a more amateurish style.
Leen Voet's mother Alda was given the four towels for free at a food fair, where she was prospecting for the grocery shop she ran. In 2012, Armand, Leen Voet's father, gave the towels to his daughter as a gift, on the condition that she would make paintings of them. Which made this an informal version of the usually more formal transaction between client and painter. Although 'Alda & Armand' starts from an autobiographical transaction, none of Leen Voet's works are directly about herself. She draws on personal events to address broader themes, such as artisthood, amateurism or the artist as genius. The works not only reflect on the client's role within the artistic creation process, but also raise questions about the originality or uniqueness of a painting. They also offer an overview of the stylistic possibilities of painting.
Leen Voet creates series of paintings that she brings together in spatial installations. At M, she is displaying several of these groups of works for the first time. The impetus and starting point for each of the series is the specific interest of the artist in both cultural practices and elements found in her own environment. Her subjects, which include family, autonomy, religion or education, provoke reflection on power relations, social structures and artisthood. Each series starts from its own logic, rules, or precepts which in turn lead to new variations and decisions. Her works challenge us to consider our affective connection with the things that surround us. How does context and expectation guide our gaze? How do we look at images? What can a painting be?
Leen Voet's paintings hover between figuration and abstraction, bringing together vibrant colours and geometric shapes in a balanced composition. Each painting stands on its own, yet takes on additional meanings through its place in the series. Throughout each series, Leen Voet explores variations and other painting styles, or plays with multiplicity, duplication and uniqueness. The spatial arrangement and the way the works relate to each other reinforce both their connection and singularity. In this exhibition, several series are brought together in a sequence of rooms, and complemented with drawings. In the tower room, the last room in the exhibition, new work is displayed.
Curator: Eva Wittocx