We're Very Wide Awake, the Moon and I...

We'll start today with an image of a Victorian couple....

This charming pair are William and Louisa Fisher, both born around the middle of the nineteenth century and pictured here at the end of Victoria's reign.  William Fisher had lived his entire life in the same little village where he worked as a farm carter, marrying Louisa in the 1880s and their three children were born in the 1890s.William and Louisa ultimately lived and died within a handful of miles in the middle of the rural West Country, but for one of the few photographs they had taken, they chose to be pictured on the moon.

This got me thinking: why would an obviously rural, traditional couple chose such an outlandish picture?  One explanation is obviously it was an avenue offered to them, no doubt at a fair.  Other such images are around if you look for 'Victorians on the Moon'...

Unknown Victorian/Edwardian Couple on the Moon

What was it that made the moon the appropriate backdrop to these photographs?  Was it just the implausible, humorous fantasy of the couple sitting up in the sky, or was it deeper?

Turning back to William and Louisa, the moon would have had certain connotations to the farm working couple.  The 'Harvest Moon' provided light to gather in the supplies, making their long gruelling hours slightly more pleasant, aiding them in their work...

The Harvest Moon (1881) George Wetherbee

For the Fishers, whose families before and after were farm labourers, the moon, wide and bright, was their ally, but also as the farm workers return, a couple hang back, no doubt talking about more than corn.  That brings us to the second aspect of our lunar landscape, love....

There is nothing more romantic than canoodling precariously on a crescent moon.  Why the moon would be such a hot spot for lovers is a little mysterious - maybe the notion of 'honeymoon', maybe the connotation that night time was for lovers?  If romantic images of the moon are what you crave, there is no shortage of them...

Luna Evelyn de Morgan

Luna Edward Burne-Jones

Moonbeams Evelyn de Morgan

In iconography of the more aesthetic end of the nineteenth century, the moon is a very feminine form, often paired with a symbolic woman, draped classically or nude against the pearly light.  Despite our insistence that there is a man in the moon, more often than not, there was a woman, if not a veritable gaggle of them, all glinty with celestial sparkle. While de Morgan and Burne-Jones gave a story-less image of astral bodies, the most famous woman-and-moon combination has to be found in the story of Endymion.

Vision of  Endymion Edmund Poynter

Endymion and Selene (1850-60) Victor Pollet

While Louisa Fisher is a rather unlikely goddess in sturdy boots, the story of Endymion does have a rural setting, so has some resonance for the Fishers.  Again, the moon, hanging above the countryside has a romantic, powerful meaning that spans time and reality, linking gods and goddesses with their counterparts in Victorian farms.


Sleeping Earth Waking Moon Evelyn de Morgan

There is a definite link of rthe Victorians between the elements and the female form.  One wonders at the connection between the 'female' earth and the man who works the land...


Moonrise (1909) John Pedder

I suppose if you think about it, what importance did the moon have in the city?  At a time when lighting became widespread in the city streets, the moon still provided the only light at night in the countryside.  While there are a number of scenes of London and other large cities, darkened with a pale moon high in the sky, you get the impression that the moon is there for decoration only and has no meaning, no partnership with the people below.  Contrasted to this is the countryside's bond to the moon, the rural folk almost acknowledging it as the pale face of a diety above them as they work. 

Reverie Marcus Stone

Stone shows his contemplative muse sat in a moonslipped landscape.  In a way it reminds me of John Byam Shaw's The Boer War, something about the woman beside the water, lost in thought.  Again, the pale woman is reflected in the pale moon, tying her to that shining orb, her wakeful contemplation mirrored above her.



Sheba, the Night and the Moon (1913) Eric Robertson



The Eclipse (1888) Paul Besnard

 
A pagan interchangeability of woman and moon plays in the latter years of the nineteenth century, and is often referenced in the resulting art nouveau iconography.  In the Fisher's rough portrait, they salute their pre-Christian past, working the land presumably since before such notions of church existed.  It is cheering that despite the unchanging nature of their life, endless lack of social progress, working until you die, they still had a moment for fun, a cheeky portrait of the most unlikely dieties ever to be framed on a wall.  There is something more whimsical, more romantic about the Fishers chosen portrait, than a more traditional arrangement, like the neighbouring Scarlett family's portrait, taken around the same time...

