Tag: London

Lady Elizabeth Grey, the Countess of Kent (1582–1651), looks a formidable character in this painting by Paul Van Somer (1578-1621). She was married to Henry Grey, the 8th Earl of Kent, a land-owner and MP, but they didn’t have children to pass their wealth onto. Grey’s interesting, er, display in her painting wasn’t unusual for a mature woman of the time, but only one from the middle or upper classes would get away with that.

The artwork was painted in around 1619, but what is perhaps the most notable about this is that it became part of the art collection of King Charles I. It was later acquired by Friends of the Tate Gallery in 1961, although there’s no other provenance listed on the gallery’s web-site, so goodness knows where it has been for the last few centuries…..

I’m still working with my theme that it’s lazy to generalise all modern art as difficult and pointless, when much of it has meaning and depth. But, along with that, I’m suspecting that when a gallery has nothing to say on it either, then it probably doesn’t have a great deal of meaning. It might still have value, but if no-one can offer any perceptive comment on it other than just a guess, then you could just have a drawing by a child on the wall.

This painting, or whatever it is, is by the esteemed artist Prunella Clough (1919-1999) and the gallery has decided not to put anything in its summary of the artwork. So, the entirety of what the gallery has to offer here is:

“Clough’s paintings of urban and industrial scenes were often inspired by objects the artist noticed during walks around sites of interest. Here Clough references a piece of old wire discovered on a building site.”

But, yet, there are many artists who have reflected on the urban theme and have given something a little more defined whether it be in photographs, drawings, paintings or sculpture. Each to their own though, the gallery acquired this in 1982 and so its been shoved on the wall now for the best part of 40 years.

Tate Britain acquired this artwork in 2019 and the artist is Anthea Hamilton (1978-). I’m not entirely sure I understand it, but I think it’s trying to raise a debate about the essence of how an individual is viewed by society and the processes involved with that. Karl Lagerfeld has quite a defined image today, but this is him when younger as part of some fashion shoot. I don’t understand the potatoes and buckwheat, but perhaps that it’s just to create an informal and humorous foreground to the imagery.

The Guardian said “there are plenty of cues but you have to keep improvising the lines” with regards to works by Hamilton, which seems a suitable comment. Some modern art annoys me when it seems pointless, but when it provides cues, it gives it some relevance. Anyway, it’s clear that I don’t know what I’m writing about, but I like that the artwork isn’t pretentious.

I don’t understand great swathes of modern art, but there’s becoming an easy way to see if the art gallery that the artwork is located in has a clue either. Sometimes, the gallery can produce detailed information about the thought processes behind a painting, and that can give me an understanding of what is happening.

It’s clear that the Tate Britain has absolutely no idea here with this artwork by Patrick Heron (1920-1999). They haven’t even bothered to fill in the artwork summary, as I’m not sure that they have anything to say. Their entire comment on this (bearing in mind a lot of their paintings get paragraphs of text) is:

“Heron resisted the total abandoning of subject matter and even such works as this have been seen in relation to landscape, the horizontal bands and colours perhaps suggesting the horizon at sunset.”

The gallery acquired this artwork in 1972, so after nearly fifty years, they’ve found nearly nothing to say on it. It was designed for an office (Lund Humphries), where they needed to change it for another of Heron’s works, and Heron himself noted:

“I believe that the actual spatial sequences of the room which has been designed at Lund Humphries are in a sort of contrapuntal relationship with the illusions of space which my canvas creates from its floating position on one of the walls in that room. Actual space is chopped up, marshalled, articulated and as it were modelled by the screens and counter and the hanging slatted ceiling, and this is done in such a way that this actual space marries with the illusionistic space in the stratified spatial bars which ascend in chords of different reds, lemon-yellow, violet and white up the length of my vertical canvas. As your eye climbs the “steps” of differentiated colour in my canvas, so you yourself may step back into the actual spatial areas of the room. Seen from straight in front, the bars of colour in the canvas ascend directly into the parallel bars of the slats overhead, which advance not only towards the bars of the painting, but into them—or so it seems, since the slats are brought right up against the surface of the canvas at a point 3 ft. below the top of it. The top yard of the canvas is thus designed to be read through the slats of the hanging ceiling. There is, therefore, a continuous progression of horizontal parallels right from the foot of the painting in front of you, up the canvas, and then backwards, right over your head, along the hanging grid of slats under which you are standing or sitting. And not one of these parallel horizontals is equal to another, either in colour, breadth, or in the interval of its placing. The colour bands on the canvas are obviously dissimilar in every respect; but that the double row of slats overhead should also be uneven in appearance is due partly to perspective and partly to the different spacing of the upper and lower rows of slats.”

