Tuesday, 18 February 2025

Mrs Shepherd's Locket

Sometimes the most innocent of items can have a history that makes you feel in awe.  After my Ma-in-Law's sudden passing last year, the redoubtable Mr Walker found himself in touch with all the different parts of our family, including our family in New Zealand. One amazing outcome of those conversations was that the very lovely Lynda offered to send our daughter Lily-Rose a locket that had been passed through the women of the family.  However, it was no ordinary locket...



As you can see, it's in its original box from E Davis of Leicester Square, Walsall.  Lynda told us that it was given to her grandmother from an older lady who they looked after as she suffered from poor health.  It was this lady's wish that Lynda's mum would receive it in time and it was then passed to Lynda.  The locket is lovely, but it was the background that makes it extra special for Lily because the older lady was ill health because of what had happened to her when she was younger.  This locket belonged to Mary Louisa Shepherd...

Mary Louisa Shepherd, or Louisa as she seems to have liked to be called, was born Mary Miles in Minety, Wiltshire in March of 1875.  Like most families in Wiltshire (my own included) Louisa came from a long line of Agricultural Labourers.  By the time she was a teenager, she was the only servant to a farmer and his family just outside Chippenham, also north Wiltshire.  In the south of Gloucestershire (just above Wiltshire), was William Thomas Shepherd, son of a saddler, and the couple met and married in 1902. By 1911 the couple had moved to Walsall, north of Birmingham, taking William' widowed mother with them.  William had work as a porter for a furniture dealer and they lived at 72 Brace Street, a very pleasant road of small houses.  Looking at the census, there are lots of different occupations living there, from licenced victuallers, railway porters and a Prudential agent.  However, two years later, Louisa was sent to jail.

Along with the locket, Lynda passed us some postcards which were very old and very special. As a group they tell a fascinating story. I'll start with this family group...


This is David Lloyd George, his wife Margaret and daughter Megan.  On the back it reads 'WELSH TROOPS PICTURE POST CARD DAY In Aid of THE NATIONAL FUND FOR WELSH TROOPS' which dates the postcard to around 1914-1918 (someone has removed the stamp and postmark).  The card has a brief note on the back that reads 

'Dear Mrs Sheppard [sic] Wishing you a good Xmas and Bright New Year. 
Hear you are doing well so be careful. Good luck, Edgar Jones'


Edgar Jones was an MP for Merthyr Tydfil from 1910 to 1918 and his wife was a NUWSS secretary and very politically active. Whilst I would be tempted to just think the card was from a friend, the formal nature of the message and the warning to 'be careful' seemed odd, but when you take into account Louisa's actions in July of 1913, it begins to make sense.



Two other postcards from Mrs Shepherd's collection were of Mrs Pankhurst and her daughter Christabel.  By this point, you can probably guess why Louisa Shepherd was arrested. 




The last two postcards are of marches for women's suffrage - the first shows a 'Leicester' banner and the other shows a banner reading 'TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION IS TYRANNY,' both being carried in a long procession of women in Edwardian dress. The presence of the Pankhurst postcards hints at a more militant interest in equal rights for women and Mrs Shepherd does not let us down...

The Grand Hotel, Colmore Row, Birmingham

July 1913 was a hot year for Suffragette action.  Mrs Pankhurst continued to escape the police and when Herbert Asquith, Prime Minister, blocked any progress for women's votes, his visit to Birmingham was always going to be an explosive one.  Asquith was attending a dinner for the Birmingham Chamber of Commerce at the Grand Hotel on Colmore Row when a group of women decided to smash the place up and got arrested.  Louisa and a woman called Florence Ward were the ring leaders, and I have to say the reports of what they did are astonishing. Windows were smashed with large bolts wrapped in leaflets reading 'broken pledges reap broken windows.' Louisa smashed the windows of the smoking room and also had half a brick in her handbag.  Both women gave their address as 19 Leicester Street, Walsall, the offices of the WSPU. Florence Ward asked the judge 'I ask you which ought to go to prison...Mr Asquith who breaks promises or a woman who breaks a little bit of glass?' 


