Monday 14th December - A Kiss Under the Parasol

 I realised this morning I have neither eaten nor made any mince pies this year.  This is a shameful and horrifying situation to find myself in and I hope you will not think less of me. It's all these summer-y images of love and romance, I am forgetting how close to Christmas we are now. I will attempt to rectify the pie situation forthwith, but in the meantime we best crack on with today's image...

A Kiss Under the Parasol (1895) Ludek Harold

Oh well, swoon! What a lovely image of summer-y love and romance, with a passionate pair having a sneaky snog as part of an outing. Do you reckon it's a picnic? I'd be happy to miss out on the fish paste sandwiches and scotch eggs in order to smooch with a handsome gentleman.  I even have my own parasol.  I love my parasol as it is such a useful thing - you get to hide from people, not get sunburned and generally look swanky. It's like a pretty umbrella but without the inconvenience of inclement weather. What's not to love? Anyway, I think this couple have been overcome with their love during a family outing, which is ever so romantic. Well, I suppose it depends on the family outing, as I can't quite see what those people walking away are doing...

'I am the Resurrection and the Life' (The Village Funeral) (1872) Frank Holl

Now, I'm not saying anything, but when I saw the line of people trailing off into the distance, it instantly reminded me of this Frank Holl painting.  You don't want to be the people snogging at the back of a funeral, that really isn't seemly, no matter how 'circle of life' you want to make it. I had to attend two funerals when I was 9 months pregnant and that was weird enough (and really uncomfortable). Mind you, Ludek Marold's own story is suitably tragic enough to satisfy us...

Self Portrait in his studio (1892) Ludek Marold

Ludek Alois Marold (1865-1898) was born in Prague, to an unmarried lass who died when he was still a child.  His father died the year after he was born, during the Austro-Prussian War. He failed to get into the cadets and was expelled from art school, but finally found a place in the art school in Munich where he was a contemporary of fellow Czech, Alfons Mucha. According to Marold, all he learned in Munich was how to drink decent beer, but it set him in a career as an artist and illustrator.

Study of a Reclining Woman (no date)

 There is a lovely page on Marold here, but unfortunately he did not live a long and cheery life. He had fragile health and after completing a massive project of panorama based on the Battle of Lipany, he died before it was displayed in 1898, aged only 33.

A Group of Generals (from the Battle of Lipany) (1898)

All that is a bit grim and not very romantic, so I think we'd better off with something more like this...

A Lover's Tryst (no date)

Now that's better, although I hope she gets out of that hammock before she gets to the actual trysting as that sort of shenanigan can be a bit hazardous when suspended between two trees and to be honest, that hammock does not look very sturdy. Far better to stick to trysting beneath a parasol which is far safer and wouldn't result in you getting a cross-hatch rope pattern across your nethers like a Christmas ham. 

On that cautionary note, I'll see you tomorrow...

Sunday 13th December - Paolo and Francesca

If ever there were a couple who personify the spirit of Snogvent then it has to be doomed lovers Paolo Malatesta and Francesca da Rimini.  Much art has been dedicated to them, often kissing because that's what got them in trouble but also what got them a starring role in Volume I of Dante Alighieri's The Divine Comedy. The Victorian's loved a bit of P&F because you get to have the vicarious enjoyment of an affair, before seeing them cast into Hell for all eternity as is only right and proper (apparently). Down with that sort of thing. Anyway, it all starts innocently enough...

Paolo and Francesca (1851-2) Alexander Munro

Paolo obviously shares my attraction to people holding books.  So, the story is that Francesca's father and Paolo's father were enemies and decided to bring the families together by marrying their children.  The Capulets and Montagues were never that proactive.  Mind you, before we all get comfortable with their diplomatic thought, the Dads agree to marry off lovely Francesca to Giovanni Malatesta, who was brave but in some way disabled.  Now, back in the 'good old days' apparently that was excuse enough to go off and snog someone else, and get quite rightly stabbed for not seeing beyond the disability, but I suspect I'm going off message. Also, don't drag your children into the mess of your own making because it only creates more mess. Anyway, while in Rimini to meet her differently-able bridegroom, Francesca falls in love with his brother and they have an affair. Cue the first load of snogging...

