The Awakening Conscience by William Holman Hunt

First of all, I've been a little neglectful of this blog over the last week! I just started a new job and I've been quite busy. I have a hard time writing when I don't have the time to be inspired, but I suppose that's something I'll just have to work on!

Speaking of "uninspired," I must confess that this William Holman Hunt's "The Awakening Conscience" is probably my least favourite Pre-Raphaelite painting. By far. I've always found it incredibly ugly, since the first time I saw it. That being said, I must confess that it's a very visually arresting work.

The technicolor color scheme is jarring to the senses, like many of Hunt's pieces. The subject itself seems rather tawdry, even today! I also can't help but think that the image of the fallen woman seems hoplessly Victorian. Apparently, the work was inspired by a "fallen woman" that Hunt had attempted to guide toward the straight and narrow (unsuccessfully).

While doing a little reading about the painting in Tim Barringer's The Pre-Raphaelites, I came across a copy of the song that is on the young woman's piano. You can see the title, "Oft in the Stilly Night" on the music. I thought the words were rather interesting, and seem to add an extra element to the painting that made me appreciate it a little bit more.

Oft, in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond Memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood's years,
The words of love then spoken;
The eyes that shone,
Now dimm'd and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken!
Thus, in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chain hath bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light
Of other days around me.

Do any of you like this painting? I'd be really interested to hear what others have to say about it.

The Original Members of the Pre Raphaelite Brotherhood

Last week I wrote a post about the Pre-Raphaelite that led to some questions about the original Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. I thought today I would write a little bit about the founding members of the PRB, and the major players among them.

Although there were seven original members of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, the founding members of the Brotherhood were really Dante Gabriel Rossetti, William Holman Hunt and John Everett Millais. These three have had the most lasting influence from among the original seven, and there work is the best known. After the idea for the PRB had been developed by Rossetti, Hunt and Millais, Rossetti invited his brother William, a clerk at the Inland Revenue Office, into the group as well. Interestingly, at the time the the Brotherhood was founded, William was neither a painter nor a serious writer. Nevertheless, he was the founding member's brother, and I suppose you can't blame Rossetti for wanting to include his family members!(Christina Rossetti was also an important part of the group, though she was excluded from the Brotherhood by reason of her sex).

Thomas Woolner, the fifth member of the PRB, was a sculptor who was introduced to the Brotherhood by D.G. Rossetti. In his biography of Rossetti, Evelyn Waugh is anxious to point out that Thomas Woolner married a Waugh (Alice Waugh). So too, did William Holman Hunt--twice. He first married Fanny Waugh, and when she died in childbirth, he married her sister, Edith. This was illegal in Britain at the time and he had to travel abroad in order to marry her!(Waugh, 35). No wonder Waugh was so interested in the Pre-Raphaelites!

James Collinson, a convert to Roman Catholicism had torrid on again/off-again relationships with both Christina Rossetti and the Catholic Church--both of which often seemed to hold far more interest to him than his painting--was the next to join. Frederick George Stephens was the seventh and final member of the original group. Stephens was a student of William Holman Hunt and his membership in the Brotherhood may have been due as much to Rossetti's superstition (a desire for a perfect seven-member group) as to any supposed artistic contribution from Stephens.

Source consulted: Evelyn Waugh. Rossetti, His Life and Works. London: The Folcraft Press, 1969.

Image: William Holman Hunt, Rienzi Vowing to Obtain Justice

Rossetti as Collector

Long before the advent of Antiques Roadshow, Dante Gabriel Rossetti was a fanatic for anything antique, and together with a small group of friends, he pursued his hobby. Rossetti's collection of fine china "was one of the first of its kind in England."

It was Rossetti's utmost delight to drive round in a cab, loading it with china and brass and carved oak picked out from the litter of second-hand furniture shops and pawnbrokers (Waugh, 118).

I guess Saturday afternoon antiquing is nothing new! What I found especially amusing though is that Rossetti loved to get together

When one of this elect little circle had made a particular "find," invitations were sent out and a dinner-party would be given. Then the new pot would be uncovered and its owner would be triumphant until the next discovery (Waugh 119).

It was at one of these little get togethers that Rossetti managed to humiliate himself in a most amusing way. I really enjoyed this story because most of the time, the amusing anecdotes are about William Morris, who was the butt of a great many jokes. Nevertheless, on this occasion it was Rossetti who managed to embarrass himself.

Rossetti's infamous agent, Charles Augustus Howell, was a bit of a Victorian celebrity. Today he is probably most famous for ordering that Rossetti's wife, Elizabeth Siddal, be exhumed so that Rossetti's poetry could be recovered. But in his own time, Howell was at the centre of numerous scandals, the most infamous of which was his collaboration in Felice Orsini's plot to assassinate Napoleon III. In addition to these adventurous exploits, Howell was also a voracious collector of blue china.

One day, Howell invited Rossetti and some friends over to see a spectacular piece of Nankin blue china that he'd picked up at a London shop. Rossetti was green with envy, and decided to have his revenge on Howell by stealing the plate and cleverly replacing it with an old piece of delft blue that was the same size and shape.

