Saturday 6th December - Quiet

Excuse the late hour of today's post as I have been in London all day seeing the Wes Anderson exhibition. It was glorious and happy birthday to my beloved daughter who is 20 today (I am in complete denial) and thank goodness it's the weekend! I think I need to relax, probably with a good book...

Quiet (1860) William W Nichol

Before I become too 'sunrise, sunset' about it all, I used to read to my daughter when she was little, although I'm making an educated guess that the book on that lady's knee isn't Trouble at the Dinosaur Cafe or Mr Pusskins (both fine texts) but this is undoubtedly a mother and child. I'll go further and say it's probably the wife and child of the artist (as someone kindly pointed out on Art UK that on the back of the painting the figures are identified as 'MN' and 'WWJN' or Marion Nichol (nee Ballentyne) (1816-1873) and William Walker James Nichol (1855-1929), who became a chemist and photographer with his own wikipedia page.

William Walker Nichols (1813-1893) was from Traquair in Peebleshire, Scotland, son of James Nichol, the minister/poet (1769-1819) (again, his own wikipedia page) and brother of geologist James Nichol jnr (1810-1879) (blimey, another one). He painted his brother in the role of Professor of Natural History at Aberdeen University...

Professor James Nichol (c.1870s)

James Nichol was apparently professor until 1879, so it is possible this was painted for his retirement, looking at how old he appears to be.  Back to our reading pair...

I love the faces on the mother and child, and you get the impression that they are real people with a very Pre-Raphaelite-adjacent clarity and glow. I was reminded of the paintings of the 1850s, especially something like Frederick Stephens' Mother and Child (c.1854), with the crisp detail and realism. I love the fact the child has a sock off, which is about right, and the title suggests that either it is a moment of rare calm between bouts of childhood chaos or the mother is very much entreating the child for a bit of quiet.  Mrs Nichol is concentrating on the book but little William is looking like a coiled spring, about to have another wee rampage and probably lose the other sock in the process. Mind you, despite the rumpus, he has a wikipedia page so his parents obviously did something right. 

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie (undated)

I'm now intrigued by William W Nichol as although his portrait of his brother is very traditional and not really my thing, the couple of pictures I can see that are scenes of everyday life, I very much like and appreciate the strong narrative aspects. It seems a shame that WWN doesn't have his own Wikipedia page, rather than only having a fleeting mention on his son's. Possibly a hunt for more of his work will show us that he was as good as these rare glimpses hint at.

See you tomorrow.

Friday 5th December - Love Sonnets

 Well, here we are at the end of our first week of Blogvent, and I'm off to London tomorrow so I better sort something out for that too.  In the meantime, here is today's offering...

Love Sonnets (1894) Marie Spartali Stillman

I actually had the choice of a couple of Stillmans for this Blogvent, but we'll start with Love Sonnets.  We have a romantic young lady reading her love sonnets while clutching what I am assuming are marigolds.  They are often read as being symbols of purity and divinity so we can guess she is reading some lovely poems rather than anything naughty. There is also the implication that marigolds bloom on the first day of the month so I wonder if our lass is in love for the first time. Also, as always, I am wondering about the black jacket (with those very lovely buttoned sleeves) so I was wondering if she has been widowed or had a bereavement and this is her first love afterwards.

Cloister Lilies (1891)

I'm not sure if Marie Stillman was going through a phase of women-reading-while-clutching-flowers but here is another one. This time our lass is reading a far more religious text, as signified by the lilies clutched in her had.  I really love the amber beads looped round her other wrist. 

Beatrice (1895)

I've always felt that Marie Stillman's female subjects in this vein are the children of Rossetti's 1860 Venetian period, and the inclusion of Beatrice in her subjects underlines this. However, different from Rossetti, Beatrice is the main character here, not seen through the eyes of Dante, but a woman on her own, having a moment with her book.  She is not dying poetically with a poppy, nor lying in state being kissed by Love, nor ignoring Dante on a bridge. She is thinking about something she has read, her finger tracing the passage that has captivated her. In fact, all three of our readers are reading texts that are absorbing them, giving them pause for thought and possibly in the case of Love Sonnets and Beatrice the thoughts aren't all joyful. Our women are turning to books, to knowledge, to solve their problems, answer their questions, and give them guidance in times of need.