Paolo and Francesca (1894) Frank Dicksee

Paolo and Francesca (1902) Christopher Williams

Paolo and Francesca (1870) Amos Cassioli

Common in all these pictures is that Francesca is reading and discards her book when a splendid chap in tights makes a move on her.  I don't mean to kill the romance but some of those books look absolutely gorgeous, illuminated manuscripts and everything, and so he would need to be a pretty awesome kisser in order to get me to just lob that on the floor.  Plus you have to consider the rarity and importance of books in the 13th century, so her careless treatment of them does not impress me.  Sorry, I was going off message again.  Love conquers all, blah blah, she's really buggering up the spine in the Cassioli's painting, would it have killed her to put it down safely? No, unlike snogging your husband's brother, which really does get you killed. Anyway, when Giovanni discovers them, he stabs them both, which proves that whatever disability Giovanni had did not affect his eyesight or sword arm...

Paolo and Francesca (1819) Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres

Look, she dropped the book, they were asking for it! Go get 'em, Giovanni!  Anyway, because of the whole book abuse (and infidelity), the result was this...

Paolo and Francesca (c.1887) Gaetano Previati

But that isn't where the story ends, because Dante, a contemporary of the unhappy couple, decided to include them in his Inferno, so their snogging continued into Hell.  Blimey, they really are that couple, aren't they?

Paolo and Francesca (1835) Ary Scheffer

In the first volume of The Divine Comedy, Dante and Virgil meet the unlucky lovers in the second circle of Hell (Ikea at about 2.30pm on a Saturday).  The couple are trapped in an eternal whirlwind, which seems to have blown off all their clothes, because they had been swept away by their passions.  Although I do enjoy the Gilbert and Sullivan punishment-fits-the-crime aspect of it all, being blown about a bit for all eternity doesn't sound like eternal damnation.  I mean there are no flames, no stabby little demons or any of this business...

An Angel Leading a Soul into Hell (15th century) circle of Hieronymus Bosch

Lawks, I only nipped in for some batteries and a cinnamon bun... Anyway, my point is that being blown about a bit seems infinitely preferable to whatever is happening to any of these poor souls.  I don't even want to know what's going on in the left-hand cave. Flipping Nora.  I get that being blown about a bit could be really irritating, but it's hardly torture, but maybe that's it.  Maybe hell is being stuck with your poor decisions for all eternity until they become really, really boring.  Yes, I'm sure it was all exciting to start with, being whisked about without your pants on, but after a few millennia of just going round and round, and never being able to keep your hair out of your face, I bet you'd be hoping for a bit of stabbing just to break up the monotony. So I guess the lesson we should take from today's picture is be careful with your books because the chasm of Hell awaits you if you damage the spine.

Oh, and probably don't kiss your brother in law, because it makes Christmas really awkward.  See you tomorrow...

Saturday 12th December - St George and Una

 I'm not sure I'm up to all this passion and excitement, and we're only half way through Snogvent.  All the fence snogging and general connubial wrestling aside, I think I better go for something a little more restrained and classy today.  Don't worry, this turn towards tastefulness won't last long, so let's enjoy it while it lasts...

St George in Armour being kissed by Una (1914) Phoebe and Hilda Traquair

Blimey, but I do love Phoebe Traquair (1852-1936). As you will no doubt remember from this post, I live quite near a church decorated by her, despite not living anywhere near Scotland. Her work is gorgeously delicate and gloriously romantic and this embroidered panel is no different. This work was completed with her daughter Hilda (1879-1964), who figured in her mother's art long before she was a partner in it...

Hilda, aged 5 (1884)

Look at the little flower!  Bless.  Anyway, after doing exceptionally well at the Edinburgh School Art of Art (can you imagine the pressure to be good at art?), Hilda joined creative forces with her mum for a series of silk embroidered panels based on The Redcrosse Knight (St George) in Edmund Spenser's The Faerie Queene (1590).  I always thought that St George's love-interest was Princess Sabra because of images like this...

