A Brief Pre-Raphaelite

 As you will know by now, I love artists who illustrate in a Pre-Raphaelite style, as an awful lot of them tend to be women, but also you get a snapshot of artists who need to work and get paid so that opens up the field. Another of my passions is how everyone is connected and how looking at an artists can lead you to other well-known Victorians. Before I ramble on too much, let me introduce you to the wonderful art of Miss May Sandheim...

I met May through this extremely tatty copy of Christina Rossetti poems (and yes, I did see that the introduction was by Alexander Smellie, I was just being grown-up about it. Tee hee).  I have a weakness for Goblin Market and own lots of different copies with lots of different illustrations, but always have room for more.  This didn't cost me very much (obviously) and I wanted to know more about May Sandheim, who I admit I knew nothing about.  I ended up in a very wet, cold graveyard. Let's start at the beginning.

from The Nursery Song Book (1908)

Isaac Sandheim (1846-1928) came from Dublin, where he was a dentist.  His father Julius, a Rabbi, had come over from Prussia in 1838 and settled in Ireland.  He married Miriam, who came from Sunderland, in 1843 and had seven children, of whom Isaac was the second eldest. Julius was the First Reader and Secretary of the Dublin Synagogue and may have also worked as a dentist which might therefore have been a family business. Isaac went on to marry Ann Woodburn in 1876 and their first daughter May Catherine was born in Dublin in 1877, on 3rd May, which I'm guessing accounts for her name.  She was followed by Herbert Julius (1882-1926), Lionel Woodburn (1884-1934) and finally Violet Marian (1893-1968).  Although May was born in Dublin, the births of her siblings tell an interesting story - Herbert was born in Glasgow, Lionel was born back in Dublin and finally Violet was born in London, where the family settled at 26-30 King Street in Hammersmith (now a listed building). By 1901, they had moved to 14 Phillimore Gardens in Kensington - to my mind, I was more impressed with King Street as that was a whacking great big house, but the Kensington address is gold-plated and beautiful, so I can see why the Sandheims lived there. 

Until 1889, May was taught at home, but then she was enrolled in the Oxford Gardens School in Kensington.  After that, May attended the Hammersmith School of Art and in 1895 was mentioned in the newspapers for her work in light and shade. A year later she was mentioned again, this time for 'an address for political services rendered' which was presented to the Assistant Secretary of the local Unionist party. Her piece was in black and white between two columns with cherubs carrying a wreath of primroses. At the end of the newspaper piece, it mentioned that May was the daughter of Isaac, one of the local representatives to the Council of the United Synagogue, and a prominent worker for the local Conservative party. Given that the primroses probably referred to the Primrose League who were against Home Rule, I think we can see where the Sandheim family stood on that issue, possibly why they chose to leave Dublin for London.

The Pied Piper (1906)

In 1897, May's portrait of Queen Victoria was on show to a large audience at her studio in Dunsany Road, according to the newspapers. The Brook Green Studios at Dunsany Road were a hub for artists in the 1890s including Edward Fellowes Prynne who would have been one of May's neighbours. The large oil painting of the Queen was on display in 1898 as well, together with her other work at the Hammersmith Industrial Exhibition.  She also won a prize for a drawing of a girl's head at the same exhibition (reported in the Jewish Chronicle which also mentioned her father). Her bookplates appeared in the 1899 exhibition for the Ex Libris Society, showing two plates in black and white, one for herself 'May Kathleen Sandheim' - that brings me to a slight problem May suffers from.  She is recorded as Mary Kathleen, May Kathleen, Mary Catherine etc etc. While all the official records I can find have her as May Catherine, the variations don't help when I am trying to find her. Thank goodness she has an unusual last name because if she was a 'Smith' that would be harder to know if it was her or not.

In the 1901 exhibition of Hammersmith student's work, May was again praised, this time for the character in her work, but she was about to publish the work that would define her. In 1902, a series of 'dainty booklets' entitled Poets of the Renaissance by Sydney Dark and Harry Roberts were published with decorative borders and tailpieces by May. 1903 saw May's profile raise considerably as her work was praised at the Ex Libris Society exhibition, the poetry booklets continued their run and her work appeared in the London Stage Annual at Christmas. 

May's work in bookplates and decorative borders means that her work can crop up anywhere, such as this picture mount for a card of Ellen Terry. Her black and white line images are powerful and she is obviously a skilled illustrator which makes her permanent move to books inevitable and welcome.

1904 saw The Golden Heart and Other Fairy Tales by Violet Jacobs, together with a reprint of Charles Kingsley's The Water Babies with eight new illustrations.  Intriguingly, she illustrated the cookbook The Cult of the Chafing Dish by Frank Schloesser, which luckily we can read here.

