Artists’ self portraits from the Ruth Borchard Collection @ the Lightbox

The Lightbox is a groovy gallery and art centre 10 minutes walk from Woking station. Its outdoor cafe overlooks the scenic Basingstoke canal and inside it has no fewer than three separate galleries as well as a permanent display on the history of Woking.

The three-room space on the third floor is currently showing a selection from the collection of Ruth Borchard (1910-2000). Borchard was the daughter of a Jewish Hamburg merchant. In 1938 the Borchard family fled the Nazis and settled in Reigate (it must have been quite a culture shock). She was a writer with an eye for art, and enjoyed visiting London’s art galleries and shops until one day she had the idea of filling the blank spaces on her parents’ walls with self-portraits by up-and-coming new artists.

Ruth Borchard by Michael Noakes (1958)

Ruth Borchard by Michael Noakes (1958)

She set herself a budget limit of 21 guineas and took to visiting private art galleries, art schools and artists’ studios, seeking out new talent and sometimes commissioning established artists to paint themselves. This show displays around 100 of these self-portraits.

None of them are by first division artists – David Hockney, Peter Blake etc – but I recognised Michael Ayrton, Keith Vaughan, Ken Howard, and a few of the others. They’re the kind of interesting but not-quite-famous names you see at the Royal Academy Summer show year in, year out. Taken together it amounts to a fascinating overview of what was possible in this genre, by mostly British painters (i.e. not European or American) from the War until the very early 60s (before Pop), a period I’ve always found worthy but a little drab.

Borchard’s collection includes a number from before she began collecting – the earliest from 1929 – and the last from 1970.

The artist as nice old boy

There’s quite a diversity of style but certain themes or similarities emerged. I liked works which showed the artist as all too often they are – nice middle-aged, middle-class men – such as this self-portrait by Lawrence Gowing (1918-91), who went on to become a noted art expert and curator.

Self-portrait by Lawrence Gowing (1963)

Self-portrait by Lawrence Gowing (1963)

Self-portrait by John Wynne-Morgan (1906-991).

Self-portrait by John Wynne-Morgan (1960)

Self-portrait by John Wynne-Morgan (1960)

Obviously the styles and visions are distinct, but there’s a basic sense that the artist is a decent cove. The self-portrait by Ken Howard (b.1932) is an early work by an artist who’s gone on to have a long career.

Self-portrait by Ken Howard (1961)

Self-portrait by Ken Howard (1961)

Self-portrait by Michael Ayrton (1921-75). His works from the 50s varies from neo-Romantic to Surreal. I know him for his statue of the Minotaur.

Self-portrait by Michael Ayrton (1961)

Self-portrait by Michael Ayrton (1961)

Michael Noakes (b.1933) who became known for his portraits of actors, writers, academics, diplomats, politicians, lawyers, churchmen, senior military personnel, businessmen, leaders of the industry and members of the Royal Family.

Self-portrait with a beard by Michael Noakes (1958)

Self-portrait with a beard by Michael Noakes (1958)

Go mad!

At the other extreme are the guys who decided to let rip! Frederick Newton Souza (1924-2002) the first post-independence Indian artist to achieve high recognition in the West. According to Wikipedia, ‘Souza’s style exhibited both low-life and high energy.’

Self-portrait by Frederick Newton Souza

Self-portrait by Frederick Newton Souza

Andrej Kuhn (1929-2014). Maybe the foreign names are an indicator that they felt free to work outside the conventions of English niceness.

Self-portrait with wood carving by Andrej Kuhn (1963)

Self-portrait with wood carving by Andrej Kuhn (1963)

Trevor Hodgson (b.1931) There’s not much info about Hodgson on the internet, but I liked this a lot, very characteristic of the era. Good.

Self-portrait by Trevor Hodgson (1958)

Self-portrait by Trevor Hodgson (1958)

Let’s pretend to be French

I liked this sort of Vorticist image by William Gear (1915-1997) a Scottish artist who spent the late 1940s living in Paris.

Self-portrait with wood carving by William Gear (1953)

Self-portrait with wood carving by William Gear (1953)

Marek Zulawski (1908-1985) was born in Rome but lived and worked in London. I like this Cro-Magnon version of Matisse.

