The Best of British - Part One: Brotherhood

Because Mr Walker knows how to show a lady a good time, he brought me home a copy of a Pre-Raphaelite exhibition catalogue the other night.  This was no ordinary catalogue, not at all, this was a special exhibition, celebrating the best of an extraordinary British art movement during a year of national festivity.  Sound familiar?  Yes, well, sadly this was not the Tate's upcoming exhibition catalogue (Sigh!  Can you imagine how delicious that will be?), instead it was from a 1951 Bournemouth and Wessex Festival Pre-Raphaelite exhibition, as part of the Festival of Britain.


Now, you know me, I love to read mid-century opinion of Pre-Raphaelite art as it is often so contrary and harsh.  No aspect of Pre-Raphaelitism was safe from criticism and the lack of fawning respect (just because something is old) is refreshingly honest.  When art historians and curators of the time bothered to turn their attention to Millais and the crew, they were addressing the unfashionable, the reviled, the stuffy, morbid, cloying Victorian nonsense.  So why did the good people of the Bournemouth choose to celebrate Festival year with the Pre-Raphaelites?  Does it tell us anything about why the Tate are doing the same thing 61 years later?

The Triumph of the Innocents provided the cover image for the exhibition catalogue

The Festival of Britain ran during the summer of 1951 and described itself as 'one united act of national reassessment, and one corporate reaffirmation of faith in the nation's future'.  As part of this, Bournemouth held a 'Bournemouth and Wessex Festival', officially running between 13th and 17th June.  The exhibition held at, but not organised by, the Russell-Cotes Art Gallery, ran from 4th June until 7th August, and was curated by the improbably names Carlos Peacock.  The marvellous Mr Peacock was an art historian and author of a number of books, and he wrote the forward and text for the exhibition catalogue.   He was assisted in this by Kerrison Preston, a Bournemouth solicitor who managed to amass an enormous collection of important Victorian artworks, including Choosing by G F Watts.  Incidentally, his daughter Jean Preston was in the news a couple of years ago after the Ashmolean acquired items from her collection after her death (read about it here).  Carlos Peacock also had assistance from Mrs Michael Joseph, who will be familiar to Pre-Raphaelite lovers everywhere...

Gladys Holman Hunt (or Mrs Michael Joseph, as she became) by her Dad

Gladys Holman Hunt married Henry Michael Joseph, an opthalmic doctor, in 1918, and lived in London but Peacock sought her out for the wealth of information she could provide.  Together with her daughter Elizabeth, they allowed family pictures to be displayed, and information about not only Holman Hunt, but also the founder members of the Brotherhood to be shared.  Gladys died in 1952, so it is a bittersweet thought that her knowledge was called upon just in time.


Peacock prefaced the catalogue with an interesting Note.  He states that there were two main difficulties in producing the exhibition and its catalogue.  Firstly, many museums had been unwilling to share their works, depleting their walls during Festival year.  This tell us that although the works were not considered fashionable at this time, they were valued.  If I was feeling facetious, I might suggest that some of them are so big, they cover up a nice amount of space, but I'm sure certain images remained popular, even though the accepted history would tell us that they weren't.  So what is missing?  Well, this is conspicuous by its absence...

Oh come on, I'm not telling you what it is, you all know...

Of the 106 items shown, 18 of them came from the Tate, but Ophelia, possibly the best know, arguably the greatest, Pre-Raphaelite picture, was not one of them. In lieu of it came the almost-as-famous sketch, which is beautiful and almost photographic, but not the same. Looking through the entries in the catalogue I can't see any other notable omissions, but as I intend to go through them with you over the next three days, you can shout when you see something missing.  Today we will start with the actual Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood and their part in the 1951 construct of Pre-Raphaelite art.