The Scarletts pose outside their cottage, the model of rural respectability, their daughters dressed in their Sunday best.  Captured forever is their pride, their dignity and how they chose to portray themselves.  There is no hint of levity, no romance.  The Scarlett portrait is as straight as it gets outside a formal studio.  The Fishers have apple-cheeked smiles, aware of their ridiculous backdrop and laughing with us at the playful madness.

The reason I was looking at the picture this week was that I have the good fortune to be descended from both families.  William and Louisa Fisher are my maternal Grandfather's parents, and the little girl stood in front of her father in the Scarlett's family portrait is Daisy, my Grandmother.  This is possibly why, from an early age I've always known that however much the Victorians struggled to keep up appearances, they always made time for fun. 

And symbolism, obviously.

Art Avengers Assemble, Again...

Now this is becoming a bit of a habit, but I do love a good mystery, as I might have mentioned before.  A while back, I posted a piece on Ernest Normand and his lovely picture that featured in a recent copy of Country Life.   Into my inbox popped a lovely email from a charming chap called Henry, about a mysterious painting owned by his friend.  This enormous painting is 27 foot long and 11 foot high, and is illustrated below....

A picture so big it interfers with the side-bar...

Righty-ho and here we go.  The current owner, the lovely Pat, bought it at auction between 15-20 years ago and the information she was given at the time was that it was painted in Austria by an English artist, for a grand house.  It was painted at the end of the 1800s, possibly to mark the turning of a new century as it appears to be about time and the dawning of a new age.  An assembly of figures move toward some steps, marked by a mask of Janus, seemingly greeted by a misty female spirit, gesturing them on.

The figures in the picture interest me greatly.  Are they allegories or are they meant to be real people?  The knight at the back, the poet at the front, and the man on the horse look as if they are meant to be actual people, or at least remind me of figures from other paintings.  The crouching woman reminds me of depictions of Elizabeth of Hungary.  Possibly they are Christian saints or important religious figures?  But then they are crossing by a figure of a Roman deity, so maybe that's out.



Detail of the musician/poet

 The Musician/Poet seems to be the only one who is hesitant to move forward, but he seems to have no strings in his lyre, which is curious.  This possibly fits with the idea of a theme of moving from the old century, filled with romantic arts, through to the modern twentieth century world.  If it was executed in the early years of the twentieth century, possibly it could reflect a move forward to war, as a few of the figures look soldier-like or in command of nations.  Only the musician pauses, unheard, without a voice.

So the names that have been put forward at various times are Eleanor Fortescue Brickdale (I have to admit it was was first thought as the style is so like hers), Harry Mileham, Walter Crane, Robert Anning Bell, Robert Bateman, Evelyn de Morgan, Ernest Normand,  and the favourite, Henry Holiday.  Holiday spent time in Austria and Germany, loved Tennyson (doesn't it look like Tennyson on the horse?) and did a hooping great big mural for Rochdale Town Hall on the signing of the Magna Carta.  Normand also spent time in Germany and greatly admired Tennyson, so equally it could be his work.

Now, Art Avengers, does anyone have any ideas as to the artist or subject of this massive piece of magnificence?  I love it when something this fabulous appears in my inbox and thanks to Pat for letting me share it with you.  Hopefully we can be of help....

Best Endorsement Ever

If you have been following the progress of Stunner, you'll know that I am besotted with the Pre-Raphaelite sketchings of the multi-talented and amazing Raine Szramski.  I was overjoyed when Raine let me use her picture of Fanny in the second edition of my book, so imagine how happy I was to find this on my Facebook page this morning....

What better endorsement could I ever ask for?

If you want to see more of Raine's gorgeous art, head over to here and marvel at her magical talent.

Thank you Raine (and Fanny), that is the best advert I could ask for!

