Artists don’t always paint for profit.
Reynolds painted ‘Omai of the Friendly Isles’ (Polynesia) in 1776 and it was still in his studio when he died in 1792. A dealer bought it for 100 guineas and quickly sold it on to Lord Carlisle. It was on display at Castle Howard for more than two hundred years in a gallery called the Reynolds Room.
What happened after that is a bit of a muddle. (Quick digression: Stalin opined Shostakovich’s music was muddled.) Not wanting to get bogged down in detail it was sold to John Magnier for circa £10 million but he was refused an export licence. Nevertheless it was exhibited at The National Gallery of Ireland with a temporary licence and also at Tate Britain. Now it’s for sale with a suggested price tag of £50 million.
There are two credible buyers. The J Paul Getty Museum in sunny California has the money but will struggle to get an export licence. The National Portrait Gallery in chilly London is probably good for £25 million, tops, but it will be on public display in UK. This raises some questions. Is the picture really worth 50 million smackers? All I know is that if that’s what the Getty will pay today, that’s what it’s worth today. Secondly the Getty has upped the ante and is forcing the NPG to match their price. Shared ownership seems a no-brainier. But it may take time. Hugh Lane drowned when the Lusitania was torpedoed in 1915 leaving the future ownership of his pictures in doubt. Last year this seems to have been resolved.
“A new partnership has been agreed between the National Gallery, London and the Hugh Lane Gallery, Dublin regarding the 39 paintings in the Sir Hugh Lane Bequest, which allows the public in both the UK and Ireland to continue enjoying these works on a regular basis.
In moving on from previous agreements made during the past 50 years, the two galleries are now committed to working in partnership regarding the care and display of these paintings in a spirit of collegiality.” (Hugh Lane Gallery)
Why the UK government cannot see its way to sharing this picture beats me. If my late, much lamented friend, Ludo, was around he’d have got it sorted.