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| Joshua Reynolds, Portrait of Mai (detail), about 1776. National Portrait Gallery, London, and Getty Museum |
Joshua Reynold's Portrait of Mai will appear at the Getty for the first time this fall. The painting of a Polynesian visitor to 18th-century London was purchased jointly by the National Portrait Gallery (UK) and the Getty for $62 million in 2023. Mai is to alternate between the institutions. It was shown at the National Portrait Gallery shortly after the purchase and made a tour of regional UK museums in 2025–2026.
At the Getty, Mai will anchor an installation of Enlightenment portraits by Gainsborough, Goya, and David. "Joshua Reynolds's Portrait of Mai and 18th-Century Portraiture" will open Sep, 15, 2026, and run until the Getty Center closes for refurbishment Mar. 15, 2027. The Center is to reopen, with Mai, in time for the 2028 Olympics.
More on Mai here. Below, photos from Mai's UK tour.
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| Mai at the National Portrait Gallery, London |
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| At Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge. Mai's headdress is more authentic than some art historians (and this blogger) had supposed. See comments of Hinatea Colombani and Moeave Meder below. |
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| Fitzwilliam installation view |
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| Entrance to exhibition at The Box, Plymouth |
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| Installation at The Box |
Comments
> The Box is so
> much more
> civilized
https://imagedelivery.net/tbIWbJKEj9qx0hkgQ6WRMA/978ee9e8-2ba2-443e-fdbc-a7d0333d6700/logo
Not sure if it's actually sarcasm praising an installation in The Box (metal-mesh wall, meet gray-concrete wall), whatever the heck that museum is.
Brown/Pereira, Govan/Zumthor and 1965-2026 in general have long been a case of, "that's LACMA for 'ya." But I wonder if the museum in Plymouth, almost 200 miles south of London, is a case of, "that's The Box for 'ya"?
I also wonder if the director of The Box (per website: Victoria Pomery) doesn't bother making sure major objects in its collection are on public display too instead of storage?
If so, Victoria, meet Michael Govan. Michael, meet Victoria Pomery.
There's also a wonderful historical coincidence: Mai was painted in 1776, the very year we declared independence—now, 250 years later, he will make his Getty debut.
If he is displayed alongside other pictures, I would love to see the curators make connections to other portraits painted the same year. Maybe Captain John Stanley in the uniform of the 20th Regiment of Foot, painted in 1776 by Gainsborough (which I have never seen!) As a Revolutionary War officer, his story provides a fascinating counterpoint to Mai's, and the juxtaposition could highlight some remarkable connections across the Atlantic world.
Already counting the days until September 15!
Agreed. Especially when they're shy when it's time to pull the trigger.
Being cheap is doing them --and us-- no favors.
> deferral
I watched a short overview of the recent cleaning of the caryatids of the Elgin marbles. Those objects made me think of how much Britain in the past has sort of ripped objects off from throughout the world. So the UK's policies today are very much a case of, "rules for thee but not for me."
I recall an article about an artwork the Getty Museum tried exporting from the UK years ago, and the writer noting how Britain was loaded down with such pieces while the Getty had a comparatively meager collection.
Meanwhile, unlike the British Museum, this other museum has certain major artworks in its collection that should be on public display, but it doesn't bother doing that. A section of its galleries has a large wall/floor space where, on one side, a piece from Ruth Asawa is on display while, on the other side, this artwork from Larry Bell is placed.
https://preview.redd.it/lacma-block-party-v0-rgekisgukj8h1.jpg?width=1080&crop=smart&auto=webp&s=7bc33937ee2856944b4625ab722d994240d29c4b
If LACMA owned the Elgin marbles, they might keep them in storage and instead show artworks from Josiah McEleny reminiscent of the Met Opera House's chandeliers. I wish that comment were fully sarcastic:
Stanley, though smaller, to me (from the online image) feels more compelling: a handsome, confident young officer on the eve of the American War of Independence. Painted before Saratoga by Gainsborough at his peak, it captures Britain at the height of its imperial self-assurance—just before defeat showed the empire was vulnerable. It feels like a core part of our American story and really belongs in a major U.S. Museum
... While in New Haven, have some Pepe's pizza.
--- J. Garcin
Is it JUST a Gainsborough, or American history memorabilia? In 2006 Revolutionary War battle flags captured by Banastre Tarleton sold for $17.4m. One, the regimental standard of Sheldon’s Dragoons, fetched $12.36m. And of course, there’s Griffin’s first printing of U.S. Constitution, going for $43.2m.
