Artykuły w czasopismach na temat „Painters – England”

Abstract:This article examines two opposing views on the role and presence of painters in post-Reformation rural England. The art historian William Gaunt concluded that painters simply ‘vanished’ from the local scene in their flight to London; the historical geographer John Patten saw non-agricultural workers in general flocking to the rural scene in the same era. Drawing on a database of over 2,600 working painters, the article explores the presence and role of the painters’ occupation in rural England between 1500 and 1640. It emphasises the painters’ accommodation to changing consumer demands; it offers a revised view of their geographic distribution over time; it shows that painters continued to serve the rural scene, albeit in somewhat different ways and from different locales than before.

John Ruskin's Modern Painters V (1860) and Charles Baudelaire's “The Painter of Modern Life” (1863) are contemporaneous texts that both champion modern painters. Yet the two have rarely been considered together; while Ruskin's work is usually taken to represent a moralistic Victorianism, Baudelaire's essay is a foundational text of aesthetic modernism. This article compares the two texts in order to arrive at a more accurate, descriptive sense of nineteenth-century aesthetics, especially at the mid-century moment when “the modern” emerges as an aesthetic value in both England and France. Ruskin and Baudelaire are shown to propose surprisingly similar aesthetic theories, in part because they negotiate the same traumas of modernity, such as the derailment of religion and the commodification of the material world. Positioned on the ruins of Romanticism, each text intimates an idea of the modern that is not quite modernism but is, in fact, eminently Victorian.

In the story of the survival and revival of glass-painting in post-Reformation England, York and Oxford play a significant part. York was especially important because it supported three important artists who helped to maintain the city as a major glass-painting centre, namely Bernard Dinninckhoff (fl. 1585-c. 1620), Henry Gyles (1645–1709), and William Peckitt (1731–95). Oxford's part lay in its patronage of glass-painters. Various colleges patronized foreign and native artists, in particular Abraham and Bernard van Linge, Henry Gyles, William Price and William Peckitt.

This essay examines George Moore's autobiographical writing, prose fiction, and criticism for new ways of understanding shared tensions between narrative and theatre conventions in the 1880s and 1890s. Defiantly experimenting with speculative and fictionalised reminiscence, inter-arts comparisons, and consideration of an artist's care for their own reputation, Moore offers a rich field for explorations of the longevity and obsolescence of textual forms. Moore's reminiscences of British and French Impressionist painters focus more intently on the emergence of their reputations than their actual technical innovations, extending a habit developed in his novels of the 1880s of treating artistic production as small cells of a much wider network of affiliated entertainment industries. Likewise, his alternately gossipy and prescient art and theatre criticism maps surprising relations between the reception of Japanese prints, naturalism in England, changing theatrical conventions, and the influence of print journalism in ways that defy the usual periodising histories of Victorian and Edwardian fiction.

This article investigates the relationship between Europe and Japan at the end of the nineteenth century through the influence of the clothing from both countries. Paintings and portraits from that era are analysed. A typical European clothing piece of that period, the bustle, is proof that little by little the traditional Japanese kimono began to enter the fashion of England and France. In addition, the article also investigates how the Japanese kimono became a luxury item in Europe; however, it was used as a gown-style clothing for the home, losing its original function. At the same time, some kimono and furisode were trimmed and re-sewn as decorative parts of European bustles. The dresses that have survived to this day, most of them preserved in museums, are compared with the European paintings of that period to show how painters portrayed these changes in fashion and modified the use of Japanese garments through their interpretations in Europe.

AbstractDuring his sojourn in England, from 1573 to 1581, Cornelis Ketel received numerous portrait commissions, but did not paint many allegories. Van Mander gives a brief description of only one of them: Kracht door Wijsheid en 1 óorzichtzgheid overwonnen (Strength Conquered by Wisdom and Prudence, o.c. note 1, fol. 275 14-20). In 1986 an Allegory dating from the period in question (1580) appeared on the market. In a decor of captured weapons, it shows three nude men subjugated by a woman and tied up with snakes [figs. 1, 2). A number of circumstances preclude the conclusive identification of this painting as the one described by Van Mander: a) the woman with the snake might be Prudence, but Wisdom is missing; the reason for this might be that the canvas has been cropped, as is indicated by the absence of cusping; b) the attitude of Strength, the muscular man wearing a loincloth, is more consistent with the characteristics of Fury as described by Virgil, Cartari and Ripa (notes 7-9). A biblical source for this theme is Ecclesiastes 9:15-18, where Wisdom is rated higher than Strength and weapons of war. All sources associate Fortitude/ Fury with acts of war, so that a political connotation cannot be ruled out. In the Duke of Buckingham's collection was another allegory by Ketel representing victorious Virtues. This painting was not as tall as the work of 1580 published here (notes 13-19). The Duke of Buckingham's painting cannot be identified with the one for the Amsterdam jeweller Jan van Wely (Van Mander, fol. 275 r43 -275v30), as that painting was still in the collection of his family in 1670 (notes 17, 18). Iconographically, there is a remarkable correspondence with a work by Frans Floris, the subject of which has not been satisfactorily accounted for either (fig. 3, note 20). Pending a definitive identification, it seems to represent Fortitude/Mars/Fury rendered powerless by the loss of his weapons, and conquered by the female personifications of Wisdom and/or Prudence. Ketel was stylistically influenced not only by Floris (fig. 5, notes 23-25) but also by prints after Maarten van Heemskerck and Michelangelo (figs.6, 7). There is something of the Venetian style in the manner of painting. Ketel was acquainted with this style from an altar-piece by Dirck Barents, in the St. Janskerk in Gouda (note 29). It should be stressed that Ketel was unable to find a market for his allegories in England (cf. note 30), as may also be deduced from Van Mander. At the Tate Gallery's exhibition Dynasties 1530- 1630 (1995/96, note 32), Ketel's Allegory of 1580 contrasted starkly with the other exhibits: at the time when he was in England, the delicate subtlety of painters like Hilliard and Oliver was more to the British taste. Their manner was a far cry from Ketel's boldly painted allegory with its large figures. Not until some fifty years later, when the Venetian School, Rubens and Van Dyck were gaining ground, was Ketel duly appreciated in England.

