Feathers Everywhere...

I'm not sure if you are expecting a post about birds, but the title of this piece actually refers to a sermon delivered in the film Doubt (2008).  Father Brendan Flynn, the subject of some rumours, tells a brilliant story from the pulpit:  A woman has been gossiping with her friends but that night dreams that a great hand points to her and makes her feel guilty.  She goes to her priest who tells her to go up to her roof and cut open a pillow, which she does.  When she returns to him he asks what the result was, and she says 'Feathers, everywhere!'  He then tells her to gather them all back up again and she says she can't, they went everywhere.  'That," says the priest, "is gossip!"

A Bit of Gossip (1903) Charles Wilson

I've done posts previously on sharing secrets and eavesdropping but this is different.  The secrets shared were your own to confide and eavesdropping tended to include people spreading stories or just talking about stuff the over-hearer doesn't want to hear.  I'm talking about 'gossip' today and how it seems quite gender specific and judgmental.  The picture above by Charles Wilson has the two women indulging in 'a bit of gossip', something that is distracting them from their work.  Now, why would I say 'indulging'?  It makes it sound like cake:  Is good gossip as delicious as cake?

The Three Gossips Louis Grosclaude

It's true that gossiping does sometimes coincide with tea and biscuits.  Isn't it funny to think that such a trivial meal accompanies such slander!  I'm not saying that these ladies are saying that so-and-so is having it away with the milkman, or so-and-so wears his wife's bonnet while she's out playing bridge, but think of the things we gossip about, it's rarely something you would say to someone's face.  Yes, I said 'we' because I gossip as much as the next person.  Other people's lives are fascinating...

At the Spring or Gossip John Faed

I rarely gossip in anything this low-cut, really you are just asking for trouble.  All you'd need to do is bend over to whisper one of the juicy details and it'd be all out in the open.

An Evening Gossip Joshua Fisher

I find it interesting that the majority of the images are of women and rural women at that.  I suppose it's a fairly standard stereotype that women gossip: Do women gossip while men speculate?  Is it all down to language?  I know some men who are terrible gossips, and it's an unusual gossip picture that shows a man...

The Gossip Henry Tozer

This had the most unexpected title as there is no sign that the men are gossiping, they just appear to be sitting, companionably, drinking some sort of homemade hooch.  Maybe the hooch has loosened their tongues and they are talking about their friend who wears the bonnet.

So what are the pictures saying about gossip?  It is predominantly a female hobby, sometimes shown over a cup of tea, or during the working day.  I always wondered how much gossip Fishwives knew as they seem famous for it.  I guess it was the glamorous lives they led...

Dolly Peel, Glamorous Fishwife

Gosh, it's just like Made in Chelsea, only with more fish.

The Gossip (1907) Thomas Dewing

This is a very curious picture.  Who is gossiping?  Has the gossiping already taken place?  I think that the woman on the right has been talking about the others and they have found out, hence her isolation from them.  Or possibly the other two have been talking about her, but the title seems to identify one person gossiping.  Possibly it might refer to 'the gossip' that has been spread and is the reason why two of the figures sit slightly apart from the third.  I like this image as potentially it shows the effect of gossip, divisive among friends.

The Gossip Walter Langley

 We are quite far removed from the action here - possibly we are meant to feel like the one who is being talked about? I was once put in a rather embarrassing position of having to admit that I hadn't been talking behind a certain person's back.  .Oh the horror of finding out that you weren't interesting enough to be gossiped about!  Some people have some very odd ideas about what makes them important.

Ladies Gossiping at the Opera Frederick Barnard

On the whole, gossip is not to be indulged in unless you are willing to do it in style. I promise that I only gossip at the opera, and then only behind a fan.  The opera must have been the ideal place for a good old gossip: all people who were worth gossiping about were present, and you and your friend were in a box, nice and secluded, so you could have a right old slander-session.  Probably best that it's just ladies present, because if I get to be alone in an opera box with a gentleman, I can think of better things to do than gossip.  Shame on me.