The Epsom Derby (named for the 12th Earl) inspired countless U.S. horse races, including the Kentucky Derby. Even more prominently, the 16th Earl (Lord Stanley of Preston) donated the Stanley Cup in 1892 while Governor General of Canada, which became the NHL's ultimate prize—now a cornerstone of American professional sports, with U.S. teams dominating its history. From Revolutionary War officer to enduring icons of American racing and hockey: the Stanleys have left a far more positive, lasting imprint on the U.S. than their 18th-century military fortunes might have suggested. A Gainsborough Stanley at the Getty would close that transatlantic circle beautifully alongside Mai.
Allow us to introduce ourselves. We are Hinatea Colombani and Moeava Meder, Tahitian tapa artist-researchers from Papara. We were not simply visitors to the Fitzwilliam Museum. We were part of Te Tau o Mai, an exhibition curated by the SaVĀge K’lub, the Indigenous Pacific arts collective founded in 2010 by Samoan–New Zealand artist and curator Rosanna Raymond, whom you can see on the left of the photograph in a Māori stance.
As for the red pigment on my face, rest assured, that was not a joke either! The photograph shows an ʻArioi ritual performance intended to activate the exhibition and honour Mai. Unless I'm mistaken, you weren't actually present during this performance. It is therefore rather surprising to discover the intentions attributed to our gestures.
We would appreciate it if you could correct the photograph's caption to reflect the actual context of our participation, rather than suggesting that we were mocking Mai or his appearance.
Now, about that “notoriously inauthentic” turban.
We are genuinely curious: what historical evidence supports such a categorical statement? Neither this post nor your 2023 article appears to provide a source establishing that Joshua Reynolds invented Mai's headdress.
The historical record invites a more nuanced interpretation.
In August 1773, before Mai had even reached England, William Hodges sketched Potatou (also spelled Potatow), a chief from Puna'auia, Tahiti. George Forster, a naturalist and eyewitness on Cook's second voyage, described this chief wearing ample garments and an “elegant white turban,” as documented in the Lowe Art Museum's catalogue at the University of Miami.
This is not a modern interpretation. It is the testimony of a European observer who was actually in Tahiti in 1773.
John Hall subsequently engraved Hodges's portrait for Cook's published account in 1777, with the inscription “Drawn from nature by W. Hodges.”
As Joppien and Smith discuss in The Art of Captain Cook's Voyages, European engravers subsequently stylised such representations. But stylisation is not invention.
So, if an eyewitness described a Tahitian chief wearing an “elegant white turban” as early as 1773, before Mai even sat for Reynolds, what exactly did Reynolds invent?
Of course, Forster's account does not prove that Mai wore precisely the headdress depicted by Reynolds, nor does it establish its exact form or material. But it certainly calls for greater caution before dismissing such headwear as a European artistic fantasy.
And there is something particularly meaningful to us about this evidence: Potatou was a chief from Puna'auia, neighbouring our own home of Papara. This is not some distant or abstract cultural world. It is part of the history of our own region.
You yourself recognised the tapa sash in Mai's portrait. Why, then, should the headdress automatically be dismissed as a European invention?
In Tahiti, we know the "turban" as hei upoʻo. Within our cultural understanding, the head is deeply associated with knowledge, memory, identity and dignity. Wrapping the head in barkcloth is not merely decorative; it can carry profound cultural meaning. As tapa artist-researchers, we believe these dimensions deserve to be taken seriously when interpreting Mai's portrait.
But there is perhaps one final irony worth considering.
In your earlier writing, you rightly recognise that Reynolds' portrait raises questions about colonialism and the representation of people from other cultures. You also observe that, whatever Reynolds originally intended, the painting has become an image about colonialism for contemporary audiences.
And we agree that these questions matter.
But that is precisely why it matters who gets to describe Indigenous people standing in front of that painting, and how.
In your photograph's caption, Indigenous artists performing a cultural ritual become anonymous “visitors” apparently making fun of a turban. Our names disappear, our gestures lose their meaning, and our cultural expression is replaced by an interpretation imposed from outside.
Isn't there something rather ironic about questioning the colonial gaze of an eighteenth-century painter while overlooking the voices of Indigenous artists standing right in front of his work today?
Our performance at the Fitzwilliam was precisely about restoring Mai's presence and voice beyond the Western representations that have shaped his image for nearly 250 years. And yet, here we are, finding our own presence interpreted through an outside perspective, without our intentions ever being understood.
Perhaps it is time to look at Mai not only through the eyes of those who painted him, but also through the knowledge of the people he came from.
Māuruuru,
Hinatea Colombani & Moeava Meder