Matisse in the Studio

I have worked all my life before the same objects … The object is an actor. A good actor can have a part in ten different plays; an object can play a different role in ten different pictures.

-Henry Matisse, 1951

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As well as the annual Summer Exhibition, the Royal Academy of Arts has been exploring some of the work produced by one of the leading artists of the twentieth century. On 5th August, the Sackler Wing was opened to the public with an exhibition titled Matisse in the Studio, which, rather than being a general showcasing of the artist’s most famous work, concentrates on the relationship between Henri Matisse and his studio.

Throughout his life, Matisse obsessively collected objects that caught his eye in junk shops and places he visited on his travels. These items accumulated on shelves, on walls and in cabinets around Matisse’s studio, creating a self-constructed place of retreat from the rest of the world. These same articles were constant features in Matisse’s artwork and inspiration for future projects. With carefully selected paintings and sculptures, the Academy endeavours to impart the incentives behind Matisse’s art.

Henri Matisse was born in France on 31st December 1869. Unlike many artists of his age, Matisse was a late starter, having embarked on a legal career until 1891 when he abandoned his professional aspirations in favour of enrolling at the École des Beaux-Arts. As a result, it was not until the 1920s that Matisse became internationally known, however, he still managed to achieve the status as one of the most illustrious painters of the twentieth century, alongside his friend, and fellow painter, Picasso (1881-1973).

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Yellow Odalisque, 1937

Unlike Picasso, who embraced the Cubist and Surrealist movements, Matisse developed his own style, which initially resembled art that could be categorised into the Neo-Impressionism movement of which Georges Seurat (1859-1891) was a founding member. Neo-Impressionists were drawn to the sensitivity of line and the beauty of colour, often encompassing a full palette.

Matisse’s work is also associated with the Fauvist style, which was predominantly in practice during the first decade of the 20th century. This, similarly, had a strong focus on colour, as well as wild brush strokes, and simplification or abstraction.

Matisse deviated from any traditional methods and movements, preferring to experiment with different principles and processes to create unique outcomes. He also took great interest in sculpture, which not only did he produce, he painted into his compositions.

Matisse in the Studio is divided into sections that group together works involving a particular genre or process. The paintings in the gallery span the years from his initial experimental phases during the First World War all the way up until the years preceding his death in 1954.

Essential objects from Matisse’s eclectic collection have been sought out by the curators to feature alongside the paintings in which they play a significant role. Rather than painting still-lifes of the actual items in question, Matisse likened them to actors who take on other personas. Instead of drawing a chocolate-pot, for example, the one gifted to him as a wedding present, Matisse used it as a vase to hold flowers. This same object featured in many paintings but never representing the purpose for which it was originally intended.

Another article in his collection that Matisse was completely enamoured with was a Venetian Chair that he stumbled upon whilst travelling in Europe. It is of a baroque nature with a silver gilt and tinted varnish. Matisse was particularly drawn to the scallop shell-like body work, which provided plenty of lines and angles to experiment with.

It was not only these found objects that made their way into Matisse’s paintings, he produced his own items too. Matisse was a versatile artist who often turned to sculpture whenever he reached a mind block in his painting. Sculpting help Matisse “to put order into my feelings” – a form of organisation rather than a means to an end. Due to his extensive travelling, Matisse fell in love with African sculpture.

Unlike traditional European statues that stay true to form, African art used simplified shapes to resemble the human body rather than portraying a lifelike representation. Between 1906 and 1908, Matisse accumulated over twenty masks and statues from Central and West African countries, and by studying them, developed his own in a similar style. The disregard of accurate physical forms was a significant turning point in Matisse’s artistic career. He began to challenge the attitudes of the Western world’s notion of beauty.

The strong, linear lines of African art worked well with the style Matisse was already becoming known for. The exhibition displays some of the paintings of the female nude that Matisse experimented with, however, quite a number of these are based upon sculptures he had made, rather than a live model. In the instances that he did have someone sit for him, the final painting resembled the African figures more than the physical person in front of him. Matisse believed that by stripping someone down to the bare lines created a truer character and avoided any risk of superficiality.

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The Italian Woman, 1916

African design also found itself entering Matisse’s portrait paintings. Again, rather than producing a lifelike picture, Matisse simplified the features as much as possible. In order to evoke a sense of his subject’s true identity, Matisse believed that accurate features would distract from this purpose.

An example hanging in the RA is a portrait of an Italian woman called Laurette, who Matisse allegedly painted fifty times in less than a year. With no photograph to compare it to, it can only be assumed that the flatness of the face and sharpness of the nose and eyebrows was not a precise representation of the model. This goes to show how fixed Matisse was on the concept of African art.

African masks, rather than sculpture, were the inspiration for the faces Matisse painted. He was particularly intrigued by their stylistic designs and lack of realistic human features. A few of his collection has been located by the exhibition curators and are on display for everyone to see. These date from the late 19th to early 20th century.

Interestingly, the majority of Matisse’s paintings of the human figure were not solely based on his sitter. Matisse painted in his studio surrounded by his accumulation of foreign artefacts, which he then used as part of the setting for his paintings. The photograph at the top of this page shows Matisse in his studio with a model. There are a number of other objects surrounding the woman, patterns in the background and many different materials. Once all this has been painted, the model becomes merely a part of the artwork, rather than the main focus. The particular scene in this photograph was for Matisse’s Odalisque on a Turkish Chair (1928), which can be found towards the end of the exhibition.

During the final decade of Matisse’s life, his ability to produce art was severely debilitated after a near-fatal operation in 1941 for duodenal cancer. During this period, he was mostly bedbound, however, this did not prevent him from continuing with his work, but his method of execution needed to change.

Rather than painting directly on to canvas, Matisse turned to gouaches découpées, which involved cutting out shapes from painted or coloured papers. Many of his studio workers assisted with the cutting and pinned the pieces in place following Matisse’s precise instructions. Some examples of this latter work clearly retain the evidence of the pins.

The paper cut out allows me to draw in the colour. It is a simplification for me. Instead of drawing the outline and putting the colour inside it – the one modifying the other – I draw straight into the colour.

-Henri Matisse, 1953

From African art to collage, Matisse’s work had always been about simplifying. Even his use of colour was made plainer with the lack of shadow and tone. This does not mean to say that Matisse’s work lacks colour – they are most certainly vibrant – but he leans more towards blocks of colour rather than a natural pigmentation. Apparently, Matisse’s doctor, whether in jest or seriousness, advised the artist to wear dark glasses to counteract the intensity of the paint.