Good old Carlos provided a very useful little potted history of all things Pre-Raphaelite in his Introduction.  He acknowledged that although the Victorians seemed remote from the 'modern' age, 'it was in fact the beginning of our era'.  He wrote that as the Industrialism altered the traditional pattern of life, the Pre-Raphaelites found an attraction in fleeing to a perceived 'old order', a rediscovery of the romance of history and the medieval period in particular.  This coupled with a discontent at the 'heartless' state of painting drove our young revolutionaries to take up their paintbrushes and revolt.  Especially Rossetti, he was really revolting...


Interestingly, Peacock emphasised the contribution of the other brothers, William Michael Rossetti, Thomas Woolner, F G Stephens and Charles Collinson, in the introduction and some of their work is featured in the exhibition, as you would expect (except William Michael Rossetti, who was more Treasurer/Secretary/The One With A Proper Job), but Woolner is omitted, but then the works included are only two dimensional.


I was delighted to see this by Fred Stephens...

The Proposal F G Stephens

It's not his best known work, but at least he's there.  I will be wearing my 'Hot Fred Stephens!' t-shirt when visiting the Tate, I promise.  Personal crusade aside, it was interesting to see the work of Collinson in evidence...

For Sale (1857) James Collinson

To Let (1851) James Collinson

Collinson is definitely ignored in the grand scheme of things, he didn't even get mashed into a fictional character in Desperate Romantics.  These are both fairly well known Victorian images, both hinting at the negotiable nature of women's virtue (how rude), but being somewhat lighter in tone than, for example, Thoughts of the Past by Spencer Stanhope.  It's also a good lesson that being a Pre-Raphaelite didn't always involve Medievalism or death.  Or Medievalism and death.  Collinson's modern girls are a good link to one of the most important works  in the show...

The Awakened/Awakening Conscience (1853) William Holman Hunt

At the time this was still owned by Sir Colin Anderson (who presented it to the Tate in 1976) and the title in 1951 was The Awakened Conscience and the catalogue mentions that the face was repainted from the original unnamed model, although it is not hung together with The Light of the World as originally intended.  The Tate website suggests that reporters ignored the spiritual message of the picture (especially when put in conjunction with The Light of the World) and just concentrated on the sensational aspects of the drama, and the 1951 catalogue is no exception.


Hunt is very well represented, 24 of the works are from him and a great many are from his daughter's collection.  This is double the amount of Millais (12) and more than Rossetti (19), and certainly gives weight to his role in the history of Pre-Raphaelitism.  Coupled with the fact that a lot of the catalogue entries are to do with him (due to his daughter's input), you would be forgiven in thinking that Hunt was the leading PRB, which is not at all the impression we have today.  Currently it is a bit of a toss up between Millais, who has the early talent (Exhibit A: Ophelia) and Rossetti, who had the personal charisma and stuff (Exhibit B: the hot bloke from Being Human).  Carlos Peacock reasoned that Hunt had a perfectly legitimate claim to King Pre-Raphaelite, as he never wavered from the path of PRB painting, and the exhibition shows his consistent (if a little deranged) output...

The Eve of St Agnes (1848)

The King of Hearts (1862)

London Bridge at Night (1863-4)

The Eve of St Agnes is cited as a pivotal picture for the history of the PRB as it allegedly brought Rossetti to Hunt, and therefore to Millais, starting the whole shebang up.  London Bridge is evidence of Hunt's skill at the minute rendering of detail.  The scene is of London Bridge after the wedding of the Prince of Wales to Princess Alexandra.  When the Prince viewed the painting, he correctly identified one of the tiny figures who had posed with his back to the artist.  Mind you, as the catalogue points out, Hunt's eyesight was so good that he could see the moons around Jupiter without a telescope.  Now that's just showing off.


Millais is given slightly shorter shrift.  Anyone who had the pleasure of seeing the Tate's exhibition a few years back was left in no doubt that although his subject matter changed, his ability to render even the most revoltingly cute child into art was astounding.  Nowadays, it seems that we judge Millais as being the talent of the operation, the child prodigy who gave Pre-Raphaelitism the legitimacy and edge that keeps us talking today.  Without the punch of Ophelia, what's left?