Brewing the Love Philtre (c.1870)

For Marie Stillman, books provide the answers to questions, giving women the independence to get on with their lives. Whether it is choosing a new love, capturing a new love or being led into or away from temptation, there is a book to help.  So our maidens, be they saintly, witchy or very human, are free to make their own decisions without the need to ask a man. Not all of these decisions are going to be correct (I mean, honestly, I'm not sure love potions are ever a sustainable option) but they are theirs to make and take the consequences.

See you tomorrow.

Thursday 4th December - Le Missel

 I was looking for something a bit classy for today, and came across this tempera beauty...

Le Missel (1899) Edgar Maxence

Well, hello Lovely, aren't we splendid? Nothing like a bit of French Symbolism to brighten the day. Here we have a pious young lady with her 'missel' or prayer book.  Her dark clothes hint at widowhood possibly, although her left-hand ring finger is hidden, tucked into her prayer book. Is she married to Jesus now? That white veil has an oddly wedding-ish overtone. The above painting was featured on the Leicester Gallery page but interestingly, the Leicester Gallery also sold The Red Missel by Maxence in 1927, when it helpfully appeared in The Graphic (although sadly not in colour)...

The Red Missel (from The Graphic)

I feel there is something Tudor about The Red Missel, that sort of face-on formality that is missing from The Missel.  The newspapers praised the 'serene loveliness' of Maxence's models and although the pictures are quite different in approach, both women are definitely calm and introspective. The Marlborough Times talked about how the women in his work have the look of 'the call of the soul in its awakening' which works well with the religious tracts the women are holding.

One of the things Mr Walker and I watch on YouTube are the views from the cab of a Swiss train as it travels through the countryside (I know, how rock and roll of us) and the castle in the background reminds Mr Walker of one of those beautiful buildings in the glorious countryside (I blame the 1970s German tv series Heidi for my idealisation of that sort of landscape).  Our lass has literally turned her back on her home and by extension that lifestyle and is holding her religion close as she walks away.  Is she off to a nunnery? It might just be me, but I feel there are Guinevere-vibes coming off her, like in this picture...

Guinevere (1913) Eleanor Fortescue Brickdale

I might be fanciful but I get the impression that our lady in velvet is withdrawing from a life of plenty in the same way that Guinevere turned her back on her old life.  Has Maxence's lady done things she wants to repent for? Has she lived the sort of life that has turned her to religion? Or has she simply decided that it's better to withdraw now rather than be tempted? Either way, she's walking away from her castle with dignity and is being led to her new life by her little book, whatever it might be.

Edgar Maxence (1871-1954) was a contemporary of Matisse and exhibited at the Salon des Artistes Francais from 1894 until the 1930s, making our lady with the missel one of his earlier works.  He was taught by Gustav Moreau and leaned towards Symbolism quite heavily as well as the religious. I think I am best acquainted with this one...

Woman with Orchids (1900)

I absolutely adore this lass having a sneaky ciggie while wafting the smoke away with her diaphanous hankie. So classy. In many ways, the lass with the orchids can be seen as a companion to Le Missel - one woman is rejecting the world and looking away. The woman with the orchids in her hair addresses us frankly.  She holds no religious tract, instead a cigarette which she makes no effort to hide. She is at one with the modern world, not trying to escape it.

See you tomorrow...

Wednesday 3rd December - Yarmouth Beach

 I've worked out that I only have a couple more days of physically being in the office this year, including today! That is both exciting and sobering as I am now worrying whether I have done everything and what I need to leave copious notes for, so I don't forget to do things when I return in January.  Obviously, I'll be working from home in the meantime, and some of my colleagues never seem to sleep so I have to keep an eye on my work emails all over the festive period - well, maybe not on actual Christmas Day as I will be too busy eating.  Anyway, let's crack on with today!

Yarmouth Beach (1860-65) Frederick Sandys

I think I chose this one because it is a bit of a mixed bag.  The first thing I thought when I saw it was 'Really??!! Fred Sandys??!!' because I was used to his work looking like this...

Helen of Troy (1867)

But hang on, there is something about the face of that young lady, or to the point, the chin of that young lady, that seems to link the two images. In fact, this one seems a bit closer...