Louisa specified her grievance with the 'Cat and Mouse Act' which she declared 'very horrid and very cruel' which had become law in the Spring of 1913.  This allowed the imprisonment and force feeding of a suffragette on hunger strike until she became ill, then she was released to recover, then reimprisoned. The state-sanctioned torture of women was designed to break the suffragette's mission and just an escalation in the violence, rather than actually looking at the matter of giving women the vote. Louisa, and no doubt the other suffragettes who opted not to pay the 40 shilling fine and go to jail with a vow to go on hunger strike, was force fed, leading to health complications for the rest of her life.  She was released later in the summer, then rearrested (as part of the Cat and Mouse Bill) in the September.

I am indebted to this page for some context for Black Country Suffragettes and quite honestly it makes me feel grateful and alarmingly militant reading what these women did for us. I also found Louisa listed here, as 'Sheppard' as on the postcard from Edgar Jones, but it is definitely the same woman, possibly allowing the surname to be misspelt.

My husband's family lived a few doors down from the Shepherds on Brace Street and looked after Louisa in her old age.  By the 1939 register, William Shepherd is listed as incapacitated, and according to Lynda, Louisa's health was poor due to the force-feeding. William died in December of 1948 with Louisa following him in January 1957, leaving the locket to Lily's Great Great Grandma, and then to Great Great Auntie Barbara, Lynda's Mum. I've always told Lily about the importance of voting, she actually got to vote for the first time last year, but something like this brings it home to you that such a basic right as having a say in what happens to you as a woman is something so recently won.

Thank you again Lynda for such a treasure which we will keep very safe indeed.

Friday, 7 February 2025

The Accidental Pre-Raphaelitism of Miss Gabrielle Ray

Today's post is a bit of fun, but don't worry if you just read my stuff for the words 'then everything took a tragic turn...' because I promise you there is a bit of misery too. Mainly, I wanted to just point out something that occurred to me while researching Edwardian actresses.  First of all, let me introduce you to the gorgeous Gabrielle Ray...

I mean, my goodness me, stunning. Gabrielle Elizabeth Clifford Cook, or Miss Ray, or Gabs to her friends, was a dancer, singer and actress and one of the most famous beauties of her generation.  Born in 1883 in Stockport in the North of England, she came from a fairly wealthy family and her sister Gladys (1879-1920) was also an actress, known as Gladys Raymond...


This is not a biographical piece on Ray as there are some cracking ones out there (but I will give you a bit of tragedy later).The purpose of this post is calling Our Gabs out for being Accidentally Pre-Raphaelite...


Okay, we'll start somewhere really obvious.  Here we have a 1906 card where Gabrielle Ray is being Millais' Bubbles...
Bubbles (1886)

It's uncanny.  As I've already spoken about in this post, the recreation of paintings is not an unusual thing, but possibly pretending to be a small boy is a novel move.


Now Miss Ray has arrived with her lilies, a very Pre-Raphaelite prop, and it might be a tad tenuous but I can see things like Rossetti's Sanctas Lilias and Cooksey's Maria Virgo but we can call on Rossetti's Virgin Mary pictures as well.

Maria Virgo (1915) May Louise Greville Cooksey

If a lily is a standard Pre-Raphaelite prop meaning the innocence and purity of the Virgin Mary, then I was surprised to see Miss Ray posing with a bird.  Those of us lucky enough to do Open University A102 will remember the pictures of 'kept' women with birds, how women are also caged pets etc etc.  I must admit Miss Ray's bird is both exotic and slightly sinister. And stuffed.


I remember lots of Victorian pictures of women with their caged birds, and even Byam Shaw's image of Maud Atkinson releasing the bird as she would like to be released (as you can see in this post), but I've chosen this Val Prinsep image as the girl looks remarkably like Miss Ray...

Reclining Woman with Parrot (undated) Val Prinsep

The exotic dress, the bosoms, it's practically the same picture!

Girl with Lovebirds (1876) Henry Guillaume Schlesinger

Yes, this is the sort of thing I was remembering, where women are like pretty exotic birds and we must keep them in nice warm house with plenty of seed, or something.  Either way, I'd love to know where the photographer who took Gabrielle's picture got that bird. It is striking, to say the least.

I now draw your attention to the genre of Pre-Raphaelitism that is 'woman emerging from foliage' as Miss Ray is demonstrating here...