In 1907 May teamed up with Frances Brundage for a pair of books Our Wedding and The New Baby (also known as Our Baby in some editions, such as the one for sale here). This was praised in the newspapers as a perfect wedding or new baby present, which is very clever marketing. The year also saw the publication of Selected Poems of Christina Rossetti, published by Andrew Melrose with an introduction by Alexander Smellie (again, great name). The reviews were positive calling May's illustrations 'graceful,' 'beautiful' and 'dainty.' The strong Pre-Raphaelite leaning of the illustrations reminds me of Percy Bulcock from around the same time.

I mean, come on...

The Day Dream (1880) Dante Gabriel Rossetti

How about this one...?

All of that. Her figures look remarkably Jane Morris-esque and remind me of Rossetti's works during the 1860s and 70s. There is something about the swirling heads around her in A Cup for Memory above that oddly reminds me of both the train of spirits in Ferdinand Lured By Ariel by Millias and the gathered queens in this Rossetti illustration...

Either way, the book is filled with extremely Rossettian maidens, mainly sighing.  Okay, one more...

Beautiful.  The Bookseller said that May's illustrations possessed 'a charm and an individuality of their own' while other publications again called her work 'beautiful' and 'graceful'.

Possibly not quite as graceful is The Nursery Song Book from the same year, this time with extremely colourful illustrations.  I much prefer the black and white, although to be honest, all of them are slightly demented. I'm a particular fan of Curly Locks, which is unaccountably sinister...

Also, it looks like the children on the front cover are screaming and trying to surrender...

I mean, what is going on there? I'm guessing she is meant to be singing, but they look like they are desperately trying to stop the sun from rising.  That is a very large sun.  Okay, one more that is slightly less disturbing...

That's better. By 1908, May's reputation for graceful illustration was growing and the edition of Christina Rossetti's poems continued to be a hit, with seemingly new audiences finding it throughout the year and the publisher continuing to promote it. Then suddenly, at the age of only 32, May died in Bournemouth.

I was confused as May lived in Kensington, but putting together her young age and the seaside location, I thought that maybe she had gone to the seaside to improve her health and sadly it had not worked.  Then I saw a brief mention of her place of death - Alderney Manor.

Whilst I was a bit confused by the fact that Augustus John lived there for a while, from around 1901 to 1911 it was a sanatorium specialising in consumption. I think it is entirely likely that May had TB (like that other fabulous line illustrator Aubrey Beardsley) which ultimately killed her. She is buried in the Bournemouth East graveyard. I went and found her on a particularly chilly afternoon...

I find an awful lot of extremely talented artists ended up in book illustration, often at the expense of their 'fine' art and are therefore ignored by the official History of Art (TM).  There are some, such as Eleanor Fortescue Brickdale who managed to combine the two, getting paid twice on her illustrations as she made them into full size paintings. Mostly they fall into May's category, producing the most beautiful works of art held between two covers. I wonder if it was her preference, as I sometimes guess that artists move to illustration in order to get paid on a regular basis but money was not a problem for May. It is definitely a skill as her work stands out among other more bland and generic illustration of this period, not just because it heavily leans into Pre-Raphaelitism but it makes Rossetti work in black and white (arguably better than Rossetti managed). It is definitely time for us to include the other mediums in our study of Pre-Raphaelitism and its legacy so that May Sandheim's work can be rediscovered.

Bye Bi-Centenary

 Do we celebrate 200th year anniversaries? Last year's Jane Austen 250 was a blast, so I turned an excited expectant face to my beloved Mr Walker and asked if there were any rumours of exhibition for the bicentenary of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood that will be occurring in 2027 (Holman Hunt), 2028 (Rossetti) and 2029 (Millais).  He gave me his long suffering look (which I am very familiar with) and said words to the effect of 'What do you think?' 

Before anyone points out the obvious, I am very well aware that time/money/resources/money/logistics/ money and money are the main problems here and even Mr Walker had to agree that if the government gave a lovely big sack of cash over to the museums of this land and said 'have at it,' getting a retrospective of Homan Hunt/Rossetti/Millais or anyone else would be possible.  A lot of work but possible. All this led me to wondering about 100 years ago and the sort of fuss that went on for the centenary of the PRBs...

Another thing that got me wondering was coming across this cartoon (by E H Shepherd of Winnie the Pooh fame) which was in the newspapers in response to the very popular William Morris centenary exhibition in 1934 at the V&A. Morris was still known and popular, with thousands of newspaper article about him which only increased in 1934 when everyone was talking about him.  There were special editions of book reviews about his literary output, plus new biographies about him.  The exhibition was opened by Stanley Baldwin (yes, I know, I will come to that in a moment), who was about to become Prime Minister again, so that got a lot of traction in the papers. Baldwin talked about how unique and amazing Morris was and he was declared a genius once more. Stanley Baldwin was, of course, the nephew of Morris's best mate, which doesn't hurt and draws on an essential point - Centenaries only work when people are around to remember you.