Indoor Gossip, Cairo (1873) John Frederick Lewis

It does at least seem to be somewhat of a universal.  Women everywhere love to talk about the bonnet-wearing man and the goings on of the milkman.  In someways, this commonality seems heartwarming - no matter how different we seem, how odd Johnny Foreigner seems to be, we all love ripping the characters of our friends to shreds.  Ah, it's a small world after all...

And the Devil Ran Away with Gossip Noel Laura Nisbet

This has to be my favourite, not least because I love Nisbet's work.  Her stuff is not greatly known, but the BBC 'Your Paintings' site has four painting here and the Russell-Cotes has some corking images of hers which you can see on their 'Art on Demand site here (she worked a lot in tempera which isn't included in the 'Your Painting' site).  In case you were feeling at all cosy about gossip, what with all the tea and opera boxes, here is the Devil carrying away both the gossiper and the concept.  If we're honest, we don't gossip about positive things - by its nature gossip is as dark and juicy as a ripe plum.  I suppose the stereotype of women gossiping comes from a time when information was controlled, and men at least could get out into the world to find out the truth.  Plus living in small communities (most 'gossip' scenes seem to revolve around a village) meant that everyone knew each other and any disruption would affect everyone to one degree or another.

Neighbourly Gossip (1889) Carlton Smith

There is an element of living vicariously through other people's problems, hence the popularity of celebrity gossip magazines.  Ever fancied knowing what it feels like to have an affair/be bankrupt/something salacious that doesn't involve money or sex, sorry I can't think of anything else?  I'm sure any number of magazines or newspapers can't wait to tell you in the most judgmental detail who has split up from their husband or who was photographed being choked by her husband at a Mayfair restaurant.  It's all still gossip, it's just we don't personally know the celebrities, but possibly, like all gossip we should think about whether or not it's true and what are our reasons for talking about it.

The Gossips Pierre M Beyle

So, to conclude, gossiping is something the devil will back you up in, so it's best to keep your mouth shut and only take a gentleman into an opera box with you.  Unless he's a terrible gossip.

Oh, what the hell, you'll never guess who's been seen with the milkman!  And he was wearing his wife's bonnet at the time..

Happy Father's Day!

Gosh chaps, it's Father's Day!  Here in Britain it only became an actual thing in the early 1970s (to coincide with my birth, no doubt) but of late there has been firm evidence that retailers obviously feel people need to express their love through meaningless purchases for both parents equally.  I bet you Dads feel special now.  My Dad got some home-made jam donuts (I know my audience), I even deep fried and shoved jam up them while he watched.  While I was searing off my fingerprints with boiling fat and melting sugar, I got to thinking about Victorian fathers...

Good Morning Dear Father Frederich Meyerheim

You would think that the figure of 'Father' would appear in many Victorian paintings, but actually Mum gets a bigger look in.  Father figures are slightly more mysterious, as if society had a collective head-scratch over exactly what they made of them.  We all know they should be upstanding, authoritarian and bearded,  but as a subject of their own?  That's when things get a bit tricky...

Father is at the Helm (1889) William McTaggart

Well, that's quite obvious.  Doesn't the boy look thrilled by the fact his father is steering their little boat.  Father looks quite old to have such a tiny son and where is everyone else? Is it just me or is Dad staring at me? Okay, I'm moving on...

Watching Father Work Albert Neuhuys

You have to remember that telly and Haribo hadn't been invented yet, so these children are able to sit and watch their Dad do something with a stick and a basket.  It's just like Mario Kart, but you get some fresh air.

Home From Work (1861) Arthur Hughes

I suppose what keeps most fathers out of the domestic scenes in art is that they have to be at work.  Arthur Hughes did a couple of pictures of joyful children hurling their arms around their daddies as they return from a day of honest labour - Did only working-class children do this?  Was it relief that neither he nor they had died of something poverty-related during the day?  Either way, that child has bare feet and no coat on.  She'll be a goner by the end of the evening.  One less present for you next Father's Day.  Really, when will the working-classes ever learn?

