Well, if you are summering in England , or any of this golden
isle, you cannot help but to notice how unrelentingly bobbins the
weather has been of late. We are now in
July and I sit here with a hot water bottle clutched to my freezing self,
wrapped in a blanket. We apparently have
had three months rain in one day or something like that (which makes me wonder
which three months they were thinking of?
The ones just after Noah shut the cargo door on the ark?) and lazy days
of hammock swinging and sipping cocktails in the garden do not seem
imminent. I was looking to do a post on
images of Summer, but as aspirational as it would be to gaze at Flaming June, I
think this would be a little bit more realistic….
The Rain It Raineth
Every Day
|
Oh look, it’s still raining…Possibly what I need to get
through the season fashionably is a cat and a look of patient acceptance as I
sit reading in an off-the-shoulder frock.
Put your shoulders away, no-one is coming to visit, you’ll catch a cold.
The Rain It Raineth Every Day G F Watts |
There is something about showing an interior where someone
is trapped. You wonder what the young
lady is watching for, what she is waiting for, what the weather is stopping her
doing…Both pictures show women who have abandoned reading, and you wonder if
there is a sense of not wanting to escape the weather into a world of
imagination, that there is something meaningful waiting for them in real life
that they do not want to lose contact with.
Probably a chap, it usually is.
The Rain It Raineth
Every Day (1889) Norman Garstin
|
It was a popular title, taken from Twelfth Night, and
hinting at unending misery. I think
Garstin meant it literally, possibly 1889’s summer was as glorious as 2012’s,
but the other two have a hint of more.
Maybe the women in the first two pictures have more on their minds than
the weather. Watts
doesn’t even show us the window, there
is no sign that it is actually raining, so possibly what imprisons the woman in
the house is misery, unending and paralysing.
Blimey, we’ve got a bit heavy all of a sudden. Hang on…
Sunbeams and Showers
Evelyn De Morgan
|
There we go, if in doubt show some boobs, that usually
cheers people up. Here we have a nice
bit of weather personification, the interplay of sun and rain to bring the
beauty of the rainbow. I was once the
Sun in a school play. I got a yellow
poncho and everything.
A Wet Sunday Edmund Blair
Leighton
|
Possibly, rather than thinking on nudity and unending
misery, I should think about the romance of a brolly. If you think about it, in the past there were
very few legitimate excuses for snuggling up to the opposite sex in public, but
bring on a bit of rain and you could share an umbrella. See how the young lady above has managed to
score the company of the hot bloke in cream knee breeches through the power of
brolly. Look how jealous the girls
sheltering in the porch of the church look!
Really, gentlemen love a lady with a big brolly.
Love Laughs at Rain
(1891) William Small
|
It looks like I’ve been addressing the rain entirely
incorrectly. Such inclement conditions
seem rife with romantic opportunities, including chatting to a man with a calf
wrapped in a tarp. Who can resist a man
who wraps his calf in a tarp? I’m drawn
to compare this with Found – if we
are supposed to equate the woman with the calf in Found, then maybe what Small is hinting at is that the woman would
be taken care of by the Farmer. If he
bothers to wrap his calf up in wet weather, think how well he will treat his
wife! When I open my Pre-Raphaelite
On-Line Dating Agency (any day now…) I think I will have that as one of the
questions.
Garden of Eden Hugh
Riviere
|
Oh look, this couple are so in love that they haven’t even
bothered to put the brolly up. I’m
pleased to see they are both sensibly dressed despite their utter devotion to
each other, because as we all know, nothing will kill you quicker than going
out without a decent coat on. I love the
fact that the gentleman has turned the cuffs of his trousers up, possibly to
keep them out of the mud and puddles.
The Green Umbrella George Kilburne |
I need to buy a new brolly, although I have a very fine old
one, which I bought from Past Times a long time ago. It has Monet’s Water Lilies all over it and
is very pretty, but such unrelenting rain needs a selection of gorgeous
brollies to make it worthwhile. This
lady has a striking green umbrella and she is flashing a rather saucy red
underskirt. It certainly has brightened
the day up for the grubby street urchin.
Out in the Rain
Maria Brooks
|
I know she has a young, slightly scary looking baby, but I
don’t feel this young woman is really ‘working’ the rain to her advantage. Black brolly and enormous cloak is not really
that attractive, unless you’re planning a bout of shoplifting. You could get fifteen corsets and a goose
under there. I’d keep an eye on her,
she’s obviously up to no good. I love
the fact that she has her left hand out, showing us her wedding ring, just in
case we think she’s some unmarried hussy walking the streets. It does make you wonder why she is ‘Out in
the Rain’, because surely it would be counter indicated by Victorian
baby-raising books to take your first born out in the rain. Mind you, it is a lot harder to steal poultry
in your own home.
A Summer Afternoon
Geoffrey Scowcroft Fletcher
|
I suppose I have to keep the faith that the rain will stop
eventually and a wonderful rainbow will appear in the sky, like The Blind Girl or the picture
above. It was A Summer Afternoon that got me looking for pictures of summer rain
as the colouring reminded me of Holman Hunt, especially things like The Hireling Shepherd, all that green
and pink and powerful light. What
surprised me was that A Summer Afternoon
was actually painted in 1948. I suppose
the rainbow signifies peace, relief and a chance to start again, and maybe
Fletcher used Victorian costume to hint a return to the beginning of the
twentieth century, an erasing of the conflict that had marked the years since.
That rather puts my complaining about the weather into perspective. We’ve only had a couple of months of rain, so I should just put up my brolly and look out for a gentleman in knee breeches...
Kirsty,
ReplyDeleteI quite enjoyed your commentary that went along with these wonderful works of art! Thanks for the chuckle.
What fun we are having in our wellies this lovely July,as usual great paintings and amusing writing!
ReplyDeleteOh Kirsty, you don't only make me smile but laugh out loud (twice at the above commentary). If you're going to keep us this well entertained as well as seduced by visual images, the rain can continue.
ReplyDeleteMany thanks chaps, and as I type, it sounds like someone is pouring dried peas all over the conservatory roof, so the rain it still raineth....
ReplyDeleteA cheering selection of images this time; I'm particularly taken with the calf in a tarp. I think you've made a valid point with that one.
ReplyDeleteIt's what drew me to Mr Walker in the first place, his calf in a tarp. True story. Oh, look, it's raining again.
ReplyDelete