Mary Magdalen (Tears Idle Tears) (1862)

The model for this one was Mary Emma Jones, or Mary Sandys as she styled herself, the second 'wife' (they never married as he never actually got a divorce from his first wife) of Frederick Sandys who began to appear in his work (and that of his sister Emma) in the early 1860s.  Whilst his work in the first half of the 1860s is normally equated with images of Keomi Gray, as we can see from Mary Magdalen, Mary popped up at the same time as Sandys other mistress.

Let's start with the painting itself, it was donated to Norfolk Museums Service by Prince Frederick Duleep Singh.  In 1921, he gifted the Ancient House Museum of Thetford to the people of Norfolk, presumably including this picture. In some accounts of this work it is attributed to Anthony Sandys, father of Frederick and Emma and I can see why - the style doesn't seem the same and the subject matter is not really Fred's thing, but it isn't unusual for an artist to do a domestic painting of a loved one in a different style. Hang on then, while I'm about it, why can't this be by Emma?

Revealing Her Hand (undated) Emma Sandys

Okay, so the works we have by Emma are sparce in comparison, but I always wondered how difficult it would be to delete the bottom line of the E in 'ES' and make is 'FS' - don't blame me for thinking that way, after all I am very well acquainted with Aurora Triumphans, possibly Evelyn de Morgan's best work which was sold as a Burne-Jones because someone had altered the monogram of EP (Evelyn Pickering) to be EBJ. Emma also used Mary Jones as a model, so that chin might not have led me astray, yet again the subject matter does not seem right for Emma Sandys.  So what about Anthony Sandys?

Frederick Sandys (1848) Anthony Sands

Well, more properly, Anthony Sands as Fred added the 'y' around the 1850s (possibly to distance himself from his father's work) and seems to have dragged Emma along from the ride - if we are adding the 'l' back into Elizabeth Sidal's name, are we dropping the 'y' in Emma Sandys, as arguably both (or neither) were decisions made by men for her? Anyway, the problem I have with it being Anthony's work is the colour.  In style, yes, it looks very much older than the Pre-Raphaelite style both Fred and Emma adopted, so it is more like that early style, however our girl by the sea is glowing in a very Pre-Raphaelite manner. Looking at the portrait of Fred above, it is that more traditional sepia of older paintings that are not on the white painted base. Hmmm...

The subject matter is contemporary so I wondered if it is based on a book.  I immediately thought of Trollope and the appearance of Yarmouth in Can You Forgive Her? which was published around 1864 and 1865, so could our girl be a character from that? Is she reading that? I think the parasol is rather small, so I don't know how much shade it is providing to the book, but obviously enough to allow her to keep reading while out and about.  So where does that leave us? It does seem, by the treatment of the subject, this is more likely to be Anthony's work, albeit later on and possibly on a white base. However, I also wonder if it is Mary Jones as model - she was already modelling for two Sandys, why not three? That chin doesn't lie. 

My last thought is, what is she reading? I like to think it's her sister's diary and she is about to learn a dark and scandalous secret which she can accidentally let slip over the dinner table. That'll teach her to make fun of that tiny parasol.

See you tomorrow

Tuesday 2nd December - The End of the Chapter

Goodness, after yesterday I better make today's a bit more jolly and try and avoid too much death and misery.  Mind you, that is the sort of thing I go in for.  I'll try and pick a jollier one today...

The End of the Chapter (1911) Philip Wilson Steer

That's more like it; this one is practically luminous. At first glance I can't see any subtext of female enslavement and gilded cages, so we might be okay. This is what the Yorkshire Post  (the clarion of truth) considered to be Steer's finest piece of work, which is a bold claim as he is a pretty good artist.  I was surprised with how un-abstract and painterly he is here in comparison to something like Hydrangeas (1901) (which I know because it features Ethel Warwick).  The Yorkshire Post agrees with me in a 1939 article where they talked about the fascination of the piece and how the figure and her room seem detached yet perfectly in tune. The room, in their opinion, had been furnished with taste and refinement for objects, even though they 'acquired a superfluity of what may be called "knobs and corners."' Well, quite.