The Struggle for the Apple William Knight

I'm not sure children today would struggle for an apple.  I may be condemning a generation unfairly, I'm sure my daughter would put up a fight, but then she knows where we keep them and where the chocolate fingers live so she doesn't often feel the need to wrestle one of her parents for a piece of fruit.  Honestly, if the two children in the picture haven't worked out how to successfully tag team that apple out of his hand, then they don't deserve it.  They aren't trying.  I blame their parents.

The Hit Frederic Leighton

Without doubt, it is Dad's role to teach his little children the important lessons in life: honesty, hard work, how to shoot something with a bow and arrow.  I'm not sure Social Services are comfortable with the last one anymore.  Especially if you do it dressed like that.  You'll be going on a list, I promise you.

I think it's interesting that one of the most famous paintings about Dads doesn't even feature a father at all...

And When Did You Last See Your Father? (1878) William Frederick Yeames

Of all wars, the Civil War is a proper Dad War (bear with me) as the Cavaliers ultimately naffed up the chances and inheritance of their floppy-collared children only to end up with the head being knocked off the Dad of the Charles II (who was far more normal that you'd expect after all that.  I mean, when you see Charles II you do think 'what was your damn excuse Henry VIII?! Get a grip!')  Anyway, here we have a little poppet in shiny blue being questioned about his floppy haired, handsome, lace-bedecked father, who I bet has lovely big boots, and a marvellous tunic with slashes of colour ... what was I saying?  Oh yes, I guess the father's presence in the picture is via his son, the little distillation of him about to show how good a job he did at raising him.  Did he teach his son honesty, which will make the son reveal his father's whereabouts?  Did he teach his son to lie, therefore revealing himself as not a very good father, although a living one?  I think he taught his son the intelligence to be honest to people who deserve it and not to give any time to weirdos who ban Christmas.

Cordelia Comforting her Father, King Lear, in Prison (1886) George William Joy

There were some famous Dads in Victorian art.  Possibly not the best example of these is King Lear who  managed to stuff it up to Jeremy Kyle levels of idiocy.  Mind you, you have to remember that he managed to father a perfectly nice and sensible child as well as the bad ones, so he got some things right, and he did work it out in the end.  Then everyone died.  Come on, this is Shakespeare.

Grace Darling and her Father William (1860) William Bell Scott

I have learnt something new, I always thought it was just Good Old Grace and her dog who rescued everyone from the shipwreck of the Forfarshire in 1838, but her Dad was there too.  Come to think of it, that makes far more sense than some random lass and her boarder collie, but every image I saw of her growing up had her bravely paddling a tiny rowing boat into a Biblically stormy sea.  It's a nice example of father and daughter teamwork which makes you stop and think - I thought the Victorian era was all about men doing manly things.  Apparently it was not only Father and Son but also Father and Daughter.

Stock Investments: Stocks for Father (1864) Joseph Banner

Really, this is not good.  What does this teach children about adults, let alone their own father? Far better that the children are put in stocks, for their own good.  That's the way they raise them in Wiltshire.  Honest.  I can tell you don't believe me...

Yep, that's me on the right.  Moving on...

Grandfather's Tale (1860) Edward Thompson Davis

Not forgetting that grandfathers have of course been fathers at some point and now get the chance to get their own back (as my father says).  Here we have a charming scene of a grandfather telling a story as his daughter and her children listen.  My Dad tells a great story about how the Thuggee would sneak into the bathroom as you shampooed your hair and would get you if you closed your eyes.  For those who don't know, the Thuggee were ancient Indian stranglers.  I still can't close my eyes in the shower.  