Let's start with Holman Hunt as the oldest of the main PRB trio, therefore his centenary appeared in 1927. I must admit I thought HH was going to be the one with the slimmest newspaper coverage, but I had not counted on the power of a widow.  Fanny Holman Hunt (sister of the first wife Edith - he married them alphabetically which is handy) had an open house and told stories of her husband to members of the Londoners' Circle who did some sort of Holman Hunt pilgrimage and she told a special story about this painting...

Christ and the Marys (1847-c.1900) William Holman Hunt

Hunt apparently hated his weird palm tree (he had never seen a palm tree at that point) so much he turned it to the wall and refused to look at it for decades until finally finishing it in old age. The papers also latched onto the craze for The Light of the World that had gripped the world when it went on tour to the Empire in 1905 to 1907, drawing massive crowds. This would have been within living memory for many of the readers, and of course Hunt died in 1910, so his centenary was less than 20 years later.  He would have been very much remembered.

Morning Music (1867) Dante Gabriel Rossetti

I put money on Rossetti being the one that drew the most newspaper coverage for his centenary in 1928. I was very much wrong. Firstly, I fully appreciated the people of Sheffield claiming Elizabeth Siddal as a 'Sheffield Girl' (Sheffield Daily Telegraph 16 & 24 May 1928) - how fitting that Rossetti's special year was made in part about how amazing Miss Siddal was. Hastings also had a celebration at St Clement's Church (where he married the Sid).  Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery had a 'small' centenary exhibition, drawn from their own collections with two exceptions - they borrowed Morning Music from Mrs J R Holliday (wife of James Richardson Holliday, although they apparently gave the work to Birmingham in 1927) and a chalk sketch of a figure from Dante's Dream which was borrowed from Misses Ethel and Helen Colman (of the mustard family) of Carrow Abbey.  The sisters also owned the finished oil (now in Dundee) which they would have lent as well but it was so huge no-one could work out how to move it safely.

Dante's Dream on the Day of the Death of Beatrice (1880) Dante Gabriel Rossetti

The Daily Express published a very interesting piece about the lack of 'Rossetti Girls' in society in 1928. Apparently, you could go to all manner of parties in Chelsea these days and never meet 'one tall woman with great weary eyes, the butterfly mouth and hollow cheeks which the Pre-Raphaelite idea demanded' - well, quite. Apparently, women are all unnatural energetic these days and refuse to be languid. I hope you are all ashamed of yourselves.

I think some of the confusion over the Rossetti centenary is that his poetry was not really fashionable and his painting was overshadowed by his love-life which was neither spicy enough for the tabloids or romantic enough for the academics to be of great interest. Also, people kept making it about other people - not only Elizabeth (well done Sheffield) but also Frederic Shields, Walter Deverell, not to mention bloody Hall Caine who popped back up like a cold sore, in case we forgot who loved Rossetti the most. So many of the little articles seem to begin 'the centenary of Rossetti's birth reminds me of this entirely other person.' Sorry Rossetti, you will have to wait until everyone thinks you are the most important one...

Just Wake or Waking (1865) John Everett Millais

Millais's hundredth birthday the year after obviously benefitted from the heightened awareness the previous two brought. He had already been mentioned multiple times in the retellings of the PRB origin stories. Millais, like Hunt, also benefitted from surviving children, with his daughter placing a red rose on his statue in Tate Britain's garden. Birmingham also held a centenary exhibition (well done Brum) throughout June.  Southampton claimed him as a son of a city (born round the corner from TK Maxx) and Christie's sold Just Awake (now known as Waking) complete with a rather high profile visit from Mary Millais (1860-1944), the model (aged 5). Despite the extra publicity and an expected price of two thousand guineas, it only made five hundred.

John Ruskin (1853-1854) John Everett Millais

Scotland claimed Millais, fighting off the claims of Southampton and Jersey and the Sphere had a double-page retrospective of his life, work and Presidency of the Royal Academy.  It had a picture of Holman Hunt and a picture of Ruskin, but no picture of Rossetti, which is telling. Very little of the press coverage was about his marriage and the surrounding scandal, with only the Sphere mentioning Ruskin at all. I wonder if that was because, like Hunt, the children and grandchildren were around to steer conversations? On that note, Esme Millais, granddaughter of the artist got engaged in the same year (excellent timing) and received far more publicity than it possibly warranted.

Going back to the cartoon, the amount of publicity around Morris's centenary in 1934 surprised me. May Morris was obviously still with us (as was Jenny) and he was declared 'the greatest of Victorians' in the Salisbury Times which is a bold assertion.  

