aJZgKak957

more natural and casual manners that made perfect themes to enliven both novels and group portraits.

Conversation pieces and novels, by fictionally portraying situations from real life, differ from the allegorical portraits and epic poetry preferred by the nobility. Prosperous middle-class people who normally commissioned conversation pieces are similar to the characters who populate such novels as Daniel Defoe‟s Moll Flanders, Henry Fielding‟s Tom Jones, A Foundling, or Jane Austen‟s Pride and Prejudice.

http://en.gallerix.ru/album/NGA/pic/glrx-58620

Arthur Devis. Arthur Holdsworth Conversing with Thomas Taylor and Captain Stancombe by the River Dart, 1757. Oil on canvas

Arthur Devis first trained as a sporting and topographical artist, which explains the prominence given to animals and landscapes in his portraits. This conversation piece was commissioned by a twenty-four-year-old patron to commemorate his mercantile success.

Assessing the viewer with a demeanor of self-importance, Arthur Holdsworth is distinguished by his seated pose and adoring pointer. In the distance, one of his trading ships docks at Dartmouth harbor in southwest England. Dartmouth Castle, of which he soon will become governor, guards the approach from the English Channel. The ship‟s captain, dressed in the uniform of the merchant navy, reports on the journey‟s profits. Holdsworth‟s brother-in-

81

law, wearing spurs and carrying a riding switch, leans against the bench in a cross-legged stance then fashionable among young dandies.

Conservation Notes

The medium-weight canvas is plain woven; it has been lined. The ground appears to be white, of moderate thickness. The painting is executed thinly and very fluidly resulting in a smooth surface texture; there are minimal brushmarks and no impasto. There are scattered retouches chiefly in the sky; the entire canvas has a quarter-inch band of retouching at the edges. The moderately thin natural resin varnish has not discolored.

http://www.museumsyndicate.com/item.php?item=3399

Francis Wheatley. Family group. c. 1775/1780. Oil on canvas.

The name of this family, whose father proudly confronts the viewer, remains unknown. The mandolin was a studio prop of the painter Francis Wheatley and therefore does not help identify the sitters. The modish, diagonally swept-back hairstyle of the mother and daughter dates this conversation piece to the late 1770s. The ladies‟ fashions and Wheatley‟s use of light, bright colors reveal an influence from contemporary French rococo art. The “V”-shaped geometry that unifies the group, silhouetted against the dark foliage of a park, typifies Wheatley‟s well-structured compositions.

Wheatley altered this design in progress, deciding to move the father‟s knee in front of the daughter‟s skirt. Now that the oil paint has become more transparent with age, the original outline of her dress shows through his breeches.

82

Wheatley entered the Royal Academy school in 1769 as one of its first students. Oddly, his election as a member of the Royal Academy in 1791 damaged Wheatley‟s career because his rival for that position, the young Thomas Lawrence, was favored by the royal family. Society immediately snubbed Wheatley, and his portrait commissions declined.

To make ends meet during the 1790s, Wheatley turned to painting sentimental scenes intended for engraving. The Cries of London, thirteen popular prints made after his canvases, vividly document a vanished lifestyle of street vendors hawking their wares.

(Abridged from: The Collection. National Gallery of Art http://www.nga.gov/collection/gallery/british.htm)

Landscape painting

British landscapes of the early 1800s

From the history of the genre

If there is one branch of painting in which the English may claim to have excelled it is in landscape. But the demand for such work grew up even more slowly here than elsewhere. Not until the close of the eighteenth century could a landscape painter even of genius make a livelihood by such work. While Canaletto and Zuccarelli were popular, Wilson was on the brink of starvation and Gainsborough forced to work mainly the more remunerative art of portraiture. After about 1720 the supply of good landscapes began already to be ahead of the demand. English mediaeval illuminators had drawn natural details with precision; a few fifteenth century painters had attempted skies and distances; in sixteenth and seventeenth century portraits, the landscape backgrounds had shown flashes of observation but were strictly subordinate to the total design.

The practical demand for seascapes began about 1700. Peter Monamy (1670-1749) was one of the first to meet it. Mainly a follower of the Dutch marine painters, he was apt like them to draw ships well, but to make the sea either melodramatically stormy or somewhat mechanically calm. But in the Old East India he has risen above his usual level, observing the men of the dockyard as keenly and making as bold a pattern out of a true effect of light as Hogarth himself.