Crystal clear. Anyway, I don’t like it, I think it looks ridiculous. I don’t expect the art world will be too bothered by this announcement of mine…. What I have started to establish here is when galleries don’t seem to have a clue what an artwork is about either.

This artwork is of Lady Anne Pope (?-1629), the daughter of Sir William Pope and Anne Pope, and is likely to have been painted in an attempt to find a suitor for her. It didn’t work as she remained unmarried, with the pearls, long hair and cherries all indicating a pure and virtuous woman. The painter was Robert Peake (1551?-1619) who worked in the Royal Court under Queen Elizabeth I, before later becoming the Serjeant Painter to King James I.

It is really just an early version of Tinder and it must have been quite a nuisance to have to find a date by having a painting drawn by an expensive artist (although by all accounts, Sir William Pope could afford it). But such were the responsibilities no doubt of the upper classes at this time, they had to find someone appropriate. Peake also painted the portrait of Elizabeth Pope, who was Anne’s sister-in-law, at the same time, and in this case, the artwork might have perhaps been more of a status symbol.

The Tate acquired this painting, which was presented anonymously to them, in 1955. At that time, the artwork was in Wroxton Abbey in Oxfordshire, although the lease had been taken over by Trinity College, Oxford University. It’s not likely that the artwork ever left Wroxton Abbey, as this was the family estate rebuilt by Sir William Pope. And so here in Tate Britain it now permanently resides.

I’m quite interested in medieval religious imagery (yes, I know, it’s not exactly a drunken weekend in Ibiza with friends), but I found this a moderately unsettling artwork. It’s later, from after 1596, and it’s not known who painted it, but it’s unusual as it’s a painting of a religious subject which has survived from a time when Protestant values wouldn’t have wanted this to be displayed. It would have been displayed as a devotional piece, but it’s quite dark and moralistic, I prefer the more gentle interpretations of Jesus or Mary.

The gallery has kindly provided the text which is on the artwork:

“‘O MAN THOW WRETCED CREA ¦ TVRE HOW MAIEST THOVE DEL ¦ ITE IN RICHES BEWTY STRENGTH ¦ OR OTHER WORDLY THINGE. RE ¦ MEMBRINGE THINE ENEMYES WHICH CONTINVALLY ¦ SEEKE THEE TO DESTROYE & BRINGE THEE TO NOTHING ¦ BVT SINE SHAME AND FYER EVERLASTINGE. THEREFORE ¦ FAST WATCH & PRAYE CONTINVALY WT FERVENT DESIER ¦ VNTO IESVS THE MIGHTIE CAPTAYNE WHO ONLY IS ¦ HABLE TO DEFEND THEE FROM THEIR FIERIE ASSAWLTS.’ in bottom cartouche; ‘COVETVSNES’ on the miser’s arrow, lower left; ‘GLOTONY’, ‘SLOWTH’ and ‘LECHERY’ on the lady’s three arrows, centre left; ‘GRATIA ME SVFICIT TIBIE, 2 COR[.] 12.’ on scroll by Christ, top; ‘BE SOBER THEREFORE & WATCH FOR ¦ THOW KNOWEST NEITHER THE DAY NOR ¦ THE HOWRE.’ on scroll, centre right, above Death the skeleton; ‘BEHIND THEE Y STEALE ¦ LIKE A THEIF THE TEM / PORAL LIFE TO DEVOWER’ on shield (oval target) of Death; ‘PRYDE’, ‘WRATH’ and ‘ENVYE’ on three arrows of devil, bottom right; ‘TEMPORANS’, ‘GOOD REISINES’, ‘CHASTITY’, ‘ALMES DEEDS’, ‘AND COMPASSION’, ‘MEEKENES’, ‘CHARITY’, ‘PACIENS’ on scroll encircling central figure of Man.”

For a long time, the artwork was thought to be a little earlier, from the mid sixteenth century, but then the wood went through a dendrochronological analysis and the earliest that it could be was from 1596. Which goes to show that sometimes even the collective wisdom of numerous art experts can still be wrong at dating an artwork. The painting was given to the museum in 1990 as a gift from the Patrons of British Art.

As an aside, Tate Britain is one of the most excellent galleries which makes an attempt to establish the provenance of all of its artworks and presents that information on-line. Until 1913, this painting was owned by John Charles Robinson (1824-1913), who was married to Elizabeth Newton who was the daughter of a Norwich alderman. Between 1880 and 1901, Robinson held the role of the Surveyor of the Queen’s Pictures, a role later held by Anthony Blunt.