Purpose – This paper aims to analyze the evolution of the marketing of paintings and related visual products from its nascent stages in England around 1700 to the development of the modern art market by 1900, with a brief discussion connecting to the present. Design/methodology/approach – Sources consist of a mixture of primary and secondary sources as well as a series of econometric and statistical analyses of specifically constructed and unique data sets that list nearly more than 50,000 different sales of paintings during this period. One set records sales of paintings at various English auction houses during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries; the second set consists of all purchases and sales of paintings recorded in the stock books of the late nineteenth-century London art dealer, Arthur Tooth, during the years of 1870/1871. The authors interpret the data under a commoditization model first introduced by Igor Kopytoff in 1986 that posits that markets and their participants evolve toward maximizing the efficiency of their exchange process within the prevailing exchange technology. Findings – We found that artists were largely responsible for a series of innovations in the art market that replaced the prevailing direct relationship between artists and patron with a modern market for which painters produced works on speculation to be sold by enterprising middlemen to an anonymous public. In this process, artists displayed a remarkable creativity and a seemingly instinctive understanding of the principles of competitive marketing that should dispel the erroneous but persistent notion that artistic genius and business savvy are incompatible. Research limitations/implications – A similar marketing analysis could be done of the development of the art markets of other leading countries, such as France, Italy and Holland, as well as the current developments of the art market. Practical implications – The same process of the development of the art market in England is now occurring in Latin America and China. Also, the commoditization process continues in the present, now using the Internet and worldwide art dealers. Originality/value – This is the first article to trace the historical development of the marketing of art in all of its components: artists, dealers, artist organizations, museums, curators, art critics, the media and art historians.

This paper examines the history of one of the most important schemes of eighteenth-century painted glass in England: the east window of Ely Cathedral by the Dublin-born James Pearson. Although it was never completed, remains of this window have been preserved in the cathedral and in the bishop's palace. The Ely work remains Pearson's earliest recorded and most substantial commission, and a reassessment is made of its significance in his long career as a glass-painter. Changes in the proposed iconography are studied in the light of contemporary attitudes to imagery and the place of the painted glass scheme is analysed in the complex and controversial restoration history of Ely Cathedral. The paper demonstrates that eighteenth-century painted glass played an important role in the adaptation of cathedrals to contemporary liturgical requirements: at Ely, it largely determined the placing and layout of the new choir.

William Pether (1739–1821) was a painter and skilled draftsman, whose abilities led to his becoming a master of engraving in the mezzotint technique—his prints reproducing works not only by the Dutch masters, such as Rembrandt van Rijn and his pupils Gerrard Dou and Willem Drost, but also by English artists such as Joseph Wright of Derby, Edward Penny, and Richard Hurlstone. An eminent British mezzotint engraver, he was also an underrated painter of miniatures. His artistic activity in this domain has been overlooked by scholars, who have focused on his print production; this study considers all extant miniatures produced by the artist during the period 1760–1820. The aim of this article is to present as many as possible known miniatures painted by this artist and to determine their proper attribution and dates through the use of stylistic analysis, the graphical-comparative method and handwriting research using available works of art and archival materials in the form of letters written by Pether.

During the greater part of the 15th century, the Burgundian princes created a stable, unified center for industry and the flourishing of the arts in the Netherlands. Philip the Good became one of the most powerful and wealthy princes of the House of Burgundy in the period. Under his rule, the Netherlands became an important center for commerce. The port of Bruges, and later Antwerp, offered easy access to the important trade routes. The German merchants of the Hansa towns of Bremen, Danzig, Lübeck, and Hamburg and ships from England and the Baltic regions brought wares to be bought and sold in Flemish towns. The routes along the Atlantic and Mediterranean provided direct lines of communication between Italian merchants from Venice, Genoa, Florence, and Bruges.The Netherlands soon became a center of a large part of the business activity in Europe and its prosperity grew. The concentration of trade, the presence of numerous banks, and the commission they charged contributed to the wealth of its bourgeois merchants and financiers. They soon became as rich and sometimes richer than the Burgundian princes. Thus they had the means to become important patrons of the arts so as to display their wealth. The acquisition of rare and exotic goods became an essential part of a society where exhibiting one's wealth was admired.Flemish artists' corporations were well organized, not unlike modern businesses. They were well-known locally and abroad and had significant influence on the art of the period. Works of art were created in workshops where a long apprenticeship afforded the artists guidance and expert training in their craft. High standards which contributed to the good reputation of the art of Flanders, were maintained by setting the quality of the materials and establishing the techniques used. The painters' guild controlled the production of paintings and took measures to control the supply of materials to keep down prices and to control competition. Also, contracts between artist and patron would sometimes stipulate the type of materials to be used.