Matisse is the type of artist that spectators either love or hate. His work is often child-like and unimpressive, however, as an artist, he introduced new ideas to the world. His Fauvist style established the notion of simplifying the human figure in order to focus on character rather than appearance. He also challenged the rule that the human figure should be the focus of an artwork. Instead, he gave surrounding objects and decorations identical treatment.

Although he relied on his art as a means of livelihood, Matisse appeared to be quite reclusive, preferring to hide away in his studio than spend time in the outside world. Rather than working for other people, Matisse was creating art for himself. With his collection of interesting objects, he generated a safe and comfortable retreat where he could focus on painting rather than the negative experiences in his life. Instead of pouring his emotion into his work, he let the paint bring himself some peace and happiness. If anything, it can be said that Matisse’s paintings have an air of positivity about them, regardless of whether the viewer finds favour with them.

What I dream of is an art of balance, of purity and serenity devoid of troubling or disturbing subject-matter … like a comforting influence, a mental balm – something like a good armchair in which one rests from physical fatigue.

-Henry Matisse, 1908

Matisse in the Studio is running until 12th November 2017 and is open to the public between 10 am and 6 pm on Saturdays to Thursday, however, extends to 10 pm on a Friday. Friends of the Royal Academy are, naturally, free to enter, although, are advised to book a timed ticket. Everyone else is required to pay a fee of £15.50 (includes donation). It does not take long to walk around the exhibition, but if you choose to follow the audio guide, be prepared to be there for at least an hour.

We are not here in the presence of an extravagant or an extremist undertaking: Matisse’s art is eminently reasonable.

-Guillaume Apollinaire in an article published in La Falange (1907)

l4fh1dyvt9x4cntwc7x0A final note –
The eagle eyed amongst visitors to the gallery will notice the numbers in the bottom right-hand corner next to Matisse’s signature. This is (quite obviously, in my opinion) the date in which the painting was completed and NOT, as my friend Martin thought, the artist’s self-analysis score!

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The Other Rembrandt

Rembrandt van Rijn is one of the most recognisable names of the 17th century. Born and raised in the Netherlands, Rembrandt is the greatest artist the Dutch have ever produced. In order to celebrate the opening of a new gallery at The National Gallery in London – the first to open in 26 years – an exhibition ran from 22nd March – 6th August 2017 entitled Rubens and Rembrandt. But why were these two artists merged together?

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Section of Self Portrait at the age of 34 by Rembrandt, 1640

Rembrandt

Rembrandt Harmensz. van Rijn was born in Leiden, a city towards the south of the Netherlands, on 15th July 1606. Although he was the son of a miller, he would grow up to be the country’s greatest artist. His love of art was sparked by a local painter, Jacob van Swanenburgh, to whom Rembrandt was apprenticed for roughly three years. However, Rembrandt’s most significant influence was Pieter Lastman, a painter in Amsterdam who he spent six months with in 1624. Lastman’s teaching inspired Rembrandt to focus on religious subjects but also to portray evocative emotion in his works through the use of dramatic lighting effects.

The beginnings of Rembrandt’s career included many portrait commissions, becoming the most sort out portraitist in the city of Amsterdam. However, by the 1640s the amount of formal portraiture declined as he turned his hand to religious painting. This may have been a psychological response to the death of his wife Saskia in 1642 and of his mother two years previously. Religion was likely to have been a comfort to him during this difficult period.

Unfortunately, it was portraits that earned artists the most money during this era, therefore Rembrandt began to suffer financial difficulties. To avoid the fate of bankruptcy, Rembrandt had to sell his lavish home and move to a poorer district – a complete contrast to the wealthy lifestyle he had been used to since birth. However, this downfall did not attack his productivity and he continued to receive important commissions from those who knew of and respected him.

As Rembrandt entered his final years, his paintings took on a greater air of human understanding and compassion. Unfortunate circumstances throughout his life saw the deaths of his wife, children and lover, however, he kept his dignity until the very end, not letting tragedy negatively impact on his artwork. Rembrandt continued to paint up until his death on 4th October 1669.

It is not only his portraits and religious imagery that caused Rembrandt such renown. Although these make up the greater part of his collection, he also produced many landscapes, still-lives and paintings that defy classification. He was also adept at etching and drawing, his skills so adroit that it has been almost impossible to surpass.

Rubens

(Sir) Peter Paul Rubens – Rembrandt’s Flemish counterpart in this exhibition – was born much earlier on 28th June 1577 in Siegen, Westphalia (now Germany). His youth was mostly based in Antwerp, Belgium, to which his family returned after the death of his father in 1587 (he had fled from religious prosecution for having protestant sympathies).

From approximately 1590, Rubens began his training to become the most influential artist of Baroque art in Northern Europe. Although he had tutors in his home country, Rubens’ style did not develop until he had spent some time in Italy at the dawning of the century. Here he took on some portrait commissions for aristocratic families whilst honing his skills by studying the artistic masters of the Renaissance.

Rubens returned to Antwerp in 1608 and promptly became court painter to Archduke Albert, the Spanish governor of the Netherlands. The demand for Rubens’ work increased rapidly and the artist often had to rely on his students and assistants to complete various commissions. As well as being able to paint nearly every subject possible, Rubens could also turn his hand to tapestry, book illustration and fresco, plus provide advice for architects and sculptors.

My talents are such that I have never lacked courage to undertake any design, however vast in size or diversified in subject.

-Rubens, 1621

The exhibition at the National Gallery hailed the two artists as the most inventive and influential of the seventeenth century in Northern Europe. Although working at similar times, their approaches were profoundly different, yet, they both had a significant impact on the future of art. With Rubens’ work adorning one side of the gallery, and Rembrandt’s the opposite, the exhibition celebrated the differences and similarities of the two world renowned painters.

Although only a handful of each artists’ work made it into the exhibition, the selection showed off the diversity of their talent, including, but not limited to, subject matter and scale. Some paintings were more well known than others, particularly the self-portraits of Rembrandt aged 34 and 63.

The most expressive of Rubens’ work in the display was Samson and Delilah which was painted in approximately 1609. This is an interpretation of the Old Testament story in which Delilah cuts off Samson’s hair – where his source of great strength comes from – weakening him enough to be captured and imprisoned by soldiers (Judges 16:19). It is not the story that grabs the viewers attention, but rather the dramatic lighting effects and strong use of the colour red. This goes to show the influence other painters hand on Rubens during his time in Italy. (For example, see Caravaggio)

Many of the other paintings in the display revealed Rubens penchant for Roman mythology. One oil painting of significant scale, The Judgement of Paris (c1632-5), tells the story of the golden apple that Paris was solicited into giving to the goddess he believed to be most beautiful. Paris chose Venus, the goddess of love, angering the other two goddesses, Minerva and Juno, and foreshadowing the Trojan War.