The Bridesmaid (1851) 

The Order of Release (1853)

The Woodman's Daughter (1851)

My love of The Bridesmaid is well known (although I didn't realise it was known as All Hallow's Eve for ages), and The Woodman's Daughter is pretty special, but the inclusion of The Order of Release enabled the catalogue to speak of Mrs Ruskin without having to mention the whole messy marriage business.  Consider how utterly obsessed we are by it now, with two films in the pipeline and Desperate Romantics lingering on the subject.  Maybe Millais suffers from a suspicion that his career had a highpoint with Ophelia then he deflowered Mrs Ruskin and it all went down hill.  Poor Effie, she is the Yoko of the PRB.


As for Rossetti, he is a curious fish and no mistake.  In 1951 his fiery Latin temperament seems to have helped and hindered in equal measure, and there is a suspicion that he was all talk and no action, telling people about the PRB (we all know that the first rule of PRB is you don't talk about PRB) and generally being a bit of a womaniser.  Mind you, the pictures selected show he could rival the best in terms of wow-factor...

Fazio's Mistress (1863-73)

Monna Pomona 

Venus Verticordia (1864)

 I already know that Venus is not appearing in the Tate show, and I've come to terms with my grief, however I'll be astonished if Fazio's Mistress isn't there, and I expect them to mention Fanny without using the words 'spitting nuts'.  If 1950s Bournemouth can manage it, the Tate can.  Fanny is actually mentioned, without any explanation of who she was.  All it says is  'The model is said to have been Fanny Cornforth' which makes me wonder if people knew who Fanny was back then.  Rossetti's watercolours are also in evidence, together with his pen and ink and chalk work, including...

The Artist's Wife, Mrs Dante Rossetti 

The Artist's Wife, Mrs Dante Rossetti 

Now, before you think that the only way Lizzie will appear is as Rossetti's wife, fear not, she'll be here again tomorrow, but as the model to all three of the Brothers, she gets featured quite heavily.  In that amazing pencil sketch of her 'Ophelia' face, and as the original Sylvia in Hunt's Two Gentleman of Verona (the sketch is featured, however I couldn't find an image of it), Elizabeth Siddal (spelt 'Siddall' in 1951) is present everywhere.  I was pleased that there is no lingering on her death, unlike today's rendering of the poor woman.  Really, do we just condense them down to death and virginity?  How depressing.


Before I leave you for today, The 1950s insist I include Ford Madox Brown in this discussion of the first generation of Pre-Raphaelites.  Brown is a difficult figure to fit into the narrative (yes Desperate Romantics, I'm looking at you again) but Carlos Peacock cites him as the original Pre-Raphaelite, taking inspiration from the Nazarene school of art (who he claimed were pre-Raphaelite in style and aim).

An English Autumn Afternoon 

Take Your Son, Sir (1851-57)

Tell's Son (1877)

I purposefully left the exclamation mark off of Take Your Son, Sir! as that is how it is in the catalogue, and the accompanying text doesn't say anything about illegitimate children.  I need to research further, obviously, but do we know for definite that Brown intended it to be about a woman accusing her seducer, or could it just be a woman presenting a man with his son?  Tell's Son is the author Ford Madox Ford, who was Brown's grandson.  Ford Madox Ford is not so well known these days, but I suspect that might change after  the BBC show an adaptation of his novel series Parade's End staring Benedict Cumberbatch in September.  I look forward to seeing how the Tate handle Ford, because I know they have borrowed Work from Manchester.  Ah, there you go, Work  is missing from 1951's exhibition, again I would argue, like Millais, it seems a pity to miss out what could be the artist's key work, but you can only borrow what you can borrow.


Right, I'm off for today, but I shall return on the morrow with the 'second eleven' Pre-Raphaelite artists, those who were not in the original Brotherhood, but without whom it would be impossible to imagine Pre-Raphaelite art as a whole. I wonder who is missing...