AbstractAry Scheffer (1795-1858) is so generally included in the French School (Note 2)- unsurprisingly, since his career was confined almost entirely to Paris - that the fact that he was born and partly trained in the Netherlands is often overlooked. Yet throughout his life he kept in touch with Dutch colleagues and drew part of his inspiration from Dutch traditions. These Dutch aspects are the subject of this article. The Amsterdam City Academy, 1806-9 Ary Scheffer was enrolled at the Amsterdam Academy on 25 October 1806, his parents falsifying his date of birth in order to get him admitted at the age of eleven (fifteen was the oficial age) . He started in the third class and in order to qualify for the second he had to be one of the winners in the prize drawing contest. Candidates in this were required to submit six drawings made during the months January to March. Although no-one was supposed to enter until he had been at the Academy for four years, Ary Scheffer competed in both 1808 and 1809. Some of his signed drawings are preserved in Dordrecht. (Figs. 1-5 and 7), along with others not made for the contest. These last in particular are interesting not only because they reveal his first prowess, but also because they give some idea of the Academy practice of his day. Although the training at the Academy broadly followed the same lines as that customary in France, Italy and elsewhere (Note 4), our knowledge of its precise content is very patchy, since there was no set curriculum and no separate teachers for each subject. Two of Scheffer's drawings (Figs. 2 and 3) contain extensive notes, which amount to a more or less complete doctrine of proportion. It is not known who his teacher was or what sources were used, but the proportions do not agree with those in Van der Passe's handbook, which came into vogue in the 18th century, or with those of the canon of a Leonardo, Dürer or Lebrun. One gets the impression that what are given here are the exact measurements of a concrete example. Scheffer's drawings show him gradually mastering the rudiments of art. In earlier examples the hatching is sometimes too hasty (Fig. 4) or too rigidly parallel (Fig.5), while his knowledge of anatomy is still inadequate and his observation not careful enough. But right from the start he shows flair and as early as 1807 he made a clever drawing of a relatively complex group (Fig. 6) , while the difficult figure of Marsyas was already well captured in 1808 and clearly evinces his growing knowledge o f anatomy, proportion , foreshortening and the effects of light (Fig. 7). The same development can be observed in his portrait drawings. That of Gerardus Vrolik (1775-1859, Fig.8), a professor at the Atheneum Illustre (the future university) and Scheffer' s teacher, with whom he always kept in touch (Note 6), is still not entirely convincing, but a portrait of 1809, thought to be of his mother (Fig.9, Note 7), shows him working much more systematically. It is not known when he left the Academy, but from the summer of 1809 we find him in France, where he was to live with only a few breaks from 1811 to his death. The first paintings and the Amsterdam exhibitions of 1808 and 1810 Ary Scheffer's earliest known history painting, Hannibal Swearing to Avenge his Brother Hasdrubal's Death (Fig. 10) Notes 8-10) was shown at the first exhibition of living masters in Amsterdam in 1808. Although there was every reason for giving this subject a Neo-Classical treatment, the chiaroscuro, earthy colours and free brushwork show Scheffer opting for the old Dutch tradition rather than the modern French style. This was doubtless on the prompting of his parents,for a comment in a letter from his mother in 1810 (Note 12) indicates that she shared the reservations of the Dutch in general about French Neo-Classicism. (Note 11). As the work of a twelve to thirteen year old, the painting naturally leaves something to be desired: the composition is too crowded and unbalanced and the anatomy of the secondary figures rudimentary. In a watercolour Scheffer made of the same subject, probably in the 1820's, he introduced much more space between the figures (Fig. 11, Note 13). Two portraits are known from this early period. The first, of Johanna Maria Verbeek (Fig. 12, Note 14), was done when the two youngsters were aged twelve. It again shows all the characteristics of an early work, being schematic in its simplicity, with some rather awkward details and inadequate plasticity. On the other hand the hair and earrings are fluently rendered, the colours harmonious and the picture has an undeniable charm. At the second exhibition of works by living masters in 1810, Ary Scheffer showed a 'portrait of a painter' (Fig. 13), who was undoubtedly his uncle Arnoldus Lamme, who also had work in the exhibition as did Scheffer's recently deceased father Johan-Bernard and his mother Cornelia Scheffer-Lamme, an indication of the stimulating surroundings in which he grew up. The work attracted general attention (Note 16) and it does, indeed, show a remarkable amount of progress, the plasticity, effects of light, brushwork and colour all revealing skill and care in their execution. The simple, bourgeois character of the portrait not only fits in with the Dutch tradition which Scheffer had learned from both his parents in Amsterdam, but also has points in common with the recent developments in France, which he could have got to know during his spell in Lille from autumn 1809 onwards. A Dutchman in Paris Empire and Restoration, 1811-30 In Amsterdam Scheffer had also been laught by his mother, a miniature painter, and his father, a portrait and history painter (Note 17). After his father's death in June 1809, his mother, who not only had a great influence on his artistic career, but also gave his Calvinism and a great love of literature (Note 18), wanted him to finish his training in Paris. After getting the promise of a royal grant from Louis Napoleon for this (Note 19) and while waiting for it to materialize, she sent the boy to Lille to perfect his French as well as further his artistic training. In 1811 Scheffer settled in Paris without a royal grant or any hope of one. He may possibly have studied for a short time under Prudhon (Note 20) , but in the autumn of 1811 he was officially contracted as a pupil of Guérin, one of the leading artists of the school of David, under whom he mastered the formulas of NeD-Classicism, witness his Orpheus and Eurydice (Fïg.14), shown in the Salon of 1814. During his first ten years in Paris Scheffer also painted many genre pieces in order, so he said, to earn a living for himself and his mother. Guérin's prophecy that he would make a great career as a history painter (Note 21) soon came true, but not in the way Guérin thought it would, Scheffer participating in the revolution initiated by his friends and fellow-pupils, Géricault and Delacroix, which resulted in the rise of the Romantic Movement. It was not very difficult for him to break with Neo-Classicism, for with his Dutch background he felt no great affinity with it (Note 22). This development is ilustrated by his Gaston de Foix Dying on the Battlefield After his Victory at Ravenna, shown at the Salon of 1824, and The Women of Souli Throwing Themselves into the Abyss (Fig.15), shown at that of 1827-8. The last years of the Restoration and the July Monarchy. Influence of Rembrandt and the Dutch masters In 1829, when he seemed to have become completely assimilated in France and had won wide renown, Scheffer took the remarkable step of returning to the Netherlands to study the methods of Rembrandt and other Dutch old masters (Note 23) . A new orientation in his work is already apparent in the Women of Souli, which is more harmonious and considered in colour than the Gaston dc Foix (Note 24). This is linked on the one hand to developments in France, where numbers of young painters had abandoned extreme Romanticism to find the 'juste milieu', and on the other to Scheffer's Dutch background. Dutch critics were just as wary of French Romanticism as they had been of Neo-Classicism, urging their own painters to revive the traditions of the Golden Age and praising the French painters of the 'juste milieu'. It is notable how many critics commented on the influence of Rembrandt on Scheffer's works, e.g. his Faust, Marguérite, Tempête and portrait of Talleyrand at the Salon of 1851 (Note 26). The last two of these date from 1828 and show that the reorientation and the interest in Rembrandt predate and were the reasons for the return to the Netherlands in 1829. In 1834 Gustave Planche called Le Larmoyeur (Fig. 16) a pastiche of Rembrandt and A. Barbier made a comparable comment on Le Roi de Thule in 1839 (Note 27). However, as Paul Mantz already noted in 1850 (Note 28), Scheffer certainly did not fully adopt Rembrandt's relief and mystic light. His approach was rather an eclectic one and he also often imbued his work with a characteristically 19th-century melancholy. He himself wrote after another visit to the Netherlands in 1849 that he felt he had touched a chord which others had not attempted (Note 29) . Contacts with Dutch artists and writers Scheffer's links with the Netherlands come out equally or even more strongly in the many contacts he maintained there. As early as 1811-12 Sminck-Pitloo visited him on his way to Rome (Note 30), to be followed in the 1820's by J.C. Schotel (Note 31), while after 1830 as his fame increased, so the contacts also became more numerous. He was sought after by and corresponded with various art dealers (Note 33) and also a large number of Dutch painters, who visited him in Paris or came to study under him (Note 32) Numerous poems were published on paintings by him from 1838 onwards, while Jan Wap and Alexander Ver Huell wrote at length about their visits to him (Note 34) and a 'Scheffer Album' was compiled in 1859. Thus he clearly played a significant role in the artistic life of the Netherlands. International orientation As the son of a Dutch mother and a German father, Scheffer had an international orientation right from the start. Contemporary critics and later writers have pointed out the influences from English portrait painting and German religious painting detectable in his work (Note 35). Extracts from various unpublished letters quoted here reveal how acutely aware he was of what was likely to go down well not only in the Netherlands, but also in a country like England, where he enjoyed great fame (Notes 36-9) . July Monarchy and Second Empire. The last decades While most French artists of his generation seemed to have found their definitive style under the July Monarchy, Scheffer continued to search for new forms of expression. In the 1830's, at the same time as he painted his Rembrandtesque works, he also produced his famous Francesca da Rimini (Fig. 17), which is closer to the 'juste milieu' in its dark colours and linear accents. In the 1840's he used a simple and mainly bright palette without any picturesque effects, e.g. in his SS. Augustine and Monica and The Sorrows of the Earth (Note 41), but even this was not his last word. In an incident that must have occurred around 1857 he cried out on coming across some of his earlier works that he had made a mistake since then and wasted his time (Note 42) and in his Calvin of 1858 (Fig. 18) he resumed his former soft chiaroscuro and warm tones. It is characteristic of him that in that same year he painted a last version of The Sorrows of the Earth in the light palette of the 1840's. Despite the difficulty involved in the precise assessment of influences on a painter with such a complex background, it is clear that even in his later period, when his work scored its greatest successes in France, England and Germany, Scheffer always had a strong bond with the Netherlands and that he not only contributed to the artistic life there, but always retained a feeling for the traditions of his first fatherland. Appendix An appendix is devoted to a study of the head of an old man in Dordrecht, which is catalogued as a copy of a 17th-century painting in the style of Rembrandt done by Ary Scheffer at the age of twelve (Fig.19, Note 43). This cannot be correct, as it is much better than the other works by the twelve-year-old painter. Moreover, no mention is made of it in the catalogue of the retrospective exhibition held in Paris in 1859, where the Hannibal is given as his earliest work (Note 44). It was clearly unknown then, as it is not mentioned in any of the obituaries of 1858 and 1859 either. The earliest reference to it occurs in the list made bv Scheffer's daughter in 1897 of the works she was to bequeath to the Dordrecht museum. A clue to its identification may be a closely similar drawing by Cornelia Scheffer-Lamme (Fig. 20, Note 46), which is probably a copy after the head of the old man. She is known to have made copies after contemporary and 17th-century masters. The portrait might thus be attributable to Johan-Bernard Scheffer, for his wife often made copies of his works and he is known from sale catalogues to have painted various portraits of old men (Note 47, cf. Fig.21). Ary Scheffer also knew this. In 1839 his uncle Arnoldus Lamme wrote to him that he would look out for such a work at a sale (Note 48). It may be that he succeeded in finding one and that this portrait came into the possession of the Scheffer family in that way, but Johan-Bernard's work is too little known for us to be certain about this.

