This is a fascinating painting with a strange title and painted by a remarkable woman - a successful painter at a time when it was extremely rare for a woman to work in this way. The title and image seems to communicate that painting is a test where you need your sleeves rolled up, you will need to take a difficult pose and place in society and there will be a sense of imbalance and uncertainty in life. This was in an exhibition at the Royal Academy in 2018 entitled Charles 1 : King and Collector . Artemisia Gentileschi was invited to London by the king and almost certainly painted this while she was there for her patron. It is still in the Royal Collection. And we now have a new King Charles ! From RA website : “King Charles I amassed one of the most extraordinary art collections of his age, acquiring works by some of the finest artists of the past – Titian, Mantegna, Holbein, Dürer – and commissioning leading contemporary artists such as Van Dyck and Rubens. Yet, following the king’s execution in 1649, his collection was sold off and scattered across Europe. While many works were retrieved by Charles II during the Restoration, others now form the core of museums such as the Louvre and the Prado.” Another self portrait by this artist has recently been wonderfully restored at the National Gallery in London. The removal of varnish, the discovery of previously cropped areas, the cleaning and mending that has taken place has revealed a powerful image of a strong woman, posing as St Catherine, who is confident in the life and strength of her art.
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There was recently an exhibition by the textile artist Sheila Hicks at the Hepworth Gallery in Wakefield. I had seen her work previously at the Venice Biennale back in 2017 : great coloured balls of wool stacked in a corner of the great rope building in the Arsenale. At the most recent exhibition at the Hepworth in Wakefield there was work gathered from her 60 year career and travels to many countries
Below are the notes and photographs I made as I wandered round this delightful gallery The place, the texture, the colour makes me want to cry. The devoted craft to produce things that did not exist before The beautiful tangibility that one can’t touch, but it is there, really there Something about being woven, the intricacy and order Depth of colour Bound and free An accumulation defined and arranged Reaching to the sky and falling to the earth Art gallery as a place of thinking, seeing, feeling, tasting Order and display, and some of the items in this exhibition are site specific and arranged for here. A sense of place - a gift of place And wanting to sit on the floor and cry Not a painting but a small terracotta statue The Virgin with the Laughing Child sits in the corner of a far gallery in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. It is remarkable because of its life-like immediacy, The sketch like qualities of the terracotta are far more approachable than solid finished marble statue might be. The pose seems so real and the baby is actually laughing........ And that baby is God. It also turns out that it has recently been the subject of heated discussions about attribution. Traditionally said to be by Rossellino some academics, led by one Francesco Caglioti, now say it could be a very early work by Leonardo da Vinci, made when he was about 20 and the pupil of the Florentine artist Andrea del Verrocchio. One of the reasons for this possible new attribution is “the face of the baby Christ and his realistic, well-observed pose. He looks alive. That same attention to young children’s actual behaviour can be seen in Leonardo’s drawings. Yet portraying a laughing Christ in the 15th century was not only radical, but practically blasphemous.” (The Guardian , article by Jonathan Jones 9 Mar 2019 Fascinating though this debate may be, it is the power of the image that matters. it suggests an amazing answer to the question posed by AW Tozer who wrote “What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us” Does a laughing baby feature in our thoughts? God not just as great mysterious Father but also as a baby, learning to smile and laugh and sit comfortably on his Mother’s knee. Is that possible? Is that who God is? .