St George and Princess Sabra (1862) Dante Gabriel Rossetti

There are many and varied portrayals of the unlucky Princess Sabra in Pre-Raphaelite art, and the story is very similar to Andromeda and Perseus.  Sabra (who sounds like she was named after the latest Ford -  when I was in a new mum's group, there was a lass there whose son was called 'Orion', 'Like the stars, not the cars' she clarified, handily) is the princess of a land that is being terrorised by a dragon and she draws the short straw to be a sacrifice.  Luckily, along come St George, who kills the dragon and gets the girl.  That also has a slight echo, albeit unhappily, in the Biblical heroine Jephthah's daughter, who ends up being the sacrifice after King Jephthah vows to offer up the first thing he sees on his arrival home from a successful battle. Princesses do tend to end up as collateral damage in stories, and they don't always get rescued.   T'uh...

Jephthah's Vow: The Martyr (1885-6) Edwin Long

Not a happy ending there then, and definitely no kissing, so we won't worry about that. Anyway, back to Princess Sabra, and there is definitely lots of kissing there because I think you would be awful grateful to anyone who stops you being eaten by a dragon.  I do wonder about the logic of handing over someone to be eaten by a monster, as if that will stop them eating everyone else.  Looking at the winsome little wisps of girls that are often offered up to the horrible beasties, I don't think they would satisfy its appetite at all.  I don't mean to boast but I reckon that if a monster ate me, it would slow him down for ages, at least long enough for everyone else to escape.  I am built to give mythical monsters terrible indigestion and they would need a proper sit down and a snooze afterwards.  I'd also raise their cholesterol by so much it would probably kill them.  You're welcome. As my daughter would say, that's a weird flex, so I'll move on...

They Fared Forth Upon Their Dreadfil Quest (1914)

Una and the Redcrosse Knight are both characters in The Faerie Queene and although the upshot of the quest is the same (knight kills dragon), how we get there and what it means is somewhat altered.  Una, the Princess of the land terrorised by the dragon, saddles up alongside the Knight and joins him on the quest (like Samwise and Frodo, or Han Solo and Chewbacca.  Possibly not the second one).  Obviously Una represents the True Church and she also defeats the evil Catholic Church, no-one likes Mary Queen of Scots and Queen Elizabeth is great.  Boy meets Girl, Girl turns out to be Protestantism and defeats Catholicism, Boy and Girl galumph home after killing a metaphorical dragon, it's a tad cliche...

St George Kills the Dragon, Una Prays (1914)

When it comes to actual dragon slaying, that's a boy job, apparently.  Even if girls are brave enough to come on heroic quests, there is no big spear for them. The words at the top of the embroidery read that while Una prayed, St George 'pierced that false tongue'.  Does that mean the dragon spreads salacious rumours? 'I've heard Mrs Scoggins has been shoplifting again... Mr Smith starts drinking creme-de-menthe at noon... Beryl Jenkins passes off shop-bought cake as home-made...'  Honestly, the dragon had it coming.

Anyway, Una is so impressed with the way St George does in dragons that she goes in for a kiss.  Maybe she really likes men who do in massive malevolent reptiles.  Now, I understand having a type - honestly there is nothing more sexy than a man with a book in his hand (especially if it's one that I've written) but I'm not sure I'm with her on the whole dragon-killing thing.  Mind you, she makes a perfect match for St George, who is all about the dragon-killing and so I wish them every happiness. A bit messy though, but that's love for you.

See you tomorrow...

Friday 11th December - The Kiss

 Here we are at the end of the second week and almost half way through Snogvent, so I think it's time to stop faffing about and get a bit serious...

The Kiss (no date) Antonio Ambrogio Alciati

Blimey, that's the sort of snogging you take your cardigan off for, and it's so passionate that it has fogged up the painting and made it go all out of focus.  Our couple are so wild in their romance that the chap has dropped his flowers and is now being marvellously ungentlemanly on the sofa with a girl who is no better than she ought to be.  Really, how people do carry on. Oddly, the deep green of her frock and the red of the flowers makes it a very Christmas-y kerfuffle. Mind you, this isn't Alciati's only snogfest...

Il Convegno (1918)

I must admit I laughed far too much when Google translated Il Convegno into 'The Conference' as I was at a conference exactly a year ago and we did not carry on like that. Worse luck.  Here we have another couple of ironwork fetishists, so possibly it's far more wide spread than I imagine.  Are there really people out there who get uncontrollably aroused by railings?  You learn something new everyday. But there are yet more images including kissing...