Who cares whether Mr. Ruskin’s views on Turner are sound or not? What does it matter? That mighty and majestic prose of his, so fervid and fiery-coloured in its noble eloquence, so rich in its elaborate, symphonic music, so sure and certain, at its best, in subtle choice of word and epithet, is at least as great a work of art as any of those wonderful sunsets that bleach or rot on their corrupted canvases in England’s Gallery; greater, indeed, one is apt to think at times, not merely because its equal beauty is more enduring, but on account of the fuller variety of its appeal, soul speaking to soul in those long cadenced lines, not through form and colour alone, though through these, indeed, completely and without loss, but with intellectual and emotional utterance, with lofty passion and with loftier thought, with imaginative insight, and with poetic aim; greater, I always think, even as Literature is the greater art.—Oscar Wilde, The Critic as ArtistWHILE MUCH ATTENTION has been lavished upon the positive and ultimately profitable relationship between Ruskin and Turner, the closeness of their association has served to obscure a more subtle dynamic between the author and the painter in their respective quests for expression. Both Turner, who considered himself a poet as well as a painter, and Ruskin, an accomplished draughtsman who illustrated his own writings, were actively involved in forging new connections between word and image, and in breaking down the barriers between genres embraced by earlier generations. Turner and Ruskin each turned to the sister art both for inspiration, and importantly, for a means of supplementing what each perceived to be the insufficiencies of his own medium. For Turner, painting’s concrete, mimetic nature was at odds with his desire to communicate abstract ideas, while for Ruskin, language’s abstract and conventional nature fell short of our visual experience of the world and failed adequately to address our visual powers of thought, memory, and imagination. Yet as Turner tried to infuse his painting with poetry and Ruskin tried to render his prose visual, they nonetheless remained acutely aware of the gap between words and images. And if Turner and Ruskin readily acknowledged their intergeneric borrowings from the sister arts, implicit within their formulations of “poetic painting” and “painterly prose” is the subtext of the paragone, an age old rivalry between painters and poets for representational or expressive superiority.