Although this painting does not have the Caravaggesque of Samson and Delilah, it is still brightly coloured and detailed, making it pleasant to look at. Despite containing nudity, it is not lewd or suggestive, thus doing justice to the major Roman goddesses.

Rembrandt’s work, on the other hand, is much darker – not the subject, but in the choice, or lack of colour. As can be seen in the section of his self-portrait above, Rembrandt preferred to leave the background in shadow with little to none detail. His dramatic lighting draws the viewer to the important parts of the painting. At a glance, a general overview of the stories depicted can be ascertained, however, a deeper study must be made to reveal all the elements.

An example that sums up all these aforementioned approaches is Belshazzar’s Feast (c1636-8). The source of light highlights the lesser known Babylonian king written about in the Bible (Daniel 5), pouring wine from precious containers. In the top right-hand corner, Hebrew words appear that translate to “God hath numbered thy kingdom, and finished it. thou art weighed in the balance, and art found wanting.” As the Bible story goes, Belshazzar was killed later that night.

A closer look at the painting shows the shock of Belshazzar’s guests at his reaction to the words by the divine hand. The lack of colour in the figures help to emphasise the strong light source that shines through the written words of God. This is just one of many religious paintings that Rembrandt undertook during his career, and also goes to show that he did not only stick to the famous Bible stories, instead illustrating the more obscure.

Other religious paintings that were displayed in the exhibition include Ecce Homo (1634), The Woman taken in Adultery (1644) and An Elderly Man as Saint Paul (c1659). These all contain a distinct lack of colour, preferring browns and shades of black over anything more flamboyant.

The most obvious difference between the two European painters is the choice of colour palette. Rubens’ brighter selection paint a more fairy-tale-like story that befits mythology, whereas Rembrandt’s dark colours create a sense of melancholy and seriousness. The contrast of theme between Rubens’ mythological paintings and Rembrandt’s religious is also evident, however, is also misleading, for only a marginal selection were on display. Both artists are known to have focused on both subject matters in their paintings.

One final observation and contrast is the brush work. The strokes in Rubens’ paintings are much smoother than Rembrandt’s who appeared to have dabbled the paint more often than applying a gentle, steady hand.

Take One Picture 

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A Roman Triumph, Rubens c1630

Every year, the National Gallery encourages primary schools throughout Britain to focus on one painting in their collection and create an artistic response. In an exhibition titled Take One Picture, the gallery is exhibiting a variety of the work produced by these children. This year’s painting of choice is Rubens’ A Roman Triumph, which felt highly appropriate regarding the Rubens and Rembrandt exhibition in the adjacent room.

This painting depicts a Roman triumph to celebrate either a military campaign or victory. A procession of young men, musicians, dancers, a priest and exotic animals are witnessed by spectators as they make their way through the city. Instead of regarding the busy painting as a whole, each participating school was encouraged to select a particular aspect to study. Children contemplated the sounds, smells, and feelings the participants may have felt and responded to these ideas with a group art project. A range of art forms has been experimented with from performance to sculpture and puppet-making.

Despite the Rubens and Rembrandt exhibition closing on the 6th August, Take One Picture has remained throughout the summer holiday and will continue to be shown until 24th September. Not only is it interesting to see how young minds reacted to the European master’s painting, it also encourages visitors to assess their own thoughts about the work.

Some children were inspired by the people in the painting, taking an interest in their postures and the way in which they were walking or standing. Others narrowed it down to the clothing, looking closely at patterns, fabrics and colours. Naturally, some classes were drawn to the animals, particularly the elephants, but the way they executed their creative responses varied greatly.  Some based their work on the types of animals, whereas others used the sounds the animals may have made as their inspiration.

Whichever element of the painting the schools honed in on, none of the responses were the same. This goes to show how open to interpretation artwork can be. No one will know what Rubens hoped viewers would take away from his painting, but today it still has educational purposes and is a great source of entertainment.

Take One Picture has been running since 1995 and has greatly benefitted children with its cross-curricular opportunities. It will be interesting to follow the scheme and discover which art works are chosen in the future. For 2018, the choice has already been made. Next summer, the National Gallery can expect to display a wide range of responses to Joseph Wright’s An Experiment on a Bird in the Air Pump (1768).

Take One Picture is generously supported by GRoW @ Annenberg, The Dorset Foundation, Christoph Henkel and other donors. Further information about the programme, related CPD courses for teachers, and the annual Take One Picture exhibition at the National Gallery can be found here

“A Great and Noble Design”

… that famous Ceiling in the great Hall at Greenwich Hospital, painted by our Ingenious Countryman Mr. Thornhill, who has executed a great and noble Design with a Masterly Hand, and uncommon Genius. [sic]
-Richard Steele, The Lover (1714)

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How often do you get the opportunity to view a painted ceiling up close? Very rarely. For a limited time only, a once in a lifetime opportunity is being offered by the Old Royal Naval College to stand directly under the phenomenal painting in the Painted Hall, Greenwich. For £10, visitors can ascend 60 feet and follow an hour-long tour, learning the secrets of the little-known artwork from a position no one will ever be in again.

Nicknamed “the Sistine Chapel of the UK”, the 300-year-old painted ceiling rivals the famous Michelangelo in its beauty, however, has sadly been deteriorating after years of being subjected to smoke, dust, heat and humidity. The recent use of the Hall from 1937 to 1997 by the Royal Navy as a dining space has greatly impacted on the state of the paintings. It has also been subjected to film crews intent on creating the perfect scene for their blockbuster hits. These include Indiscreet (1958), Octopussy (1983), Doctor Who (1993), Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994), Sense and Sensibility (1995), Dorian Gray (2009), Pirates of the Caribbean (2011), and Les Misérables (2012).

This year, an ambitious conservation project has begun in the Painted Hall with the intention that by 2019 the 40,000 square foot of painted surface will be restored to its original vibrancy and splendour. Volunteers are hard at work cleaning and touching up the precious artwork.

The Hall, now fitted with metal scaffolding, is taking advantage of the formidable task to give the public the opportunity to appreciate the skill and workmanship of Sir James Thornhill (1675/6-1734), and English decorative painter and serjeant-painter to George I.

Before his appointment to serjeant-painter (1720), Thornhill was George I’s History painter and was commissioned with the mammoth task of painting the ceiling of the Hall, which had been established for use as a hospital for injured seamen. Thornhill began the task in 1707 and, with help from other painters, completed it in 1726.

Despite being responsible for the design of the artwork in the Painted Hall and being the first English-born painter to be knighted, Thornhill is almost unknown to today’s public. If he is known at all, it is usually through his connection to the celebrated British painter, William Hogarth (1697-1764), to whom he was both teacher and father-in-law.