The two main continental schools of landscape had grown up in Italy and in the Low Countries. In Venice in the sixteenth century Titian had enlarged the scope of landscape painting by many careful observations of natural forms and of effects of light, particularly of the luminous afterglow that follows an Italian sunset. He had also inaugurated two elements in landscape composition. The first depended upon boldly silhouetted masses of dark against light and light against dark, within which subtle gradations of tone might occur, but whose general effect upon the eye was broad and simple all but flat. This method was imitated especially by the Italianised Frenchman, Nicholas Poussin (1594-1665). In a lesser degree it was used by his compatriot Claud Le Lorrain (1600-1682).

83

But Titian's other method of design, perfectly combinable with the first, was what Claude particularly systematised until it became almost a formula. On either side of the pictorial stage there would be a building and a group of trees about equal to it in weight, and then further off at intervals a whole series of such balanced masses leading the eye through a vista to some distant object on the horizon.

Of the painters of Holland in the seventeenth century Rembrandt was the greatest in landscape as in everything else, for he would find the stump of a tree or a broken down fence as absorbing as the human countenance. But his lesser fellow countrymen have had far more influence than he upon English landscape, both for good and bad. The imitation of Dutch finish, the pretence of painting every group of leaves upon a tree, has spoiled many a bold design. But Dutch accuracy could be genuine when applied to lighting or to the modelling of the ground, and many of our landscape painters, who learned first from the Dutch before following more brilliant models, have proved the soundness of that training.

The great Fleming Rubens (1577-1640) was a man of far more genius. He applied what he had learned from Titian's colour and from Tintoretto's loose handling to express his enjoyment of his own countryside. Perhaps no landscapes could show a greater contrast to Claude's than his. Often indifferent to composition, too swift a worker carefully to study effects of light, Rubens could yet always put air into a field and life into a tree. In drawing trees his brush-strokes follow the direction of the growth, twigs or foliage, drawing and painting with him being but one process. This method though admired by many was one of which only Watteau among Frenchmen and Gainsborough among Englishmen had the decision and manual facility to take full advantage. Rubens' landscapes however were an inspiration to many others, among them Turner and Constable.

The landscape painters Turner and Constable were influential exponents of romanticism, an artistic movement of the late 1700s to mid-1800s that emphasized an emotional response to nature. Turner, who traveled extensively, often infused his dramatic seascapes and landscapes with literary or historical allusions. Constable, who never left England, preferred more straight forward depictions of placid rural scenery.

Working in the studio from sketches and his imagination, Turner blended his oil paints in fluid layers of translucent color, called glazes. Constable, sometimes painting directly outdoors, applied flickering touches of thick, opaque oils. Despite their differences in temperament and technique, Turner and Constable evoke the same worship of nature that imbues the literature of their contemporaries, the romantic poets Wordsworth, Coleridge, Byron, Shelley, and Keats.

84

http://www.artchive.com/artchive/c/constable/constable_wivenhoe.jpg

John Constable. Wivenhoe Park, Essex, 1816. Oil on canvas

This picture, exhibited at Britain‟s Royal Academy in 1817, demonstrates Constable‟s wish to be “a natural painter” because it was created almost entirely out-of-doors. During August and September 1816, the artist documented this country estate of old family friends and recorded his progress in letters to his fiancée. (The commission financed their wedding.)

Centered in the panoramic design, the red brick manor house stands out by reason of its warm color in an otherwise cool scheme of blues, greens, and grays. Constable wrote about the “great difficulty” of incorporating the thatchroofed deer barn. To add this requested motif, he cleverly sewed about an inch of extra fabric to the canvas at the far right. Then, in order to restore the composition‟s symmetrical balance, he stitched a similar strip to the left side, where he showed the owners‟ daughter, Mary Rebow, driving a donkey cart.

Conservation Notes

The medium-weight canvas is plain woven. It was added to by the artist on either side; the additional pieces are 10.5 cm wide on the left and 9 cm wide on the right; the canvases have been lined. The ground layer visible, a light warm brown, may be an imprimatura (toning the canvas) over a lighter ground. The painting is executed fluidly and fairly thickly with generally small brushstrokes, the highlights in low impasto. There are minor scattered paint losses. The painting was restored and revarnished with a synthetic resin in 1983.

85

http://i141.photobucket.com/albums/r68/giancarletto/ART/TURNER/800/T3.jpg Joseph Mallord William Turner. The Junction of the Thames and the Medway, 1807.