Grandfather's Advice George Bernard O'Neill

I think as you grow older, Dad or Granddad is there for advice.  Mine can tell me all I need to know about beekeeping and fuchsias and many other things, including being a thoroughly decent human beings and maybe that is why father's and daughters are so often pictured together.  Dad is the one with all the experience in the world and he is responsible for making sure she doesn't end up in trouble.  This especially comes to light when your daughter wishes to marry...

Hope William Powell Frith

Trust Me John Everett Millais

The first of this pair is a young man asking for the hand of a young lady from her less than impressed father.  Although this seems a hopelessly out-dated way of doing things (although Mr Walker had to ask for my hand in marriage, bless him), part of me thinks there maybe a few parents think this should be brought back, to save trouble later.  I think Mr Walker would like to be able to refuse any useless wastrels who wish to marry Lily-Rose, he may have even drafted a rejection letter in preparation.  The second picture shows a young woman attempting to hide a love letter from her father.  It's uncertain who is saying 'Trust Me' - is it the father asking to be trusted to put the letter in the post bag (yes, that's going straight in the nearest hedge) or is it the daughter?  'No, really Dad, I've written to that nice young man who is training to be an architect, not that bohemian artist who lives in Chelsea and dresses up as a Cavalier in his spare time...'

Arthur 'Daddy' Hughes and his daughter

Well, I best draw this to a close and phone my Daddy.  Happy Father's Day to all Dads, I'm sure you do a splendid job and are cherished by your loving children who will deep fry something and roll it in sugar for you later (just me then?).  If you are feeling left out, you only have to wait to November 19th for International Men's Day (8th March is International Women's Day and Universal Children's Day is 20th November), so that's something to look forward to.  Mind you, I would think the lack of greasy finger prints on your iPad is gift enough...

Happy Father's Day!

Review: Pre-Raphaelite Treasures at National Museums Liverpool

You know me, I'm a sucker for a book on Pre-Raphaelite art, so when I was sent a review copy of the new catalogue of the Pre-Raphaelite collections in Liverpool, I was delighted.

I've been to Liverpool a few times to visit the Walker Gallery and the Lady Lever Gallery and have always longed for a catalogue of their collections.  The ones I had did not do the collections justice as Liverpool has an astonishing array of works, enhanced by the separate collections that have amassed them.  Together with Sudeley House, they seem to give you three different sides to the Victorian collecting mileau: The 'official', municipal collection as represented by the Walker Gallery in the middle of Liverpool, the unusual, philanthropic feel of the Lady Lever Gallery in its own little village, Port Sunlight, an entirely artificial eden for the Lever Brother's factory workers, and Sudeley House, a Victorian merchant's house with a collection that feels less public somehow.  Anyway, all three combine to make a spectacular collection.  After all, look who calls it home...

The Scapegoat (1856) William Holman Hunt

Ah, Goaty.  Anyway, the book is split into three sections: The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, Later Pre-Raphs and Liverpool Pre-Raphs.  The first section is self explanatory and Liverpool is home to the following well-known paintings, illustrated in the catalogue...

The Stonebreaker (1857-8) John Brett

Isabella (1848-9) J E Millais

Waiting: An English Fireside in the Winter of 1854-5 (1851-5) Ford Madox Brown

Liverpool has an impressive collection of Pre-Raphaelite paintings, especially Millais' work, they even have the God-awful Cymon and Iphigenia which is important for showing what Millais did before seeing the light.  However, what I possibly would take issue with is the thorny matter of what counts as 'Pre-Raphaelite'.  There is a good short essay explaining the chronology of how the Pre-Raphaelite movement grew from the Brotherhood, and how people like Madox Brown fitted within the circle.  The problem I have, as the pickiest person ever, is that the first chapter should be called 'The Pre-Raphaelite Movement' rather than 'Brotherhood' as the chapter contains artists associated with the Brotherhood but not one of the original Secret Seven.  The essay explains all, but that relies on the reader not flipping straight to the yummy pictures.  I can't be the only person who goes straight for the paintings, am I?