Why has this picture in the Philips Collection catalogue arrested me, stopped me in my tracks? The gaps and the colour. White is allowed to stand between. It could be daubs by an over-enthusiastic child Yet, it is made of fierce and gentle deliberate marks Painted at the end of life. It could be seen as a picture of a life of now of truth Each colour is deeply complex, standing alone Yet harmonious Each mark deliberate, no more and no less than is necessary And the resolution surprising A painting to be looked at - the viewer now finding Anything, everything I saw this painting in an exhibition at the National Gallery in London entitled 'Delacroix and the rise of modern art'. There was a treasure trove of paintings full of passion and evidence of the power of a great painter to influence those that follow. In this image Degas has built on two areas of Delacroix's work: his fascination with horses and his use of stories from the classical past as a starting point for an image. However the story is, for me, not nearly as important as the painting. The colour is somehow like a mixture of tempera as fresco and pastels on paper. It is clearly still a work in progress but that enhances the strange combination of action and stillness. The colours are a wonderful mix of cool and warmth and the pose of the young man, so off balance and framed by his pale blue cloak reminds me of David about to slay Goliath or an angel about to set off for earth with a great commission. "The catalogue of the exhibition has articles to go with the reproductions of an extraordinary collection of art. I made my own collection phrases that seem important. "His journal - very act of writing would enliven his imagination and safeguard his memory. Passionately in love with passion and coldly determined to seek means of expressing it in the most visible way" "Subjects from literature to be stimulants or vehicles for reinterpretation, not primarily expository in nature" "Primacy of memory and imagination for visual arts" Degas-" it is fine to copy what you see but much better to draw what you cant see any more but is in our memory. Imagination and memory work together and you only reproduce what struck you, that is to say the necessary If you want a subject - the subject is yourself, your impressions and emotions before nature. you must look within yourself and not around yourself." The Story of Bucephalus (355 BC – 326 BC) Bucephalus (bu-ceph-a-lus) was the famous and well-loved stallion of Alexander the Great whose breeding was said to have been of the “best Thessalian strain” from the renowned stallion-breeding region of Thessaly, Greece. The horse was reported to have been a massive creature with a massive head (Bucephalus means “Ox-Head” in Ancient Greek), and is described as having a black coat with a large white star on his brow. Legend tells that a 12-year old Alexander won the horse, Bucephalus, in a wager with his father, Philip II of Macedon. A horse dealer offered the horse to Alexander’s father for an enormous sum, but the animal appeared to be unstable and could not be tamed. Since no one could temper the animal, Philip wasn't interested, but Alexander promised to pay for the horse should he fail to tame it. Alexander was allowed to try and surprised everyone by subduing the steed. Alexander spoke soothingly and turned the horse away from the imposing sun so that it didn't see the shadow that seemed to distress it, and so tamed the horse. Alexander named his prize stallion Bucephalus and rode him for nearly two decades and through numerous battles to create his mighty empire. Bucephalus died of battle wounds in 326BC in Alexander's last battle. Alexander founded the city of Bucephala (thought to be the modern town of Jhelum, Pakistan) in memory of his wonderful horse. (found on the Black Stallion Winery website - they have a wine called Bucephalus) I bought a postcard of this picture at an exhibition at the Dulwich Picture Gallery in London. The painting had been brought from New York to hang among the other stylish, subtle and confident paintings by John Singer Sargent. Many were of corners of Venice but this is somewhere else - a villa in Frascati..
The image has has been a talisman for me - a reminder that a woman can confidently paint even if the circumstances are tricky or unlikely. Here she is in her cumbersome clothes (surely white is unsuitable), the balustrade looks a rather hard seat and the fountain keeps spraying water. Her husband looks on and seems rather bored with it all. But she carries on, straight-backed, determined and elegant: . Painting is a valid activity, it says to me. being creative whenever, wherever, is not only possible but necessary. The post card used to sit next to my dish of keys in the narrow hallway of my London home so I would see it every day. It travelled north with me and now is pinned to the noticeboard in my studio - continuing to inspire I was introduced to Carpaccio by Mrs Harrod. She was familiar with Venice and was giving me some ideas of how to fill my time while our husbands were busy making radio programmes. She gave me the choice of Tintoretto or Carpaccio. I was not sure of the reason but I went for the lesser known and she directed me to an out of the way corner - over many bridges to a small stone building set askew to the canal with an imposing old wooden door. The notice on the outside suggested rather limited opening times but I was fortunate, paid the small fee and entered the sombre cave like place. Once inside, eyes adjusting, the wood panelling became less like a coffin and more like a great decorated chest perhaps designed to house linens for a great family. On the walls were stories painted with careful precision and stillness, the drama being explained in paint.
Of all the exquisite paintings, the image that captured me was the Calling of Matthew - a small panel on the right hand wall, quite hard to see in the low light of a spring afternoon. The costumes and setting are strangely Italian and there are some slightly troubling aspects to the perspective of the buildings. Yet right in the centre are two hands joined. Christ holds out his hands to gently call the proud tax collector away from his money and reckoning. He calls him away from all he has known and relied upon. By the inclination of his head and the slight pull of his hand he beckons to a new life. Matthew has to step down onto the rough ground. He will need to discard his rich brocade cloak and gold trimmed hat. He will be able to discard the notoriety and resentment of his job for an even less respectable crowd of itinerant followers of a deeply disturbing teacher. He does not yet know what the future will hold : that he will discover the ability to exchange accounting with numbers for accounting for the truth of this man, this Messiah. That step he takes means nothing will ever be the same again. But it is not taken alone. Like a kind Father Jesus makes sure he does not trip or fall. He will watch over him all the days of his life. |
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