Self-portrait with a beard by Marek Zulawski (1949)

Self-portrait with a beard by Marek Zulawski (1949)

Mud

There was a clutch of works characterised by the use of heavy wadges of paint laid on with a spatula, in the style made famous by Frank Auerbach and which I loathe if nothing else, because they’re so samey. And so drab. Dennis Creffield born 1931.

Self-portrait by Dennis Creffield (1959)

Self-portrait by Dennis Creffield (1959)

Dorothy Mead (1928-75) was the first woman president of the student annual exhibiting society at the Slade School of Art in 1959.

Self-portrait by Dorothy Mead (1960)

Self-portrait by Dorothy Mead (1960)

Mario Dubsky (1939-85) a youthful prodigy who came under the influence of Keith Vaughan at the Slade.

Self-portrait by Mario Dubsky (1960)

Self-portrait by Mario Dubsky (1960)

Women

Not enough women artists, but the earliest and the last example are by women.

This is an early work by Ithell Colquhoun who went on to develop a distinctive, naive-style surrealism, infused with her personal brand of spiritualism. ‘After the 1950s, she was regarded as a ‘fantamagiste’, an unorthodox surrealist who focus on the occult’ (Wikipedia). Worth exploring more.

Self-portrait by Ithell Colquhoun (1929)

Self-portrait by Ithell Colquhoun (1929)

Lucinda ‘Linda’ Mackay, painted herself in 1971.

Self-portrait by Lucinda Mackay (1971)

Self-portrait by Lucinda Mackay (1971)

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Every room in the Guildhall Art Gallery

The Guildhall Art Gallery is a newish building, opened in 1999 to exhibit selections of the 4,500 or so art works owned by the Corporation of London. It replaced the original Guildhall Art Gallery which was destroyed by fire during the Second World War.

At any one time the gallery has room to exhibit about 250 artworks in its five or so spaces (the main, balcony, ground floor, corridor and undercroft galleries), as well as special exhibitions in the exhibition rooms. But the overwhelming reason to visit the Guildhall Art Gallery is to see its fabulous collection of Victorian paintings.

The gallery is FREE and there are chatty and engaging tours of the pictures every Tuesday, Friday and Saturday at 12.15, 1.15, 2.15 and 3.15.

Victorian painting

Queen Victoria’s reign (1837-1901) saw the fruition of the Industrial Revolution and the growth and consolidation of the British Empire, but neither of these subjects is much in evidence in the paintings here. Instead the wall labels emphasise the way Victorian artists widened the scope of painting from traditional Grand History paintings or mythological subjects or portraits of the rich, to include a new and wider variety of subjects, especially of domestic or common life treated with a new dignity or compassion, and with a growing interest, as the century progressed, in depictions of beauty for its own sake, in the work of the later pre-Raphaelites and then the Aesthetic Movement.

The Rose-Coloured Gown (1896) oil on canvas by Charles H.M. Kerr (1858-1907) Image courtesy Guildhall Art Gallery, City of London

The Rose-Coloured Gown (1896) oil on canvas by Charles H.M. Kerr (1858-1907) Image courtesy Guildhall Art Gallery, City of London

Main gallery

Go through the main entrance and there is a wide staircase leading up to the Main Gallery, a big, relaxing open space lined with sumptuous Victorian paintings. They’ve been hung in true Victorian style, clustered one above the other and against a dark green background. It looks like this:

Although the paintings have labels displaying names and dates, they have no description or explanation text whatsoever, which is a change and a relief. Instead, the paintings are arranged in themes each of which is introduced by a few paragraphs setting the Victorian context.

Work

Love

  • Listed (1885) by William Henry Gore. My favourite painting here.
  • The Garden of Eden (1901) by Hugh Goldwin Riviere. The tour guide pointed out the irony of the title which is actually about a mismatch between a wealthy woman who has fallen for a man much below her station: note his clumpy shoes and his trousers rolled up. Also the way he’s carrying not one but two umbrellas, intertwined like the two lovers and, if you look closely, the tiny raindrops hanging from the black branches.

Leisure

History

The main gallery on the first floor has an opening allowing you to look down into the gallery space below and hanging on the end wall and two stories high is the vast Defeat of the floating batteries at Gibraltar, 1782 by the American artist John Singleton Copley. Grand history painting like this is about the genre of art furthest from contemporary taste and culture, but there’s lots to admire apart from the sheer scale. Rather like opera, you have to accept that the genre demands stylised and stereotyped gestures of heroism and despair, before you can really enter the spirit.