I obviously thought of Rossetti's Fiammetta and her apple blossoms

A Vision of Fiammetta (1878) Dante Gabriel Rossetti

But equally I could have gone with Julia Margaret Cameron's image of Alice Liddell lurking in a hedge...

Ceres (Alice Liddell) (1872) Julia Margaret Cameron

Or in fact something like Sophie Anderson's Capril girl who looks very happy about her flowers...

Capril Girl With Flowers (undated) Sophie Anderson

Good for her, it's nice to have a hobby.

The picture that really set me off on this frankly ridiculous post was this one...


Oh, come on now, she's definitely referencing this painting by Frederick Sandys...

Love's Shadow (1867) Frederick Sandys

We're looking at around 40 years between the images but the moment I saw (and subsequently bought) this postcard on eBay, I knew it was either consciously or unconsciously a call-back to another actress, Mary Emma Jones/Sandys, the common-law wife and model of Frederick.  Mary was also still alive and, depending if this postcard was after Sandys death in 1904, putting on performances to pay the bills.

Finally, I saw this image of Gabrielle...


which reminded me of this image of Florence Welch (from this post)...


which obviously led me to this painting, which incorporates a multiple image of Jane Morris...

Astarte Syriaca (1877) Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Yes, I know that Jane isn't all three women, her daughter May is one of them, but the effect is of a multiple of the same goddess. With Gabrielle's image, reflected in the mirror, I'm guessing there is a hint of her life as an actress, being in front of the mirror to prepare for the stage, but also the many parts she will play, the many facets of her personality. I would be remiss if I didn't also mention the images of Fanny Cornforth and Alexa Wilding in front of mirrors in such works as Lady Lilith or Fazio's Mistress. A woman in reflection is a trope, for want of a better word, also buying into the notion of women's vanity, but judging by Gabrielle's expression, I wonder if there is more to the term 'reflection' here.  What is she thinking?

Gabrielle Ray (c.1910) Foulsham and Banfield, London

Miss Ray was only 10 years old when she took to the stage in 1893, but from that point she became a star. She was just shy of 30 years old when she retired from the stage in order to marry Eric Loder in the Spring of 1912, however less than a year later he had cleared off and committed adultery, giving her grounds for a divorce. Meanwhile, her beautiful sister Gladys had married railway engineer John Winnington in 1910. Despite regularly appearing in plays throughout the war and after, Gladys suddenly disappeared from public life, dying in 1920 of cancer in the Barnsley Hall Asylum in Bromsgrove.  

Gabrielle kept working, but her original fame had been damaged by her retirement and the scandal around her marriage and she never found the same popularity.  Mental health issues caused her to have a breakdown in 1936.  She lived out the rest of her life in Holloway Sanatorium where she was visited by her fellow actresses including Lily Elsie.  She was remembered by the staff there as a small, neat old lady who enjoyed going out in the car and shopping, walking in the nearby village, being quiet and cheerful.  She died in May of 1973 and had an obituary in The Stage which tactfully reported that 'for half a century, she has lived away from theatrical circles.'

Apologies for the tragic ending, but the point of this rambling post is the currency of Pre-Raphaelite imagery, fifty years after its creation.  I'm not sure if I think the echoing of these paintings is deliberate either by Gabrielle Ray or the photographer but it is a very strong coincidence if it isn't.  More likely, the poses and props of Pre-Raphaelitism had become their own graphic language that superseded the original meaning and place to become the standard of feminine beauty, easily understood by the viewer. My hunt continues for inadvertent Pre-Raphaelitism but it has been a charming diversion to spend time with Miss Ray.

Thursday, 30 January 2025

Miss Dorothy Tennant and Mrs Dorothy Stanley and Lady Stanley

I had a moment of foolishness the other day.  I was idly leafing (digitally) through the Royal Academy catalogue for 1900, looking for names of artists to have a look into and I came across Dorothy Stanley and her painting The Fallen Nymph.  Well, that sounds up my street, and so I took to the researching machine and immediately found out that not only did I know her, she also had a very complicated husband.  Say hello to Dorothy Tennant...