Clerk Saunders (1861) Edward Burne-Jones

The one that shocked me most was Edward Burne-Jones. 1933 should have been his year, especially after the roll over of the PRB where he was sometimes mentioned but no. The Saturday Review started their piece on him with "Anything to do with Camelot makes me sick," quoting a young person in response to poor old Ned. Wales claimed Burne-Jones, with the Western Mail declaring he was the greatest of all Welsh artists which is a bold move for a chap from Birmingham. They also claimed King Arthur and Camelot was Welsh too, so there's that. Stanley Baldwin also opened a centenary exhibition at the Tate for his uncle, declaring that modern life could be so vulgar and ugly, we all need a bit of beauty. Gwen Reverat (Granddaughter of Charles Darwin) referred to the 'childishness of Burne-Jones ideal' in her review. Ouch.

Love and the Pilgrim (1896-7) Edward Burne-Jones

Possibly reflective of a general lack of interest, when Love and the Pilgrim sold in March of 1933, it only made £210, as opposed to almost £6k it had made in 1898. The Truth pondered what the problem was, as you got value for money in size (10 feet by 5) but concluded that slumps come to us all, and probably no-one would want to buy a Burne-Jones for many a year to come...

So, going by my very unscientific newspaper-extrapolation of information, I was surprised at the levels of interest and attitude on both ends of the scale.  I was aware that by the late 1920s, love for the Pre-Raphs was not going to be at a pinnacle, but I did not see the dislike for Burne-Jones on my bingo card.  The people giving the reviews were artists (because the Guardian's Jonathan Jones was yet to be born/fashioned in the darkened cave devoid of joy and whimsy) with both Gwen Reverat and Robert Anning Bell not exactly raving about Ned's angels and knights. Starting your review quoting someone who is nauseated by Burne-Jones is an exciting stance. I wasn't surprised by the low interest in Holman Hunt, although the coverage he got was positive. Millais' coverage was respectful and quite family orientated. Rossetti's was scatter-gun and about lots of other people.  Morris was triumphant. People's love for him, his genius, his contribution to the world, made the press coverage positive and weighty. Burne-Jones got less than 400 mentions in his year, Morris got almost 2.5K; the only other one near him was Millais with 1.6K, and that included his granddaughter's wedding announcement. Morris went last, but I don't think he benefitted from that because surely Burne-Jones would have had more too, but I wonder if Burne-Jones and Millais suffered at all from their bad auction results? Despite Millais otherwise positive year, there was a bit of niggling over the drop in auction result, despite the visit from the model.

Next year is Holman Hunt's bi-centenary and I am fairly certain no-one has a big retrospective planned (please correct me!) and in fact, of all the Pre-Raphaelite and adjacent artists who should have one, I don't think I've ever attended a purely HH show. Following on from that, I have heard rumours for Rossetti, but nothing for Millais.  Possibly Morris and Burne-Jones stand a better chance as there are public bodies who have sizeable collections of their works to form a basis for an exhibition. Herein is the problem - exhibitions are expensive (yes, Mr Walker, I am listening) and the sheer expense of loans and getting them to you is a problem. While I argue that such exhibitions would be popular, my sensible husband points out the logistical nightmare that has to be balanced, and that is nationally speaking.  When those works of art are now spread over the world, that is yet another layer. Which brings me to Jane Austen...

250th logo from the Austen Centre

Last year was Austen's 250th anniversary of her birth and didn't we all know about it? Ever the queen of transmedia, I saw ads for tea-towels, tea=cups, special editions of her novels, showings of the films, walking tours of Bath etc and numerous small exhibitions.  She managed full coverage which will no doubt continue as we have yet another Pride and Prejudice on Netflix and The Other Bennet Sister coming to the BBC this year. Maybe this is the model we need for our Pre-Raphs. There was no big exhibition (British Library had a small display) but she was omnipresent in an impressive way.  So how about some documentaries, showings of The Love School and Dante's Inferno? Small exhibitions all over the place together with tea-towels and t-shirts. Walking tours of graveyards and riverbanks. I'm up for it all. Jane Austen has shown us that maybe we don't need a blockbuster to make an impact. 

So, let's get planning.

An Artist of Great Promise and Ability

 Today's subject reminds me of a number of previous artists I have covered, and I think it repeats the problems of being an artist in a society that did not take you seriously. I will be speculating about whether it was the Great War that changed everything for these artists, or was it the change in society, but on the whole I think a big slice of it was because they were women. Please say hello to Geraldine Morris...

The fact that this young lady's photograph appeared in the newspapers should tell you that she was a hot property in September 1901. However, I'm getting ahead of myself, so let's go back to the beginning...