Throughout the seventeenth century the Dutch and Flemish enjoyed the reputation of being the best-fed population in Europe. Immigrants and refugees from the Low Countries brought their know-how and eating habits with them. Their arrival in the late-sixteenth and early-seventeenth centuries coincided with the beginning of commercial market gardening in England. Dutch and Flemish immigrants were the first to grow them on a commercial scale. The skill of Dutch and Flemish gardeners did much to alter the English landscape. Many varieties of flowers now considered native to England were brought over from the Low Countries, not to mention the cultivation of bulbs. The tulip became an object of insane speculation. Paintings were often cheaper than the flowers they depicted. Dutch flower painter Simon Pieterszoon Verelst (1644––1721?) became the best-paid artist in London after he settled there. Immigrants from the Low Countries also engineered some of the most fertile areas of Britain today. Cornelius Vermuyden (1590––1677) was responsible for the draining the Fens (Cambridgeshire) which gave an enormous boost to England's agricultural development. In summary: the English agricultural revolution coincided with an influx of immigrants from the Low Countries who enriched almost every aspect of British agriculture.

This article probes the complex interrelationship between Derek Walcott's poetry, Paul Gauguin's art, and Ernest Hemingway's prose. Following an overview of cutting-edge research into postcolonial artistic intermediality, it argues that Walcott admired Gauguin's depictions of Caribbean landscapes, but that this admiration was tempered by his awareness of the artist's racism. Having established the broad strokes of their relationship, the article hones in on the influence Gauguin exerted on Walcott's early lyric ‘Letter to a Painter in England’ (1948). Through close reading, it outlines the role Gauguin's synthetism played in shaping the work's aesthetic, especially with regard to its nonmimetic use of colour, and contends that Walcott's early imitation of Gauguin was inspired by Ernest Hemingway's intermedial imitations of Cézanne. However, unlike Hemingway, Walcott sought to ‘re-vision’ his model through visual-verbal translation.

This article is dedicated to portrait images in Western European porcelain of the XVIII century. Research is conducted on the works created in various European countries, such as Germany (Meissen), France (Sevres), Austria (Vienna), and England (Wedgwood Pottery Manufactory). Prominent masters of porcelain –Kendler, Boizot, Grassi – are the authors of the portraits. Sculptural portrait images of August III – painter of the court of the French Queen Marie Antoinette and the Holy Roman Emperor Joseph II are notable for exquisite artistic merit. The article reviews porcelain sculpture, as well as oil painted portraits. Interpretation of the images manifests the features of three styles characteristic to art of the XVIII century: Baroque, Rococo and Classicism. Portrait images reflect the themes typical to the Age of Enlightenment. The article describes the peculiarities of the creations of artists who worked in various European porcelain manufactories. Research methodology is based on the detailed stylistic analysis of the works of Baroque, Rococo and Classicism; fundamental examination of the works in historical sequence for determining the evolutionary changes; comparative analysis for revealing national and authorial specificities. The novelty is defined by the fact that this article is first to comprehensively analyze the portrait images in porcelain of such countries as Germany, France, and Austria of the XVIII century, as well as in identification of the features characteristic to different artists.

William Bell Scott (1811-90) was active as painter, poet, designer, teacher and pundit. His littleknown Antiquarian Gleanings (1851), a wide-ranging anthology of Northern antiquities, with thirty-eight colour plates, is here re-published in its entirety, with a new index, as an appendix to a paper which explores its design and content, and the networks of collectors, many of them associated with the Antiquarian Society of Newcastle, whose treasures Scott illustrated. Scott is presented neither as a great scholar, nor as a pioneering archaeologist, but his book is a distinguished artefact in its own right and his choice of subjects has stood the test of time, as well as presenting a vivid reflection of the interests and activities of provincial antiquaries in the period after the coming of the railways and immediately before the Great Exhibition of 1851.