Running a Comb Though a Curtain of Gold

As you will know by now my daughter Carnation-Lily-Lily-Rose has inordinately long hair and I have to admit that possibly my least favourite task is to brush her hair after washing it.  With a large amount of conditioner and serum, we now have it down to a fine art and she barely murmurs or looks up from what ever dog-related program she is watching as I quickly rake it through and plait it.  I have been criticised in the past for allowing her to have such long hair (people do say the strangest things) but I can’t bring myself to have it cut off, mainly because I never had long hair as a child and desperately wanted it.  As I lacked the patience to let it grow, and my mother was firmly of the belief that girls looked better with short hair, I spent my formative years being shorn like a sheep every summer…

With my big brother.  The past is a cruel, cruel place....

Anyhow, much rambling aside, I love the aesthetic of long hair, obviously influenced by my love of Pre-Raphaelite beauties with their long tresses, and I wanted to write something about the Victorian fetish of hair, after all isn’t that how Rossetti met Fanny, by letting down her hair?  While perusing the images I could use, I found a definite subsection of ‘hair’ pictures; women combing their hair.  Hello, I thought, what’s all that about…?

Worldly Beauty (Lady Lilith) (1867) D G Rossetti

Here I am, back on Fanny, as it were, but she is a woman who worked her hair.  Thinking of images of Fanny, I think of the one above or possibly Fazio’s Mistress as she plaits her hair, or the marvellous pastel with her great big plait over the top of her head.  She gives the impression that her hair is heavy and powerful.  Look at the thickness of it in the comb above!  The way Rossetti paints his models with long, swan necks, they often look as if they are bowing under the weight of the hair.  Lilith’s hair is symbolic of her self absorption, her utter self-interest:  she isn’t just brushing her hair, she is displaying it.  We watch as she performs this act, but she doesn’t give a monkey’s about us, she is too busy watching herself in the hand mirror.  Here’s a question for you:  do you think the arched shape behind her is a window or a mirror on her little table?  I always thought it was a mirror, but that would beg the question why is she using the hand mirror when she has a larger mirror on her table just behind her?  I think she is using her hand mirror to watch the back of her hair in the larger mirror so she can watch all aspects of her hair as she combs it through.  Now that is self-absorption worthy of an appearance on a reality television programme….

There is a difference between a picture of a woman with beautiful hair and a picture of a woman tending to her beautiful hair, because it becomes about the act and our observance of it.



The Glory of Womanhood Thomas Kennington

Sometimes the hair stands for all that is beautiful about a woman, and in the act of brushing her hair, the woman is caring about her outward appearance for, presumably, a man.  Kennington’s lass is combing out her tresses before her mirror, unaware that we watch her.  She is quite active in her work, despite its seeming frivolity, and she stands, concentrating on her task as if it was the most important thing she had to do (other than putting her shoulder away, the hussy).  Maybe Kennington is arguing that looking beautiful is her most important role, ensuring that she is taken care of by a chap, and the better her hair looks, the richer the chap she can snag!  Yes, I know, not altogether sound or particularly nice, but the active care of her crowning glory has to serve some purpose or else why show it?

Woman Combing Her Hair (1889) Louis Anquetin

Now here is a lady who is displaying her hair for us, the audience, or possibly more specifically, her owner.  There is something somewhat veil-like about that shimmer of hair between the hank she is holding and the tresses beneath, which lends a very naughty air to this otherwise chaste picture.  She is fully dressed and only combing her hair, but something in the colours, the expression and the delicacy of the posture lends a rather more meaningful mood to the scene.  She is performing to others, this is preparation as display.

Young Woman Combing Her Hair Brian Hatton

In terms of subject, Hatton’s girl is the same as Anquetin’s, both caught in the act of combing their hair, aware they are being observed.  However, Hatton’s young lady looks faintly bemused that we watch her, puzzled by our interest.  She lacks the glam or glitz of the red-headed madam above, but there is something in the detail of her hand that clutches the comb and the look over the shoulder that renders the subject beautiful and without artifice.  This is literally not painted-up beauty, and she reminds me of the countless pencil and chalk images Rossetti did of the women he loved.

