The recent exhibit Visualizing Camelot examined the enduring influence of King Arthur and his legendary court. What lessons does it offer about how medieval legends continue to shape art, culture, and imagination today?
By Richard Utz
The University of Rochester has a long and distinguished history of researching and teaching medieval narrative and artistic traditions, including the legends surrounding King Arthur. This year, from March 7 through December 2, the university libraries offered an exhibit, Visualizing Camelot, that brought together 350 items collected by Alan Lupack and Barbara Tepa Lupack that attest to the persistent appeal of the Arthurian legends in diverse walks of life. While I did not have an opportunity to see the exhibit, the published catalogue offers a fascinating selection. I highly recommend it as a vibrant coffee table book for anyone fascinated by the afterlife of Arthuriana, particularly in England and the United States.
The collectors are well known to Arthurian scholars and fans. Together, they wrote the first full-length investigation of American reinterpretations of Arthuriana, King Arthur in America (1999), and the first study of Arthurian book illustrations, Illustrating Camelot (2008). They also co-edited the first comprehensive collection of Arthurian poems, stories, and plays by women, from Marie de France to the end of the 20th century, Arthurian Literature by Women: An Anthology (1999). Additionally, they are co-creators of The Camelot Project, the most wide-ranging and reliable resource of texts, images, and information about the Arthurian legends. As individual scholars, each has contributed, as author or editor, dozens of book-length publications and numerous articles on Arthuriana.
The catalogue has two main sections. The first one, “Visualizing Camelot” (pp. 1–88), is a lavishly illustrated essay surveying the long and multifaceted history of the main themes, characters, places, symbols, and creatures that inspired ‘high’ and ‘popular’ culture artists, filmmakers, public relations specialists, tableware and game makers, youth groups, stamp designers, and whatever else you can possibly think of, to imagine elements of the Arthurian legends.
The essay begins with the most influential medieval English source of the Arthurian tradition, Thomas Malory’s late 15th-century Morte d’Arthur, which inspired the largest number of later Arthurian literary and artistic productions. These include Alfred Tennyson’s Idylls of the King, Mark Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, and T.H. White’s The Once and Future King, all of which are represented by examples from their visual reception history. Many of these illustrations, especially the ‘high’ art ones, could probably be found by thumbing through tomes on Victorian and 20th-century painting. However, few would include the reproduction of a handwritten letter from Walker Percy (author of the novel Lancelot [1977]), explaining that it was the colorful illustrations in Sidney Lanier’s 1880 The Boy’s King Arthur, specifically the depiction of Lancelot fighting Turquine, that began his interest in engaging with Arthuriana.
The illustrator for Lanier’s book was N.C. Wyeth, who achieved fame and commercial success with his depictions of cowboys and Native Americans. Wyeth went on to illustrate numerous other romances and adventure stories, including Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Black Arrow: A Tale of the Two Roses, Paul Creswick’s Robin Hood, and Thomas Bulfinch’s Legends of Charlemagne.
Connecting with one’s medieval heritage, especially those narratives providing cultural prestige, sparked a medievalism craze in the late 19th and early 20th century. For instance, after viewing an Arthur-themed musical, industrialist Henry Wood decided to see the same set of values (purity, loyalty, honesty, superior strength, and dedication to a higher purpose) represented in his new baking flour as by the legendary king (King Arthur Flour).
A wealth of other examples shows how youth groups, schools, and other organizations projected their own cultural values back to an imagined Middle Ages. For example, The Knights of King Arthur, an organization founded to channel the energy and inclinations of adolescent boys positively, and The Queens of Avalon, meant to guide girls toward seeking happiness in roles as nurses and healers, followed the ideal of purity. The essay also includes sections on women illustrators (Elizabeth Stanhope Forbes), playbills (Camelot, 1960, with Julie Andrews and Richard Burton), film posters (Alan Ladd in The Black Knight), and animation, children’s literature, comic books (Camelot 3000), toys and games (Sir Lancelot Play Set; Ken and Barbie as Arthur and Guinevere), Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and advertisements (from King Arthur seedless grapes to Lancelot and Guinevere as McCormick Whiskey decanters).
The second section of Visualizing Camelot provides the complete “Exhibition Contents” (pp. 89–135) with a list of all exhibit items and numerous additional visuals in high-quality color reproductions, from book covers and watercolor paintings to educational posters and origami sculptures.
Visualizing Camelot resembles Jan Ziolkowski’s Juggling the Middle Ages exhibit (Dumbarton Oaks, 2018–2019), which focused mostly on “benign” forms of medievalism. This is perhaps a welcome break from the barrage of medievalism studies that invariably links all representations of the medieval past in postmedieval times to nostalgia for feudal forms of government, colonialism, and premodern violence.
In fact, Alan Lupack and Barbara Tepa Lupack feel that their exhibit and catalogue might, “in an age like ours,” “drown out some of the dissonance and discord” and allow us “to reflect on a higher ideal.” I understand this sentiment, but the almost complete absence of people of color among the 350 Arthurian artifacts (p. 64 shows a photo ad of Whoopi Goldberg, who starred in the 1998 film, A Knight in Camelot) will remind readers that visualizations of the Arthurian tradition, like the entire Arthurian narrative tradition, have mostly celebrated European characters. Sir Morien, according to a medieval Dutch romance a Black knight at Arthur’s Round Table, has only most recently received attention in fan culture and in a picture book “full of humor, drama, and adventure,” retelling “a little-known figure from Arthurian legend.”
Richard Utz is Interim Dean and Professor in the Ivan Allen College of Liberal Arts at Georgia Institute of Technology
Top Image: The Last Sleep of Arthur in Avalon, by Edward Burne-Jones (1833–1898)
The recent exhibit Visualizing Camelot examined the enduring influence of King Arthur and his legendary court. What lessons does it offer about how medieval legends continue to shape art, culture, and imagination today?