Anthony Alder was born into a family of taxidermists and naturalists and was a talented and dedicated taxidermist and bird painter. He first visited Queensland in the 1860s collecting natural history specimens in remote Cape York Peninsula at the beginning of settlement there. He returned to England to carry on the family taxidermy business, but returned to Queensland in 1875 and established as a taxidermist in Brisbane. Except for a short period as a hotel proprietor, Alder operated continuously as a commercial taxidermist until 1907 when he achieved his long-held wish to be employed as taxidermist in the Queensland Museum. He exhibited his taxidermic work widely at the Queensland stands of major international exhibitions of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the exhibits generally characterized by his penchant for the dramatic and the anthropocentric. The style and design of his oil paintings of Queensland birds are reflective of his taxidermic perspective, either as anthropocentric expressions of bird personalities, or as museum displays of bird diversity. Alder was the only significant local painter of Queensland birds in the late nineteenth century and his work is not only of historical significance, but is also aesthetically appealing in the richness of its colour and the taxidermic basis of its design.

The article describes the theoretical and practical questions that rise by including blind and partial sighted students at an art academy. Several examples are presented, like the painter Jonathan Huxley, who studied at the Royal Academy in London or the scluptor Flavio Titolo, who did his art program at the University of the West of England in Bristol. The main theoretical questions go beyond an interpretion of the arts as visual or merely conceptual, and the practical approach includes haptic techniques and sensibilities which might otherwise be none discovered.

AbstractA Church interior erroneously attributed to Pieter Jansz. Saenredam is presented here as an uncustomary work by the landscapist Jan Griffier the Elder, along with two other corresponding architectural paintings. All three were painted shortly after his arrival in England, around 1670-1672. The genre was unusual in England, suggesting that the works may have been commissioned. Two paintings which recently appeared on the English markct shed a light on Griffier as an imitator of such seventeenth-century masters as Poelenburch, Rembrandt, Ruisdacl, Teniers and Lingelbach. This activity was hitherto only documented in historical sources, including Vertue and Houbraken. So successful were the imitations that they were often taken for originals.

An organ case from Lincoln, England, designed by the architect Temple Moore in 1907 was examined during conservation work using Raman spectroscopy in order to analyze the decorative paint composition. Samples from the six principal colours were extracted and examined using a Bruker Senterra R200-L spectrometer. The results are the first known formal analysis of a painted scheme by this architect, and they reveal a mixture of commonly used pigments for the period and the unexpected use of simpler, earth pigments, along with an unusual admixture in the red, along with an organic additive. The findings are of importance to both the conservation of Temple Moore’s artwork, in understanding the experimentation used in early twentieth-century England, and in furthering our knowledge of ecclesiastical decorative artwork of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

En général, les collections de nouvelles françaises et italiennes de la Renaissance montrent une pratique de lecture active et réfléchie à laquelle les femmes et les hommes participent. Heptaméron 32 de Marguerite de Navarre donne au lecteur le rôle d’un témoin responsable à travers le personnage de Bernage. Dans leurs versions anglaises de cette nouvelle, William Painter et George Whetstone transforment le cadre et modifient le role du lecteur, tout en s’appropriant l’idée que lire et interpréter sont des processus sociaux qui peuvent refaçonner l’individu.

This paper presents the results of a detailed analysis of surviving paintwork on the chancel arch, the carved animal heads and the figurative panel in the west porch at the Anglo-Saxon church of St Mary, Deerhurst, Gloucestershire, UK. The context of the polychromy in relation to the ninth-century fabric of the church is assessed. The detailed results of the technical analysis are presented. The original scheme of painted decoration is described, including the newly discovered plant scroll painted on the arch. The results of the examination are evaluated, setting the polychrome decoration of the ninth-century church into its contemporary context in England and on the Continent, with special regard to both the technical and the artistic aspects.

The estuary of the River Crouch, south-east England, as sampled annually by beam trawl between 1987 and 1989, and again in 1992. The aim of an initial transect survey was to describe and quantify the subtidal epifauna at a time of high ambient tributyltin (TBT) concentrations, arising from the use of tin-based anti-fouling paints on the hulls of moored pleasure craft. Subsequent surveys at representative stations sought to examine the progress of any changes with time in animal populations in relation to a decline in concentrations of TBT in the environment, following a ban on the use of tin-based paints for smaller vessels in July 1987.

AbstractBorn in Vienna in 1906 to a wealthy, assimilated Jewish family, the painter Marie-Louise von Motesiczky enjoyed a lively social life among the prominent figures of intellectual and cultural Vienna in the closing years of the Habsburg dynasty. She studied at art schools in Vienna, Paris, and the Netherlands, including with German painter Max Beckmann in Frankfurt. The Nazi rise to power cut short Marie-Louise Motesiczky’s career in Central Europe. She fled Vienna for permanent refuge in England. Like her mentor, Beckmann and her contemporary and fellow émigré artist, Oskar Kokoschka, Motesiczky considered the artistic practice of the self-portrait an occasion for self-questioning, self-affirmation, and self-discovery. Unlike her mentors, from early in her career, Motesiczky’s self-portraits had to negotiate the representation of a female subject. This article will investigate the ways in which Motesiczky’s emigration compelled her to reexamine the gendered parameters of the self-portrait and how that reassessment manifests itself specifically in regard to her engagement with the spectatorial gaze. Her position as an émigré artist will not be analyzed as a burden to be overcome but, rather, as the impetus for reexamining techniques and strategies of female self-portraiture.