The Bower Meadow D G Rossetti

We know that for the Victorians loose, flowing hair had meaning and potency.  A woman's hair was left loose as a child, but then as soon as she married or was of the marrying age, hair was expected to be bound away.  Looking at images of Pre-Raphaelite women, they are a loose-haired bunch, with the minimum of any sort of pinning, even when you consider the hairstyles in The Bower Meadow.  Alexa and Marie at the front have their hair coiled on top, but it is part of the ornate dressing and includes loose tendrals, spilling down their backs.  In light of pictures where the hair is captured, hidden, contained, the potency of an image where it is being freed, being revelled in, must have seemed deeply erotic.

Mermaid (1900) John William Waterhouse

Let alone what people must have thought of this familiar image by Frederick Sandys…

Proud Maisie (1903) Frederick Sandys

The hussy!  That is both sexy and a little bit revolting, but links hair and sex in a very basic way, even though in Maisie’s case the emotion is frustration, denial which has led to a strange physical act upon herself.  Oh, I think I’ll step away from that one sharpish before I’m forced to become any more explanatory and we all go blind.  Quick, look at this…

The Origins of the Combing Machine Alfred Elmore

That’s better.  In conclusion, pictures of women combing their hair are about leaps forward in the eighteenth century textile industry and not about sex.  Really, not at all. Not even Proud Maisie, especially if someone handed her a comb.  Really, she’ll get split ends…

A Whole New Stunner

Ladies and Gentleman, after much faffing about and far more swearing than is strictly necessary, I present for your enjoyment Stunner, second edition!

If you wish to purchase this splendid updated and explanded edition you can do so from Amazon (UK) or Amazon (USA) or from any of the other Amazon stores in Europe.

Why the second edition?  Well, there was so much more I wanted to say about Fanny Cornforth, in light of Desperate Romantics and countless exhibitions that have occurred since 2006 when I self-published the first edition.  I also wanted to correct any spelling issues that occurred in the first edition.  I also wanted to include actual images of Fanny (thanks to the generosity of the museums and galleries involved) and I can show you a tiddy cheque (thank you Lila) and a graphic novel version of Fanny (thank you Raine).  I can now tell you what I think happened to Fanny in the end, and show you her letters to Samuel Bancroft Jnr.  I can show you a gorgeous and little seen image of her from the Lyman Alleyn Gallery.  I can show you where she lived at all of the different points in her life, from Steyning to Kensington.  In short, I wanted to do Fanny justice, once and for all, and I hope I have done that now.

I will be running a competition next week for a signed copy, so watch this space for strange photographs of me and my family.  I am also giving a talk on Fanny in the autumn for the Russell-Cotes Art Gallery and Museum in Bournemouth, details to follow.

Right, I'm off to eat cake in celebration, but will just add one thing: If you like my book, you would have my undying gratitude if you posted a review on Amazon.   

Danson House, Home of the Beautiful

Hello friends, I have a quick post for you as I am currently sorting the last bits and pieces of Stunner 2.0.  Really soon, I promise...

I was idly flicking through the Museums Journal and found a brief piece on this beautiful dress, on display at Danson House in Bexleyheath...

This gorgeous dress was created by the artist Tom Gallant in collaboration with the fashion designer Marios Schwab.  Look at the shadow cast by the dress and you'll understand why the dress ended up in Bexleyheath.  The artist has underlain the black laser-cut dress with a printed silk crepe slip, printed with a William Morris-inspired design.  What makes it astonishing is that the components of the design are images from pornographic magazines, turned from obscene to delicate as they add blushes of skin tone beneath that ink-black gothic pattern.  It's so complex and beautiful and has echoes in Morris' textiles and wallpaper.

The gallery loved the piece so much they asked Gallant to curate an exhibition revealing his inspirations.  He chose The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman as the lynch pin of the exhibition, a favourite book of mine, which has added resonance in the mansion-like Danson House.

Iris (2012) Tom Gallant

Another exhibition on at Danson House is Ligia Bouton's Adventures of William Morris Man, an installation showing a designer superhero fighting the excesses of Victorian taste.

Adventures of William Morris Man (2012) Ligia Bouton

I love seeing Victorian culture treated in such a modern, easy way, despite the familiar and cosy image we seem to have of it nowadays.  I love the idea of Topsy, garbed up like Iron Man fighting his aesthetic battle.  It's a fresh approach and looks again at how controversial and avant garde these designers and artists were to their contemporaries.