Rossetti held a dinner party of his own the next day. He brought out a box containing his prize and peeled away the layers of carefully wrapped paper to reveal...

A chipped delft blue plate.

Apparently, Howell had been aware of Rossetti's plot the entire time, and had switched his own plate for the broken delft. I don't think Rossetti was used to being on the losing end of a practical joke!

In addition to his penchant for china, Rossetti collected oak furniture and musical instruments “solely for their design and as properties for his pictures; he never showed any interest in music.” Rossetti also had a passion for all things Japanese, and really led the way for the oriental craze of the later 19th century.

Source consulted: Evelyn Waugh. Rossetti and his Circle. London: The Folcroft Press, 1969

What Makes a Pre-Raphaelite?

The term Pre-Raphaelite is thrown around pretty loosely on this website. I liberally refer to Edward Burne-Jones and John William Waterhouse as Pre-Raphaelite artists, although I know perfectly well that they were not "officially" members of the brotherhood. For example, while many (including myself) would recognize Edward Burne Jones as a Pre-Raphaelite, his only connection to the movement was through Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and he was never a member of the original Brotherhood (neither, of course, was William Morris)(Barringer, 14).

This got me to thinking. What makes art Pre-Raphaelite? Why do I tend to associate some artists with the Pre-Raphaelite movement, and not others? In my own mind, Pre-Raphaelite art is closely connected to its 19th century British context, and so I tend to look for those qualities in any bit of fashion or art that I label "Pre-Raphaelite." I also think a certain dedication to accurate representation of life (realism) is another important defining characteristic of Pre-Raphalitism, though close examination of the art of the original Pre-Raphaelites' reveals that they wasn't always as keen on portraying "reality" as they were in finding beauty (this is particularly true of Rossetti, of course).

Pre-Raphaelites also had a very particular idea of beauty and nature that I think is common to most of the works I would consider "Pre-Raphaelite." I suppose most people would call this romanticism. The Pre-Raphaelite aesthetic values nature (or rather, an idealised form of nature), and generally opposes industrialisation and modernisation as encroachment onto nature's turf. This is particularly evident in William Morris' work and writing, but it can also be found in Rossetti's idealisation of untamed feminine beauty and Ruskin's fondness for the unspoilt landscapes of England and Scotland.

Finally, I would have to say historicism is probably the defining characteristic of Pre-Raphaelite art, and it connects closely to all the other attributes I've mentioned. It was certainly important to the original PRB--they even went so far as to name their movement "Pre-Raphaelite" in honour of a supposedly superior distant artistic past! And while it may seem quaint to modern viewers to see the obviously anachronistic characters that fill Pre-Raphaelite art, the Pre-Raphaelites felt that they were celebrating a mythical, mystical golden age.

What is Pre-Raphaelitism to you? I'd love to hear your thoughts.


Source consulted: Tim Barringer. The Pre-Raphaelites. London: Everyman Art Library, 1998.
Image: "The Soul of the Rose" John William Waterhouse, 1908. "And the soul of the rose went into my blood"(from Tennyson's 'Maud').

Millais' Pizarro Seizing the Inca of Peru

"Pizarro Seizing the Inca of Peru" is another of Millais' early masterpieces. He was just 16 when it was completed! The painting features Atahualpa, the last sovereign leader of the Inca empire, being seized by the conquistador Francisco Pizarro. It's the only painting by Millais that I know of that is set in Latin America. Unlike his self portrait, it shows more of the fine detail that would become a hallmark of his later work.

The exhibition catalogue at the Tate arguest notes that pyramidal organization of the figures, baroque lighting and "groups of huddled women and children derive from religious pictures of the Renaissance and later neoclassical and Romantic history paintings"(Tate). I like the inclusion of the pineapple and plantain in the foreground of the painting--I wonder if Millais had ever tasted them, or if his mother had just found a picture of them in the British Museum?

One of the things that struck me most about this painting was the large role that Millais' family played in helping him prepare for it. His mother, Mrs. Millais spent hours in the British Museum Reading-Room researching the historical details for the picture (the textiles are actually fairly accurate, which surprised me). She also handmade all of the clothing for the models! Mrs. Millais would also entertain her son by reading to him while he painted, and her husband offered his assistance by posing in a variety of wigs for his son's paintings.

The Millais family loved helping their young son John with his paintings, although their constant involvement got on Millais' nerves at times. It bothered him that they called him "Johnny" when he was older, and they had a bad habit of using his studio as a living room. Waugh tells a great story in his biography of Rossetti about Millais' struggle for independence:

Rebellion was in the air in 1848, and one afternoon in early spring Mrs. Millais found the studio door locked against her. Inside, Holman-Hunt was lecturing Millais on the decadence of English painting.
Later in the evening the family became reconciled. Hunt and Millais went into the parlour to visit "the old people." Mrs. Millais sat crocheting in the armchair. Her needle clicked intently and the boys' entrance was allowed to pass unnoticed. Millais advanced into the room, swaggering ever so little; Hunt hung back rather ill at ease.
"Now, we've come to have a nice time with you, mama and papa," he said jauntily.
His mother hardly looked up from her work.
"We do not wish to tax your precious time. We have our own occupations to divert us and engage our attention!"
But Millais was not easily snubbed, as many people learned later.
"Hoity-toity, what's all this?" he cried affectionately, pressing a guitar into his father's hand. "Put down your worsted, amam, I'm going to play back-gammon with you directly."(Waugh, 31-32)

All was forgiven after the game of back-gammon, but it seems that Millais' parents tried to give their young son a little more artistic space afterwards. Millais' studio was left in peace, though his parents were still actively involved in helping him with his work.

