At home with Rubens

William Cook believes that the British cannot really understand the artist until they’ve been to Antwerp

In a quiet corner of Tate Britain there is a little exhibition that sheds fresh light on an artist whom the British have never really learned to love. Rubens & Britain (until 6 May) is a fascinating show, documenting his work in England, and like all good exhibitions it leaves you wanting more. There are Rubens in countless British galleries, of course, but really to understand him you have to travel to his hometown, Antwerp. Here, Rubens is everywhere, even on the toilet doors in trendy bars and restaurants. My first visit was a revelation, and I’ve been back several times since. What makes Rubens’s Antwerp so special is that his works are scattered throughout the city — not in grand galleries but in the workaday places for which they were designed.

Standing outside the Rubens house, a splendid palazzo in Antwerp’s busy city centre, you can see why we find it so hard to take this artist to our hearts. We’ve been raised on the romantic myth of the suffering artist, a myth that Rubens emphatically refutes. A brilliant businessman and diplomat, he didn’t suffer for his art. When he built this Palladian landmark, he was still in his thirties. His Italianate mansion is an advertisement for his lucrative career. Yet though the exterior is flamboyant, the paintings inside are quite the opposite. Here you see the man in an entirely different light.

Mention Peter Paul Rubens to most Britons and the image that springs to mind is of vast canvases strewn with fleshy nudes. But these are his potboilers, made to flatter foreign monarchs, which tend to end up in national galleries, in Britain and abroad.