Il Baciamano (Kiss the Hand)

For those who don't own railings to kiss through, you can just dangle an arm out of the window and wait for your lover to pass by...

The Kiss (c.1900)

Antonio Ambrogio Alciati (1878-1929) was a northern Italian artist who obviously had a passion for passion.  His paintings of lovers have a sort of whirlwind of desire that is impatient and joyous.  Everything is in the moment, because in the next moment the magic will break - the roses will be ruined, the birds will fly away, someone will complain about what you are doing to the ironwork.  Passion is impetuous and powerful but fleeting. When kissing the one you love, you might feel that time stands still but it is still only a moment.  It seems to me that these are portraits of people who are not together for long, that the kiss in these works stands for impermanence, however wonderful.  In that sense, love and the kiss are the same as life itself - brief, so go at it with as much gusto as you can manage.

See you tomorrow...

Thursday 10th December - The Kiss

 Look! We've reached double figures, on the 10th day of Snogvent already! Time flies during December, it's very disconcerting.  No sooner has my daughter had her birthday on the 6th than we seem to be at Christmas's door with indecent haste.  One of the few redeeming features of this peculiar year is that I have had time to prepare for Christmas, making presents and sending out cards far earlier than I have managed before.  Every cloud, eh? Anyway, on with today's image...

The Kiss (1910) Silvio Allason

I know we are allowed to mix outdoors now but having a gate between you does not count as social distancing.  Not only that, it must be flipping painful.  I'd be worried about the metal in my corset suddenly getting magnetized and I'd be stuck there, pretending to be really interesting in some ironwork while desperately trying to reach my hat. The perils of love are many and various but getting snagged on some fancy railings should not be one of them.

Seascape (no date)

Silvio Allason (1843-1912) was an Italian artist of mainly sea- and landscapes. He's best known of his images of the alps, majestic and peaceful, which makes the scene of the fence-fondlers somewhat surprising.  It's a scene of dramatic romance - why do the couple have to kiss through a gate?  There are obviously obstacles in their way, unless they both have the same iron-related fetish (if so, best of luck to them and it's good they have each other, saves two other people etc etc).  

There seem very few clues as to why the couple cannot kiss without ironwork between them.  She is very finely dressed, so maybe her parents think that her lover is beneath her, yet he doesn't seem to be shoddy.  There is a definite feeling that she is a caged bird - maybe no man would ever be good enough for her parents?  I'm having a Barretts of Wimpole Street moment, with her father keeping her imprisoned at home, yet she still finds a way to meet a hot bloke to snog through the railings.  We can't see her left hand, so maybe she's already married.  Our lover-boy wears no wedding ring but her left hand is hidden. It's a bit of a novelty, conducting an affair through some fancy ironwork, but it takes all sorts.  

If you must conduct an affair at the moment, please do it safely and use protection by which I mean a rather lovely mask...

Possibly the most lovely mask I have seen (and bought instantly) has to be this one, based on the Millais painting The Bridesmaid, available from the Fitzwilliam Museum shop here.  It would be a very 2020 Christmas present indeed...

God bless the Fitzwilliam for this rather jolly image...

 Speaking of Christmas presents, don't forget that the lovely people at Unicorn are offering both my books for a tenner each and I'll sign them and everything.  Just use the code 'KIRSTY' on the Unicorn website.  See you tomorrow...

Wednesday 9th December - The Kiss

Blimey, it's chuffing cold this morning, isn't it?  Well, here on the south coast it is anyway.  And it's damp, so I am here on the sofa with blankets and a hot water bottle, considering if I should go and get some brownies from the kitchen.  That would involve moving the blankets.  I don't think I can be bothered.  Oh, for the lazy warmth of summer...

The Kiss (1894) Henry John Stock

There is something late summer-y about this image, like lazing in a meadow just before harvest with a rather good picnic and a handsome young man.  I wrote a post about Mr Stock some time ago, and you might remember how really really good he was...

Girl Surrounded by Ivy (no date)

Well, that's just lovely. Also, Mr Stock was a bit of a looker himself...

Good heavens! Father Christmas certainly got my letter... Moving on swiftly, the reason I like The Kiss is that it reminds me of a Thomas Hardy scene, and in fact the reason I first came across Mr Stock was because of this...

