Tuesday 3rd December - Here Comes Trouble!

 Hello again and I have rather a busy day ahead as the lovely Simon is coming round later to hose out my guttering (not a euphemism) and so I ought to crack on with today's offering...

Instead of using a hat-pin, Moira found a more organic solution...

I think today's picture is the first one I've felt the need to apologise for. Mind you, I regret nothing - behold the horror...

Here Comes Trouble! (c.1900) Alphonse Marx

Goodness me, where to start? Also known as 'A Basket Full of Trouble,' this super-sweet image seems to have been born to be a chocolate box lid. I find it both sweet and whimsical and also deeply disturbing in equal measure. I can't argue that it is deceptively well painted - the weave of the basket is beautiful and that little blue ribbon sings from the canvas - however, the way the little heads are emerging from the basket in the darkened room has the whiff of 'summoning' about it. As my daughter said, it feel like the pause before the screaming starts...

Kittens in a Kitchen (late 19th century)

Much like other artists in this Catvent, I get the impression that these are on-hand models, as I can see the kitten on the right of Here Comes Trouble! emerging from the pot in Kittens in a Kitchen, along with its siblings. Although I don't think Kittens in a Kitchen is as striking as Here Comes Trouble! (and it is definitely less hygienic), there is a more natural, 18th century tone to it which is less creepy. There is also this one (with apologies for the auction watermark)...

Girl with Cats and Doll (late 19th century)

That is quite delightful, and even with the fallen doll (which I'm hoping is not a metaphor) (it's a metaphor isn't it? Rats...) this is a very lovely image which uses the darkness to make the colours absolutely pop. he does the shine on fabric exquisitely, as we saw with Here Comes Trouble! and the ribbon, so in a way I'm coming round to the basket of kittens.  I mean, they aren't as creepy as John Franks and his Poodle. That really is cursed...

Portrait of a Man (1913)

I wish I could tell you more about Alphonse, but quite honestly I can't.  He lived and worked in France for the majority of his career, but whether he was actually French or German isn't very obvious.  No-one seems to want to take a guess at his dates, although I think a range of 1870-1920 seems fair as I can't see anything outside that. Here Comes Trouble! is one of his better-known works and I'm guessing it was a commercial success as it is easy to find online.  Maybe I'm missing something important about Alphonse - possibly he was the less funny, arty member of the Marx Brothers? Possibly he was Karl's less political, more kitten-obsessed cousin? 

Whatever graces your Tuesday, may it not be a darkened room and a slowly opening basket.  I'll see you tomorrow...

Monday 2nd December - At Home

 Here we are at the beginning of the first working week of December and I need to bottle my fruit gins today.  We have blackcurrant (from the garden), blackberry (from the common) and sloe (from the side of the Kennet and Avon canal) so I will attempt not to succumb to the fumes.  I opened the blackcurrant and took a sniff and it is smelling particularly medicinal. So, while I am still sober, let's crack on...

A valiant competitor at the cat-balancing championship, 1909

After yesterday's beginnings, I wanted a rather refined start to the week with an image of a graceful lady and her equally graceful cat, so I thought this one would fit the bill...

At Home: A Portrait (1872) Walter Crane

I wish I could say that my own dear home was this tranquil, but no-one's home has ever, or will ever be, as perfect as the Crane's home.  I have absolutely no evidence to back me up but it seems only sensible that this pale, blue and white heaven is the epitome of the House Beautiful. This exquisite water colour of Mrs Walter Crane (embroiderer Mary Frances Andrews) just after their marriage in 1871, was only the second (and last) of Crane's pictures to be accepted into the Royal Academy exhibitions. Everything is so orderly in this picture, even the cat is sitting tidy and straight, as its owner stands slightly curved, echoing the leafy arrangement in the blue and white vase on the mantlepiece.

Mr and Mrs Walter Crane being entirely normal

It's interesting that both cat and mistress are brown, contrasting yet complimentary to the blue.  The rest is so powdery and perfect it becomes an aesthetic mist around them. The blue tiles around the fireplace also seem to continue behind her, I think, under the wall hanging.  The floor and the rug echo and continue each other. I love how the coppery inside of the fireplace is echoed on her dress where the light hits her, and on the cats fur. In the extremely fascinating book Parasites, Pussycats and Psychosis, the author emphasises how women, cats and the home became intertwined during the 19th century. Unlike dogs, the journey to domestication with cats is a little less clear cut, with cats being very much working animals rather than fancy pets. You had a cat to kill your mice (or bring you a massive and very much alive rat, thank you Chairman Meow) rather than adorn your living room, but during the 19th century fashions changed and as the book says, no home was complete without a cat asleep in front of the fire. The linking of women and cats is an interesting one - witches have cats, all attributes of domestic cats are arguably feminine, being 'catty' or cat-like is inevitably female. 