Geraldine was the daughter of the Reverend Ambrose Morris (1837-1908) and Ellen Julius (1849-1941).  Ambrose and Ellen married in 1873, and had ten children, seven of which made it to the 20th century. Geraldine was somewhere in the middle, born in the May of 1881 in Charlton in London.  Her older surviving siblings, Arthur and Ethel were born while the family was living in Guernsey, and the family does seem to have travelled around with Ambrose's different churches, although by the time that the family was established, they were settled in London. Looking at newspaper reports of Ambrose, he was very active in his work, and when he left a church, people were extremely sad to see him go and he received presentations and testimonies. Also, as a family, they were comparatively wealthy as I see by the 1891 census where they had a nursery governess, a housemaid and a cook all living at St Thomas' Rectory. Between the 1891 census and 1901 census, the family moved to Wythall, 7 miles south of Birmingham, and that's when the fun begins...

Illustration from Songs of Innocence 

I'm guessing that the family moved to Wythall by the time Geraldine was in her mid teens, as she started at the Birmingham Municipal School of Art in 1897 (grateful thanks to Sally Hoban for the dates) and stayed there until 1907, when she was 25.  During that time, she was remarkable.  Starting in 1900, the Lord Mayor of Birmingham chose Geraldine's design for his Christmas card for that year. The following year, she produced beautiful illustrations for the Flowers of Parnassus edition of William Blakes' Songs of Innocence (in the same series as Percy Bulcock's Tennyson).  The Saturday Review of Politics, Literature, Science and Art described it as 'prettily illustrated' although suffering in comparison with Blake's own genius.  Mind you, Geraldine was only 20, and I have to admit her illustrations remind me of Kate Bunce's illustration for Fairbrass (1895) with a bit of Burne-Jones/Rossetti lobbed in for good measure.

Kate Bunce's illustration for comparison. The horror.

What is for definite is that Geraldine is more Pre-Raphaelite-Adjacent in her illustration than Miss Bunce, who oddly seems to verge closer to stained glass design.  Part of me wonders if that was so readers could colour their own books in and make their own colour editions.  If you look at Percy Bulcock's Tennyson, his pictures are far darker, but even then someone had coloured in the edition I bought.  The same is true of Eleanor Fortescue Brickdale's editions of poems where they produced a black and white and colour edition (for different prices, obviously).  I would argue the black and white is far more aesthetically pleasing, but I would say that as I own it. 

Also in 1901, Geraldine won the gold medal at South Kensington for this stained glass window design...

Apologies for the reproduction quality throughout this piece but I had to rummage through all sorts on on-line scans to find Geraldine's work.  This was from an article in the Ladies Field from September 1901, which also contained the photograph at the top.  It reported that Geraldine also submitted four smaller panels that represented the winds which were subsequently purchased by the Government Board of Education for £7/7s. I see another student submitting noteworthy stained glass designs was May Cooksey. Geraldine also carried away the Princess of Wales Scholarship of £25 and was definitely the toast of the awards, also having also gained a bronze medal for another card design, described by Walter Crane as charming in concept and tastefully rendered.

Geraldine's work from 1902

In 1902, the student's work from the 1901 South Kensington competition went on display in a touring exhibition.  The Belfast Morning News exclaimed that Miss Morris showed 'traces of positive genius,' however comments on her silver medal-winning work from the 1902 competition was less pleasant. The Ladies Field, who had hailed her the year before, said this about her piece, 'Hereward the Wake' - 

'Miss Morris has evidently been influenced by the Burne-Jones tradition and her men are as effeminate as those of the modern follower of Botticelli. Her 'Hereward the Wake' who should be a model of masculine strength and vigour, is a gentle, harmless person of the type of Burne-Jones's "lady-like" St George. Nevertheless there are some good qualities in Miss Morris's work, and possibly greater strength and emancipation from the Burne-Jones influence will come with time.'

Rude. That all reminds me of how MP Willie Bridgeman claimed that Burne-Jones' Persius cycle made him gay, or something. I am all links today! So much of what I have written in the past is definitely coming back to haunt me today. The Magazine of Art  also had criticisms of her work, despite calling her book illustration (seen above) 'excellent' - 'the artist through relying too much on the same faculty of imagination, has miscalculated the proper relative sizes of the figures in the foreground, distance and middle distances.' Anyway, also in 1902, Geraldine and her maternal aunt Katie Julius set off for three months to visit art galleries and museums in Northern Italy, which was reported in Julius Jottings, a publication which seems to have been a round-robin mascarading as a journal, all about the achievements of the Julius family. How marvellously insufferable. 

In 1903, Geraldine took a silver medal at the competition for her designs for an overmantle and piano front, but there seem to be no details of the theme or whether they made any of the critics question their sexuality. 1904 saw yet another Christmas card designed by Geraldine used by the Mayor and Mayoress of Birmingham. She also won a bronze medal for stained glass design, but nothing much was said about her work and she just gets lost among all the names of the young lady artists.  I did see a note of interest in one newspaper about exactly how many of the medal winners were women, who were slowly becoming the majority.