There is a hint of romance before utter tragedy about the image but that possibly is the Thomas Hardy aspect of it all.  They look happy enough now, but mark my words, one of them will be dead in the snow before you know it.  Thomas Hardy actually is full of romance, often that's the trouble.  Bathsheba was not short of romantic partners, but she picked the wrong 'un.

Many a girl has been led astray by Terrance Stamp, I'm sure...

Tess of the D'Urberville made a few mistakes in love as well...

From the 2008 version of Tess

I quite understand as I'm anyone's for a massive strawberry too. The most appallingly tragic novel of all Jude the Obscure is full of romance until the end, when it is utterly horrifying.  Mind you I think Hardy is a good fit for the brief summer kiss.  The thing about the sort of love that Stock shows us in his painting does not feel like it will last, and might even be on the wane already.  The boy leans in to kiss his love, taking her hand which covers her heart, but the girl does not seem to respond.  Has her love faded as the summer is fading? Is she thinking about her future without him? The problem with Hardy's lovers is that there is absolute acknowledgement that love is never simple, never entirely happy and often randomly fraught. Being in love is never a constant, stable thing and falling in love with a person does not automatically ensure that the object of your affection will reflect your feelings at all, let alone identically.  Where Hardy excels is in showing us the imperfection of love, the folly and pitfalls of desire and how it is a lot of work and self-awareness.  Love might be a many-splendored thing, but it can also be a right old bag of weasels.  No-one ever writes a song including that phrase though. I wonder why?

See you tomorrow...

Tuesday 8th December - The Kiss

 It's been a devil of a day, dealing with all sorts of nonsense and keeping my swearing in check, not to mention venturing into town for some shopping, which is never a wise idea.  I think I had better hibernate from now on because outdoors is very definitely overrated.  In the meantime, bring on the snogging...

The Kiss (c.1870) Auguste Toulmouche

A couple in fancy dress are kissing over a table containing fruit and wine.  I guess they are at a party and no doubt overcome with both romance and someone else's booze.  It strikes me that the lady is showing scandalous amounts of calf and ankle for 1870, and both of them are wearing the most darling shoes imaginable.  If anything, his shoes are even more precious than hers.

Do I detect a curl of a moustache? Despite dressing in his Pierrot outfit, or maybe because of it, our chap is obviously a hit with the ladies.  Maybe his lady-love grew up with the same trends as I did...

Blimey, the 1980s was all sad Pierrots and air-brushing

Now, we all know there ain't no party like a Pierrot party, which gets far more rambunctious than chaste kissing over a fruit bowl.  Behold the horror...

I love the vague concern on the faces of the women behind. I'm not sure how on earth they will explain that one at A&E...

  "How did your Soiree go, Beryl?" 

"Oh, not bad, but then Bob decided it would be fun to jump straight through Mr Fortescue..." 

"Well, that's Bob all over, isn't it?"

Also, if you want to know who the most fun party Pierrot is, then look no further than Sarah Bernhardt...

Sarah Bernhardt in Jean Richepin's Pierrot the Murderer (1883) Atelier Nadar

Good heavens, none of us are leaving that party sober or in possession of our bloomers, but I digress... 

Le Retour (1883) Auguste Toulmouche

Auguste Toulmouche (1829-1890) was a French painter known for his beautiful interiors and even more beautiful women.  Emile Zola referred to his figures as the 'delicious dolls of Toulmouche' and indeed, his ladies as luxuriously dressed in satins and corsages, and have many plump cushions on which to sit and read their copious love letters. Toulmouche fought in the Franco-Prussian war, defending Paris from invasion, and after the war he and his wife spent more and more time in the Abbey of Blanche Couronne, part of his wife's family's large estates.  Towards the end of his life, in the face of Impressionism, Toulmouche fell out of fashion, but it is impossible not to love his visions of beauty in their comfortable surroundings.  I would love to know more about the party our Pierrot and his love are attending.  Do they actually know each other or have they just gotten carried away, with his lacy trousers and her star-glimmering skirt? Ah, the romance of it all!

We shall meet Mr Toulmouche again in Snogvent and  I shall see you tomorrow...