Dorothy Tennant (1891) Eveleen Myers (nee Tennant)

Now, I don't need to tell you that the Tennants were a fairly well-known family from the 1800s and early 20th century, until the First World War wiped them all out, but I was a little unsure which part of the family was which.  I was more familiar with Margot Tennant of The Souls, but she is from a separate part, hailing from Scotland.  Dorothy, her photographer sister Eveleen and other siblings were descended from Charles Tennant, MP who supported emigration to the colonies and didn't marry until he was 51.  When he did wed, it was to Irish society hostess Gertrude Collier, and they had six children.  Two, Blanche and Gertrude jnr, didn't survive childhood, but Alice, Charles, Eveleen and Dorothy (or Dolly as she was known to her family) led remarkable lives.

Miss Dorothy Tennant (1888) Émile Friant

Dolly was born in 1855, their fourth child, born the year her sister Blanche died. It was written that Dolly was so beautiful that when she was young, she never went out without a large footman accompanying her for imposing protection. The family were comfortably off to say the least and after a private education, Dorothy attended the Slade School of Art, studying under Edward Poynter.  From there she went to Paris to study with Jean-Jacques Henner and through herself into the French artistic scene.  Her first brush with the Royal Academy was as a model, which I feel may be the fate of many female artists at this time.  She posed for John Everett Millais' Yes or No in 1871...

Yes or No (1871) John Everett Millais

When she appeared again it was as the subject of a 1877 portrait by G F Watts, the Leeds Mercury was moved to call the piece 'charming', 'but even these public appearances, it may be observed in passing, do not entitle people in general society to speak of this young lady by a familiar pet name' after the York Herald and Liverpool Daily Post both insisted on referring to the painting as a portrait of 'Dolly Tennant.' How familiar!

Dorothy Tennant (1877) G F Watts

The full title for this piece is Miss Dorothy Tennant, second daughter of the late Charles Tennant Esq, of Cadoxton Lodge, Neath, Glamorganshire, which is a bit long to pop on a frame, but you get the gist.  Also, I find it a bit jarring that Dolly is described as the 'second' daughter when she is actually the third, but one died. I'm not sure the significance of the squirrel.  Is Watts inferring that Dolly was thrifty and hardworking? Did she hide nuts for the winter? It has a more 'renaissance-y' feel than the portrait Watts did of Eveleen a couple of years later - 

Eveleen Tennant Myers (1880) G F Watts

Eveleen's portrait feels far more contemporary than Dolly's and it could be read as a comment on their chosen art forms, with Eveleen choosing the modern art of photography, with Dolly choosing painting.  I wonder if the difference might be to do with their life paths, as the 1880 portrait of Eveleen coincided with her marriage to psychical researcher Frederic William Henry Myers (1843-1901).  There is a fabulous biography of Gertrude Tennant by David Waller and in it the author suggests that Mrs Tennant might have encourage Dolly's career in lieu of finding her a husband as she didn't want to lose Dolly as she had Eveleen.  Gertrude reminds me of Sara Prinsep's salon, and interestingly Mrs Tennant started hosting her own gatherings around the time that Sara and Thoby Prinsep moved to the Isle of Wight and obviously the two families had Watts in common.

Dorothy wasted no time in cultivating her artistic career and appeared as an artist at the Royal Academy in 1886 with An Arab Dance but at the same time had three paintings at the Grosvenor Gallery, including The Emigrants, sadly lost during the Second World War. However, by this time Dolly had become famous for her pictures of little children, ragamuffins and street urchins that endeared her to a book and art public.  Her illustrated book The London Ragamuffin received delighted reviews, although the Manchester Courier wrote of her plight to get the small boys to sit still in her studio, implying that they were somewhat ungrateful to not appreciate the warmth, food and playthings she provided. 

The Dead Mer-baby (1879)

A lesser-known work of Dolly's which proved inspirational for others was the rather odd The Dead Mer-baby from 1879 which appeared at the Dudley Gallery and was declared a 'graceful little fancy' in the newspaper. It divided opinion when it was once more shown again at the New Art Gallery in 1888, where some newspapers admitted they did not care for it but the Manchester Courier gave a rather fulsome description of the piece:

 'The infant of some naughty mermaid has been abandoned by its mother on the sands, or has been cast up by them, for there it lies, half fish and half human child, so pathetic in its helplessness, so odd in its mixed nature, that one quite pities it. It seems to have suffered, and yet to be now in blissful peace. Had it a soul, and is the soul smiling upon the poor damp frame of the little sea urchin it once inhabited, from the morning clouds above which are rolling in after what has been a stormy night at sea? A very human little child stands all naked, wondering at the queer little corpse the sea has cast up.  Nothing can be more original, and this little gem is destined, I think, to make a sensation.'