From a series based on Mallory's Morte d'Arthur (1907)

We have to skip to 1907 for Geraldine's come back and another gold medal and scholarship for her last year at Birmingham Art School. Her gold medal was awarded for the complete series of illustrations based on Mallory's Morte d'Arthur (on a Pre-Raphaelite bingo card, that has to be one of the boxes). The East Anglian Daily Times praised her 'harmoniously blended colours' on the finished design on an enamelled panel. As I have found a number of her illustrations but none of the finished panel that apparently came from them, I'm not sure which one was the panel.  Maybe all of them?  That would be worth a gold medal, certainly. Here's some more...

...and a triple bill...

I can definitely see the Burne-Jones effect, maybe with a bit of Spencer Stanhope or Strudwick.

Around this time, Geraldine seems to have become part of the Arts and Crafts Exhibition Society (ACES) and started to exhibited  in their shows at the Grafton Gallery in Mayfair, London. I wonder if this was a move to leave her work as a 'student' behind and set up as a 'practitioner' in a separate sphere. She set up premises and a studio in Newhall Street in Birmingham (as listed in Kelly's Directory) and exhibited at ACES things as diverse as an enamelled alms box, necklaces and pendants and designs for stained glass, all of which were for sale. She was mentioned in foreign press - American Art News specifically praised her metal work in their review of the ACES 1910 exhibition.

In 1911 she exhibited at the London Salon of the Allied Artists Association Ltd show with a case of jewellery (in conjunction with Winifred Palmer), an enamel panel "Men, Angels, Devils" The Preaching of St Francis and an enamel portrait of Louis, son of Rev Joseph Hooper Maude.  I was very interested in the enamel portrait of Louis Maude who would have been around 18 or 19 at the time.  As fate would have it, Louis went off to France in 1914 with the King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry as a 2nd Lieutenant and died on the first day of the Battle of the Somme, 1st July 1916.

Also in 1911 Miss G Morris of 45 Newhall Street Birmingham had an enamel panel accepted for the Royal Academy, entitled Young Sir Tristram Besought His Father for the Life of His Cruel Stepmother. As this also seems to have been taken from Malory, I wonder if this was the panel she won the gold medal for in 1907. She was also teaching enamelling, metal-work and jewellery at the Art School in Leamington Spa, teaching little prize winners in other categories. That's when it all went wrong. Geraldine got married.

Now, I'm being unfair, but nothing seems to perversely sound the death knell to a woman's art career like a comfortable marriage. I think expectations changed, possibly even the priorities that the women themselves felt changed, and this is reflected in the language that surrounds such marriages.  In June 1912, 31 year old Geraldine married 57 year old Arthur Ernest Hopkins. Arthur was previously married to Elizabeth Ann Dalby in 1879 (two years before Geraldine was born, ouch) and the couple had two sons Arthur and Henry, who were around the same age as their new Step-Mum. Also, Elizabeth died in the June of 1911, so that was a busy 12 months...

From Songs of Innocence

Arthur was big in Chesterfield, if you excuse the expression, having been Registrar, High Bailiff and Mayor, not to mention any number of other very respectable posts, so the wedding was reported in detail in the local press. The Alcester Chronicle reported on her ivory satin dress, with a bodice of Japanese silk embroidery, her large hat with ostrich plumes and her veil of Limerick lace that had belonged to her mother. Her bridesmaids were dressed in white with rose-coloured scarves and, as her father had died in 1908, she was given away by her brother, Rev Arthur Julius Morris and her mother. Their reception was held at Abbey Hill Lodge, then the couple left in 'a motor' for their honeymoon in Derbyshire. My snarkiness over the speed and age gap aside, my problem with the wedding is actually the reporting, as the newspapers wrote: 'Before her marriage Miss Geraldine Morris was known as an artist of great promise and ability.' I might be reading too much into that but it sounds like 'that's nice, but she doesn't really have to do that any more because, lucky her, she's finally got married!' There is a great amount written in the same article about her work, seen in churches in Wythall, Weston-Super-Mare and all over the world including New Zealand and Australia, Norway and Germany.  It also mentions that the couple's home in Walton was kitted out with a studio, but I don't think it is much of a surprise that she never reached the heights of fame again. The 1921 census found the couple living at 104 Ashgate Road, Chesterfield with their servant, the glorously-named Elsie Pitchfork. Geraldine's occupation was recorded as 'home duties.'

From Songs of Innocence

The next time Geraldine seems to have figured in the news was the death of her husband in 1925. He had been ill for some years and was living at Smedley's Hydro at Matlock where he died of pneumonia. His obituary spoke of his charm, personality and intelligence and the great blow of the death of his first wife. Geraldine moved back to Leamington Spa and was living there at the time of the 1939 register, living as an invalid with her mother Ellen and sister Ethel.  She died in 1947 after 13 years of illness 'patiently borne', leaving over £10,000 and absolutely no artistic legacy. I was reminded of Meave Doggett (last link, I promise) who also gave it all up after the First World War to become a nurse and seemingly had no artistic output after (on the public stage at least). I think the fact that none of Geraldine's work seems to exist in public collections (again, at least as far as has been made digital) means that no-one is looking for her. Her work was in enamel and metal-work rather than painting, again knocking her down the ladder of artistic importance, yet for the first decade of the twentieth century Geraldine was an absolute superstar.  Her work must exist somewhere and so if you own any of her work, please send me images. You know I always call for a retrospective, but the young women of Art Schools and the Arts and Crafts movement are an untapped source, filled with optimism, Pre-Raphaelitism and all things beautiful. I think we could all do with a bit of that right now.