James Thornhill was born in Dorset where, had it not been for a generous great-uncle, he would never have raised the funds to develop his artistic career. With the financial help, Thornhill was able to become apprenticed to the painter Thomas Highmore (d.1719/20) and eventually became known amongst the Painter-Stainers’ Company in London, of which he became the Master of in 1720.

Inspired by the Baroque paintings he had seen on his European travels, Thornhill became popular for the decorations of interior public and private buildings. He was able to provide a Britishness to the designs that foreigners in the trade would not have been able to produce.

The Painted Hall commission is arguably Thornhill’s greatest work, however, the demand for painted ceilings decreased rapidly afterwards, leaving Thornhill without well-paid jobs to work on. As a result, Thornhill quickly became unknown in comparison to the artists who preferred to work on canvas, particularly Hogarth whose renown greatly overshadowed his father-in-law’s.

After donning hard hats and protective vests, the tour of the Painted Hall begins with a talk about the painting covering the entirety of the west wall. Whilst seated in front of the formidable artwork, it is possible to study and identify the depicted characters in the busy scene. In the centre, surrounded by family, sits George I, the first king of the Hanoverian line. They are framed by Corinthian columns, giving the entire composition a 3D result, which is further enhanced by the dome of St Paul’s Cathedral situated in the background.

As can clearly be seen in the above photographs, there are more figures in place to the sides and back of the royal family. These are allegorical figures, including Justice and Peace, which were included to hint at the stability of the Hanoverian dynasty. The artist has taken liberties to suggest that the German-speaking King will cause a positive development to the recently established United Kingdom. To emphasise this further, Thornhill chose to include an inscription extracted from Virgil’s Eclogues, “Iam Nova Progenies Coelo,” which when translated means “a new generation has descended from the heavens.”

The most interesting character, and perhaps most amusing, featured on the west wall is Thornhill himself. Standing to the left side of the king, Thornhill is gesturing with one hand towards George I whilst looking over his shoulder at the viewers of the painting. Some believe his intention was to draw attention to the most important figure in the composition – the king – by motioning towards the centre. On the other hand, others suggest that Thornhill may have been taking pride in his work and showing off his accomplishment, or, as one guide joked, he may be asking George I for his payment.

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The main part of the Painted Hall tour takes place at the top of the temporary scaffolding. From the ground, it is not possible to see the ceiling due to the iron sheeting being used as a makeshift floor for visitors and workers. When standing on this platform, it is almost possible to touch the artwork, making it the closest people have ever been to the painting for over half a century.

The ceiling features a different King and Queen to the west wall below, honouring the couple responsible for founding the original hospital for which the building was used. William III and Mary II sit dead centre of a decorative oval, which is busy with a myriad of figures. Similarly to the depiction of George I, allegorical figures can be noticed within the energetic painting, however, there are far more than shown on the wall. As well as figures representing Justice, Peace, Liberty and so forth, are the four cardinal virtues pictured physically conquering vices such as Calumny and Envy.

In sequential order around the oval, the twelves signs of the Zodiac are depicted as humans wearing or holding relevant articles that relate to the mythical representation of each sign. Divided into four groups of three, figures to represent the seasons hover over the appropriate signs.

The tour leader explains the presence of each character in detail, drawing attention to the sections deemed most important. It is awe-inspiring to see for yourself the sheer size and individual features of the ceiling painting. Being up so close allows you to appreciate the painstakingly hard work Thornhill and his assistants undertook to create such a perfect painting. There is no way that looking at the ceiling from the floor (once the scaffolding has been removed) can produce the same sense of wonder.

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All of the paintings in the Hall, regardless of the hand that produced them, were based on detailed sketches provided by Thornhill. The artist would have known what the King and Queen had looked like, having lived during part of their reign, however, the other characters were likely based on models either employed by or already known to him.

Although this is speculation, there is some evidence to suggest that Thornhill based his figures on real people. The figure of Hiems (the Latin name for Winter) was clearly a portrait of John Worley (1624-1721), the first pensioner to enter Greenwich hospital in 1705. The proof of this can be seen in Thornhill’s original sketches now owned by the National Maritime Museum. Thornhill annotated his designs in order to make it clear who was who and what was going on in the scene. On a study of an elderly man, Thornhill has written “John Warley aet: 90 born at Harford West … at Greenwich he is Hyems.”

Described as “one of the greatest baroque ceilings in Britain” by Sky News, the Painted Hall Ceiling is a tour worth taking. Once the conservation project has been completed, the artwork will only be viewable from ground level, so take this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity whilst you can. Whether or not you are a lover of art, the experience is worth the £10 fee and will impress everyone you talk to afterwards.

It is recommended that you book in advance, especially in the instances of large parties. Nevertheless, it is also possible to purchase your ticket on arrival at the venue. Taking photographs is encouraged and the tour leaders are very knowledgeable, thus making your visit a memorable experience. Enjoy studying the masterpiece and discovering the painting’s mysteries and secrets.

The Queen’s House

The Queen’s House Art Gallery

Completed in 1683, Inigo Jones’ first classical building in Britain is still standing and open to the public. Originally a royal villa intended for James I’s queen, Anne of Denmark, it became the home of Charles I’s wife, Henrietta Maria on its completion. As well as being famed as a royal pleasure palace, it later became home to a naval school.

Today, the classical building is primarily used as an art gallery, containing hundreds of paintings including a few from the masters: Turner, Gainsborough and Hogarth. As part of the Royal Museums of Greenwich and only a mere 150 metres from the National Maritime Museum, it is only natural that the artworks predominately feature ships, sailors and wars, making it the most important collection of maritime art in the world. The house also displays an impressive selection of British portraiture, from kings and queens to admirals and other important names.

Inigo Jones (1573-1652) was an English architect, stage designer, draughtsman and painter, the former being his greatest asset. He is still regarded as one of the incomparable English architects to date and was responsible for introducing and influencing a classic style based upon Italian architecture. For a country that had not previously been impacted by the Renaissance movement, this was a significant development.

Sadly, very few of Jones’s building resemble their original state as a result of restoration, disintegration or extension. The two most famous and equally important are located in London. One is the Banqueting House in Whitehall, and the other is the aforementioned Queen’s House at Greenwich.

The entrance to the Queen’s House for today’s visitors is through the undercroft, which whilst may not look all that inspiring, leads to the most impressive section of the building. To access the main floors of the house, visitor’s must make their way upstairs. This can either be done by lift (the boring way) or by climbing the Tulip Stairs.