Faith

The Lord Giveth and the Lord Taketh Away (1868) oil on canvas by Frank Holl (1845-1888) Image courtesy Guildhall Art Gallery, City of London

The Lord Giveth and the Lord Taketh Away (1868) oil on canvas by Frank Holl (1845-1888) Image courtesy Guildhall Art Gallery, City of London

My First Sermon (1863) oil on canvas by John Everett Millais (1829-1896) Image courtesy Guildhall Art Gallery, City of London

My First Sermon (1863) oil on canvas by John Everett Millais (1829-1896) Image courtesy Guildhall Art Gallery, City of London

Beauty

As the century progressed an interest grew in Beauty for its own sake: one strand of this was Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s paintings of voluptuous, red-haired ‘stunners’ as he called them. Strands like this fed into the movement which became known as Art for Art’s sake or Aestheticism, which sought a kind of transcendent harmony of composition and colour.

  • The violinist (1886) by George Adolphus Storey
  • La Ghirlandata (1873) by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
  • On a fine day (1873) by Elizabeth Adela Stanhope Forbes. Although the detail is patchy, from a distance this is staggeringly effective at conveying that very English effect of sunshine on hills while the foreground is clouded over.
  • The blessed damozel (1895) by John Byam Liston Shaw
  • The rose-coloured gown (Miss Giles) (1896) by Charles Henry Malcolm Kerr. The face is a little unflattering but the rose-coloured gown is wonderfully done, lighter and airier than this reproduction suggests. There are several histories of ‘the nude’; someone ought to do a history of ‘the dress’, describing and explaining the way different fabrics have been depicted in art over the centuries.
  • A girl with fruit (1882) by John Gilbert. Crude orientalism.
  • spring, summer, autumn and winter (1876) by Alfred Emile Leopold Joseph Victor Stevens

The Guildhall

Home

During the 19th century home and work became increasingly separated and distinct. Home became a place to be decorated, shown off, furnished in the latest fashions purveyed by a growing number of decoration books and magazines. There is a massive move from the bare interiors often described in Dickens’s novels of the 1840s and 50s, to the fully furnished interiors and incipient consumer revolution of 1900.

  • Sweethearts (1892) by Walter Dendy Sadler. Late for such an anecdotal painting.
  • The music lesson (1877) by Frederick Leighton. Characteristically smooth and sumptuous.
  • A sonata of Beethoven (1912) by Alfred Edward Emslie. Is that the great man himself, blurrily depicted in the window seat?
  • Sun and moon flowers (1889) by George Dunlop Leslie. Note the fashionable blue and white china vases.

Imagination

Clytemnestra, 1882, oil on canvas by John Collier (1850-1934) Image courtesy Guildhall Art Gallery, City of London

Clytemnestra (1882) oil on canvas by John Collier (1850-1934) Image courtesy Guildhall Art Gallery, City of London

A staggering, monumental work, down to the tricklets of blood leaking from the axe over the stone step.

The ground floor gallery

This actually consists of two tiny rooms next to the lifts, to the left of the main stairs, showing nine City of London-related works.

Ninth of November (1888) oil on canvas by William Logsdail (1859-1944) Image courtesy Guildhall Art Gallery, City of London

Ninth of November (1888) oil on canvas by William Logsdail (1859-1944) Image courtesy Guildhall Art Gallery, City of London

The tour guide pointed out the face of the boy about to pinch an orange from the basket at the far left of the crowd; the black and white minstrel complete with banjo, next to him; and to the right of the white-faced soldier at the foot of the main streetlamp, is a man in brown bowler hat, a portrait of fellow artist John William Waterhouse, of Lady of Shalott fame.

The undercroft galleries

As the name suggests these are downstairs from the ground floor entrance lobby. You walk along the ‘long gallery’ (see below), through a modern glass door on the right and down some steel and glass steps into a set of small very underground-feeling rooms. The paintings are again grouped in ‘themes’, although now applying across a broader chronological range than just the Victorians, stretching back to the eighteenth century and coming right up to date with a Peter Blake work from 2015.

