From Spain to the MFA

Paving the way for an exhibit with a point

MADRID - The restoration facilities at the recently expanded Prado Museum are bathed in light. With new machinery and ample space for multiple projects, the place is state of the art and would be the envy of any museum professional. The restoration lab is not, however, what prompts a "Wow" from Ronni Baer.

Behold, the Magi. The Museum of Fine Arts curator climbs a ladder so she can get a closer look at a 10-foot-high painting mounted on an easel. "This is amazing," Baer says.

It is. "Adoration of the Magi," a nearly 400-year-old painting by Juan Bautista Maino, depicts the early moments of Jesus. For months, the work has been under the cotton swabs of a Prado restorer. The aim: readying the painting for "El Greco to Velazquez: Art During the Reign of Philip III," a major show that opens today at the MFA. What was once dulled by dirt now pops, from the brilliant blue velvet of Mary's baby blanket to the airy, loosely-painted feathers on one man's headdress.

Descending the ladder, Baer turns to Jaime Roark, the MFA's senior designer.

"Where are our colors?" the curator asks.

Faster than a bride decorating a new home, Roark breaks out her Benjamin Moore swatches. The two need to decide what color to paint the walls in each of several sectioned-off spaces within the MFA's Gund Gallery. To a museum outsider, this might seem a laughably minor decision, but for Roark, who also designed the MFA's "Fashion Show" exhibition, paint is an essential detail.

You don't want a room to be too boring and drab, but you also don't want to shock visitors, Roark points out. What she hopes is that people walking into the galleries will notice how good the paintings look and not think about the wall color at all.

"Do you think the brown is going to be OK and not compete with her skin?" asks Baer, looking at Mary.

Roark holds up a reddish-brown swatch.

"My impulse is that color," she says.

They came to Madrid because some of the most important works for the show are here. "El Greco to Velazquez" includes 61 paintings, 58 small objects, and three sculptures. Seven works are at the Prado, and more are in other local museums, private collections, libraries, a hospital, and a monastery. The Prado paintings include a Rubens portrait of the Duke of Lerma that has never left the museum. Some of the Madrid-based paintings are so large that the MFA has had to build a series of special temporary walls to display them.

"It's rare that we make these sorts of loans, but it reflects the importance of the project and importance of the special relationships between the museums," says Gabriele Finaldi, the Prado's deputy director.

Making a discovery

The fact that the "El Greco" exhibit exists at all can be traced to another relationship, one between Baer and Sarah Schroth, senior curator at Duke University's Nasher Museum of Art. Schroth co-curated the show, which will travel to the North Carolina museum after closing at the MFA.

Baer and Schroth both studied at New York's Institute of Fine Arts under Jonathan Brown, whose book "Painting in Spain 1500-1700" is considered a definitive text. Schroth, though, made a discovery in 1987 that would throw one of Brown's conclusions into question. Brown had held fast to the traditional view of Spain's King Philip II as the great monarch and supporter of Titian and Philip IV, his grandson, as the man who made it possible for Velazquez to thrive. Philip III? A minor figure during whose reign there was little significant artistic activity.

In the Spanish city of Toledo, in the attic of a hospital, Schroth discovered otherwise. She found bundles of parchment papers on a shelf listing artworks collected by the Duke of Lerma, Philip III's right-hand man. Though the Duke bought art for himself, much of the work ended up in the royal collection. And the inventory proved that there was an active artistic scene during Philip III's time. Schroth wanted to show that by mounting an exhibition introducing the artists, many little-known, to the public.

But there were two problems. First, where would Duke display the work? The university's art museum was housed in cramped quarters and would not get a new home - the Nasher - until 2005. Second, Duke had nothing to offer potential lending institutions in return.

"I remember Gabriele Finaldi asking, 'What do you have to offer?' " says Schroth. "I said, 'Well, the idea.' "

Baer had plenty to offer. In fact for years, the MFA had loaned works to the Prado. But Baer wasn't about to pitch an obscure show meant only for art-history aficionados. "Sarah's idea was very scholarly," Baer says. "I thought we could have new scholarship but actually make a show people would want to come see."

She told Schroth that she would be interested if the scope of the exhibition changed. She talked of including prized paintings by El Greco and Velazquez. Then the pair went back to the Prado.

"And the reception I got was night and day," recounts Schroth. "Because [Baer] has pictures to lend back."

Color consultation

The Instituto de Valencia de Don Juan is a strange place, a house museum that's a cross between the Isabella Stewart Gardner and Liberace museums - equal parts treasure and cheese.

Baer and Roark have come here to see a painting the MFA will borrow, an oil portrait by Bartolome Gonzalez. A pair of taxi drivers struggle to find the institute before finally rolling up to the entrance. It is closed. After buzzing, the MFA team waits until a staffer opens the door. The curator is away. So for now, the assistant leads them through the dark hallways, with virtually every surface covered by paintings, drawings, and assorted knickknacks.

One painting captures Roark's attention, an oil portrait of a man who has shaved off half of his moustache.

"The thing about this collection is it's a lot of bad art, and then you come upon something like this," says Baer. She has found her way to the Gonzalez work, depicting two rosy-cheeked aristocratic children - Philip III's daughter and son - in richly detailed sartorial splendor. Baer whispers to Roark.

"That should be restored, and it's not," she says. The painting will be quickly cleaned before being hung on an MFA wall.

From here, they move on to Madrid's Museo de la Real Academia de Bellas Artes de San Fernando. They focus on a dramatic piece by Eugenio Cajes depicting Joachim and Anne, the parents of the Virgin Mary. In the painting, the figures embrace under the outstretched arms of a suspended angel.

Here, Roark pulls out foam-core boards, each about 8 by 12 inches, that she has painted with various tints. The boards closely resemble what a wall will look like painted, she later explains. They take turns walking over to the wall and holding different boards next to the painting. Within minutes, a museum worker comes over to tell them they're getting too close to the work. They move back a few inches.

It comes down to two colors. To most people, the boards look almost the same. But Roark can tell which has a bluish tint in the brown. That's the one she favors. Baer considers and looks at each again. Finally she agrees with the designer. "Blue it is."

Now 6:30 p.m., it is time to head out. The day has been packed - visiting museums, talking with curators, and making color choices. But as they leave, Baer can't help but stop at a Vicente Carducho painting of St. John preaching.

It is one of perhaps five works the MFA requested but couldn't get for "El Greco to Velazquez."

"I wish we had that coming, too," Baer says, pausing in front of the painting.

"Can't get 'em all, can you?"

Geoff Edgers can be reached at gedgers@globe.com.