This will not be the first or last aesthetic cat and lady combo I'll be serving you this Catvent.  I like to think that Chez Walker has a similar vibe as the above home but I fear I am kidding myself, especially with all the gin in the kitchen.  Speaking of which, I'm off to bottle some Christmas cheer!

See you tomorrow...

Sunday 1st December - Blinking in the Sun

Hello everyone and welcome to another Blogvent!  Turns out I've been doing annual nonsense since 2011 (as some of you will know as you have been here with me, for which I apologise) and I was wondering what to do this year. I don't know about you chaps, but here in Chez Walker, 2024 has been a a bit of a sod, so I think some prime silliness is in order, so welcome to Catvent...

Woman in the 1930s, with cats that are undoubtedly planning her demise,
especially the one on the bottom left

That is a terrible title, but a couple of years ago I did Dogvent, in honour of our lovely dog Blossom (now 12 years old and still going strong) and as our pets have been a source of great comfort to us this year, I thought I ought to balance the scales and do likewise for the glorious Chairman Meow (who I named on a whim and I'm sorry he has got a more sensible name) (like Cat Boone) who is my treasure, even when he brings me live rats as presents. So thoughtful.

Without further ado, today's inaugural Catvent image is this one...

Blinking in the Sun (1881) Ralph Hedley

I'm starting off strong with an absolutely delightful painting of a tabby sat on a window sill, soaking up the rays.  He is indeed a handsome fellow (and looks a bit like the Chairman - as do 99% of cats in the UK, if I'm honest) but let's start with what is around him. To the right is a very ornate pale blue china pot with a tulip growing out of it (I can't imagine it is meant to be in water as there is just the one and it has leaves which would make the water manky).  On the other side are a very vigorous-looking geranium and a hyacinth, both in plainer terracotta pots. If we go by the language of flowers (as I often do) the red tulip is a declaration of love, which is nice, and also means fame, so I think we can tell the standing of this cat in the family.  The red geranium means comfort (and also stupidity, but I don't want to offend him) and the white hyacinth means unobtrusive love.  I'm not suggesting this painting is a master class in the language of flowers, but as such knowledge was commonplace in the nineteenth century, it might have been just the positive messages of the flowers that the artist needed.  Even more likely, those are the flowers that were around the Hedley home and chosen for their aesthetic appeal. I am curious that the flowers on the left of the picture are scented and the tulip in its ornate pot is merely decorative. I wonder if that is a comment on our furry friend? Is he both decorative and functional? I also note that two out of the three are poisonous to cats so no doubt he'll be eating them later, like the poor cat the Chairman and I met at the vet who had launched himself at a pot of lilies and was in the midst of very expensive treatment.  He looked like he regretted nothing.

A Sign of Bad Weather

Our tabby friend here appears in others of Hedley's paintings, so I am persuaded that he is one of the family's cats.  His likeness can be seen in A Sign of Bad Weather, An Old Couple Sitting by a Fire and others. Blinking in the Sun is undoubtedly Hedley's best known work, gracing the walls of the Laing Art Gallery where I am assuming it is very popular, as you can get some smashing merchandise with it on. As images of cats go, this one is both straightforward and very beautiful.  Not only that, it is one we as viewers can identify with.  Which of us, on a warm Spring day, haven't taken an indulgent moment to soak up the sun, too bright to look out into but so deliciously warm.  As the days get colder and darker (and undoubtedly wetter) this image looks peaceful and a lovely glimpse of the Spring that will come next year.

Self Portrait (1895)

Ralph Hedley is an underrated painter, his works still either in private hands or held in his native North-East (his family moved to Newcastle from Yorkshire when he was a baby).  I wonder if the problems we discussed last year about artists existing outside London being underestimated are at play here.  It seems very likely that if Blinking in the Sun was owned by a national museum such as Tate Britain or the V&A, it would be even better known (and exploited), but the North East gets a lacklustre level of national coverage, despite the absolutely stellar collections it has. There was a surprising lack of newspaper coverage of his art in his lifetime too, again because of the London bias, which is depressing.  However, I can see a time when Blinking in the Sun is included in a retrospective exhibition of his work as who could resist that fluffy cat?

Enjoy the sunshine if you have it and I'll see you tomorrow.

Review: Julia Margaret Cameron: The Colonial Shadows of Victorian Photography

I've started this review a few times but knowing how to start a conversation about Colonialism is hard, which I think is the point. When I was at school, we were not taught about it and I was puzzled that when my daughter did History for GCSE, she didn't really cover it either. I think some people find it hard to talk about because 'all that's over, right?' and true, the globe is mercifully not very pink anymore. However, and the reason why this new book by Jeff Rosen is so fascinating, there is more than one way Colonialism works. Yes, there is stomping into someone's country and behaving like you have right on your side, but there is also the intellectual side of it all.  Enough rambling from me, here's the book...