The Tulip Stairs, so named due to the flowers on the ornate bannisters, are famed for being the first ever geometric self-supporting spiral staircase in the whole of Britain. With no additional supports necessary, it is possible to look up (or down) and see all the way through to the roof by peering up the middle of the staircase [image above]. The stairs create an amazing pattern as they spiral up into the heavens – although, thankfully, you do not have to climb that high!

The Tulip Stairs lead up to both the ground and first floor, from which you can experience another extraordinary feat of architecture. The ground floor is home to the Great Hall, which although not as big as you may imagine (12m or 40ft long), is a perfect square and the key example of the influence the Renaissance ideals of mathematics and harmony had on the magnificent architect. The floor of the hall, laid in 1635, is geometrically patterned with alternating black and white shapes. As a result, the room is perfectly proportioned.

From the first floor, a balcony allows you to overlook the Great Hall, providing an aerial view of the splendid flooring. In keeping with the symmetrical design below, doors to adjoining rooms are located in the same positions – one in each corner, and another along one of the sides.

For the majority of the rest of the House, the architecture is forgotten, although it is still possible to appreciate the ceiling paintings provided by Orazio Gentileschi (1563-1639). The impressive collection of paintings is the main focus of all the other rooms in the building, beginning with an exploration of the sea through art. Most of these are from the 19th century and illustrate the changing affinities Victorian people had with the sea. Demonstrating the fisher-folk and boat builders that relied on oceans for their livelihood, there are paintings of ships, coasts and harbours showing a variety of scenes.

Some artists focus on the Thames rather than the sea – an apt setting for a Greenwich art gallery – whereas others, such as Henry Nelson O’Neil (1817-80), explored the uses of boats and ships. For example, O’Neil’s The Parting Cheer is a response to the migration of friends and families leaving in search of a better life elsewhere. On the other hand, some artists were still quite superstitious and influenced by old myths and tales of frightening creatures hiding in the depths of the murky waters. Davy Jones’s Locker by William Lionel Wyllie (1851-1931) is a great example of this.

Moving from room to room, the paintings come into the era of modern British art. The sea was still a major inspiration for many artists, particularly those from Britain on account of it being an island nation. The two world wars during the first half of the 20th century were also a significant source of direction for seascapes. Some of these may have been used for propaganda, but others were a means of encouragement for those fearing for the lives of their loved ones.

It is only natural that a gallery engrossed with nautical art and a building that once housed a naval school would also display portraits of important sailors and officers of rank. Until the First World War, portraits of men below the rank of an officer were virtually non-existent, however, in order to document the important events, it is impossible to ignore the significance of each and every participant. Alongside portraits of famous military leaders, for example, Captain Edward Jellico, are faces unknown to most.

The portraits continue on the first floor, however, are of people of particular renown or rank. After the restoration of the Stuart line of the British monarchy in 1660, the royal family began to take a great interest in the navy, commissioning portraits of Admirals and spectacular flagships. These can be found in various rooms around the house.

The war against the Dutch in the mid-1600s was also a popular subject matter amongst the upper-classes, therefore a large number of paintings in the collection display scenes of sea battles. Many of these depict Dutch ships, recognised by the striped flags, struggling amongst the waves, implying they were not as strong as their English rivals. At the time, these may have been used as forms of propaganda.

The paintings around the house are all of a similar style, largely due to the time periods they were produced in. But, paint is not the only medium used and collected. As can be seen in the photographs above, the gallery contains busts of various materials. There are a number of famous names amongst these, including Charles I and the Queen’s House’s architect, Inigo Jones.

Another form of artworks on display are pen paintings (penschilderji) produced by the Dutch artist Willem van de Velde the Elder (1611-1693). As a companion of Charles II and later an inhabitant of the Queen’s House, Van de Velde produced sketches of the naval battles that he witnessed first hand. It is inspiring to see what can be captured in basic pen and ink in comparison to paintings with a full-colour palette.

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Slag bij Livorno (Battle of Leghorn), Willem Van de Velde the Elder

The later paintings in the gallery focus on a completely different theme. The 18th century brought with it an advance in the interest of scientific discovery. It was also a time when women began to question the female role and strove to prove that they could also participate in the study of science through means of botany and astronomy. The artworks reflect these changing attitudes.

Although referred to as an art gallery, the Queen’s House is also a museum about the building’s uses and the royals who lived there. Along with the information plaques about the paintings, each room has a title and description to explain what its original purpose was.

Presumably, the Grand Hall would have been an area to entertain guests at banquets or ball dances, however, there are no references to the usage of the ground floor during its years as a royal residence. These rooms were most important during its time as a naval school. Now bedecked with paintings, visitors can walk through what was once the headmaster’s drawing room, assistant master’s dining room and so forth.

The upper floor is focused more on the original uses of the house, splitting the rooms into those intended for the King, and those used by the Queen. All the rooms are now devoted to art, from the King’s Privy Chamber to the Queen’s Closet. The nautical paintings inhabit the King’s side, presumably on account of it being a male-dominated period of history, whereas the Queen’s side focuses a lot on royalty. Here can be found portraits of the royals who spent time at the Queen’s House, including Queen Anne. Interestingly, there are also portraits of the Tudor monarchs who were long dead by the time the house was commissioned.

One thing that it is quick to notice about the collection of artwork in the Queen’s House is the lack of religious representations. This could be because the gallery is mainly focused on the maritime theme, however, it does seem odd that the past Royal family who held strong Christian beliefs would not display anything to epitomise their faith.

Despite the lack of religion, as a present for the 400th anniversary of the commissioning of the Queen’s House, Queen Elizabeth II has lent the painting Joseph and Potiphar’s Wife by Orazio Gentileschi, which is usually found in the Royal Collection at Buckingham Palace. This painting is hung back in its original location from which it has been missed for over 360 years. This was one of many paintings King Charles I and Queen Henrietta Maria commissioned during their reign. For a temporary time, free talks about the painting are available at given times of the day.

The Queen’s House also holds small exhibitions of contemporary artists and designers at the back of the building where the functions of the original rooms are no longer known. Currently, the work on display is by Marian Maguire, an artist from New Zealand known for her lithographs and etchings that combine the classical Greek style of vase painting with the history of New Zealand. On display until October 2017, Maguire’s series of lithographs titled The Odyssey of Captain Cook tell a fabricated story of the meeting of the ancient Greeks and Maori people.

Maguire combines the voyages of Captain James Cook, whose portrait resides upstairs, with her native country and the Greek myths featured in Homer’s Odyssey. Taking liberties – or artistic license – Maguire creates a new myth surrounding a myriad of characters who in reality could not possibly have met. She weaves this tale through her recognised style of lithographs, mostly in the style of ancient Greek art. However, one particular piece, A Portrait of Captain James Cook with a Classical Urn from the Collection of the Admiralty (2005), also includes a realistic portrait of the famous explorer.