Fifty Shades of Rossetti

I've been thoroughly delighted by a new book this week - no, not Fifty Shades of Grey (although I have read that, Heavens to Betsy!) but a rather lovely little book called The Charm of Rossetti.

Now, no reflection on the gentleman himself, I'm sure, but it is a very short book, but truly charming and gave me much to think about.  I especially liked the mention of Rossetti's hierarchy of colour.  This fascinating concept follows the notion that Rossetti found certain colours preferable to others and consciously used them in certain ways.  Armed with this idea, I have spent the week seeing if I can read his thoughts in his art and if there is anything he missed about his own artistic choices....

Rossetti ran his colours as follows: (1) Pure, light, warm green, (2) Deep gold, (3) Certain tints of grey, (4) Shadowy or steel blue, (5) Brown with a crimson tinge, and (6) Scarlet.  Simple enough but just start trying to imaging the first colour and you will run into difficulties, let alone 'certain tints of grey' (which we all now know comes in at least 50 shades).  Maybe some hint can be found in his paintings....

(1) Pure, light, warm green
So we're looking for a green that is pure, light and warm then.  Not asking for much.  He did love green, and the later you get, more there is.  You could argue that an awful lot of his early work shows women in blue, signifying the Virgin Mary, holiness, purity, but then he moves the shade to green, a sea-green filled with light and depth as the folds envelop the figures.  For Rossetti, green represented 'hope', which I think is both telling and sad, as that was obviously what he clothed his women in.

Starting early on, the shade of green tended to be quite vibrant, like in the early Dante's Dream...

Dante's Dream at the Time of the Death of Beatrice (1856)

His green at this time is pure, forest-y and deep, but I suspect when talking about his favourite colours, he might have meant the green he moved to in later life, as seen in The Daydream and Astarte Syriaca.

Daydream green

Giant green goddess

Especially with Astarte Syriaca, the move to a water-green is linked to Jane.  Maybe this green was toned to compliment his vision of Jane, to highlight the pale marble of her skin, the chestnut hair, the grey of her eyes.  Obviously his other model of that time, Alexa, looked good in green, being a redhead, which echoed his original use of it with Lizzie (as seen in Beata Beatrix).  The interplay of red and green is key to Rossetti existing where it shouldn't, quietly whispering in the background when it wasn't shouting in the foreground.  His love of green, for me, is a natural by-product of his love of red hair.  Maybe the love of red hair came from his love of green?

(2) Deep Gold
Trickier, although it depends what you think deep gold means.  For example, the instrument in The Blue Bower is a rich golden hue...

Lizzie's hair is often a golden colour, and Jane presents a burnished figure in this chalk of Pandora from 1878...

Mind you, the gold in this picture is more pale than deep.  Rossetti had a tendency to give gold a rosy tone, so maybe he meant 'warm' when he said 'deep'?  Although Monna Vanna is pretty golden, I think nothing beats Helen of Troy if you're after a golden girl...

This is the purest expression of gold I can imagine in Rossetti and possibly explains why he didn't use it so unreservedly on a regular basis.  If you take the standpoint that he felt colour had meaning, then it's easy to imagine that gold for him meant 'dangerous beauty' or 'irresistible destruction'.  When he spoke of his love of gold early in his career, Rossetti allied it to holiness and beneficence.   Halos were gold, the Holy Virgin had highlights of gold about her.  Then came Pandora's box and Helen of Troy and the colour changed in meaning.  It's not 'the bad colour' (to quote The Village) because Rossetti is not a blaming type of man, but it does act as a warning that you are messing with forces that will consume you.

(3) Certain Tints of Grey
My favourite of his categories has to be 'certain tints of grey'.  Well, thanks a lot, nothing vague there then.  First thing that comes to mind has to be the charcoal greys of his chalk drawings, the smoky beauty of his pictures like La Donna della Finestra from 1870.

The eyes of so many of his models were grey-blue, as were his own, and maybe this is why he loved the shades of grey so much.