The newspaper concentrated on what they saw as the main 'drama' - when you finish a book and for a moment everything stops.  I recently read two novels quickly and each one was such a pleasure that I didn't want it to end and felt somewhat bereft the moment it was over. In this woman's gaze  into the flickering flames, I can see that moment when you just want to live in the final parts of the book as it leaves you and you just aren't ready to say goodbye to the people you have met.

Also, that dress! It attracts the eye and although not quite as good as the shine of a Millais satin dress, it gives the illusion of the billowing satin-silk which you can almost hear. Thinking about it, she might want to sit a little further back from the flames.  You know, just in case.

I think I wanted to include this picture because of the detail, or absence, of the fire - you know she is holding her hands in front of it, you can feel its presence but it is not in the picture.  In a way, that is like the book she has read.  You can see her thinking about the story, the effect it has had on her but you cannot see the story itself. She might be reading anything - a novel, a guide to book-keeping, prawns of the world - but we feel the story, its emotional depth because, like the fire, it is present by implication.

Mrs Cyprian Williams (1891)

I found it very interesting that Country Life hated The End of the Chapter with a passion, and in 1929 declared it rubbish, preferring things like Mrs Cyprian Williams. They couldn't believe one man could be responsible for both when one was exquisite and the other tripe. They also hated this one too...

The Muslin Dress (1910)

Lawks, that's gorgeous. I obviously am a philistine so I'll get my coat.

See you tomorrow.

Monday 1st December - Afternoon Tea

Blimey, it's that time of year already! This is making me somewhat panicky, not least because in less than a week it will be my daughter's 20th birthday and this will be our 14th year of doing Blogvent (surely not! 2011 was only 5 minutes ago! etc etc) so I better crack on with it.

I gave it a lot of thought and this blogvent is going to be based around an activity I wish I had more time for. This will be Bookvent, 24 days of reading, with pictures of people and their books and so I will start with this one:

Afternoon Tea (1878) Edith Jane Ballantyne

This is what I call a good time! Oh, to be in a comfy chair in front of a fire with my book and no-one disturbing me for half an hour. I'm going to start with the best bits - that is a gorgeous frock.  All that pleating that is pooling on the floor, with her matching pale blue stockings and little shoes.  She is a very stylish woman, although I am left wondering if she is meant to be going out somewhere or is she expecting company?  Has she just got dressed up to read her book? Honestly, I would be happiest in my new fleecy pyjamas (so elegant) but I admire her sense of occasion.

I'm also loving this chair with its floral, tangled leaves, Morris-style of print. It looks very comfy indeed. I notice that she has quite an aray of plates and bowls on the shelves behind her and I am left wondering about this woman's life.  Is it her collection? Is she married? Look at that enormous plate!

What a wonderful plate, obviously a prize possession. Right at the top, all on its own.  Hmmm...

At first I didn't notice the chain on the cockatoo's leg. I saw that the stand it was perched on was sat in a tray to obviously catch whatever falls from a cockatoo but I thought that was optimistic, given that my childhood budgies were let out of the cage, and they would merrily poo everywhere. This chap is not going anywhere and he doesn't exactly look best pleased about that fact.  I think he is a sulphur-crested cockatoo, with his yellow plume.  I read that they were extremely intelligent and therefore made challenging pets and that makes me wonder about the woman.  

She has two books on the go, so I'm guessing she's clever but look how small the room seems to be.  It could be read as cosy or it could be read as constricting, so much clutter and that rug is folded ready to trip her up should she try to escape. She's in her fine clothes, her fine plumage, but to what end? No-one is seeing her, she's having her afternoon tea all on her own. I suppose the thing about a book is that you are never on your own and even if she is confined to her little gilded cage, she can escape into a story.

Edith Jane Ballantyne (1849-1933) is an interesting artist, born in Edinburgh, the daughter of portrait painter John Ballantyne (1815-1897) and active in the Royal Scottish Academy, the Royal Academy and others.  She moved to Wiltshire in the south-west of England after her father died in 1897 where she lived out the last years of her life hindered by rheumatoid arthritis. She had a live-in companion in her old age, Miss Augusta Player, for 22 years, who was there when Edith fell out of bed and broke her thigh in 1933. Edith died not long afterwards but was remembered fondly, if sadly, in her local newspapers.

Well, today has been cheery. See you tomorrow...