A man from the shadows

If Stephen Deuchar dreams about the pictures in Tate Britain, it's hardly surprising. For the past three years, he has devoted himself to its grand new hang of historic British art. "I wake up determined to change their position," he says cheerfully, but the time for change is now over. The renewed, enlarged old Tate Gallery is finally ready to be unveiled.

It's been a backstage, largely anonymous existence rather at odds with his grandiose title, "Director, Tate Britain". This is because, to most people, there's only one man at the Tate and that's Sir Nicholas Serota, the Czar of Brit Art, and supremo of the everexpanding galaxy of Tate galleries.

Deuchar refuses to accept this line of thinking. While "Nick has taken a strong interest" in the new and renovated galleries, Deuchar insists that he runs the show at Tate Britain. In any case, Deuchar isn't going to be able to hide in Sir Nicholas's giant shadow for much longer. When Tate Britain's £32 million extension opens to the public tomorrow, he will be the man in the spotlight.

Forty-four-year-old Deuchar is a friendly, positive kind of person, a vicar's son, no less, (little wonder he blanches at the prospect of being photographed in front of some of the fruitier Victorian nudes), and possesses the finest moustache in the museum world since Sir Roy Strong's walrus look. His expertise lies in the far-from-fashionable field of 18th century sporting art (though the presenter of this year's Turner Prize, Madonna, a known aficionado of field sports, might not agree), and before taking up his post at the Tate he spent 14 years at the less-than-cutting-edge National Maritime Museum.

But he's also versed in modern museum matters. At Greenwich, as well as being curator of paintings and organising 1988's blockbusting Armada show, he served a term as corporate planning manager and saw through the £20 million Neptune Court Project, which included fund-raising half that sum. He sometimes talks apologetically in corporate style about "working for an organisation called Tate" and, while not generally given to overblown sound bites, refers to "our missionary role of taking British art out into the world".

Indeed, there is nothing small about Deuchar's vision for Tate Britain. He would like it to be seen as "the hub of British art today". But that doesn't mean viewing British art as an island - dear me, no. Instead, it will be put in an international context.

"For example, in the new hang there are two works by Holbein, who represents a northern European - a non-British - tradition. Then we have a gallery devoted to England and Italy in the 18th century, so you have cultural cross-currents there."

This approach will also allow special exhibitions of work that has influenced British art, such as next spring's major American Sublime, consisting of huge landscapes, most of which are being loaned from museums and collectors in the United States. Have any pulled out since 11 September? Deuchar responds diplomatically that things are currently "looking very good". (The Tate also sends British art round the world, which helps subsidise the cost of putting on big shows. So, for instance, The Victorian Nude starts in London and then goes on to Munich, to New York - the Brooklyn Museum - to Kobe, and to Tokyo.)

He proceeds to reel off future exhibitions with boyish brio: next summer there will be a large Lucian Freud retrospective, which he anticipates will be "the show of 2002". In parallel there will be an exhibition of pictures by Thomas Girtin, an English watercolourist; more startling still will be the autumn pairing of the Turner Prize with Thomas Gainsborough.

He talks excitedly about the Delacroixs, Gericaults and Ingres that will grace the Tate's walls in 2003, and is particularly looking forward to a version Gericault did of his Raft of Medusa (from Amiens) crossing the Channel; he cites the crowd-pulling visit in 1820 of the original. It's an enthusiasm dear to his heart - his art historian wife, Katie Scott, specialises in French art.