It made not only a sensation but inspired Violet Fane to write a lengthy poem too...


 Meanwhile, in 1886, Henry Morton Stanley proposed, although Dolly refused at first. Stanley remains a complicated character for reasons I'll get on to, but he was an iconic figure of late Victorian explorer/colonialism. He had already lived quite the patchwork life up to that romantic gesture.  Born John Rowlands in Wales in 1841, his mother abandoned him as a child and his father allegedly died just after his birth (there is some uncertainty, arguably purposefully so because of the nature and taint of illegitimacy at that time.)  He grew up in a workhouse after no members of the family were able to take him in, where it is now alleged he was horribly abused by bother fellow pupils and staff.  This would become very relevant later in life.  He travelled to America aged 18 and (depending on whose account you believe) either was taken in by a wealthy man called Henry Stanley, whose name he adopted in tribute to his adopted father, or else just styled himself after Stanley because he admired him.  He fought in the American Civil War, including the Battle of Shiloh (which even I know was very unpleasant indeed, despite its name meaning 'place of peace').  After all that, he became a journalist, then organised his first expeditions in the late 1860s.  He is probably best known for the 1871 expedition to find David Livingstone, apparently greeting him with 'Dr Livingstone, I presume?' when they met. He traversed Africa many times until Dolly wrote and said she changed her mind, she would marry him after all.

It's a bit of an understatement to say that Stanley does not seem to be brilliant with romance and women.  He had a reputation as a bit of a man's man for many years, but he did apparently have some female friends, some close enough for Dolly to allegedly delete them from his memoirs.  He complained to a friend when Dolly was a little uncertain about marriage 'that woman entrapped me with her gush...and her fulsome adulations, her knicknacks inscribed with 'Remember Me,' her sweet scented notes...' I hope I never entrap anyone with my 'gush,' thank you very much. To be fair, Dolly still slept in the same room as her mother and addressed her diary to her dead father and so I think she had her own problems.  

The couple's engagement was announced to a gossip-hungry nation. The Richmond and Ripon Chronicle announced 'All the drawing-rooms of Belgravia and Mayfair were vastly excited when the announcement came like a bolt out of the blue that Mr Stanley was going to be married,' although the official line they were taking was that Stanley had proposed just before his last expedition and everyone was sworn to secrecy about the marriage until he returned.  Accounts of Stanley unwaveringly reference how heroic he was, although Dolly was seen as both a society beauty, the model for Millais and also able to converse on political topics of the day. Rather than describe her as the Royal Academy artist, one newspaper said 'her peculiar forte lies in pen and ink drawings of the gamins of London.' Quite.

Street Arabs at Play (1890)

The same year as her marriage, Dolly sold her painting Street Arabs at Play to the Lever Bros to use in their advertising campaigns. The Aberdeen People's Journal wrote how she, unlike some of her fellow artists, had no qualms about her art being turned into advertising, although she remarked 'I don't see how the boys turning 'Heads over Tails,' as I meant to call it, can be turned into a sunlight soap advertisement, but ingenuity can do a great deal.' So concerned with the plight of some of her young models, Dolly adopted them, giving them a home, clothes and food, but the story goes that each little urchin ran away after a week when the boots pinched and the few rules imposed on them were too restrictive.

Herbert Morton Stanley (1893)

The invitations for the wedding were distributed, some white, some pink, inviting the great and the good to Westminster Abbey on the 12th July 1890 at 2pm.  The newspaper's ran stories of Stanley's romantic life in stark contrast to his manly expeditions, however they were an odd collection of stories.  He told how he had been refused eleven times by numerous ladies before he could find a woman willing to take him on, and as one newspaper reported 'Miss Tennant has been content to secure the lion of the season' which is all a bit too Bridgerton. As a wedding gift, the Queen gave Dorothy a miniature of herself in a lock surrounded by diamonds, Thomas Edison sent a phonographic machine and King Leopold send Count d'Aarche, who was definitely not on the gift list and I hope he also sent the receipt. Stanley was far from being a lion on the day as he was very ill with gastritis and needed a chair to sit in for most of the ceremony. He was unable to leave the ceremony on foot with Dolly, who was led to her bridal carriage by John Everett Millais.  As the crowd's cheered the couple, Millais shouted back 'I'm not Stanley, I wish I were! Lucky dog! Lucky dog!'