Bower Meadow (1872)

I do struggle with finding grey as a dominant presence in his work outside chalk, but it is there, in Jane's eyes and back lighting the green drapery.  The strength of his pencil work shows the shades of grey to their maximum power and I found it a revelation that possibly Rossetti valued his preparatory sketches as much as I do, that he realised just how amazing his line drawings were, sometimes much better than the finished painting.  For me, the pinnacle of his 'grey work' was possibly the delicate drawing for Washing Hands.

(4) Shadowy or Steel Blue
Steel blue is awfully close to grey, Rossetti, thanks for that.  The above sketch for Bower Meadow could equally be steel blue rather than grey.  Possibly the blue of Jane's dress in her portrait and Mariana is 'shadowy'..?

Also present in Bruna Brunelleschi (1878) and in the robes of Dante in the 1871 version of Dante's Dream shades of deep blue occur less regularly that green or red.  There is something that draws you into that deep blue silk, something you can lose yourself in, it's magical, only serving to highlight the hard pale pink of Jane's skin.  She's a goddess in a dress as deep as eternity.  No wonder he worshipped her.

(5) Brown with a Crimson Tinge
We're on simpler ground with the browns of Rossetti's work.  For starters, Jane's hair has glimmers of fire shot through it, and the wood that furnishes his luxurious interiors has a mahogany glint in the candle light.  It could be that Rossetti was referencing Titian, and his method of painting over a red (rather than the PRB white) base in his back-lit browns.

Look at her hair, then the echo in the wood in front of her, it's as if he can't give a straight brown without the warmth behind it.  Possibly it's a subconscious thing, a feeling of safety and pleasure relating to the colour, and unlike gold, there is something solid and dependable about brown in his pictures.  You can rely on brown.  My goodness, that sounds less sexy than you'd think when you say it out loud. Moving on...

(6) Scarlet
Red, red, red.  His name references it and his women were so often crowned with a mane of it.  Rossetti and red go together so naturally that his love of green probably stems from it.  Or was it the other way round?  Anyhow, his red pictures are possibly his most astonishing and explosive.  Take for example La Bella Mano (1875)...

The swathe of cloth is picked up again in the beautiful folded wings of the right-hand angel, and the green of the lemon tree in the foreground is almost entirely drowned out.  Even when it isn't the leading colour, red still pops from his canvases, seizing your attention.  His red birds are exciting and threatening with their immediacy as they swoop in Beata Beatrix or hover in A Vision of Fiammetta.  Red lips, red hair, like burning hearts, declaring Rossetti's passion for his subjects.  In his flaming touch we see Rossetti's heart and it is scarlet...

Regina Cordium (1860)

I was surprised to find missing from the list 'pink', but possibly that's far too girly to say to your painting mates.  In his treatment of flesh and the blush of petals, Rossetti excels, giving us the innermost heat of Fair Rosamund's cheek, the apple blossom of The Vision of Fiammetta and the riot of roses behind Venus Verticordia.  Similarly, the gentle creams of skin, silk and linen lends peace to otherwise fevered passions, contrasting the reds and greens, breaking the intensity to lend balance.

As a colourist, Rossetti excels, but his ability to see emotion, sound, and feeling in different colours lends a depth to his work that could be easily overlooked.  Although his images of beautiful women seem to lack narrative, their aesthetic souls without subject, woven into their being is all that Rossetti felt, that he heard in the rustle of their gowns, the brush of their long hair, and all of this is lovingly recorded in a picture-poem to the women that he loved.

Stunning Competition: The Results!

Thank you to everyone who entered the competition to win a signed copy of Stunner.  Before I announce the winner, I'll give you the answers....

1. The Bridesmaid J E Millais

Lily looking cheeky

The real Bridesmaid

2. Beata Beatrix D G Rossetti

Me and Cagney (who is a ginger hen)

Yes, the red dove is somewhat classier...

3. Ophelia J E Millais

So. Very. Cold....