The Queen’s House Art Gallery is a beautiful building to visit containing some amazing works of art. The quiet atmosphere provides the perfect setting for art lovers to study paintings by artists of up to 400 years ago. Alongside this is the opportunity to learn more about the advances in art, science and the Navy, as well as discovering new details about the past British monarchs. With free entry and staff on hand to supply additional information, it is an opportunity that should not be passed up. The National Maritime Museum may be the most famous of the Royal Museums, but the Queen’s House is by far the more impressive. Enjoy your visit.

Canaletto & the Art of Venice

The Royal Collection at the Queen’s Gallery, Buckingham Palace, currently contains a large number of the paintings and drawings of Canaletto, one of the most famous Venetian painters. These works were brought to Britain by an art dealer, Joseph Smith, who was incidentally the British Consul in Venice. The paintings entered the hands of the Royals in 1762 when King George III bought Smith’s entire collection.

Amongst the collection displayed in the exhibition Canaletto & the Art of Venice are some of the most recognisable of Canaletto’s works. Focusing on the views in Venice, Canaletto painted from various locations, producing a series that shows a journey along the Grand Canal.

Canaletto is not the only artist featured in this exhibition. In order to compare and contrast his artistic skill, his masterpieces are hung amongst paintings by his contemporaries, including Marco Ricci (1676-1730), Anton[io] Maria Zanetti the Elder (1680-1767), Giovanni Battista Piazzetta (1682/3-1754), Giovanni Cattini (c1715-1800) and Sebastiano Ricci (1659-1734).

Giovanni Antonio Canal 1697-1768

It is claimed that Canaletto is the most famous Venetian view-painter, etcher and draughtsman of the 18th century. He was born into the art world on 28th October 1697 to the theatrical scene painter, Bernardo Canal (1674-1744). It is thought that this is how Canaletto got his nickname, for, in order to distinguish himself from his father, Giovanni Antonio Canal was most likely referred to as ‘Little Canal’ or, as it is in Italian, ‘Canaletto’.

Canaletto began his career assisting his father with the sets for Vivaldi’s operas in Venice, and later, Alessandro Scarlatti’s operas in Rome. It was whilst he was in Rome that Canaletto began sketching famous buildings and ancient monuments, causing him to abandon the theatrical work on his return to Venice. Thus began his topographical painting career.

Specialising in grand views showing the public face of the city of Venice, Canaletto’s paintings are full of strong, bright colours and his handling of the brush is extremely smooth and precise. Canaletto would create a sketch on the spot from which to paint from, producing what looked like an accurate record of the landscape. However, this was often far from the case. In order to create a better composition, Canaletto would alter the proportions of buildings or shift their positions. In some instances, the view is entirely imaginary. The term for these paintings is Capriccio – Caprice in English – which refers to the combination of architectural accuracy (recognisable building etc) with elements of fantasy.

The 18th century saw an influx of wealthy visitors to cities such as Venice, particularly British aristocrats. With the assistance of the aforementioned Joseph Smith, Canaletto made these people his best customers, producing views of the canals for them to take home as mementoes (a precursor to postcards).

Unfortunately, Canaletto lost the majority of his clients as a result of the War of the Austrian Succession (1740-8), which put a temporary end to Continental travel. In an attempt to win back customers, Canaletto moved to London in 1746 where he resided for a decade, painting views of London and the countryside. However, rumours were spread that Canaletto was an imposter and not the famous Venetian painter he claimed to be. Therefore, in 1756 he returned to Venice and, although never recovering his popularity, continued to paint for the rest of his life.

Both during and after his life, Canaletto’s style of painting was highly influential in Italy and eventually the rest of central Europe. Many of his works were copied by his followers, causing his style to live on long after his death. His nephew, Bernardo Bellotto, was one of the artists who helped to spread his uncle’s renown and technique.

On display in the Queen’s Gallery are some of Canaletto’s brief sketches, which he made on the spot in preparation for the final painting. With a precise hand and a few sketchy lines, Canaletto was able to capture the scene in front of him. These, despite their quickness, were highly recognisable representations, and many, in fact, are finished drawings, rather than merely a starting point.

It is interesting to be able to view Canaletto’s preliminary sketches as well as the final paintings because it gives an insight into the way the famous artist worked. Paintings can be taken for granted when only seen in their final frames. The hard work and time taken are often forgotten, but logic indicates that these paintings did not just appear out of nowhere.

As the exhibition reveals, Canaletto carried a sketchbook with him around the city, drawing and making notes to refer back to. Letters labelled areas of the page to indicate how that section should be painted, e.g. “B” for bianco (white) and “R” for rosso (red).

Hung in a strategic order, Canaletto’s paintings, and those of his contemporaries, are set off by the royal blues, greens and reds of walls. The exhibition takes visitors on a journey through various stages of Canaletto’s life, keeping his Venetian landscapes separate from other artistic ventures.

Interestingly, Canaletto did not only produce paintings of Venetian buildings but experimented with more spartan landscapes. With no structure to portray, these paintings are far less detailed and take on the aura of the religious and mythical artworks of other artists in Italy at the time. These are situated in the centre of the exhibition where the height of the ceiling allows the large canvases to be appreciated fully.

Without a doubt, Canaletto’s paintings of the Grand Canal are some of his finest works. The buildings are so precise, they are comparable with architectural blueprints. On close inspection, these lines may feel too perfect and unnatural, but when viewed on a grand scale, they help to produce an almost photorealistic snapshot of 18th century Venice. What his most significant achievement is, however, the quality of the painting of the canal itself. Whether the waters were as peaceful as depicted will remain forever unknown – Canaletto may have been making use of Capriccio – but his version looks impossible to have been produced by paint alone. Evidence of a paintbrush can be seen in the suggestion of water ripples that have been painstakingly added to the smooth underlayer. On the other hand, the accurate reflection and glass-like quality of the liquid are beyond the realms of comprehension. The eyes know what they are seeing, but the brain cannot believe it to be possible.

Canaletto also used his fantastic skill at architectural drawing to create a series of paintings of the ancient ruins in Rome. These, too, are phenomenally impressive, it feels like it should be possible to reach out and feel the texture of the stone and experience the dusty streets. Alas, the lack of canals in Rome prevents Canaletto from revealing his full range of skill. It is most certainly the combination of buildings and water that stand out the most and wins Canaletto the title of the best Venetian painter of the 1700s.

Canaletto & the Art of Venice will remain available to the public until Sunday 12th November 2017, when it will be dismantled to make way for a new exhibition: Charles II: Art & Power. Tickets are £11 for adults and £5.50 for children over five and are available to purchase on arrival to the Queen’s Gallery. However, during the school holidays, it may be advisable to purchase tickets online in advance.