I reviewed Jeff's book on Julia Margaret Cameron's Fancy Subjects here and thoroughly enjoyed his insight into her photography, so I was delighted to be asked to review this one.  I must admit that tackling the colonial aspect of JMC when I wrote Light and Love was complicated as arguably it was in everything she did and that, put very simply, is exactly the point of this book.  However, it is done with far more skill and nuance than I ever could have managed.

Déjatch Alámayou (1868)

Our starting point is the 1857 uprising and the following reprisals in India after which Queen Victoria dissolved the East India Company.  As you will know, Julia Margaret Cameron and her family and friends were very much involved with the East India Company, by family involvement, by marriages and very obviously socially. It is unavoidable then that this would have an impact on her art and society.  Included in the prologue is Thackeray's poem 'Arthur's First Wound' from 1858.  I am a great lover of language and this poem, with phrase such as 'our English Arthur,' 'God be with the right,' 'The Davids of our land' and 'the Giant of Revolt,' is exceptionally loaded.  The name of the child invoked, Arthur, speaks not only to Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington (who died in 1852), but also King Arthur, England's own mythical Jesus-king who will rise again.  Likening England to David against India's Goliath is so unhinged that I had to read it a couple of times to make sure I wasn't missing something. Most disturbingly, Thackeray says 'God be with the right,' which is as loaded as calling the uprising against the occupying force a 'Mutiny'.  The language used in conflict never fails to horrify and intrigue me, and all this can be applied to a number of conflicts and no doubt upcoming elections now.  Thackeray was a close friend of the Pattle sisters and his daughters remained close to JMC for the rest of her life. This is the mindset that she shared, and she was not alone.

Paul and Virginia (1864)

I must agree that in the past we have separated Julia's portraits from her narrative pieces, and separated her portraits of 'important people' from those of friends and family.  In this book, it is argued that this is impossible - Julia is so steeped in colonial officialdom that everyone had connections to the business of Empire, from her close male friends to her Irish beggar-maid. Whilst I would say there are degrees - the maids would not have the same concerns as the family (until they marry a civil servant, in the case of Mary Ryan) - I think the events at Lucknow effected everyone to some degree and art around it was very much of one narrative (for example this sort of thing) and I found this passage interesting - 'The Pattle clan took the news hard. Julia Margaret was depressed and literally fell ill as the terrible news spread over all England.'

Spear or Spare (1868)

I have written about some of the most obviously colonial pieces JMC has produced, most prominently the images of little Prince Alemayehu and Captain Speedy which are not only products of colonialism but also images that are overtly about the acts of Empire, like Spear or Spare from 1868.  What I hadn't considered is the background noise of colonialism in other images, such as the death images of Adeline Clogstoun.

From Death / The lovely remains of my little Adeline (1872)

I must admit to squeamishness when it comes to post-mortem Victorian images, and having seen a dead body I'm not sure why you would want a photograph of one, but I never noticed the print that is hanging on the wall behind little Adeline (probably as I was too busy trying not to think about the dead child on the bed).  It is a print of a watercolour by Orlando Norie of Herbert Clogstoun, Adeline's father, and his 'charge at Madras from which he won the Victoria Cross', which JMC wrote on the white of the print in some of the images. I find it interesting that the majority of those haunting images of the child are just straight, glowing photos of the bed and body, but she couldn't resist linking the death of the child with her heroic dead father who died in the service of Empire.

King of Oude by Right of Birth (c.1865)

When you begin to look and consider, JMC's support of the Colonial status quo is everywhere and understandably so.  She was a child of Empire, as were her parents and grandparents. Her grandfather had escaped/been banished from Revolutionary France but her grandmother had never seen her ancestral France until later in life. Grandfather Ambroise De L'Etang had worked with horses in India, including for the Nawab of Oude. The East India Company changed the title from Nawab to King, signalling the move from allegiance to the Mugal Emperor to King, degrading the status of the Mugal reign. The title of JMC's photograph leans into that EIC revision, even after the Queen's dissolution of the Company and the claim of the rule back to herself as Empress.  Iqbal al-Daula is the ousted King not Nawab. That is the challenge/problem/conundrum of JMC and the colonial side of Victorian life - it is difficult to unpick all the ideas (or prejudices) of the English abroad, including those that hadn't been in England for generations.  It is easy to either condemn or defend the colonial set, depending on your politics and viewpoint.  What is harder is to explore the products of that world in context, but this is a wonderful journey into the reasons behind that world and its resultant art and society. It changes the way you see the art, truthfully, and that is always a good thing.