Dorothy and Henry Morten Stanley (1890) Eveleen Myers

After the marriage, the newspapers were keen to lay out the couple's itinerary, including a tour of Scotland, Switzerland and Paris, then returning to Stanley's native Wales where he received the freedom of Cardiff and Swansea. Considering that the groom was too ill to stand during the wedding, this all seems like a lot, but possibly some of it was intended to be for his health, thinking especially of the portion in Switzerland.  Seemingly with no break, by November, the Stanleys were off again, this time sailing to New York complete with her mother and met by her brother.  The Tennants had Mr Stanley surrounded but possibly he liked that. I read in a biography of his that it is assumed that the marriage remained unconsummated either because he was too ill/uninterested or she was not that bothered either, but one thing is certain, the Stanleys became a formidable team.

Three Children Playing (undated)

Being Mrs Stanley seems to have taken up a lot of Dolly's life, especially when the couple adopted their son Denzil, a child of one of Stanley's relatives, whose origins were rather discretely veiled. Denzil wasn't the first child that Stanley adopted, after he 'adopted' a slave, Ndugu M'hali or Kalulu Stanley, who he freed and kept as a companion after the Livingstone expedition and even wrote a story about.  Kalulu drowned in 1877 and became fundamental in Stanley's anti-slavery crusade. Stanley became a Liberal Unionist MP in 1895 and was knighted  in 1897, and with so much fame, he turned his attention to writing his memoirs. By 1901, the whole family was living in 2 Richmond Terrace, along with Mrs Tennant and Alice, Dolly's unmarried sister, and the family had eight servants which included two indoor servants and a 'useful maid' which is a new one on me.

Two Children Playing by a Gutter (1886)

The first decade of the twentieth century was eventful for Dolly. She had her identity stolen by a 43 year old woman called Gertrude Cunningham who pretended to be Lady Stanley in order to buy clothes. Also around this time, Dolly started to write more in addition to her art. As well as her illustrated books on street children, I am rather keen to read this book from 1918...

Miss Pim gets sunstroke while gardening and gains the power of invisibility.  She becomes a secret agent during the Great War and gets information behind enemy lines, then tackles the Kaiser.  Blimey, that sounds amazing! But that isn't the book she is best known for...


Sir Henry Morton Stanley died in 1904 aged only 63.  Dorothy was only 49 and found a task for herself in editing her husband's memoirs for publication in 1909. The memoirs remain extremely contentious, and were viewed as such shortly after their appearance.  For starters, Dorothy cut mention of any other women out, which reminds me of Georgiana Burne-Jones' editing out of Maria Zambaco in her husband's biography. The thing that really put Stanley on the wrong side of history is his description of his treatment of the people he met on his travels, the 'natives'.  He describes acts of cruelty towards the 'savages,' his hatred of people of mixed race, and general brutality and atrocity, backed up by accounts of her fellow colonial problematic men.  I have no wish to become an apologist for the sort of man we now rip down statues of, but there is an interesting thread of research that challenges a great number of not only Stanley's claims but also those made by other explorers.  With regard to the latter, Stanley had the habit of rubbing his peers up the wrong way and in one case disproving their 'scientific' theories about the source of the Nile.  Stanley was a famous man and that sort of thing made people jealous.  Not only that, Stanley's actions seem to contradict his words and he was anti-slavery and the claims of his brutality can be challenged, so why did he claim it?  Apparently when acting as a journalist in America, his editor encouraged him to bedazzle and enlarge the accounts of deaths and violence to make good copy.  Also, going right back to his childhood, it is suggested that in order to survive the workhouse, he had to be the biggest, baddest and nastiest, and that all stuck. Either way, the perils of biography in the case of Stanley are very much a cautionary tale which I find fascinating.

