'Changing Impressions,' but not by much

High art meets high technology as the Yale University Art Gallery unfolds a detective story of academic proportions, complete with forgery, watermarks, and cryptic animal skins. In the current exhibit, Changing Impressions: Marcantonio Raimondi & Sixteenth-Century Print Connoisseurship, state-of-the-art tongue twisters like UV photography and beta radiography, along with good ol' fashioned cultural anthropology, show that even High Renaissance artists could not escape the timeless influence of kitsch.

ANDREW HEID/YH Mars, Venus, Cupid. Cupid, Venus, Mars. Venus, Mars, Cupid.

The main focuses of the exhibit are variant prints of a single engraving entitled Mars, Venus, and Cupid. Two paper prints are used as reference points—one is a proof (or test print) from a "first stage" plate, the other a final print from a "second stage" plate (which contains additions to the first stage image). Four "bad" prints on parchment (which, as one showcase explains, is stretched animal pelt) are the centerpieces on display. These prints were obviously made from the second stage copper plate, but manipulated after the fact to look like first stage proofs. Details present in the final version and not the rough draft were scratched away or masked out. The evidence presented seems to suggest that the parchment prints were forged test prints.

All this information is intended to inform the viewer of the "changing tastes of early to mid-16th century connoisseurship." That someone would go through the trouble of recreating false draft prints after a finalized version was available suggests that there was a demand for such proofs. This phenomenon should not seem all that foreign—it's the same collector's-item mentality that drives the craze over rookie trading cards and original draft manuscripts. The real surprise, then, is not the blatant commodification of art but the precociousness of the anonymous forgers, who went postmodern four centuries before Andy Warhol met Campbell's soup.

The most striking part of the exhibit is its uniform understatedness. Of all the pieces on display (none larger than 11 by 14), not one is especially memorable. Viewers would be hard pressed to differentiate between any of the works at all. However, this could be a result of the nature of the exhibit rather than any lack of artistic merit in the pieces. From the introduction, it is clear that the emphasis of the exhibit is not the prints, but the research spawned by the four mystery parchments and the procedures employed in forensic detective work. The prints are merely artifacts that generate the cultural historiography that is actually on display in the exhibit.

Thus, Changing Impressions is more of a sociology-paper-as-installation than an exhibit of artwork. The show's organization into three distinct sections makes it read much like a research paper. And expect a lot of reading. I spent most of my time scanning the commentary accompanying the pieces, which, in this case, is more than supplementary "curator's notes"—it is actually the essence of the experience. Here, the traditional museum information structure is reversed, the art pieces taking on a secondary, illustrative role. Even when I did look at the prints themselves, my newfound knowledge about the scratch above Venus' head diverted my attention away from any aesthetic appreciation. Instead, I found myself engaged in a game of "Which of these doesn't belong?"—comparing cosmetic differences between the variant prints.

Of the parchment forgeries, the curators ask, "For whom might they be intended?" The same may be asked about the exhibit itself. The research is so specific and the scope of the collection so narrow that the only reaction I had was a shrugging "Hmm, that was interesting." Like those Sterling displays, it's an interesting glimpse at the scholarly activities going on in Yale's various academic niches, but it ultimately will not provide a life-altering experience. For that, take yourself down one flight of stairs and look at Van Gogh's The Night Café.

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