Romeo and Juliet (1867)

I really enjoyed this large, beautifully illustrated and extremely thoughtful book. Colonialism is a very important lens in which to view all aspects of our history and Julia Margaret Cameron's art and life are perfect to turn this lens on. I think there is a lot of defensiveness about our colonial history and there need not be as it explains so much of our past and present.  This examination of Empires, both in reality and of the mind, can give a wonderful new view of JMC's art and it is beautifully examined and explained by Jeff Rosen.  I have read (and indeed done) writing on Julia's colonial ties and influences but this new book gives a fuller and more comprehensive view of her life, society and art in this light which is extremely satisfying.  I can't recommend it enough.

More information on Jeff's book is available here and via all good book sellers now.

Review: Rising Splendour - Fred Appleyard: From the Royal Academy to the Itchen Valley

 It isn't often that I go into an exhibition without being able to visualise or name the artist's work. That is not a flex on my part, but after a few years of going to as many Victorian art exhibitions as I can, I have seen a fair selection of artists who are in public collection, and obviously writing this nonsense over the last decade has meant we have seen images from quite a bit of what the 19th century had to offer.  As it turns out, a colleague of mine asked me a few years back if I knew Fred Appleyard, but I didn't and there is precious little about Fred out there.  That is why this new exhibition might well be one of the most interesting shows you see this year...

The Four Seaons (c.1910)

For a bit of context, Fred Appleyard (1874-1963) attended the Royal Academy, winning numerous prizes including the very fancy Turner Gold Medal.  He was known as a landscape painter, but his work around figures, especially women meant he bumped up against Pre-Raphaelite adjacent themes and styles. His work in the open air made him a bit impressionistic too, so what can we make of his art?

Spring (1899)

The exhibition is beautifully spaced, moving through Fred's life and phases of work.  We begin in the very grandiose, academy-styles pieces including this award-winning design which was commission for the Royal Academy refreshment room. In a similar vein is the folding screen depicting the Four Seasons which arguably was influenced by Evelyn De Morgan, Burne-Jones and Edward Fellowes Prynne amongst others.  It is absolutely gorgeous in real life; my photo does not do it justice.

Untitled (Young Woman in Green Dress) (c.1905)

From the opening pieces, you move round to his portraits and floral works.  The portraits were fascinating, moving from easily glamorous pieces like Young Woman in Green Dress whose hair and dignified expression reminded me of some of Rossetti's portraits of Fanny, to his portraits of Minnie and Margaret...

Minnie (1903)

In 1903, Fred painted the pictures of the little sisters who look slightly uncanny in their sorrow.  The little moppets had been brought to Scarborough by their mother after their father drowned and their eyes are almost too sad to look at. There are a number of child portraits in the show, alongside other images of beautiful, thoughtful women, and it makes a change to see a male artist tackled children (if you excuse the expression), normally the preserve of women, and he did it with such depth.  Minnie and Margaret are both beautiful and haunting, and it doesn't take a mind-reader to see these girls are going through something.  Interestingly, I also liked this one very much...

Untitled (Bonfire) (c.1910)

I was immediately struck how this work could well be a painterly step-back of Millais' Autumn Leaves from 1856 down to the girl holding the rake handle and the bowed heads. 

Detail of the glorious wall of flowers

The older I get, the more I appreciate a good flower painting.  Fred's still life skills are summed up in a vivid wall of flowers in jugs, bowls and glasses, all radiating their colour from an unwaveringly dull background.  These are breath-taking, oranges and pinks with white centres and shining vessels.  Again, I am struck how he made a main-stay of female art his own, the shape and detail of the flowers blurred in their intensity.  The choice of wall paint worked incredibly well here, that dark, deep teal-green looking velvet-y with the flowers bursting out.

Garden at lane End, Itchen Stoke (c.1935)

His love of flowers spilled over into whole gardens and again, I do not do the colours justice.  I was struck how they reminded me of some Pre-Raphaelite gardens, bowers to hide and be safe in, and the same feeling is evident in his gardens as the Second World War approached. There is another beautiful painting of the garden at Itchen Stoke where two little girls are hiding in an area screened by a pergola, truly embowered.

Beach, Cliff and Figures (c.1930)

The exhibition ends with images of the peaceful south coast, those sunny interwar years where nothing could be wrong. There is a hint of Henry Scott Tuke in the little pink figures on the sand but they become at one with the cliffs and the light, still as rocks on the shoreline. I am particularly fond of this period and place, which reminds me of Leslie Moffat Ward's images of health, sunshine and endless summer holidays.