Right there with you, Lizzie...

Well done to everyone who got it right, and thanks again for everyone who took part and sent in emails.  Yes, I promise, next time there will be some Holman Hunt.

The lucky winner of a signed copy of Stunner, as randomly drawn by Mr Walker, is Scott Thomas Buckle, and the book will be wending its way to you this week.

Thanks to everyone who has bought the new edition and special thanks to those who have taken the time to post reviews, I really, really appreciate it.  If you want to come and give me some abuse in person, I will be giving a talk on Fanny Cornforth's journey from country girl to Stunner at the Russell-Cotes Art Gallery and Museum in Bournemouth in October, more details to follow, and I hope to meet some of you then.

Tate Expectations

As you all can imagine I am over excited about the upcoming Pre-Raphaelite exhibition at the Tate this autumn.  Pre-Raphaelites: Victorian Avant-Garde looks like it's going to be an orgy of gorgeousness, promising 150 works including paintings, sculptures, drawings and so on.  Be still my over-zealously beating heart.  I have not seen anything like this exhibition has the potential to be, the chance to see an overview of the Pre-Raphaelite movement at arguably the home of Pre-Raphaelite art (in London at least).  I saw the Millais exhibition there a few years back, I saw the Rossetti up in Liverpool and the Madox Brown in Manchester, but just imagine, the whole movement…. in a 150 works…

Now, I am in no way a pessimist, but in the last week I have been giving serious thought to how it would be possible to cover the movement, the most beloved movement, in 150 objects.  My God, can you imagine?  I can cover 150 using Rossetti alone, and probably Millais and Holman Hunt likewise.  Mind you, being a practical type of lass I had a long think about things and have come up with a list of things I really want to see.  Not that I’m demanding or anything.

It’s obvious that the Tate are smart enough to know that something along the lines of the seminal 1984 exhibition is not relevant today, we all know too much and there are new stories to be told.  This is why in recent years we have been graced with Pre-Raphaelite Landscape and Pre-Raphaelite Women Artists as exhibitions, not to mention exhibitions on people like John Brett and Eleanor Fortescue Brickdale, who would not have been given house-room in previous Pre-Raphaelite stories.  What I am expecting from the Tate (no pressure) is for them to utilise their insanely good collection and I suspect they will, given these austere times, and loans from other museums can be horribly expensive.  It’s not like you can pop over to Birmingham and shove a load up your jumper while no-one is looking.  Not that I’ve tried that.

The ‘story’ the Tate are telling with the new exhibition is of the new, the avant-garde.  It is their claim that the Pre-Raphaelites were the first modern art movement.  If you wanted to explore their modern-ness, their modernicity (totally made up word, but I like it), what would you show?  More to the point, what do I want to see that the Tate have in their store?  Let the post proper commence!

Turner’s Death Mask (1851) Thomas Woolner

When I think about modern art, I always think of Turner.  It is undeniable that Ruskin was greatly influenced by Turner, even though it is challenging to see the impressionist style of Turner’s work gelling with the exacting nature of Ruskin’s theory.  Woolner’s death mask is a marriage of Turner and Pre-Raphaelite, not only in subject, but in the embrace of death, the unafraid capturing of the subject in passing that came to haunt so much of the output of the movement. This leads me to the next pair…

Chatterton (1856) Henry Wallis

Ophelia (1851-2) J E Millais

Possibly, these two paintings were what got me into Pre-Raphaelite art in the first place.  I vaguely remember being a teenager and going to the Tate.  In the Pre-Raphaelite art room I stood in front of these two and fell in love.  It is impossible to appreciate how exact the face of Elizabeth Siddal is rendered in Ophelia, no book illustration has ever done it justice.  It is like seeing her, it’s uncanny.  Likewise, the red of Chatterton’s hair, the white of his skin, together they are just perfect and he makes a beautiful counterpoint, the male Ophelia, fragile and glorious, giving the message that it was secretly desirable to live fast and leave a beautiful young corpse, which is so very twentieth century in feeling.  The glamour of self-destruction has its poster boy and girl in these two.