The Yellow Wallpaper exhibition runs until 29 October, so if you find yourself up in the big smoke for the Tate's Pre-Raphaelite extravaganza (I'm almost too excited), make the journey up to Bexleyheath and call in on Topsy and some extraordinary goings on with wallpaper...

Art Detectives Assemble!

As you will know from reading my ramblings, I am married to the inestimable Mr Walker, who works at the Russell-Cotes Art Gallery and Museum in Bournemouth.  While we were perusing the PCF catalogue of the collection one evening, my eyes alighted on the following picture...


Reclining Woman With a Fan

'Ooooooh!  That's lovely!' I exclaimed enthusiastically, but then, horror of horror, I saw the dread words 'Unknown Artist'.  It isn't signed and there is no hint in the records as to who painted her.  At that moment I sounded the Art Detective alarm and gathered you all...

So, what do we have?  The date range given is 1880 to 1910, mainly due to the style of clothing and the vaguely aesthetic nature of the composition, however I would be willing to dip back to 1860-70, because if you're after a woman in white clutching a fan, I have a bucketful...

Woman With a Fan (1870) D G Rossetti


Part of my love of the Unknown Woman is that when I see fans I think of Fanny and all those glorious 1860s images of her.  It immediately infuses the image with luxury and richness and a little superior debauchedness, like this one...

Monna Vanna (1865) D G Rossetti

It's not out of the question that it is a later picture, like this one for example...

The Feather Fan William Strang

However, her white, billowy frock does seat her comfortably around 1880-90, nice and aesthetic, although I wouldn't rule out Edwardian.  I love the folds of delicate material, the drapery on the chair complimenting the stripes on her sleeves.  She is without a frame, so is not on display, but if more could be found out about her, then possibly she could be displayed as it is a cracking picture in good condition.  I have a slight weakness for her as she looks a bit like I used to when I was young, unlike the raddled heap I am today.

So, thinking caps on, my friends, and feel free to shout suggestions at me.  If you feel adventurous and would like to see the reclining lady in person, apply to Mr Walker at The Russell-Cotes and he'll arrange an appointment.

Also, if you are in Bournemouth on Sunday 10th June (tomorrow), you can hear Mr Walker talk at the Russell-Cotes at 11am and 2pm as part of their 'Behind the Scenes with the Curator' talks.  There are details on the website.

I'm off to do the final proof read of Stunner 2.0 and will bring you news soon!

Tonight I'm Going To Party Like It's 1897

Unless you've been avoiding all manner of media, don't live in the United Kingdom, or have been asleep recently, you can't have missed the almighty royalty kitsch-fest that is the Diamond Jubilee.  It seems to have kicked off what is promised (or threatened) to be an Union Jack-tastic summer, what with the Olympics and stuff.  Unlike the Olympics, the Jubilee can be nicely audience participation, so I find I thoroughly approve.  I have especially loved cooking some of the recipes invented for the occasion, especially the 'Elizabeth Sponge' fairy cakes (thanks to Waitrose Weekend paper this weekend)...

There were twelve...

It's basically a normal vanilla fairy cake but with a strawberry jam depth-charge inside it.  Anyway, while treasuring my Diamond Jubilee Marmite, sorry Ma'amite, I began to wonder about Queen Victoria and her Diamond Jubes.

Queue wobbly time-travel pondering....

Queen Victoria, looking Jubilicious

A Diamond Jubilee is celebrated on the 75th anniversary.  Hang about, surely we're celebrating it on the 60th?  We have Queen Victoria to thank for this.  On 23rd September 1896, she had reigned longer than her grandfather George III, up to that point the longest reigning monarch.  It was suggested that a public celebration should be arranged, to encourage public affection after her controversial shunning of public duties following Albert's death in 1861, but it was agreed to put it off until the following year, her 60th year as Queen.  In order to make this an extra special event, the term 'Diamond' was applied (because it was unlikely that she would make it to 75 years).

Starting on 20th June, Queen Victoria kicked of a right royal summer of fun, going here there and everywhere and generally having a big party.  Over the 20th and 21st June, events were focused on London, where she held a royal banquet, rode in a procession to Westminster Abbey and made an appearance on the balcony at Buckingham Palace.  Ring any bells?