Exhibition Review: Beauty of the Earth

 As you will know, I don't like Twixtmas, or the bit between Christmas and New Year so I thought I'd jolly it up by visiting the exhibition currently at the Arc in Winchester, entitled Beauty of the Earth: The Art of May, Jane and William Morris...

Okay, here I would normally put an image of the poster, however, none of the ones I can find on line are very high resolution and so here is a link to the website.

Also normally I would put some images of the exhibition in my review and do a bit of faffing about on social media, but there was no photography allowed, which is an interesting move for things that are very much out of copyright.  I was also asked not to touch anything, which is probably a fair judgement of my character. I was then faced with these beautiful open scrolls of wallpaper on the wall rather than in frames, so I have no doubt that the room guides heard me exclaim 'Oh, come on!' and not for the only time in this exhibition. I'll come to that, but first the positives as they are plentiful.

Right, first things first, this is a beautiful exhibition. I was interested to see how, in a year of Morris-ness, there was anything new to say, but I never doubt Suzanne Fagence Cooper, and rightly so. The rooms at the Arc are not the largest of spaces, as I saw when I visited the Fred Appleyard exhibition there. The available hanging space is supplemented with freestanding walls and everything is covered in gorgeousness. You will see plenty you are familiar with but also plenty you aren't and for a small space, it is ambitious to coherently display the work of all the Morris family, especially when William (for obvious patriarchal reasons) can both dominate and exhaust by the sheer volume. I remember getting my very first exhibition-fatigue at the 1996 V&A William Morris exhibition which was endless. This is not only beautifully balanced but also ties the work of all Morrises together fairly. William isn't just a powerhouse, May isn't just an acolyte and Jane is more than a pretty face. They are so intertwined that it now feels a bit rude to take one from the context of the others. I also suspect William would have thoroughly approved of this approach as he doesn't strike me as the patriarchy (see below)...

Well said, comrade. 

Anyway, I was delighted to see all the wonderful textiles, possibly my favourite part of the exhibition, especially this one...

Daisy Wallhanging, worked by William and Jane Morris

God, I hope that's the one that was there, as that is a picture of it at Kelmscott Manor, but I'm sure it was on one of the panels.  I really like it because of its simplicity and whenever I see it I think 'I could do that!' (I couldn't, well, possibly given time and resources) which is another thing I think Mr Morris would like to hear.

The theme of the exhibition is a love of nature and that love being your home.  Thinking about it, Morris's work is filled with nature, so exploring the world of Morris through the trees, streams, birds and flowers that populate it seems, if you excuse the pun, natural. Not only that, but they themselves are often portrayed as being at one with nature, such as in this painting (which was a pleasure to see again)...

Snowdrops (1873) Dante Gabriel Rossetti

I sometimes wonder what Morris would make of the fact that we can't talk about his wife without Rossetti being involved. Again, it was a bit part of her early life, but it seems a shame as it isn't exactly a positive thing (no offence to anyone involved), which I think is why I was so pleased to also see this image...

Jane Morris (c.1900) Charles March Gere

I'm very familiar with Evelyn De Morgan's image of Jane in older age (I just checked her age and she's not that much older than me here) but I hadn't seen this before that I remembered and it is such a beautiful painting by Arts and Crafts illustrator Charles March Gere (1869-1957), who worked with the Kelmscott Press. Including this image did take the edge off the often-overwhelming 'She was Rossetti's Muse!' narrative you can get elsewhere, and I think it's time we de-centred dear old Dante Gabriel from everything (again, no offence to him as I love him) as I think we only do it because he was the sexy one. Allegedly. Anyway, he has no business in such a family exhibition about working and living within the landscape of England.

Orchard Bed Curtain worked by May Morris

This is a lovely exhibition and a smashing way to end the year.  The use of audible birdsong was very welcome - I always love when there are sensory aspects to exhibitions and the birds singing away above things like the Trellis wallpapers and Orchard Bed Curtains make the space feel very special indeed. It also benefits those among us of the neurodiverse community who get so much more from the experience.

As I was leaving there is a massive banner that fills the exit that says 'William Morris was Right' - well damn straight, but I am also a shallow baggage and I want to be able to take a selfie with that, but wasn't allowed, so again I exclaimed 'oh, come on!' and went off to the cafe...

