Sunday 8th December - Sunday Afternoon

 I started this morning by watching Fanny Cradock Cooks For Christmas, so it's a good day.  I don't know if it is her eyebrows, her general distain for everyone, her dismissal of feminism, the number of times she plugs her booklet or the dubious hygiene, but I absolutely love it and it is an essential part of my Christmas preparation. She can 'carve' a chicken with garden secateurs in three and a half minutes. Awesome.

At this point, I'm not sure anyone knew where the cat ended and the muff began...

We have a reasonably quiet day today, with only a trip to the dump (joy!) and a quick shop to look forward to.  Quite honestly, we all need a day of rest, especially at this time of year, and so I have picked a painting to reflect a peaceful Sunday afternoon...

Sunday Afternoon (1853) Edward Davis

Edward Thomas Davis (1833-1867) is not an artist I was aware of (my apologies to Mr Davis) but how could I resist that darling little cat? I am also amazed I didn't know him because, as you can tell by his dates, he died reasonably young and you know how much I love a tragedy. I'm also surprised I didn't know of him because he also produced this gem...

Words of Comfort (undated)

I am reminded of some of the artists who surrounded the Pre-Raphaelites during the 1850s, and even of the works of F G Stephens in the colouring of Words of Comfort. I found a lovely piece in the newspapers about this painting - 'It is full of feeling and enables us to realise the truth of the saying of an eminent artist, that Davis's works were always simple and true, yet beauty and grace were never lost sight of.'

Although it is an unprepossessing image in comparison to some of the more flashy, exciting paintings we will be seeing this month, there is a gentleness to the piece and some interesting questions to ask if you feel inclined. At first glance, this is a rather nicely dressed chap reading a big book on a Sunday afternoon - we guessed the big book was probably his Bible given its size and the connection to Sunday. I was struck by his clothing - he is (I'm guessing) an agricultural worker if we take the cottage as evidence.  His surroundings are modest and a little sparse but the cloth on the table is quite rich and a welcome pop of colour in the earth-toned room.  I also noticed the plant on the windowsill and think it is a geranium...

If so, I always turn to the language of flowers and geraniums have some useful meanings.  If it is a wild geranium, it means 'steadfast piety' which is in keeping with the title and subject, however a general geranium meaning is an expected meeting.  Mr Walker, being less dramatic than me, suggested that the old gentleman is having his meeting with God through the scripture.  I, on the other hand, suggested he was going to nod off, die and meet God in person. I was also struck by the man's clothes; for a moment I wondered if it was set in the 18th century, or very early 19th, but I know there are accounts of Victorian old people wearing clothes from their youth as there was no Primark in 1850 and people's clothes were not only made to last but also they had the wherewithal to mend them and keep them going.  It was the knee britches that threw me, in that very beautifully realised corduroy.

As you will have noticed, Mr Davis did not lead a very long life.  He was a keen traveller but unfortunately found himself in Florence in 1866 in time for cholera (like the Holman Hunts) and died the following June. As it is, I can't even find agreement on his name, with some sources calling him 'Thomson' and some 'Thompson'. There are around 10 of his pictures, both paintings and sketches, in public hands in this country, with no doubt many more in private hands. I wonder if more of his work resembles Sunday Afternoon or did his style change in his brief life?  What we can see of his work is interesting, so we can only hope more research is done on him soon.

I'm off to find my secateurs and I'll catch you tomorrow.