In the meantime, Lady Stanley quietly remarried in 1907 to Henry Curtis, a surgeon.  In some of the reports, it was said that Dolly would have been a very successful artist had she not married, which is a surprisingly feminist line for the Leicester Daily Post to take. By the 1911 census, the family are living in Whitehall Court, but Dolly is still Lady Stanley, despite her surgeon husband.  Annoyingly, she has no occupation listed, which always infuriates me, despite the fact that she was continuing to write and paint. She provided illustrations for the 1925 collection of stories Rosemary, Miss Pim was out in 1918, Ragamuffins was out in the 1920s and her painting His First Offence from 1896 found new audiences as a print in magazines. However, by the 1920s, Dolly found her art style being left behind. Her painting River Lily Bud from the Royal Academy in 1924 was mentioned in the magazine Vote as being 'refined, but very conventional of its school.' 

By her death in 1926, the family were living back at 2 Richmond Terrace, where they had been since the 1921 census (where Dolly was the head of the household, despite her husband working as a consultant surgeon). Really irritatingly, her obituaries mentioned all the important men in her life, Stanley, Curtis, her brother who had become an MP.  Portsmouth Evening News actually called it - 'It is a matter of remark how some women, distinguished in themselves, lose their individuality if they marry.' Dorothy Tennant should have been a household name for her art - her pictures of the street children in London were well-known enough for her to be acknowledged but she had the misfortune to be related to and marry well-known men and therefore was eclipsed. Also to her detriment, she altered her surname and so there is no continuation of 'Dorothy Tennant' but a change to 'Dorothy Stanley' who might well be two different people to the uninformed eye. This was a peril for a lot of female artists, Henrietta Rae often had her married name in brackets, but at least she was tagged by her professional, unmarried name as well. 

Dorothy Stanley (1896)

If Dolly tells us anything, it is how women were consumed by history and it is our job to put the pieces back together.

Thursday, 16 January 2025

Everyone must have the Right to be Equally Bad

This one might be a bit ramble-y, so I apologise in advance.  It is the upshot of a conversation I had with the ever-patient Mr Walker about female artists and whether it is the pinnacle of equality to point out what awful people some of them were. 

Now, this touches on two previous posts - one is on the book Victorians Undone which I felt conflicted about, because it concentrated on Fanny's body and the faults therein. I feel that woman are picked on enough, thanks very much, and the last thing someone like Fanny needed was to have her physical flaws pointed out.  That feels a bit Daily Mail on the whole.  The second post is one of my most notorious as it talks about how much we should balance an artist's words or deeds against their art.  All of the artists I talk about in that post are male, and I don't reveal any great bombshells (unless you hadn't read that book about Eric Gill, in which case I'm very sorry) but it is a subject I return to again and again.  As I type this more Neil Gaiman allegations are coming out, so I won't be watching Coraline any time soon.  

Is there a tipping point when a person's words or deeds should cancel any great art they produce (when the art has no relation to their views/deeds, obviously)? And is that at all connected to their sex? Before I ramble more, let me introduce you to Anna Airy...

Artist Anna Airy (1882-1964) is undoubtedly an incredible artist. She had an astonishing career, was an absolute trailblazer in terms of how women were seen and spoken about in the art world and she was one of the first female war artists. There is this article about her by Alison Thomas which does a far better job than I could in telling her story and there is this piece about her war art, which is fascinating. What really tickled me when I was researching is how her husband, fellow artist Geoffrey Buckingham Pocock, is often referred to.  I rage against 'his wife, also an artist' but in the case of Poor Geoff, he was 'her husband, also an artist.' Come on now, male artists matter too! I found a delightful review of an exhibition in New Zealand of both Anna and Laura Knight's work, where it was noted that both women were married to artists.  However, as the article reported 'In both case, the genius is with the wife, rather than the husband.' Ouch.

The Garden Door (undated) Geoffrey Buckingham Pocock

And very lovely it is too Geoff, don't you worry. This one is by Anna...

An Aircraft Assembly Shop, Hendon (1918) Anna Airy

Yes, I can see what the newspaper meant, unfortunately, but that's the point, Anna was exceptional as an artist. I am in no mood to do a hatchet job on Miss Airy as there is much to admire about how she broke through the barriers to how women artists were regarded in the early twentieth century, however I found something that gave me pause.