Full disclosure and probably TMI but shortly before I reached the Arc this morning I fell over in the street, twisting my ankle and scabbed up my knee. A kind gentleman at the door said he was exactly the same when he was drunk (well, here we are) and I need to be careful at my age (so very elderly). The first aider at the Arc gave me a massive plaster, but I was a little perturbed as I viewed the exhibition I was not allowed to photograph (a small thing, but matters to me).  What made my mood infinitely better, despite my elderly infirmity, was the pasty I bought from the cafe, which had been made from the Morris family recipe. It was absolutely delicious. 

You have until 4th February to go and experience the glorious exhibition and eat a delious pasty, and I thoroughly recommend it.

Wednesday 24th December - After the Dance

 Here we are at the finale of Blogvent for 2025! Goodness, what a month, with so many beautiful paintings of women reading.  It was never in doubt what painting I was going to choose for my final one as it is definitely one of my favourites and also how I wish to be, most of the time...

After the Dance (1899) Ramon Casas

Also known as Decadent Young Woman, here we see a languid lass in a state of collapse after a party.  She has taken to her couch with a copy of a yellow book as her reading matter.  We are all aware the significance of that I'm sure...

Obviously, by 1899, the significance of a yellow book was heavily weighted to debauchery, decadence and damn-right naughtiness. The Yellow Book, seen above, lasted only for three years, which is somehow fitting, dissolving in a puddle of its own debauchery in 1897. As a side note, when Sainsbury's made yellow t-shirts a few years ago, I did the only sensible thing...

I can't be trusted with an embroidery needle, obviously.

Going back to our collapsed lass, she probably isn't holding the Yellow Book, but a yellow book, which denoted French literature of a scandalous nature.  Mrs Cheveley in Oscar Wilde's An Ideal Husband says she never reads blue books, but prefers yellow, telling you that she is absolutely no better than she should be.

Colour in After the Dance is very important, which is exactly why it featured in the Ashmolean exhibition on colour in 2023 (which was absolutely gorgeous). From the sage green of the sofa to her midnight blue dress and her red hair and lips, there are a lot of colour cues that both contrast and combine for a decadent effect. Yellow and sage green are definitely decadent colours, the latter being referenced in Gilbert and Sullivan's Patience (not their best work and mercifully least remembered as Pirates or Pinafore are far less offensive) with 'greenery-yallery' referring to the aesthetic movement. Mind you, this isn't the only version of this image...

Do you know, I hadn't realised she had the big bow around her neck in the original and I rather like this poster for Pèl & Ploma, the Catalan artistic and literary magazine which ran from 1899 to 1903. Here our supine lass has not been out dancing, but has fallen over because of the amount of art and writing she has been doing, hence the quill and brush in her hand (and in the title). maybe this is just how this woman ends every day, by collapsing on her rather lovely couch? To be honest, I feel the same.

Between Two Chapters (c.1890)

I must admit that I was only really aware of the decadent girl, but Casas created some beautiful works and I'd like to see more. For contrast, his girl pausing her reading in the pale room couldn't be less decadent if she tried.  She is sat up straight and neat, tidily against a wall, thinking about what she has read. Is she between two parts of her life? Is she considering a change, a marriage, an unthinkable divorce? She is existing in pale domestic calm but something is happening in that stillness.

Woman in Thought (1900)

I think it would be a mistake to think the decadent young woman is frivolous and silly, just because she is sprawled out on her sofa.  To give him his due, the women who populate a lot of Casas's canvases seem intellectual as well as beautiful.  Although we don't know who the decadent young woman was (presumed to be a professional model) I think she is the same woman as in Woman in Thought (1900).  Strangely (or perhaps not strangely), Casas's main muse, Julia Peraire, looks an awful lot like these auburn haired beauties...

La Sargantain (Julia Peraire) (1907)

Julia sold lottery tickets and/or flowers on the Plaza de Cataluña and met Casas in around 1905/6, at la Maison Dorée in Barcelona, a luxurious cafe-restaurant which had opened around 1903. They became a celebrity couple, with Julia appearing in many of his famous paintings.  She was 18 and he was 40 (ouch) and his family were not impressed, so the couple lived together for many years before getting married in 1922.

Turning back to my final painting, I wanted to finish with this image as, unlike the other pictures of women we have seen this month, I don't feel there is any judgement on her from Casas. This woman, although decadent, has every right to flop about in her gorgeous dress and her yellow book as that is her artistic right. As she also served as the poster girl for Pèl & Ploma, this is what being decadent looked like.  Now, I know there is a conversation to be had about agency of women, especially models, within art movements, but in Casas's images of his decadent women, you feel there is an appreciation rather than any mocking.

Have a really splendid Christmas and may you also collapse on a sofa with a great book.  Thank you for your company for another year and I will catch up with you again in 2026.