Netley Abbey (undated)

Also, this image of Netley Abbey is ridiculously beautiful - the sunlight up on the arches of the vaulting is magical. 

The Spirit of the Summit (c.1910)

Look, if you do nothing else this summer, see this exhibition as it is incredible. Not only that, but there is a gorgeous catalogue that goes along with it for £20, which is not bad at all for a hardback book stuffed with colour illustrations. There is nearby parking and the Arc in Winchester is not actually that far from the railway station, so it's easy to get to. What Winchester has accomplished in bringing this exhibition together is to show us something exciting and unexpected - a Victorian/Edwardian artist who just kept going, his style and subject both changing and revisiting as he worked. Fred Appleyard is a revelation and you will not see a more beautiful exhibition this year.

Rising Splendour at the Arc in Winchester is on until 18th September and more details can be found here. Melanie Rose's gorgeous catalogue is available in the exhibition shop.

A Tale of Three Sisters

 As often happens, I started looking at one person only to open a whole can of worms and end up looking at three unknown female artists.  I started by looking at this...

Watching the Birds (undated) Frances Elizabeth Grace

Okay, so this little moppet may not look like much, and I'm damned if I can see any birds, but it is a little gem that hangs on the walls of Southampton Art Gallery. It's only 27cm by 38cm, so not huge, but there is a certain feeling about it, a wistful, melancholic longing for something beautiful to appear in this little girl's life. She is looking for nature in a brick forest under a grey-yellow sky. I love it. Obviously, I wanted to know more about Miss Frances Elizabeth Grace...

There are not many of Frances' paintings in public hands in the UK, but two of them are with Brighton and Hove which is unsurprising as Frances was a Hove girl from cradle to grave. In fact, her family pretty much stayed put (with a couple of exceptions, one of them scandalous, hurrah) within a small area of Hove for all their lives. Frances was born in 1857, the second daughter to William (1824-1870) and Frances Elizabeth senior (1825-1891).  It is rather unusual for a mother and daughter to have exactly the same name, but this might explain why Frances junior was also known as Lily or Libby Grace within her career, which makes my job that bit more difficult, thanks very much. We'll come to that in a bit.

William was a linen draper, a living that afforded them servants and a very pleasant house on York Road in Hove. He married Frances Elizabeth senior in the summer of 1852, and along came eldest daughter Ellen Maud in 1854. Frances junior followed in 1857, then Harriette (or Harriet, spellings vary) in 1860, Anna Maria in 1861, William Francis in 1864, then finally Olive Blanche in 1870. In the 1861 census, the family had settled in York Road, with William listed as a linen draper's assistant and they had a servant, 18 year old Martha Gibb. 

Alice (undated) Harriette Edith Grace

Four days after the birth of the youngest child, Olive on 10th September 1870, William died suddenly and unpleasantly. He had been promoted at Hannington and Sons drapers, but the amount of work her was expected to do made him anxious and affected his health. When his employers spoke to him about changes to his working conditions, he regularly burst into tears. On 10th September, he walked off the chain pier, leaving behind his hat with a note pinned to it - 'Mr Samuel has again reduced my strength in the warehouse and at the same time expects me to do more business. I cannot bear it. Itis unkind and unreasonable. He has driven me mad - WILLIAM GRACE. May God help my poor wife and family, I cannot.' William drowned before anyone could reach him. He was 45 years old. I think it is interesting (and stokes class war in my soul) that his employers were completely exonerated at the inquest and William was just written off as mad and unable to function.

Quite how the family managed is another thing.  We have often heard of family tragedies in these posts but the double blow of the loss of William (and his wages) together with the public knowledge of his suicide, not to mention the blame he laid at his employers doors, much have made life very hard for Francis senior and her children. In the reports of the inquest, William's employers were completely basically praised for putting up with such a temperamental employee and all blame was put on William's wobbly mental health which obviously explained everything to the Victorian readers. I think it is remarkable that the family continued and flourished in the light of such a tragedy. 

By 1876, Frances junior (who I'll call Libby to make life easier and seems to be what the family called her), Harriette and Anna were all at Brighton School of Art and Science, receiving awards for their work. Anna received an award for her freehand drawing, and an excellent commendation for her model drawing. Prizes of the third grade awarded at South Kensington were given to Libby and Henriette and Libby was part of the selection for the National Competition, where works from all the art schools in the country select their best work. She went on to win the National Gold Medal in conjunction with a Princess of Wales scholarship for her work.  In 1879, in the Annual Exhibition of the Royal Society of British Artists, Harriette showed An Old Oak which was sold for £3 3s. She also started teaching at Brighton Art School, who announced her presence proudly as a graduate of the RA and a silver medallist. Interestingly, Harriette was one of the students at the RA who signed the famous petition to allow female students to draw from a semi-draped model.