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Canaletto, Il Canal Grande da Palazzo Flangini verso la Chiesa di San Marcuola, 1738.

The Foundling Museum

Where artists and children have inspired each other since 1740

Charities play a vital role in societies throughout the world. Thanks to volunteers and funding, many lives have been changed for the better. From international organisations to independent health-focused charities, so much is being done in an attempt to improve the conditions of those less fortunate. Coram is the UKs leading charity in the field of adoption services and dates back to the 1700s when it was first established as The Foundling Hospital by a man named Thomas Coram.

Thomas Coram was concerned about the desperate poverty on the streets of London, particularly in the case of children. At the beginning of the 18th century, 75% of children under five died as a result of neglect or disease due to the increasing destitute state of Londoners.

Although the idea of charity organisations existed across the continent, Britain had yet to jump on the bandwagon. Therefore, thanks to Coram’s determination, the first charity was born. By taking in babies from mothers without the means to look after them, The Foundling Hospital greatly improved and saved the lives of thousands of children.

The hospital continued to protect children from the disease-ridden streets until the 1900s when attitudes towards children’s emotional needs changed. In 1953, the hospital ceased to take in children, instead,  renaming themselves the Thomas Coram Foundation for Children, focused on nursery, welfare and foster services. Now shortened to Coram, the charity is registered as an adoption agency and continues to give the best possible start in life for as many children as possible.

The original buildings of The Foundling Hospital no longer exist, however, the headquarters in Brunswick Square, which opened in 1939, does. As of June 2004, this building has been open to the public and renamed The Foundling Museum.

The Foundling Museum contains a wealth of knowledge about the original hospital, its patrons and its former pupils. In order to fund the charity, artists donated works to be exhibited to members of the public, thus creating London’s first art gallery. The most important supporter from the initial conception was painter and engraver William Hogarth (1697-1764). Having had a precarious childhood himself, Hogarth was eager to become part of a charity for children of the poor. He donated several artworks, including the hospital’s first piece, a portrait of Thomas Coram. Another of Hogarth’s paintings The March of the Guards to Finchley (1750) was also donated. Both are on display in the museum.

William Hogarth was also involved with the design of some sections of the original hospital – a few of which have been preserved and re-erected in the museum’s building. He also designed the Foundling Hospital Coat of Arms (1747), which was proudly displayed above the entrance to the residence.

It was not only painters who contributed towards The Foundling Hospital, musicians and composers were also eager to play a part. Alongside Hogarth, George Frideric Handel (1685-1759) was significantly valuable to the hospital. Handel’s support began in 1749 when he offered to conduct a benefit concert. The audience included a great number of distinctive people including the Prince and Princess of Wales. Over 1000 people attended and, amongst some of Handel’s known works, the Foundling Hospital Anthem, written by the composer himself, was performed for the first time. A year later, Handel conducted another benefit concert, this time performing his famous Messiah.

Handel’s Messiah became a significant musical work for The Foundling Hospital, being performed on an annual basis. Collectively, these concerts raised £7000, which today would be worth well over a million. On Handel’s death in 1759, a copy of the score was left to the hospital in his will, so that the charity could continue benefitting from the concerts for years to come.

The Museum celebrates Handel’s life and his contribution to the charity with his very own gallery located on the top floor of the building. As well as a portrait and plaster bust, the room displays items relating to the conductor and his Messiah. Most importantly, protected behind a screen, are the original will and codicils signed by Handel, stating his bequest to The Foundling Hospital.  

The donated artwork takes up most of the space in the museum, lining the walls of rooms and staircases. Nevertheless, part of the ground floor has been devoted to the history of the hospital. In glass cases, are clothing, bedding, crockery, receipts, registers and so forth belonging to the original inhabitants of The Foundling Hospital. Most noteworthy are the cabinets containing tokens that mothers left with their babies.

From the moment the hospital doors were open, the greatest care was taken in noting all the items that arrived with each child, a physical description and any significant marks to distinguish which child belonged to which mother in the event of a reunion in the future.  However, as children grew, their features would alter, making it more difficult to prove identity. Since names were changed in order to respect the mother’s anonymity, the hospital encouraged the parents to leave a token of some sort for the child to keep, from which any future claims could be accurately affirmed.

The tokens on display show an example of the range of items used to identify children. Each is unique in some way, be it a piece of embroidery, an item of jewellery or a disfigured or personalised coin with a name or number etched into it. It is amazing that these did not go astray during the children’s lives at the hospital, and that so many still remain intact today.

Although photographs exist of the hospital’s later years, paintings are relied on to understand the situation during the 18th century. The majority of the paintings, particularly those along the staircase, are portraits of governors and other notable names associated with The Foundling Hospital. Yet, hidden in certain rooms, are remarkable scenes depicting life in and around the hospital. A particular series of note can be found in the Committee Room alongside Hogarth’s The March of the Guards to Finchley. 

Emma Brownlow (1832-1905) produced a series of four paintings that reveal the life at The Foundling Hospital. Initially, it may come as a surprise that a woman of that era had the opportunity to study and paint in oils, however, on learning her father was John Brownlow, one of the hospital’s secretaries and ex-foundling, it becomes clear why Emma was such a reliable source of accurate representation. Growing up around the foundlings, Emma was able to illustrate the uniforms, the admission system, the infirmary, and the emotions and behaviour of the children. More of Emma Brownlow’s paintings can be found elsewhere in the museum.

Emma’s father, the aforementioned John Brownlow, had some correspondence with the author, Charles Dickens, who, like him, had a difficult childhood and was ashamed of his upbringing. It is thought that Dickens used both his own experiences and his observances at The Foundling Hospital to accurately portray his celebrated characters.

The paintings of The Foundling Hospital and its patrons add to the historical knowledge imparted by the museum. The Court Room, however, contains four large artworks that are metaphorical rather than representational. These illustrate stories of the benevolence and deliverance of children in either religion, mythology or history. The artists liken the foundling children to biblical characters such as Moses and Ishmael, and one chose to paint Little Children Brought to Christ (James Wills, 1746) to emphasise the importance of all children.

The most famous artist displayed in the Court Room is, of course, William Hogarth with his Moses Brought Before Pharaoh’s Daughter (1746). Assuming most people know the famous Bible story, the significance of this scene is the similarity of the return of Moses to his adopted mother from his wet nurse (his real mother), with the way in which the foundlings lived the first five years of their lives. After passing medical tests, babies were sent to responsible wet nurses in the country to be fed and looked after, until, at the age of five, they returned to the hospital to live and attend school.

