‘Reflecting Class in the Age of Rembrandt and Vermeer,’ at the Nelson museum, showcases Dutch masterworks

Dutch painting in the 17th century is an exceptional moment in the history of visual art.

As the Dutch gained independence from imperial Spanish rule, the new, young nation experienced a great outburst of national pride.

That new patriotism was reflected in an explosion of creative prowess, particularly in painting. The Nelson’s “Reflecting Class in the Age of Rembrandt and Vermeer” explores that heady time through dozens of masterworks by a truly dazzling array of Dutch greats.

The rarity of these works cannot be overstated. Most are on loan from great public and private collections around the globe, including many pieces never before seen in the United States, let alone Kansas City.

Gerrit Dou’s “Grocery Shop,” for instance, usually lives at the Louvre. Other works are on loan from the British Museum, Rijksmusem, and the Museu Nacional de Art Antiga in Lisbon. It’s a stunning, world-class collection, and a rare opportunity for Midwestern art lovers to experience greatness up close.

The show offers a vast, visual sweep that explores virtually every aspect of Dutch life; in portraiture, landscapes and seascapes, and in genre paintings of workplaces, taverns, markets and fields.

The animating principle, though, is political. The point, per the title, is to explore how class was portrayed in the young Dutch Republic, and the exhibit is accordingly divided into four galleries. There’s one section each for the upper, middle and lower classes, and a fourth deemed “Where the Classes Meet.”

Predictably, the wealth disparity is stark. The upper classes consist of armor-clad nobles and women in opulent gowns. Their lives are lush, their expressions often haughty. The middle-class gallery gives us tradespeople, like a barber, baker, lacemaker and fishwife. Most are shown diligently working. Among the lower classes, we see the laboring farmer and fisherman, plus a huge collection of the indigent and infirmed.

Certainly, the Dutch portrayal of class can offer insight into our own time. Tellingly, as an example, we see two distinct visions of the poor — either as worthy recipients of charity or as immoral wastrels deserving of their fate.

In Jan van Bijlert’s “Portraits of the Men from the St. Job Inn in Utrecht Collecting Alms,” for instance, the beggars appear respectable and staid. One even looks piously skyward, Christ-like. The same sense of decorum pervades “Distribution of Bread in the Almshouse.” In that work, well-dressed men dispense bread to a roomful of poor folk, and even the lowest among them are portrayed as possessed of human dignity.

The majority of works depicting poverty, however, are not so kind. Adriaen van de Venne’s “Poor Luxury” has a far different feel, with a deliberately pathetic assortment of louts swaying the music of a hurdy-gurdy. The same goes for Jan Steen’s “The Fair at Warmond,” which depicts the sins and follies of Dutch peasants. We see a drunken lecher dancing, a low woman vomiting from a window, and an unattended child swilling from a jug of wine.

It’s easy to imagine the original owners of these works snickering or tsk-tsking at the sodden revelries of the lower class, much as we moderns might chuckle smugly at the low-rent antics of Honey Boo Boo.

The dichotomy is revealing. Rather than simply being human, with the full range of individual experiences the title implies, the poor are seen as a collective. They are either hapless dependents to be patronized or losers deserving of our disdain. These, of course, are precisely the same broad brushes that liberals and conservatives today will use to paint our own underclass

“Reflecting Class,” however, treads lightly in the social-political realm. Anyone expecting an overt condemnation of the 1 percent will be disappointed. That’s to the good. Too often in our postmodern society, we become obsessed with identity narratives in art. Movies, for instance, are endlessly dissected for their depictions of race, class and gender. This comes at the expense of, say, discussing character development or cinematography.

That’s a shame. Art, at best, is about discovering that which is universal in the human condition. By focusing exclusively on social and political subtext, we turn art into a conduit for grievance and division, rather than a place for common ground. Art, in a deeply ironic tragedy, goes from being a bridge to a barrier.

That’s why, despite the exhibit’s organizing principle, it would be a profound shame to see this exceptional show only through the lens of class distinctions. Underpinning all the socio-political narrative, after all, is the simply astounding technique. In these works, the depictions of light are exquisitely fragile. Their compositions are balanced with glorious precision.

The rendering of facial expressions, always a signature of great Dutch art, is extraordinary. From scornful pride to heartrending sorrow and childlike joy, we see virtually the full range of human emotion.

In short, these Dutch works are not magnificent because they vividly portray wealth disparity. On the contrary. They vividly portray wealth disparity because they are magnificent. These are masterworks, triumphs of the human spirit, and so inevitably capture the full richness of their time and place. Like all great art, certainly, these paintings hold a mirror to their audience. If, in so doing, they reflect our current attitudes about wealth and class, more’s the better.

But anyone who sees this wildly impressive show as only a story of class and power is failing to see the big picture.

▪  “Reflecting Class in the Age of Rembrandt and Vermeer” continues through May 29 in the Bloch Building of the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art. Admission ranges from $6 to $12. Members and children under 12 are free. More at Nelson-Atkins.org.

This story was originally published March 31, 2016 at 2:44 PM with the headline "‘Reflecting Class in the Age of Rembrandt and Vermeer,’ at the Nelson museum, showcases Dutch masterworks."