Reverend William Thursby (1894) Harriette Edith Grace

Eleanor May Thursby (1894) Harriette Edith Grace

Anne Thursby, daughter of William Hanbury of Kelmarsh (1893) Frances Elizabeth Grace

A quick note on the pictures here - as I have said they are few and far between but the ones we have raise a lot of questions.  Take these three portraits by Harriette and Libby. I felt there was definitely something up with them in terms of style and so I thought I'd have a look into who the people were. They were all done around the same time and Anne Thursby (1742-1823) was actually the mother of William Thursby (1795-1884).  He was married to Eleanor (1803-1883) and as you can see, none of them were alive at the time of the portraits so I'd love to know why they were created.  William and his wife were local to Hove, so possibly he was important in the town.  All three paintings are now the property of West Northamptonshire Council, probably because that's where Kelmarsh is, but who commissioned them in the first place? So many questions...

In the 1881 census, all three girls are still listed at art school, with William junior and Olive still at school. Eldest sister Ellen married in 1874 to William Michael Quirke, a salesman from Limerick, and went on to have 11 children, all but one having impressively long lives.  1881 was also the year that Harriette and Libby first appeared at the Royal Academy, Harriette with a portrait of Mrs Sussex Lennox and Libby with Blanche. Although I started by looking at Libby, it very quickly became apparent that Harriette was probably the most successful of the three sisters (the Charlotte Bronte of the three, if you will).  Her portraits appeared more often than either of the two other sisters managed - in 1882, she showed Mrs Kingsmill of Sydmonton and in 1884 she showed Elsie, Daughter of J Watney Esq, which was mentioned in The Artist magazine. Anna joined both sisters in the 1886 Royal Academy - Anna showed Portrait of a Boy, Libby showed "Dark nor Light..." based on a poem by Keats, and Harriette had two pictures, "These Are Ancient Things" and Conal. There is a lot to unpack in these titles and sadly we do not have accompanying images. Obviously, I'd love to see Libby's piece that is based on Keats as I can shove her into the Pre-Raphaelites because I know people love it when I do that. I wonder if Conal is anything to do with their Irish brother-in-law, as Conal was an ancient bishop from Ireland. I'm guessing These Are Ancient Things is a biblical piece from Harriette as it seems to be framed as a quotation. It might also be to do with these images...

Still Life (c.1879) Harriette Grace

Mind you, have a look at this one by Libby...

Still Life (c.1877) Frances Elizabeth Grace

oh, and this one...

Still Life (undated, but I think we can have a guess) Frances Grace

It's a matching set! The frieze behind the first two is the same, so either it was a piece at the art school or in their home. It would be tempting to think it was the work of one artist but you can see differences in the handling of the material. I like Harriette's flower but Libby's peacock feather wins it for me. They also remind me of other works of art that were responses to things like the Parthenon Friezes, such as Julia Margaret Cameron's 1867 Version of Study after the Elgin Marbles or Alma-Tadema's 1868 Phidias Showing the Frieze of the Parthanon to his friends. In 1887, Anna was at the Royal Academy alone with a miniature portrait of Edith Constance Wood which appears to be her last piece at the RA. Harriette continued, showing two pieces in 1890, one portrait and A Study of Colour. She also had a piece in the 1891 exhibition from a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, entitled Grandmother Dear: " What would the world be to us if the children were no more?". The Grace sisters appeared at the 1888 Women's Art and Industry exhibition at the Brighton Pavilion, and also showed their work at the Ditchling exhibition of 1889, gaining a favourable mention in the Mid Sussex Times - 'The pictures of the Misses Grace all deserve attention, and are well-known to frequenters of Brighton exhibitions. Particular mention may be made of a "Portrait of a Man" by Miss A. M. Grace, "A Daughter of Erin" by Miss H. E. Grace, "In the Cloisters, Westminster Abbey" by Miss F. Grace and a capital picture entitled "At the Cross Roads, Ditchling."

The Southern Weekly News in 1890 recorded all three sisters' paintings in an exhibition once more, mentioned as the 'Misses Grace.' Libby showed a painting entitled The Model's Rest which was praised as a charming study of a very beautiful girl. Harriette's still life was both simple and distinguished and Anna was described as 'a lady full of promise as an artist.' By the 1891 census, Libby, Anna and Harriette were all listed as portrait artists and teachers.  William had become a mining engineer (I'm coming to him) and Olive was a mathematics teacher. Their household included two servants, one a trained invalid nurse, presumably for Frances senior, who died shortly after the census was taken. William began to travel with his work, going to South America, then to Australia. I am particularly grateful to the internet for a family painting of William by Libby in his South American garb...