Second chapter is The Later Pre-Raphaelites, the second generation emerging after the late 1850s, including Ned Burne-Jones, Arthur Hughes and Frederick Sandys.

The Annunciation (1879) Edward Burne-Jones

Helen of Troy (1867) Frederick Sandys

A Music Party (1864)  Arthur Hughes

Again, I hate to be picky, but among these images are works by the Brotherhood, like Sibylla Palmifera by Rossetti, which although are from the 1860s and 1870s are also by the original Brotherhood and so I feel it might have been clearer if the chapters had purely chronological names.  Saying that, it's a joy to see such artists as Byam Shaw, Fortescue-Brickdale, John Melhuish Strudwick and John Roddam Spencer Stanhope in  glorious colour included in the discussing of Pre-Raphaelitism.  Look at this one, it's utterly glorious and worth the cover price alone...

The Expulsion from Eden (1900) John Roddam Spencer Stanhope

The last chapter is about Pre-Raphaelite artists who hail from Liverpool.  You would get extra points if you knew any of these well, other than William Lindsay Windus.  Most people only know Windus for Too Late, but it is nice to see pictures such as The Young Duke and Burd Helen illustrated here.

Burd Helen (1856) William Lindsay Windus

The general story about Windus is that Ruskin said he was rubbish so he destroyed all his pictures and never painted again but this is nonsense.  A quick look at the BBC 'Your Paintings' collection online shows 31 pictures in public collections, which is more than just the single picture somehow saved for posterity.  An explanation for Windus' lack of general success is given in the catalogue - his wife died young and he had to care for his daughter which left him very little time for art.  It is true that Ruskin was harsh about Too Late, but his domestic crisis was probably of more consequence as The Young Duke dates from around 1865, about 7 years after Too Late.

Music Versus Work (1864) Joseph Edward Worrall

The images in this book are reproduced in beautiful detail, my only issue being when the image extends over the centre of the two-page spread, which means the images is slightly clipped and distorted. I've seen worse and the book can be forced easily to lie flat. I don't think the spreading of the images is necessary and they only do it in a couple of cases so it's not too much of an irritation.  Despite being quite a small scale book (250mm x 210mm) it packs in 71 pictures, 50 of them colour, in its 96 pages.  It definitely gives you the impression that the author Laura MacCulloch was writing a far more ambitious book than expected, and the reader gets the benefit.  The design of the book is nice and the paperback covers fold out like a dust jacket, with illustrations under the flaps.  It's a good product, surely a decent model for any museum looking for how to produce an affordable catalogue of their specialist collection.  It looks modern and accessible.

At £19.99 it's more expensive than I expected, but I see that you can already buy it for around £13 on Amazon.  I think it is worth £20 of your money as it is a well thought-out product and gives you information on Liverpool's place in Pre-Raphaelite collections.  They have an astonishing array up there and I look forward to my visit later in the year when I go to Port Sunlight for the drawings of Burne-Jones.

Sigh and Swoon....

If you are a regular reader of this blog, you will know I have a few historical crushes: George Price Boyce, Hot Fred Stephens... well, possibly the most beautiful man of the nineteenth century has to be this one...

Iago (1867) Julia Margaret Cameron

The inspiration for this post came from two different places.  Firstly, when I was on the Wight last month, I went to the lovely Dimbola Lodge, museum of all things Julia Margaret Cameron.  The original may well be in Bradford, in the National Media Museum, but a print hangs in Dimbola Lodge for ladies to feel faint in front of.  Iago was the poster boy for the National Portrait Gallery's exhibition of Cameron's work a few years ago, and I have been rather fond of him ever since.

Obviously I wanted to know about him (for purely academic reasons, honestly) and so off to the web I went.  Most places cite the model as being Angelo Colarossi, a professional model of Italian descent.  Angelo was the studio assistant for Alfred Gilbert, the sculptor, and acted as model for Eros...

