Since I was attending the International Congress of Archives
(ICA 2012) in Brisbane last week I had
the opportunity to visit the Queensland
Art Gallery
which is a stone’s throw from the Brisbane Convention Centre. As an added bonus all conference attendees
got a discounted entry to the ‘Portrait of Spain’ Exhibition, which has 100 paintings from the Prado, Madrid
on show.
I was surprised to see that visitors were encouraged to get
their iphones out at the start of the tour. The primary reason was to take a
photo of yourself against a backdrop of a Prado gallery, so that you could
pretend to friends you had actually been to the Prado. The ticket collector obliged
and took my photo:
As I approached the first painting a security guard then warned me that photos were not allowed, with or without flash, and I should put my iphone away. At the next painting when I commented to another visitor how little description was provided beside paintings another security guard overheard and said ‘oh you can use your iphone’. Now somewhat perplexed I asked again if I could take a photo. ‘No, but you can scan the QR codes beside the paintings which tell you more information about them’. [If you don't know what QR codes are and how galleries and museums use them read this short explanation].
I couldn’t be bothered with that. That is, until I got to a breathtaking
painting that had absolutely no explanation about why it took your breathe
away. The painting appeared to be of a
man (with hairy forearms, moustache, thick neck) but dressed in formal women’s court
clothing with a bust. The description had no mention about this surprising phenomena. At that point I got my iphone out and checked
the QR code. Disappointingly still no
info on the surprise, simply that the artist had ‘a good eye for detail and had
painted the hair well. The woman was graceless and had a less than feminine
appearance’. I made a note of the painting
to look it up afterwards and see if anyone else had more information on the
person in it that they were willing to candidly share. Perhaps a Wikipedia
entry? The painting is called Senora de Delicado de Imaz by Vincent Lopez
Portana from the Spanish Court of 1833.
On leaving the exhibition I felt in dire need of a cup of
tea so headed towards what I thought was the café, only to be blocked by a
guard who demanded to see my entry ticket (yes there are a lot of guards). I queried why I should need to show my entry
ticket to partake of tea and was told that this café was themed with Spanish
food (?). I was about to turn away when she also mentioned that the photo
booths were included in the ticket price.
Being a sucker for a photo I couldn’t resist so passed through the
checkpoint having no idea what the photo booth would do.
Well – talk about surprise!! You are absolutely not allowed
to take a photo of a painting in an art gallery. The answer usually given is because of
copyright or mis-use or inappropriate use of images. Clearly the images in the
Prado exhibition are out of copyright dating from 1500-1800. Images of them are
sold in the gift shop. However the
photo-booth allowed me to stick my own face into a selection of the Prado
portraits (in a similar way to sticking your head through a funfair cardboard
cut out of Popeye and Olive) and create my own digital image. After all the high brow gallery poppycock I
have heard over the years about galleries digitising images and rules they have made up around this, I was staggered and
thrilled to be able to do this fun activity (which I think is probably aimed at
children!). It was the most fun I have
had for a while and my first foray into what is commonly called ‘digital
vandalism’ or mis-appropriate use of digital artworks.
It made me recall the battle that Wikipedia had with art
galleries and use of images over a long duration. On one particular occasion Liam Wyatt the VP
of Wikimedia Australia spoke about how the public were not allowed to take or
share photos of artworks for invalid reasons of copyright ownership or
inappropriate or commercial use of images, but then the galleries or museums in
question would use the same images themselves to make things like ties or mugs
for a profit in the gift shop. This was such a case exactly, but more extreme
than any I have yet seen. In case you are in doubt – I am endorsing the
activity offered in the photo booths at Queensland Art
Gallery . The e-mail I received with my bastardised
portrait also had an animated version… where things like my hand and head moved
– crikey! The experience led me to formally
write to Queensland
Art Gallery
(via their online form) and ask them why if I can do this I was not allowed to
take a photo without flash of the same painting in the exhibition? That was 7 days ago and I still have not had
a reply….
Incidentally I cannot find a Wikipedia entry for the
portrait of Senora de Delicado de Imaz, or anything about her life and
circumstance which I am sure is most interesting. I could also not find a really good digital
print online that matched the real life experience of seeing the painting. I
did manage however to take a photo of the painting myself via the photo
booth. For some strange reason the photo
booth kept offering me this painting as the perfect match to put my face into.
However I preferred to go with a much more regal match.