William Grace (undated) Frances Elizabeth Grace

William went on to marry Ellen Browne, the daughter of a gentleman, at St Andrew's Church, Coolgardie in Western Australia, in March 1899. The couple returned to Hove and began their married life there, their son Francis arriving in 1900. By 1901, the family were in Australia once more and then William was offered a job in Mexico for a short period. The family returned to Hove, but William's absences were very frequent and often lasted more than a year at a time. Homesick, Ellen returned to Australia just William got a job in New Zealand.  In the resultant divorce paperwork (spoiler alert), William lists how often he was away and it is a great deal, with his holidays cut short by the demands of his work and Ellen seemed to move between England (her married home) and Australia (her birth home) without a lot of joy in her life. The last time he saw his wife as 1912, so he was rather surprised when Ellen gave birth to a second child in December 1914. As William explained in the paperwork, he had not been within 6000 miles of his wife in two years, so he was fairly certain the child was not his.  Just to make sure, I had a look at the birth certificate for Stephen Robert, born on 22nd December 1914 and his father is listed as Emil Fox, an oil broker's manager. William married again in 1916, but then died a few months later.  His widow was Grace Wood, who lived with the splendid married name Grace Grace. 

Lady Abinger (1883) Frances Elizabeth Grace

Back to the girls, Ellen was widowed in 1918, but managed to not lose any of her sons in the First World War, which is a bit of an achievement. She settled to a life of comfortable widowhood and taught music in her home which was only a few streets from her sisters. Olive never married, remained a maths teacher and again lived very close. Back to the Three Artists...

Libby and Harriette both appeared in the 1894 Royal Academy, Libby showing A Daughter of Erin and Harriette showing Fruit. I wonder if Libby's picture was the one mentioned in the Ditchling exhibition attributed to Harriette, or another one on the same subject? This was Libby's last RA. Harriette appeared twice more, in 1898 with Nasturtiums and 1900 with Still Life which could well be the picture above. In 1899 Harriette started a Sketching and Copying Club from the sister's home in York Road which was warmly recommended in Girls' Own Paper in both July and September of that year. Anna not only painted but seems to have started a women's orchestra in 1915 which practiced every Tuesday afternoon in their York Road home and other locations.  For the sake of the other sisters, I hope they were good...

This is where I run out of information on the Grace Sisters.  Harriette died of bronchial pneumonia in 1932, leaving her money to one of Ellen's children. She alone received an obituary in the West Sussex Gazette stating that she and her sisters were much respected and it was almost fashionable to be painted by them. Libby, Anna and Harriette had held a very successful exhibition in Hove public library just weeks before Harriette's death and the day after her death, one of her sketches of Ditchling appeared in the newspapers. Anna died on 1st June 1939, followed by Libby on 23rd September, all of them missing the 1939 census which was on 29th September 1939. Olive died the year after, followed by Ellen in 1943.

I think families of artists are fascinating.  Along with my obsession of husband and wife artistic duos, I'm very much interested in whole families of painters, and I'd love to see an exhibition that explores this subject. It's a shame that we have so little of the Grace sisters' work and what we have I don't think fully expresses how interesting they were.  In the meantime, I will go and watch that little girl watching the birds in Southampton.

Review: Spirituality, Feminism and Pre-Raphaelitism in Modern British Art and Culture

 You know me, I am all about 'forgotten' artists (I can't stand it when journalists say someone is 'forgotten', so possibly 'less fashionable' is better? That sounds a bit judge-y. 'Lesser known'? 'Obscure'? Anyway, you get the picture...) and so I get excited when books come out about them, which both inform and raise the profile of their art.  I also am up for a bit of Feminism and Pre-Raphaelitism, so Alice Eden's new book was right up my alley...

Okay, let's get the price out of the way, as it is £130 and not everyone gets a review copy as I was fortunate enough to receive.  We have seen such prices in a number of books of the last few years which people were desperate to get their hands on.  In such cases, the prices came down eventually and the library will get you a copy in the meantime. I'm guessing the sort of publisher that could make this book cheaper are few and far between these days as the little presses get swallowed up by the bigger groups who are less risk-taking and more about the profits above all else. It's a shame but here we are. Let's get on to the book itself and not my predictable rant about publishing...

