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The Grand Hotel, Colmore Row, Birmingham |
The Kissed Mouth
Pre-Raphaelite and Victorian Art for all!
Tuesday, 18 February 2025
Mrs Shepherd's Locket
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...
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Bubbles (1886) |
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Maria Virgo (1915) May Louise Greville Cooksey |
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Girl with Lovebirds (1876) Henry Guillaume Schlesinger |
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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...
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Ceres (Alice Liddell) (1872) Julia Margaret Cameron |
Or in fact something like Sophie Anderson's Capril girl who looks very happy about her flowers...
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Capril Girl With Flowers (undated) Sophie Anderson |
Oh, come on now, she's definitely referencing this painting by Frederick Sandys...
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Love's Shadow (1867) Frederick Sandys |
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Astarte Syriaca (1877) Dante Gabriel Rossetti |
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Gabrielle Ray (c.1910) Foulsham and Banfield, London |
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...
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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.
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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...
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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!
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Dorothy Tennant (1877) G F Watts |
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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!'
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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The Garden Door (undated) Geoffrey Buckingham Pocock |
And very lovely it is too Geoff, don't you worry. This one is by Anna...
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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.
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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...
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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?)
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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?
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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?
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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...