Turner, who earned an early reputation for producing accurate topographical views, opened his own private sales gallery, where he exhibited this turbulent seascape. Based on notes in the artist‟s sketchbooks, the scene is the wide mouth of the Thames joining the North Sea, where the smaller River Medway further churns the waves. To the south, the town on the far shore is the seaport of Sheerness.

To heighten the storm‟s impact, Turner artfully manipulated the lighting in this composition. The sails at the right, for instance, are brilliantly silhouetted against the dark clouds. In actuality, however, the sun is obscured high in the sky behind the thunderheads, making it impossible for sunbeams to strike those ships from the side.

Conservation Notes

The canvas has been lined. The ground is off-white, thinly and smoothly applied. There are traces of a buff-colored imprimatura above the ground in some areas. The painting is executed in very thin, transparent glazes in the darks; the sky is more opaquely rendered; moderate impasto is used in the highlights, especially in the waves. X-radiographs reveal pentimenti (visible traces of earlier painting beneath a layer or layers of paint on a canvas) in the rowing boat: the boat was originally 2 cm. longer at the bow; the figure in the stern, now leaning over the side of the boat, originally sat with his back to the spectator; a rowing figure in the center of the boat has been painted out; the figure at the bow of the boat originally sat facing the spectator. The picture is very abraded in numerous thinly painted areas, and has been extensively retouched with small, feathered repaints that have darkened considerably. The moderately thick natural resin varnish has discolored yellow-brown to a significant degree.

86

British Grand Manner Portraits of the 1700s

Eighteenth-century British artists and patrons used the terms “Grand Manner” or “Great Style” to describe paintings that utilized visual metaphors. By extension, the Grand Manner came to include portraiture – especially at full length and in life size – accompanied by settings and accessories that conveyed the dignified status of the sitters. Classical architecture, for instance, signified one‟s civilized demeanor, whole woodland glens implied natural sincerity.

The postures and gestures in Grand Manner portraits were often derived from ancient Roman sculpture or Italian Renaissance paintings. Another major precedent was early seventeenth-century English court portraiture by the two Flemish masters knighted by King Charles I, Sir Peter Paul Rubens and Sir Anthony van Dyck. The connoisseur was expected to appreciate these artistic sources and their subtle references, just as educated readers were assumed to recognize authors‟ quotations from earlier literature.

Rivalry in the Royal Academy

At its annual exhibitions, London‟s Royal Academy of art permitted a few entries from students, independent artists, and foreigners. Life membership, however, was limited to no more than forty painters, sculptors, and architects. Such a small group of full academicians generated intense jealousy. English society, for instance, relished the rivalry between Sir Joshua Reynolds, knighted as the official court artist, and Thomas Gainsborough, whom all the royal family preferred to paint their portraits. Regardless of their different techniques and attitudes, both Reynolds and Gainsborough incorporated into their Grand Manner portraits the social symbolism expected by their clientele.

http://www.the-athenaeum.org/art/full.php?ID=13100

Sir Joshua Reynolds. John Musters, 1777 – c. 1780. Oil on canvas

87

Reynolds, the first president of the Royal Academy, had spent three years in Italy, acquiring a vast knowledge of classical and Renaissance art. His portrayal of the High Sheriff of Nottingham, John Musters, takes its pose from a famous ancient statue of a faun, or mythical woodland creature. Such a sprite of nature was an ideal prototype for a wealthy landowner surveying his estate.

Conservation Notes

The canvas is twill woven; it has been lined. The ground is white, of moderate thickness. What remains of the original paint in the face and figure is freely applied in thick, opaque layers, blended wet into wet. The sky and background are severely abraded and very heavily overpainted; the sitter‟s hair and neck are also overpainted. The costume was overpainted c. 1820; this overpaint was removed and the picture restored to its original state in 1872. The coat is badly abraded and has been extensively retouched. The impasto has been flattened during lining. The heavy natural resin varnish has not discolored.

http://en.gallerix.ru/pic/_EX/1000788252/18446.jpeg

Sir Thomas Lawrence. Lady Mary Templetown and Her Eldest Son, 1802. Oil on canvas

A self-taught child prodigy, Lawrence became a full member of the Royal Academy when only twenty-five. Knighted in 1815 and elected the Academy‟s fourth president in 1820, Sir Thomas Lawrence campaigned for the classical Greek sculpture from the Parthenon to be acquired for the British Museum. A reserved bachelor, Lawrence permitted himself only one extravagance – his immense collection of old master drawings, a hobby which eventually left him bankrupt.

Exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1802, Lady Templetown and Her Eldest Son depicts Mary Montagu, only daughter of the 5th Earl of Sandwich, and two-year-old Henry, who would succeed his father as the 2d Viscount Templetown. Henry‟s face occupies the exact center of the composition, while

88

Mary‟s head is silhouetted against a smooth, sunlit boulder. Lawrence greatly exaggerated the rhythmic grace and length of her legs and arms into the very epitome of slender elegance.

Employing proper academic procedure to create this double portrait, Lawrence turned to Thomas Gainsborough‟s earlier Mrs. Richard Brinsley Sheridan. The windblown veils, reclining poses on grassy banks, and identical crossings of the ladies‟ ankles reveal Lawrence‟s source, even though he added the boy, changed the background, and reversed the orientation of his composition.

Conservation Notes

The medium-weight canvas is twill woven; it has been lined, but the tacking margins survive intact. The present stretcher (frame for canvas) is presumably larger than the original stretcher as there is an eighth of an inch of unpainted canvas visible along the top and right edges. The ground is slightly off-white, thinly applied. The painting is executed both thinly and thickly, with impasto especially evident in the whites; Lady Mary‟s gown and veil are broadly handled, but more worked than the background, with the shadows painted both under and over the white; much of the foliage is quickly and drily painted. The heads have been heavily reworked by the artist, and the smooth paint in these passages masks the prominent weave of the canvas. Lady Mary‟s right arm has been repositioned, as has the ribbon on her cap. The paint is abraded in places, and some of the impasto has been slightly flattened during lining. There is a prominent craquelure (a network of fine cracks in the paint or varnish of a painting) and discolored though not extensive retouching, especially disfiguring in the child‟s dress. The natural resin varnish has discolored to a moderate degree.

History paintings

Sophisticated Europeans from the seventeenth through nineteenth centuries deemed “history painting” to be the supreme achievement in the visual arts. In addition to imaginatively re-creating actual events from the past, history paintings also illustrated heroic or moralizing episodes from religion, mythology, and literature.

The central challenge of history painting lay in selecting a particular subject that could engage the heart and instruct the mind. In devising appropriate figures, the painter demonstrated his mastery of anatomy and expression. Grand settings and symbolic accessories proved the artist‟s grasp of perspective depth and still-life draftsmanship. Compositions and color schemes had to be carefully conceived to accentuate the principal characters and to clarify the meanings of the incidents.

In depicting significant events that appealed to the conscience, history painting deserved its reputation as the most demanding and rewarding form of art – both for the creator and the viewer. The same desire for profundity in

89

narrative pictures often invested portraits and landscapes with allegorical meanings and poetic overtones.

Idealism versus Realism in History Painting

Sir Joshua Reynolds, first president of London‟s Royal Academy of art, delivered these words in a speech in 1774: “Invention is one of the great marks of genius; but if we consult experience, we shall find, that it is by being conversant with the inventions of others, that we learn to invent; as by reading the thoughts of others we learn to think…. It is vain for poets or painters to endeavour to invent with material on which the mind may work, and from which invention must originate. Nothing can come of nothing.”

For his own history paintings, Reynolds declared he would “sometimes deviate from vulgar and strict historical truth, in pursuing the grandeur of his design.” Thus, regardless of when and where the events occurred, Reynolds clothed his figures in classical robes and placed them before idealized scenery. In 1771, though, the American artist Benjamin West, who was to succeed Reynolds as the Royal Academy‟s president, produced a startling shift in convention. West depicted a recent incident, set against a recognizable location, with figures in contemporary dress.

Defending his novel idea of conveying history plainly rather than allegorically, West stated, “The same truth that guides the pen of the historian should govern the pencil of the artist…. I want mark the date, the place, and the parties engaged in the event; and if I am not able to dispose of the circumstances in a picturesque manner, no academical distribution of Greek or Roman costume will enable me to do justice to the subject.” Reynolds graciously acknowledged that West‟s straightforward approach gave a new, more realistic, direction to history painting.

http://en.gallerix.ru/pic/_EX/1000788252/111856.jpeg

William Hogarth. A Scene from The Beggar’s Opera, 1728/1729. Oil on canvas

At its London premiere on 29 January 1728, The Beggar’s Opera triumphed as an immediate success. In his comic operetta, John Gay parodied

90