For her Jubilee Ezra Read published 'The Longest Reign' Waltz (which really sounds not so much romantic, but rather an endurance trial), the Bishop of Wakefield wrote the hymn 'O King of Kings' which Arthur Sullivan set to music, and the poet laureate Alfred Austin (or 'Not Tennyson' as he was known to his friends) wrote 'Victoria' which contains the lines...

'They placed a Crown upon her fair young brow,
They put a Sceptre in her girlish hand,
Saying, ``Behold! You are Sovereign Lady now
Of this great Land!'''

...and some stuff about partridges. It's quite long, I warn you now, but if you fancy a bit of light reading, you can view it here.  


In many ways, reading about the 1897 Jubilee is very similar to what has been going on this weekend.  Queen Victoria gave everyone the Tuesday off, even in the colonies, so that everyone could have the day to celebrate.  And the memorabilia, oh, the memorabilia....


You can have a mug....

You can have some silverware...

You can have a very classy stoneware jug from Spode...










Sadly, nothing with corgis on it, unlike this year where the corgi seems to be the symbol of the Jubilee.

In 1897, Victoria was only 78 years old, rather than 86 years old which our current Queen is, and was in poor health.  She attended a service at St Paul's Cathedral, but could hardly walk, let alone climb the steps, so they brought the service out to her and she remained in her carriage.  She reigned another three years and seven months and was the nations longest reigning monarch and the longest reigning female monarch in world history.  So Queen Betty needs to do another three and a bit years until she takes the title.  

I feel another party coming on...

When You Least Expect It...

I was off-duty on Wednesday.  Mrs Geary, Miss Holman and myself had taken a road trip to The Harry Potter Experience at the Warner Bros Studio at Leavesden, the last place in the world I expected to be surprised by Pre-Raphaelites.  How wrong I was...

We were dressed a bit like witches and were having a jolly time as we entered the huge wooden doors into the Great Hall....

Yes, yes, so far, so un-Pre-Raphaelite, although as you can see by the ghost dress above, the flavour of Hogwarts is a tad Gothic.  The sets are gorgeous and the room beyond the Great Hall is full of set after set, with things hanging or standing, in cases or just in front of you.  There is so much to see that you can spend a goodly amount of time just standing with your mouth open in astonishment.  My day turned a very interesting corner when we were admiring the set of the Gryffindor common room, when I spotted this rather lovely painting...

In the world of Harry Potter, this is a portrait of Professor McGonagall as a young woman.  I was very taken with this picture as it reminded of aesthetic domestic figures, such as this one by James McNeill Whistler...

I thought it was lovely, and made me smile, to think that even in a modern film set I could find Victorian art.  Then I came face to face with a wall of wizarding portraits...

As readers (and viewers) of the Harry Potter stories will know, the portraits that hang on the walls of Hogwarts are magic and the figures can move about and talk.  All of them are famous witches or wizards, and at first glance they seemed to be just made-up paintings.  Then one of them, just level with us, caught my eye...

Unknown Witch...

I know you!  You're Mary Shelley!

Mary Shelley (not a witch, as far as I know)

 At that moment, in the dimmed lighting, I began to scour the wall for other familiar faces...

I found Lord Ribblesdale...

 ...Disraeli...

and Elizabeth Barrett Browning....

and I think I even saw Swinburne, way up in the gloomy top row.  All these portraits were just subtly altered, like the one of Mary Shelley, with the addition of the odd wand or cloak.  There was one that didn't appear to be altered at all and for a moment I just stared and thought 'That wizard is awfully familiar...' because it made perfect sense that he was a wizard...

Of course you're a wizard, William...

It all makes perfect sense...

William Morris makes a very convincing wizard indeed, and what made me chuckle was how little he seemed to have been changed to fit the bill.  I don't know if the person who had painted the portraits had been especially fond of Victorian art, or if the style of Victorian portraiture fitted the general aesthetic of Hogwarts (as envisaged by the film makers), but it was possibly the highlight of my day. And I rode a broomstick, so that is saying something.

Now I need to watch all the films again and see if I can spot William the Wizard.  So that's what he was doing in Iceland....