The Awakening Conscience (1853) William Holman Hunt

I’m only allowing myself to pick one from each artist, or I’ll be here all day!  My Hunt was a tricky one as my knowledge of Hunt is not as expansive as for others and I find it hard to see any great changes in his work over the time.  This is entirely my problem, not his, and on the whole I think his work started brilliant and continued in the same vein, whether or not I like the subject of his pictures.  There is something archetypally Pre-Raphaelite in the minutely observed environment of the kept woman of The Awakening Conscience.  Like Millais’ riverbank, where every flower is recognisable, every square inch of this den of sin is treated with the same attention.  The cat, the glove, the marvellous wood-grain of the piano, the mirror/window, all is powerful and disturbing.  I wish he hadn’t have repainted, or left some indication of what he had intended because the woman seems to rise with enlightenment due to the knock of Christ at her door, if you follow the intended hang of The Light of the World next to this picture.  How would you feel if her expression had been one of horror?  That hang would be far more disturbing, implying that Jesus doesn’t knock when you get all enlightened, Deary.  Jesus is outside right now and he’ll be knocking when you least expect it, so you better put on a skirt.

I will be delighted to see Arthur Hughes included in the exhibition as I like Arthur very much.  I want to preface his name with ‘That nice boy…’ because he seems to have been inoffensive and pleasant and didn’t steal anyone’s wife, or the suchlike.  If I had to choose one, it’s easy…

April Love (1855-6) Arthur Hughes

I love his purple, and look at that ivy! You almost miss that man in the background, kissing her hand, but you know all is not quite perfect by her expression.  He does a nice line in bittersweet, a suggestion that all is not good, but not all bad, that terrible line where you would be encouraged to look on the bright side, but possibly, secretly you’d be viewing the dark side from the corner of your eye.

Mother and Child (1854) F G Stephens

I will campaign forever to get Fred Stephens recognised for his contribution to what we now understand and know of Pre-Raphaelite art.  The man is a PRB hero and it would be a travesty and tragedy to leave him out of any account of the history of the Pre-Raphaelite art movement, and as modern public relations people go, Fred did a good job.  Well, most of the time.  As a painter, like Hunt, he used the symbolic, the modern, but couched it in terms of acutely observed pieces in the above tableau.  Against the medieval, the literary, this aspect of Pre-Raphaelitism tends to get overlooked (I blame Rossetti, because he was rubbish at it), but it provides a link to the work of artists at the fringe of the movement, who spoke more to the traditional and mainstream, for example Augustus Egg.

A Pet (1853) Walter Deverell

Likewise, poor Walter, so important in his discovery of Elizabeth Siddal, but so overlooked in all other ways.  He didn’t live long enough to provide a wide body of work to chose from, but this is so sweet and makes a nice change from dark maidens and overly tense situations.

Oh dear, I’ve come to Rossetti.  The Tate own some of my favourites, and I’m particularly taken with the study for the Head of Love (1870) from Dante’s Dream, not to mention the pencil sketch of Fanny, but I have to go with this one…

Fazio’s Mistress (1863-73) D G Rossetti

According to a couple of sources, not least the artist, this is the closest portrait of Fanny Cornforth, and is absolutely beautiful.  It is also an example of a picture altered by Rossetti, who was a right one for scraping back and repainting, but he promised her that he left the face alone because it was so like her.  It speaks to me of his love of his mistress, even during the 1870s when according to legend he had forgotten her in favour of Jane Morris.  This picture for me is the best of Rossetti, in many different ways.

Broken Vows (1856) Philip Calderon

Kit’s Writing Lesson (1852) Robert Braithwaite Martineau

There are a couple of interesting lesser known characters I’d like to see, including Robert Braithwaite Martineau and Philip Calderon, especially for his brilliant Broken Vows.  I love Broken Vows, it’s so stupidly melodramatic and I long to slump against an ivy strewn wall, clutching my side.  I suppose because of tight corseting, that is probably where her heart currently resides.  Martineau is another artist who died too young, but he does amazingly romantic pictures and I’d love to see his work given the exposure it deserves.