By Richard Utz
The University of Rochester has a long and distinguished history of researching and teaching medieval narrative and artistic traditions, including the legends surrounding King Arthur. This year, from March 7 through December 2, the university libraries offered an exhibit, Visualizing Camelot, that brought together 350 items collected by Alan Lupack and Barbara Tepa Lupack that attest to the persistent appeal of the Arthurian legends in diverse walks of life. While I did not have an opportunity to see the exhibit, the published catalogue offers a fascinating selection. I highly recommend it as a vibrant coffee table book for anyone fascinated by the afterlife of Arthuriana, particularly in England and the United States.
The collectors are well known to Arthurian scholars and fans. Together, they wrote the first full-length investigation of American reinterpretations of Arthuriana, King Arthur in America (1999), and the first study of Arthurian book illustrations, Illustrating Camelot (2008). They also co-edited the first comprehensive collection of Arthurian poems, stories, and plays by women, from Marie de France to the end of the 20th century, Arthurian Literature by Women: An Anthology (1999). Additionally, they are co-creators of The Camelot Project, the most wide-ranging and reliable resource of texts, images, and information about the Arthurian legends. As individual scholars, each has contributed, as author or editor, dozens of book-length publications and numerous articles on Arthuriana.
The catalogue has two main sections. The first one, “Visualizing Camelot” (pp. 1–88), is a lavishly illustrated essay surveying the long and multifaceted history of the main themes, characters, places, symbols, and creatures that inspired ‘high’ and ‘popular’ culture artists, filmmakers, public relations specialists, tableware and game makers, youth groups, stamp designers, and whatever else you can possibly think of, to imagine elements of the Arthurian legends.
The essay begins with the most influential medieval English source of the Arthurian tradition, Thomas Malory’s late 15th-century Morte d’Arthur, which inspired the largest number of later Arthurian literary and artistic productions. These include Alfred Tennyson’s Idylls of the King, Mark Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, and T.H. White’s The Once and Future King, all of which are represented by examples from their visual reception history. Many of these illustrations, especially the ‘high’ art ones, could probably be found by thumbing through tomes on Victorian and 20th-century painting. However, few would include the reproduction of a handwritten letter from Walker Percy (author of the novel Lancelot [1977]), explaining that it was the colorful illustrations in Sidney Lanier’s 1880 The Boy’s King Arthur, specifically the depiction of Lancelot fighting Turquine, that began his interest in engaging with Arthuriana.
The illustrator for Lanier’s book was N.C. Wyeth, who achieved fame and commercial success with his depictions of cowboys and Native Americans. Wyeth went on to illustrate numerous other romances and adventure stories, including Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Black Arrow: A Tale of the Two Roses, Paul Creswick’s Robin Hood, and Thomas Bulfinch’s Legends of Charlemagne.
Connecting with one’s medieval heritage, especially those narratives providing cultural prestige, sparked a medievalism craze in the late 19th and early 20th century. For instance, after viewing an Arthur-themed musical, industrialist Henry Wood decided to see the same set of values (purity, loyalty, honesty, superior strength, and dedication to a higher purpose) represented in his new baking flour as by the legendary king (King Arthur Flour).
A wealth of other examples shows how youth groups, schools, and other organizations projected their own cultural values back to an imagined Middle Ages. For example, The Knights of King Arthur, an organization founded to channel the energy and inclinations of adolescent boys positively, and The Queens of Avalon, meant to guide girls toward seeking happiness in roles as nurses and healers, followed the ideal of purity. The essay also includes sections on women illustrators (Elizabeth Stanhope Forbes), playbills (Camelot, 1960, with Julie Andrews and Richard Burton), film posters (Alan Ladd in The Black Knight), and animation, children’s literature, comic books (Camelot 3000), toys and games (Sir Lancelot Play Set; Ken and Barbie as Arthur and Guinevere), Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and advertisements (from King Arthur seedless grapes to Lancelot and Guinevere as McCormick Whiskey decanters).
The second section of Visualizing Camelot provides the complete “Exhibition Contents” (pp. 89–135) with a list of all exhibit items and numerous additional visuals in high-quality color reproductions, from book covers and watercolor paintings to educational posters and origami sculptures.
Visualizing Camelot resembles Jan Ziolkowski’s Juggling the Middle Ages exhibit (Dumbarton Oaks, 2018–2019), which focused mostly on “benign” forms of medievalism. This is perhaps a welcome break from the barrage of medievalism studies that invariably links all representations of the medieval past in postmedieval times to nostalgia for feudal forms of government, colonialism, and premodern violence.
In fact, Alan Lupack and Barbara Tepa Lupack feel that their exhibit and catalogue might, “in an age like ours,” “drown out some of the dissonance and discord” and allow us “to reflect on a higher ideal.” I understand this sentiment, but the almost complete absence of people of color among the 350 Arthurian artifacts (p. 64 shows a photo ad of Whoopi Goldberg, who starred in the 1998 film, A Knight in Camelot) will remind readers that visualizations of the Arthurian tradition, like the entire Arthurian narrative tradition, have mostly celebrated European characters. Sir Morien, according to a medieval Dutch romance a Black knight at Arthur’s Round Table, has only most recently received attention in fan culture and in a picture book “full of humor, drama, and adventure,” retelling “a little-known figure from Arthurian legend.”
Richard Utz is Interim Dean and Professor in the Ivan Allen College of Liberal Arts at Georgia Institute of Technology
Top Image: The Last Sleep of Arthur in Avalon, by Edward Burne-Jones (1833–1898)
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