Since 1994, the London-based Spanish artist Angela de la Cruz has been making what she modestly calls “everyday paintings.” Her basic technique is simple. To begin with, she makes a blank, monochrome abstract painting in a conventional way, applying oil paint to stretched canvas. But having created an impeccable surface and shape, she then puts them through some grueling paces, distressing and manipulating the painting in a variety of ways. Seeing a group of de la Cruz’s paintings is like following a tragicomic abstract version of the Stations of the Cross. Let’s call it Stations of the Canvas.

Collections of historical masterpieces have two main ways of engaging with contemporary art, if they don’t ignore it completely: One is to feed the mouth that bites them, so to speak, by bringing in some institutional critique; the holdings will look stronger for having survived the in-house sniping (as Karen Knorr’s recent exhibition of photographs at the Wallace Collection demonstrated). The other is to show a “contemporary classic” in harmony with the classic classics. This, surprisingly, is the riskier option. Between the old masters and even the most conservative contemporary artist there