William Utermohlen was born in 1933. Upon completing his Bachelor's degree at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, he joined the Army and then moved to England to study at the University of Oxford. This is where he met his wife, Patricia. Bill painted scenes from his childhood in Philadelphia, images of Vietnam War veterans, and pictures inspired by Dante's Inferno. Later, many of his paintings depicted family life, conversations with friends, and his home—they were happy pictures.

This paper explores the possibilities of a feminist reading of the Middle English life of St Margaret of Antioch, whose status as a virgin-martyr is sometimes held to have made her an unattainable role model, suitable only for virgins who had dedicated themselves to God. Using both written and painted English narratives of St Margaret’s life dating mainly from the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, it shows that many elements of these could have been interpreted by all women as a validation of themselves and their experiences. The paper uncovers certain common themes and similarities of presentation, to see how far a general picture of Margaret emerges from them and what they say about the construction of femininity and the female. Although the narrative of the legend takes a variety of forms, both written and painted, it is sufficiently stable (largely ‘controlled’ by the Legenda Aurea) to allow different versions to be drawn on in this way.

AbstractNicolas Poussin’s “Hannibal Crossing the Alps,” long considered one of his earliest surviving works, is here recognized as a portrait of a historical elephant who visited Rome in 1630 and re-dated accordingly. The article tells the story of this remarkable animal. It traces his passage from South Asia through Portugal, Spain, England, France, the Netherlands, Germany, Austria, Italy, and back again to France, and examines his encounters along the way with kings and courtiers, scholars, artists, and traveling showmen, giving insight into the diplomatic and economic uses of exotic animals in early modern Europe. Finally, returning to Poussin, it addresses the implications of the re-dating of the “Hannibal” for our understanding of the painter’s stylistic development and biography.

Thousands of migrants left the Low Countries in the second half of the sixteenth century for religious, political, or economic reasons. They faced many difficulties as they attempted to rebuild their lives abroad, including linguistic obstacles. Many of them moved to England, but proficiency in English was rare among the Netherlandish community. Nevertheless, as this article argues, the language differences did not only pose problems, they also offered opportunities, especially to members of the higher echelons of the Dutch diasporic community. The inhabitants of the Low Countries were widely reputed to have excellent knowledge of languages, and for good reason. This article concentrates on the linguistic strategies of three multilingual individuals who moved across the North Sea: the nobleman Jan van der Noot, the painter Lucas d’Heere, and the merchant Johannes Radermacher. It studies the ways in which they used their proficiency in multiple languages as starting capital to build new social and professional lives for themselves. For example, they used their linguistic skills to appeal to the local aristocracy in order to ensure patronage, to expand social and professional networks by frequenting particular religious language communities, and to offer language instruction. This article therefore contributes to our understanding of linguistic encounters in the everyday lives and struggles of migrants in the sixteenth century.

Dispersal of freshwater mussels (order Unionida) is primarily as glochidia on the fins and gills of host fish. Adult mussels are more sessile, generally moving short distances (<2 m/week) along lake and river beds. Between 2007 and 2016, we observed seven instances of adult Eastern Elliptio (Elliptio complanata) and one instance of a fingernail clam (Sphaerium sp.) attached to the feet of freshwater turtles in streams and ponds of New England, United States. Observations included five instances of mussels attached to Wood Turtles (Glyptemys insculpta) in Maine and Massachusetts, one instance of a mussel attached to the fingernail of an Eastern Painted Turtle (Chrysemys picta) in Massachusetts, one instance of a mussel attached to a Snapping Turtle (Chelydra serpentina) in Massachusetts, and one instance of a fingernail clam attached to the fingernail of an Eastern Painted Turtle in Massachusetts. We suggest that Eastern Elliptio may be susceptible to transport by freshwater turtles foraging in mussel beds and that transport of adult mussels by freshwater turtles could result in otherwise atypical long-distance, upstream, or overland dispersal between waterbodies.

For thirty years J. E. Neale’s portrait of the Elizabethan parliaments was the stuff of textbooks. Highly political and bedeviled by puritanical protobolsheviks, the Virgin Queen’s parliaments were painted as the nursery in which the modern parliamentary system, characterized by an organized Opposition, was born. In the last decade, however, Neale’s interpretations have been challenged and overturned, making obsolete most of the histories of Elizabethan England available to students. The purpose of this article is to assess the new research on Elizabethan Parliaments, to summarize what we now know about the role Parliament played in governing England, and to suggest what remains to be done.In order to make sense of the newly emerging history of Elizabeth’s parliaments it is important to recap the working assumptions that dominated the first great era of Elizabethan parliamentary history, the Neale/Notestein age. Much of the recent work on Parliament has been in reaction to these mens’ work.