Mmmmm, wing-y

However, in my researching I found mention of a recent article in The British Art Journal by the lovely Scott Thomas Buckle, who has offered a decent identification for not only Iago, but also a host of other Pre-Raph lovelies, which I shall relay to you now.

To start with, even I noticed there was a problem with the identification of Angelo as Iago.  Iago was photographed about 8 years before Angelo was born which would make it a bit tricky for him to pose for it (unless he had a time machine, I never rule that out).  As luck would have it, he was the son of Angelo Colarossi Snr who also acted as a model for John William Waterhouse, Millais, Leighton and others.  Get a load of this...

Athlete Wrestling with a Python (1877) Frederick Leighton

Good Lord, I bet he'd be handy around the house.  Sorry.  Anyhow, these weren't the only Italian models present in London during this period, a gentleman called Gaetano Meo was also getting a decent amount of work, including one of my favourites by Simeon Solomon.

The Sleepers and the One who Watcheth (1870) Simeon Solomon

Gaetano is the lovely chap on the right, and also served as model for Love Among the Ruins by Edward Burne-Jones.  However, Burne-Jones painted more than one copy of the image and when he produced the watercolour (the one that has been in the news recently), the models were Antonia Caiva and Alessandro di Marco.

Alessandro di Marco (1865) Edward Burne-Jones

Alessandro was believed to come from north west Italy, from Piedmont, where his original trade was that of an organ grinder (monkey optional).  When he was 12 years old, he was discovered by Frederick Leighton who included him in the massive canvas snappily titled Cimabue's Celebrated Madonna is Carried in Procession through the Streets of Florence...

Cimabue (1853) Frederick Leighton

Yes, he's the one on the...never mind, he's in there somewhere.  He began to model more frequently, leaving the grinding behind him (snigger), and eventually made his way to London where he found work with Alphonse Legros.

A May Service for Young Women (1868) Alphonse Legros

He's the one with the organ, but he's not grinding it this time.  He also got to be all Prodigal for both Edward Poynter and G F Watts...

The Prodigal Son G F Watts

The Prodigal's Return (1869) Edward Poynter

I think you can start to discern his features, those cheekbones!  In Poynter's picture especially he looks very much like Iago, it's quite easy to see it's the same chap.

I think my favourite picture done of Alessandro has to be this one...

The Renaissance of Venus Walter Crane

Having difficulty spotting our delicious gentleman?  He's the blonde at the front with his boobs out.  Now, the story goes that Mrs Crane objected to the fact that her husband would be looking at a nudey lady for hours on end in order to paint Venus, so the obliging Walter employed Alessandro to pose and just missed the relevant bits out. This is why Venus is sporting a six-pack.  Mrs Crane, I salute you and I hope you found plenty of reasons to walk past the studio door.  As it was said, when the painting was revealed, 'That is not Aphrodite, that's Alessandro!'

Scott also suggests that Alessandro may have been the face of Merlin in The Beguiling of Merlin...

The Beguiling of Merlin Edward Burne-Jones

Previously, it was suggested that Ned used William Stillman, husband of Marie Spartali Stillman for the figure of Merlin, and here is Rossetti's portrait of Stillman from around this time...

While it is not out of the question, I think the figure of the wizard looks more like a version of the figure in Love Among the Ruins, clean-shaven and Mediterranean.  It is certainly true that Burne-Jones intended to use Stillman, but it isn't clear whether or not he managed to get a figure from him, and he expressed worry about the position that Stillman would have to hold.  However, Alessandro, being a professional model, would be used to bending about (deary me!) and so would have found it no trouble.

On that lovely image I shall leave you.  It occurs to me I have spent a couple of decades researching the lives of the female models but there is a wealth of gentlemen who modelled, whose lives are waiting to be discovered.  Who knows what exciting stories wait to be told?  Plus I get to spend more time legitimately staring at Iago.

Swoon!