Evelyn Waugh. Rossetti: His Life and Works. London: The Folcroft Press, 1969.
Image courtesy Tate Gallery

Millais Self-Portrait

John Everett Millais painted this self-portrait when he was just 18 years old. He had already been a member of the Royal Academy of Art Schools for 7 years, having been admitted at the age of 11 (he remains the youngest person ever admitted to the Schools).

Millais' self-portrait was painted just two years before he helped found the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, but the style of the painting seems light years away from the fine detail evident in Lorenzo and Isabella. I have to admit that if I didn't know who had painted this portrait, I would have had a hard time guessing who it was! Perhaps Millais was experimenting with new techniques when he created this portrait, because the brushwork seems much for "sloshy" than in his later work--or even than in his earlier work.

Tomorrow: a story from Millais' youth, and a closer look at one of his earliest masterpieces, Pizarro Seizing the Inca of Peru.

image courtesy of Tate Gallery

Tennyson and the Allure of the Medieval

Lord Alfred Tennyson composed some of the most famous lines in English poetry. Although he succeeded Wordsworth as Poet Laureate, his work has never gained the respect lavished on his predecessor, but his lonstanding popularity is unquestionable. I remember professors in University laughed at the idea of studying Tennyson. He was viewed as something of a literary joke, akin to Thomas Kinkade in the art world.

Tennyson's poetry had the ability of giving life to old narratives, particularly when it came to Arthurian literature. The Pre Raphaelites, who were drawn to this subject matter, often relied more heavily on Tennyson's interpretation of Medieval texts than they did on the original source material. This is particularly evident in "Mariana," "The Lady of Shallot," "Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere" and "Morte D'Arthur"--all of which were painted by Pre-Raphaelite artists.

Since I didn't post a copy of Tennyson's lovely poem, Mariana, the other day, I thought this would be an appropriate time to do so!

Mariana

WITH blackest moss the flower-plots
Were thickly crusted, one and all:
The rusted nails fell from the knots
That held the pear to the gable-wall.
The broken sheds look'd sad and strange: 5
Unlifted was the clinking latch;
Weeded and worn the ancient thatch
Upon the lonely moated grange.
She only said, 'My life is dreary,
He cometh not,' she said; 10
She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!'

Her tears fell with the dews at even;
Her tears fell ere the dews were dried;
She could not look on the sweet heaven, 15
Either at morn or eventide.
After the flitting of the bats,
When thickest dark did trance the sky,
She drew her casement-curtain by,
And glanced athwart the glooming flats. 20
She only said, 'The night is dreary,
He cometh not,' she said;
She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!'

Upon the middle of the night, 25
Waking she heard the night-fowl crow:
The cock sung out an hour ere light:
From the dark fen the oxen's low
Came to her: without hope of change,
In sleep she seem'd to walk forlorn, 30
Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn
About the lonely moated grange.
She only said, 'The day is dreary,
He cometh not,' she said;
She said, 'I am aweary, aweary, 35
I would that I were dead!'

About a stone-cast from the wall
A sluice with blacken'd waters slept,
And o'er it many, round and small,
The cluster'd marish-mosses crept. 40
Hard by a poplar shook alway,
All silver-green with gnarlèd bark:
For leagues no other tree did mark
The level waste, the rounding gray.
She only said, 'My life is dreary, 45
He cometh not,' she said;
She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!'

And ever when the moon was low,
And the shrill winds were up and away, 50
In the white curtain, to and fro,
She saw the gusty shadow sway.
But when the moon was very low,
And wild winds bound within their cell,
The shadow of the poplar fell 55
Upon her bed, across her brow.
She only said, 'The night is dreary,
He cometh not,' she said;
She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!' 60

All day within the dreamy house,
The doors upon their hinges creak'd;
The blue fly sung in the pane; the mouse
Behind the mouldering wainscot shriek'd,
Or from the crevice peer'd about. 65
Old faces glimmer'd thro' the doors,
Old footsteps trod the upper floors,
Old voices call'd her from without.
She only said, 'My life is dreary,
He cometh not,' she said; 70
She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,'
I would that I were dead!'

The sparrow's chirrup on the roof,
The slow clock ticking, and the sound
Which to the wooing wind aloof 75
The poplar made, did all confound
Her sense; but most she loathed the hour
When the thick-moted sunbeam lay
Athwart the chambers, and the day
Was sloping toward his western bower. 80
Then, said she, 'I am very dreary,
He will not come,' she said;
She wept, 'I am aweary, aweary,
O God, that I were dead!'