Three cinquecento polychrome wood-carved altars have been preserved on the island of Lopud near Dubrovnik, the most monumental of which is situated in the parish church of Our Lady of Šunj. Its retable was constructed to resemble a classical aedicule, with an intricately carved frame and a central figural depiction of the Assumption of the Virgin, complemented by a complex iconographic programme in the symmetrically arranged adjoining scenes. Filling the small cassettes of the predella are reliefs of the Annunciation and Christ as the Man of Sorrows, together with perspectively rendered narrative scenes of the Last Supper and the Washing of the Feet, while in the pediment is a frontal depiction of the Coronation of the Virgin by the Holy Trinity. In the narrow side wings between the columns and pilasters are four bas-reliefs of local patron saints depicted half-turned towards the central image, and thus achieving an overall plastic harmony for a demanding content. In terms of space, the main scene is well-developed through a pronounced sculptural modelling of the figures of the eleven apostles in the round, the most prominent of which is that of St Peter, placed in the foreground and turned to face the nave of the church, while the others are consumed by the miraculous assumption of the Virgin into heaven. She is followed high up by a pair of small angels and several tiny symbolical cherubim heads, all of which helps to achieve an extremely convincing religious scene. Its attractiveness is significantly heightened by the all’antica realism and pedantic Roman-inspired modelling which highlight the skill of a highly trained and talented master wood carver, which leaves no doubt that this is a special work of art, and indeed, the most beautiful carved wood retable in the east Adriatic which has survived to date. In this first complete study of the altar, the author traces historical records in which it is mentioned without the exact year of its creation, origin or carver being cited. He dispels the tradition that the altar was brought from England, supposedly from the Chapel of Henry VIII, and explains this tradition as having been based on the discovery of an alabaster altar, a typical product of late Gothic workshops at Nottingham, several examples of which exist in Dalmatia. From the seventeenth-century records, on the other hand, we learn that the altar in the church of the „Madonna del Sugni” (a vernacular Italo-Croatian transformation of the word Assunta) was dedicated in 1572. An examination of comparative material establishes that the altar’s compositional scheme draws upon altarpieces painted by Alvise Vivarini around 1480, while its morphological features find their closest parallel in the activities and mannerisms of the Venetian workshop of Paolo Campsa, who worked from the 1490s to the early 1550s, and who sold his works in the wide area under the government of La Serenissima. The Republic of Venice profited a great deal from this export, while its urban centre’s innumerable wooden altars disappeared following subsequent changes of fashion. A group of securely attributed works shows that Paolo Campsa frequently borrowed formulas and idioms from Venetian painters of the older generation; analogies with two of Vivarini’s altar paintings confirm that he repeated this technique on the Lopud altar, even though altars as complex as this are not found in the surviving oeuvre of this artist. An overview of the extremely numerous works attributed to this fecund wood carver has not led to a secure attribution of this scenically developed altar to his hand. However, an analytical observation points to significant similarities with individual figures considered by scholars of Renaissance wooden sculpture to be products of his workshop - more a factory, in fact - or of his circle which, without a doubt, Paolo stamped with his mark. Apart from the assumption that there are master wood carvers who have not been identified, or formally and clearly differentiated, who followed his teachings and mannerisms, this paper opens the possibility of locating more exactly the place of the altar’s creation. Since Campsa’s workshop was active even after his death, it can be assumed that the altar was made in the 1560s or 1570s, and that it was transported and assembled on the island of Lopud for its dedication of 1572. Furthermore, the author observes the meaning of the subsequent addition of the background, which was painted once the altar reached its destination; it shows a summarized depiction of the scenery of Lopud and a tiny settlement with a precisely and proportionately drawn sailing ship docked at the island’s bay. The background reveals that the nature of the work was votive and, by identifying the layers of local historical circumstance and by combining them with the relevant written sources, it can be connected to the activities of the distinguished ship owner Miho Pracat, the richest citizen of the Republic of Dubrovnik during the cinquecento. Two more wooden sculptures can be added to Miho Pracat’s donation to his home island: the figures of St Catherine and St Roch which were also made in Venice and which had originally belonged to a small altar of his family in the local church of St Francis, known from archival records. This altar was composed of an older polychrome triptych, now unfortunately lost, and which, together with a pair of side statues, formed a piece resembling a number of altarpieces from Paolo Campsa’s workshop. Thus, the analysis of these works of art reveals key components of visual culture, and a peculiar mosaic of sixteenth-century artistic production in a peripheral community of the small island of Lopud under the government of the Republic of Dubrovnik.

A previously unknown painting of the rainbow lorikeet, Trichoglossus haematodus moluccanus (Gmelin),1 by the Welsh artist Moses Griffith (1747–1819), servant to Thomas Pennant, appears to be the earliest painting of an Australian bird. The painting, dated 1772, depicts a specimen likely taken to England by Joseph Banks, following Cook's First Voyage (1768–1771), and seen by Pennant and Griffith in London in September 1771.

Architecture and visual arts in general have been subjects of a growing body of recent scholarship connected with the ecclesiastical history of the ‘Long Eighteenth Century’, but little attention has been given to portraiture. Although honourable mention should be made of pioneering work by John Ingamells on painted episcopal portraits, and by Peter Forsaith, very recently, on Methodist portrait prints, other aspects of this extensive subject still await investigation. The article outlines the development of engraved portrayal of clergy, mainly of the Church of England, during the two centuries before production of multiple images was taken over by photography, and indicates how the quantity, variety, and dissemination of such material can provide some index of the priorities of a pre-photographic age. It does not aim to be a comprehensive or a complete survey of the corpus of engraved portraiture; nevertheless, this article provides an initial guide to the abundance of previously unexplored illustrative material, and may suggest a framework for further exploration. It is hoped that future scholars will build on this initial work to enable a complete catalogue of such images to be developed and further explored.

In the parish churches and cathedrals of England and Wales stand many thousands of early modern funeral monuments. Typically, these are elaborate structures of carved stone, often painted and decorated in bright colours and trimmed with gilding. Their complex programmes of inscribed text, allegorical figures, heraldic emblazons and sculpted effigies are set within architectural frameworks. With a few exceptions, such as the famous memorials to Queen Elizabeth, William Shakespeare or John Donne, these monuments are relatively little studied and little known. However, they were extremely costly to their patrons and prominently displayed in churches in purpose-built family chapels or against the wall of the sanctuary. Contemporary comment reveals that they were accorded high status by both specialist commentators, such as antiquaries and heralds, and by the patrons who invested in them so heavily. All-in-all, they represent what was the most important kind of church art made in the post-Reformation England, a period when there was a great deal of general uncertainty about the status of visual experience and particular worries about the legitimacy of religious imagery.