Lady Affixing Pennant to a Knight’s Spear (1856) Elizabeth Siddal

It is inevitable that there will be comment over the presence or otherwise of works by female artists.  I find myself in a contradictory position of feeling that there should be female artists represented, obviously, but I’m glad I don’t have to be the person who makes the decision.  Looking at the story of Pre-Raphaelite art dispassionately, how great a part was played by female artists, how much did they influence or progress the movement in comparison to their male counterparts?  The case of Elizabeth Siddal is straightforward; she was there at the beginning, her work was exhibited alongside theirs, her pictures were bought by a patron not known for his pro-feminist views.  Elizabeth Siddal is undeniably a Pre-Raphaelite Avant-Garde artist, but what of Evelyn de Morgan, Eleanor Fortescue Brickdale, Joanne Boyce, Rosa Brett and the countless other women who worked in a Pre-Raphaelite style, under the influence of Pre-Raphaelite artists?  I am glad I am not the curator as you have to balance their lack of influence (for the most part) with the contemporary cultural imperative to deny them influence.  Would you pick a Burne-Jones over a de Morgan, for example? Or a Waterhouse over a Brickdale?  How can you tell the Pre-Raphaelite story without a thread of how models were also artists in their own right, for example Marie Spatalli Stillman and Maria Zambaco?

You see, it all starts out as jolly fun, but once you start thinking about it, it becomes so very complicated.  None the less, come 12^th September, the Tate will no doubt open its doors on an exhibition that will cause me to fall in a swoony heap, fanning myself with a gallery guide.  I’ve only thought about the inclusion of the Tate’s own work, and I’m already dizzy.  If they borrow La Belle Dame Sans Merci by Frank Dicksee or The Wounded Cavalier by William Shakespeare Burton I shall be quite undone as I am powerless to their utter beauty.  The Tate should invest in a number of gentlemen to catch me and apply smelling salts as I faint. 

Or floor pillows.

The Rain It Raineth…

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 Campbell Taylor

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...

Stunning Competition!

Well, my dears, here is your chance to win a signed copy of Stunner 2.0!  Yes, I know, that is far more excitement than is decent for a Sunday (or whatever day you are reading this), but hold on tight, because it's competition time!

Now, this wouldn't be a Kissed Mouth competition without an aspect of strangeness and public exhibitionism, so I have three photographs for you, shown below.  All are posed in the manner of very famous Pre-Raphaelite pictures and all you need to do is send me the titles of all three.  All correct entries will be popped in the hat and a winner will be pulled at the close of Friday 13th July (that day has to be lucky for someone).

Yes, I know, the pictures are fairly obvious, but it's a tad more silly fun than just getting you to email your names to me.  Well, I had fun at any rate....

All entries and associated suggestions for therapy are to be sent to : stonellwalker@googlemail.com

Here we go....

Picture One:

The original has a far less cheeky expression on her face and we don't own a sugar shaker, so it's a box of Silver Spoon, but otherwise you get the idea... Thanks to Carnation-Lily-Lily-Rose for her vague levels of patience.

Picture Two:

Well, we don't have a sundial at Walker Heights, and a chicken is as near as we get to a dove, otherwise you get the idea.  Thanks to Cagney the Chicken for her cooperation.

Picture Three:

Yes, it's a Municipal Paddling Lake.  Yes, it was very, very cold.  So very cold.  But you get the idea. My thanks to Miss Holman, my partner in crime, as always.

So, Virtual Chums, send me your answers by Friday 13th July (all answers in by 23.59pm GMT) and I shall send the lucky winner a lovely signed copy of Stunner 2.0.

If you are not lucky enough to win, copies can be bought from Amazon.

Good luck, and I'm off to get warm....