Children Blackberrying (1940s) Anna Airy

I started reading what I thought was a fluff piece in the Daily Mirror from January 1921, as Anna had been a judge on the Mirror's beauty contest in 1919, a thought that immediately struck me as hilarious.  Can you imagine that today?  Is Tracey Emin available to judge Miss World? However, I continued reading...

She begins with the following story:

"The Norseman of old had a theory, carried into practice as I've been told, with regard to every child born to them. The father inspected the baby, and if the child were "bright-eyed" it was kept, but if not it was left to die of exposure."

And now time for the swimsuit round! Blimey, that was an interesting opening, but not seeing the red flags, I continued reading...

Mrs Monica Burnard (1916) Anna Airy 

She goes on to explain that the beauty contest was for children and babies, hence the anecdote about bumping off your baby if they aren't pretty enough, but it starts going wrong around this sentance...

"These bonny girls, all of British parents, are Britain at her best, and we may well be proud of them, for their beauty depends, not on languor, not on affectation, nor on artificialities, but on superb health and clean breeding."

When I read that bit out to the teenager in our house, she saw the turn coming from around 'British parents' and it got worse...

"Intermixture of races by marriage may and does sometimes produce a beauty, but as yet we are not, broadly speaking, a much intermixed race. 

Though mixed marriages are, I fear, on the increase, I question whether the children of such unions will retain the clean looking strength, freedom or agility of the well-bred English child..."

She goes on in a similar vein, but you get the gist. This is 1921, by the sound of it Anna hadn't met many people outside her own social circle despite her War Art, and so her comments come off as horrifically ignorant and ridiculous.  Am I surprised that the Daily Mirror merrily gives her a column to be racist in? Not sure, but a century later I'm aware that the newspapers use such euphemisms such as 'urban' and 'spicy' to be racists now, so not much changes. It's also not that I was surprised that artists I like have turned out to be racists because Rossetti was mocked by Whistler for backing the North in the American Civil War (who knew Rossetti would be the least problematic person in any room?)

The Montieth Family (1947) Anna Airy

It's because Anna Airy is a female artist who has the potential to be seen as one of the greatest artists of the twentieth century.  I've been at events where I've been asked, seriously asked, whether women artists aren't included in the history of art because they weren't as good as the men. I need artists like Anna to make it into the discussion to prove that women are equally as good (which is a ridiculous thing to have to prove, yet here we are) so I don't want to be the one who cancels her (as the youngsters say today).  

Hang on though, male artists of note could be truly appalling human beings too - Picasso, Augustus John, Paul Gauguin, Eric Gill, Degas - all terrible people arguably (and unarguably in some cases) but still seen as the best artists.  So is there a point where people can't accept you because of what you do or say?  This is definitely a conversation we have at home due to the author of a once beloved book line causing us to step away from their works. Looking at the list of male artists above, I'm not sure any gallery would have an Eric Gill exhibition these days, but the rest are likely to be London blockbusters without a thought if they were anti-semetic/wife beating/rape-y etc etc. Dear God, what is wrong with people?

Men in a Cafe (c.1930s) Anna Airy

I think my concern is that we don't need another excuse not to include women.  If Picasso is seen as a great artist despite his sins, then why can Anna and her weird baby-racism have her amazing art admired too?  Are we so simplistic that we can seperate the artist from the art? Well yes, and that is partly the fault of people like me who insist on finding the biography of people fascinating in the appreciation of their art. Isn't true equality treating Anna the same as we would treat Picasso? Is it right that we feel comfortable embracing the art of a terrible person?  What if this 1921 column reflects her views then but in time she realised she was an idiot and stopped being a racist? We have images she produced later that included people of colour, so could she have changed her mind.  Does that matter?  Is there room for redemption? 

On theBorderline (1921) Anna Airy

In the end, do we need to have this conversation? After all can't we just see an artist in the round, with warts and all? I think it is definitely easier to tackle this with dead artists, with all their sins revealed and taken in the same stride as their works.  With living artists/writers/actors, their misdeeds are still infinite and we don't know where they will go next so it is preferable to step off the fan-train as early as possible because no-one wants to be wearing the t-shirt when your hero says or does something truly appalling.  In the end, do we put too much trust in our fellow humans, especially those who have the opportunity and platform to say and do awful things.  

So, is true equality our ability to see a flawed artist, no matter their gender and weigh up their misdeeds against their body of work? I wait to see if we can...