Just like for visitors during the 1760s, famous artworks are on show for everyone to see. Despite The Foundling Hospital’s closure, the charity (Coram) is still running, therefore artists are continuing to donate artwork to be included in what is now the museum. The basement of the building contains the perfect space for temporary exhibitions for 21st-century artists to showcase work influenced by stories and history of the foundlings.

Well-known names such as Tracey Emin, Quentin Blake and David Shrigley have all appeared in exhibitions during the past ten years. Incidentally, the most famous and popular of all the displays is the current presentation of Jacqueline Wilson’s Hetty Feather. Written during 2008 and recently adapted for television, Hetty Feather tells the story of a courageous 19th-century foundling, bringing the past alive for 21st-century children.

Picturing Hetty Feather is running until 3rd September 2017, converging with the school summer holidays so that all Jacqueline Wilson fans around London can attend. Props and costumes from the CBBC production are on display with the opportunity for children to dress up as a foundling and sit in a typical 19th-century classroom. The opportunity to view an interview with the famous author is available, and it is impossible to miss the illustrations by the respected Nick Sharratt.

There is something for everyone at The Foundling Museum to appease children, historians and art aficionados alike. Immersed in history, the museum tells a positive story of a cause that has developed and shaped the way children in care are treated today. Oftentimes, comments are made about the lack of modern techniques that could have prevented disasters of the past, but in spite of the absence of digital technology, the founders and governors, particularly Coram, Hogarth and Handel, were dedicated enough to create a highly successful charity.

The Foundling Museum is open every day except Mondays, charging £8.25 (£5.50 concessions), with an added £3 for the temporary exhibition. Children and National Trust members are welcome free of charge.

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Untitled, David Shrigley, 2012

Giacometti the Obscure

 

Man Pointing 1947 by Alberto Giacometti 1901-1966

Man Pointing, 1947, Tate, London

It has been twenty years since a large display of Giacometti’s surrealist sculptures have been seen in the UK, however, the Tate Modern has reintroduced them to the public with their latest exhibition. Tracing Giacometti’s career and evidencing his interest with different materials, the gallery unveils his immediately recognisable, unique style of sculpture as well as portrait painting, some of which have never been seen before.

Alberto Giacometti (1901-1966) was born in a small village in the Swiss Alps where he was surrounded by paintings produced by his post-impressionist artistic father. After a brief education at the École des Arts et Métiers in Geneva, Giacometti abandoned the taught naturalistic method of sculpture in favour of experimentation. His peculiar style developed further after temporarily joining the Surrealist movement in the early 1930s.

It was after the Second World War when Giacometti finally settled on the elongated style of figures seen in the Tate Modern’s exhibition. These fragile looking sculptures suggest existentially tragedy with their emaciated appearance. This may have been influenced by Giacometti’s friendship with the existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Satre.

On entering room one of the exhibition, visitors are subjected to gruesome-looking heads shaped out of clay and plaster – Giacometti’s preferred material. It is obvious from the unevenness of the sculptures that they have been moulded by hand, the pressures of the fingertips evident on the facial features. Although the subject matter is plain to see, the roughness of the texture gives the outcomes a more abstract feel. The proportions of skull and physiognomy are not aligned, resulting in a ghoulish appearance.

The human body remains Giacometti’s main focus throughout his life, moving on from the head to include the rest of the skeletal structure. His full body sculptures give off a sense of unease with their rawness and frailty. Apart from the period when Giacometti worked in miniature, his human depictions are extremely out of proportion. Often the legs are twice the length of the body, and the arms dangle down, muscle-less in an awkward fashion. The statues are painfully thin and inhuman, looking as though, were they not cast in bronze, they could easily snap in half.

Giacometti restricted himself to a minimum of means, using his hands rather than tools to shape and sculpt his figures. He had found his style and stuck to it, putting great care and effort into the work he would be remembered for. Giacometti liked to depict the rawness of reality rather than the ideals of the subconscious mind. As a result, his work is chilling and more likely to leave people cold or nauseated instead of appreciative and awed.

Although Giacometti’s skeletal figures may not be all that appealing, he was still a great influence and impressed many people. However, this was largely on account of his personality and devotion to his work, rather than his outcomes. Simone de Beauvoir, a French writer declared “Success, fame, money – Giacometti was indifferent to them all.”

There were occasions, however, when Giacometti did have to think about money as a means of living, particularly during the 1930s. During this decade, he created art with the intention to sell, focusing on decorative objects such as vases, jewellery and wall reliefs. As the Tate reveals in a cabinet in the third room of the exhibition, these commodities were dissimilar to his bronze sculptures, but still had Giacometti’s unique touch. His gritty, hand-rendered style meant each object was unique, yet, unfortunately, not particularly attractive. However, they must have appealed to someone since they were featured in both Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar magazine.

Despite the fact that sculpture was Giacometti’s primary technique, he also enjoyed painting. Painting was a significant part of his early life, but after moving to Paris, sculpture predominated all else. It was not until the conclusion of the Second World War that Giacometti made a welcome return to the paintbrush and easel. The final rooms of the exhibition display the portraits he produced in this latter period.

Unlike other artists, Giacometti was not interested in painting well-known people or taking commissions. Instead, he preferred to have his mother and brother sit for him, or close friends and acquaintances.

In the same way as his sculptures, Giacometti’s portraits feel raw and unfinished. His artistic style is so unique, it is easy to identify the paintings with his scultpures. The insubstatial, fragile representation of the human body is something which Giacometti portrays regardless of method or material.

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By drawing or painting, Giacometti was able to focus more on facial features and small details, something which was impractical on his wraith-like sculptures. And, although he restricted himself to a small palette, he was free to add touches of colour to his artworks.

Unlike the sculpted figures, it is possible to recognised the sitter (if you know who they are to begin with) represented on the canvas. They are also far more interesting to study. Expressive line work and range of tone add together to reveal a whole host of components to scrutinize.

The paintings, although somewhat abstract, are apprecibly more pleasant to view. Spectators are not subjected to, or repulsed by the nauseatingly skeletal framework of the figurines. Regrettably, there are a significant lack of these illustrations on display – the scultpure taking precedence.

The Tate Modern has done well to create a timeline of Alberto Giacometti’s life, from the beginning of his career until his death at the age of 65. Rather than detailing the works on display, the Tate has provided written information about different time periods and the effects the events within them had on his artistic developments.

Unfortunately, Giacometti’s distinctive techniques will not appeal to everyone; there is no beauty to be found, only intrigue at most. Unless you have a peculiar fascination with obscure scultpure, it is probably not worth paying the entry fee (unless you are a member, in which case you get in for free). This thus poses the question, how long will it be until Giacometti is forgetten about altogether?