They Come (undated) Thomas Cooper Gotch

So, Alice's book centres around three artists from the later Victorian period - Thomas Cooper Gotch, Robert Anning Bell and Frederick Cayley Robinson - and how their art can be seen to explore the subjects of female spirituality, modernity and the past. I think critics in Britain struggle with with nineteenth to twentieth century 'modern art' as, unlike other countries, we don't go from highly figurative paintings of Medieval women in towers to dipping a cat in paint and throwing it at a canvas, so writers have always struggled to see the subtleties of our art movement from the past to the future. I believe Sister Wendy described Pre-Raphaelitism as a cul-de-sac, which is charming. Also, art historians and critics are not a bright bunch on the whole and so wouldn't be able to tell a gradual nuance from their elbow. As Alice points out, the work of these three gorgeous artists existed in and responded to The Modern World (TM), often engaging in amazingly symbiotic ways - angels and aeroplanes, knights and sewing machines. I was immediately reminded of a beautiful Maxwell Armfield painting of a woman playing a harp, looking for all the world like Saint Cecilia, while post Second World War New York is seen behind her. These two things can exist together. Didn't Burne-Jones say something to the tune of 'the more I see of modern life, the more I paint angels?' - little did he know that the two aren't mutually exclusive...

Music in New York (1946) Maxwell Armfield

I blame the fin-de-siecle, quite honestly. It made everyone get all spiritual and that combined with the growing awareness of women's rights and votes. There is an argument (I have often made it here on this blog) that a lot of male artists (and much of society) did not respond positively to the growing volume of female voices, and there is a layer of threat in the feminine occult and female spirituality, but there is also reason to see its sudden existence. In this book, you can see the case made for the evolution of Pre-Raphaelitism from Truth to Nature to Trust to Supernatural as the Victorian obsession with ghosts became the Edwardian love of Modernism and magic.

The Toy Windmill (1931) Robert Anning Bell

Let me just get my 'Pre-Raphaelite' rant out of the way too.  Goodness, I am filled with the rants today, but honestly, it's been that sort of month. I am aware that the term Pre-Raphaelite is both over- and under-used. In some quarters, it is seen as sacred - if it isn't the work of the original Magnificent Seven, then you don't get to call it Pre-Raphaelite.  Others apply it to any woman with red hair. I think we can find a middle ground - I would rather the term was over-used because it keeps it in the modern consciousness, however when it comes to describing art what we need to agree on is that the work of the Magnificent Seven is Pre-Raphaelite and then possibly everything else is Pre-Raphaelitism. Surely that will keep the purests happy? That way we only need to argue about what constitutes Pre-Raphaelitism, which includes the Met Galathe Met Gala apparently. Sorry, back to the review...

The Call of the Sea (1900) Frederick Cayley Robinson

Glasgow plays a big connecting role in all this - the Celtic Revival held a spiritual and mystical heart, unsurprising, as artists such as John Duncan were connected to the theosophical movement at the time, and Belgian Symbolist artist Jean Delville was Head of Painting at the School of Art from 1900. It is a relief and a definite refocusing to admit that maybe, just maybe, it's not all about London all the damn time. Stuff happened elsewhere that is actually important to how we could see British Art and its evolution. The moment we step from the Capital it is easy to see that Britain didn't just drop off the artistic horizon. Marvellous.

What feels very relevant to our modern life are Victorian/Edwardian notions of the erosion of masculinity. Back in 2012, I wrote a piece about how Burne-Jones turned everyone gay in the 1880s and it is very much seen as a response to not only the more mystical style of art, but also predictably the rise in the power of women. I find it all really modern; you only need to venture onto the wrong side of social media to find out the horrors of mewing, man or bear and all that to know that we are not alright. What is oddly comforting is that over a century ago they were having the same conversations, albeit with a corset on and less bears. If ever you want to argue that British Victorian and Edwardian art is modern art, reflect on how our views, issues and struggles are so very alike. Then feel a bit sad.

Childhood (1926) Frederick Cayley Robinson

This is a great book, not least because I feel really ranty and argumentative so obviously it is thought-provoking. Alice's three chaps are artists who massively deserve our attention, not least because I think Gotch got dismissed in the whole Lewis-Carroll-is-a-kiddie-botherer of the early 1970s, which I find infuriating, but again, art historians are the worst. I do have a concern (and I in no way want to come off like 'I'm not like other girls' here) that in our rush to find lost artists, we are concentrating on traditionally marginalised one, which is brill and correct, but we are not dragging along other excellent artists who had the misfortune to have been born white and male but missed the first bus of rediscovery. There is room for all, which is surely the point, and so we would do better to start talking about the whole history of art, which surprisingly includes men. Arguably, by leaving out the patriarchy we miss the context in which everyone was working. Context is everything.

This is a richly illustrated book with images that are possibly new to everyone, or at least not so familiar. It's an academic but accessible read and will get you thinking and talking. It is new ways of looking at familiar ground and bringing the way we see our home-grown art into the twenty-first century. It's about time.

A Pageant of Childhood (1899) Thomas Cooper Gotch

Spirituality, Feminism and Pre-Raphaelitism in Modern British Art and Culture is available from Routledge and all good book shops now.