London

The Thames During the Great Frost of 1739 (1739) oil on canvas by Jan Griffier the Younger (1688-1750) Image courtesy Guildhall Art Gallery, City of London

The Thames During the Great Frost of 1739 (1739) oil on canvas by Jan Griffier the Younger (1688-1750) Image courtesy Guildhall Art Gallery, City of London

Seems clear to me that the paintings from the 1700s are of documentary interest only. Maybe there are elements of composition and technique to analyse, but they aren’t doing anything as mature, challenging and psychological as paintings like ClytemnestraOn a fine day or Listed.

War

The corridor gallery

Matthew Smith (1879-1959) was born into a family of Yorkshire industrialists. Like a lot of rich men’s sons he decided he wanted to be an artist and went to study with post-impressionist French painters in Pont Aven in 1908, then under Matisse in Paris. He served in the Great War, after which he suffered a nervous breakdown. The City of London Corporation was gifted a collection of some 1,000 of his paintings, watercolours, pastels, drawings and sketches in 1974.

The short corridor between the steps down from the lobby and the door into the undercroft displays some dozen of his works. Because they all have similar titles it’s almost impossible to track them down online.

These works struggle to compete with the masterpieces in the main gallery. In Matthews’ work, after the modern art revolution, the paint is laid on thick and draws attention to itself and to the canvas, to the surface and solidity, to the process of painting itself. They are about the interplay of oils, the composition of tones and colours in regard to each other, as juxtapositions of colours and shapes, of bands and shapes and lines and swirls. One result of this is that, having abandoned the realistic depiction of the outside world – using it now merely as inspiration for exercises in colour – there is an absence of the light effects which make so many of the Victorian paintings upstairs so powerful and feel so liberating.

Conclusions

Victorian painting is a game of two halves: as a general rule everything before about 1870 (except for the PRBs) was badly executed or village idiot kitsch; after the 1870s almost all the paintings have a new maturity of execution and subject matter. The change is comparable to the growth of the novel which, up to the 1860s was mostly a comic vehicle with only episodic attempts at seriousness; after around 1860 an increasingly mature, deep and moving medium for the exploration of human consciousness.

Seeing this many oil paintings together makes you realise the ability to oil to brilliantly capture the effect of sunlight – to dramatise a mythic subject and pose as in Clytemnestra – or to evoke a sense of shadow and light which is so characteristic of the English countryside, as in On a fine day – and then, in later Victorian experiments, to convey the hushed, muted shades of light at dawn and dusk – as in my favourite painting from the collection, Listed.

Oil painting can do this better than photography, in which it is very difficult to capture the difference between light and shade without glare or over-exposure. I hadn’t quite appreciated the wonderful ability of oil painting to convey the impression of sunlight in all its different effects.


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Other museums

Royal Academy Summer Exhibition

5 August 2012

To the 244th Royal Academy Summer Exhibition, where nearly 1,500 exhibits have been selected from over 11,000 entries, as usual ranging from Royal Academicians and well-established artists through to the less well-known and lucky amateurs. As usual you can buy almost all the exhibits. The RA website has a room guide; each room is curated by a different RA with a different theme. I went with my son and we liked the following (the number refers to the catalogue number):

  • 1457 The Milkmaid, a photo recreating a famous painting by Vermeer, by Raeda Saadeh (£1,400)
  • 1471-3 right at the very end of the exhibition (like last year) three sweet giclee prints by Quentin Blake (£700)
  • 8 Ken Howard‘s self-portrait in a cluttered studio in Venice (£35,000); I find these kind of slightly obscured, dirty realistic paintings a bit predicLeonard McComb, table but my son liked it
  • 55 the striking polished bronze of a young man standing by Leonard McComb RA (£600,000)
  • 261 Anomaly 1 by Peter Bill, a small, realistic painting of two mannekins kissing (£1,700)
  • 265 Aldeburgh II – one of several Anthony Green RA paintings instantly recognisable for their cutout shapes and cartoon-cum-Stanley Spenser style and rudeness (£12,000)
  • 277 Dressing for Work by Aman Mojadidi, a life size photo of a buff American-looking young man, carrying several revolvers, except he wore a long beard and turban like a jihadi
  • 344 Black treacle by Joel Penkman, a two foot square ultra-realistic painting of a Tate & Lyle treacle tin (£1,500)
  • 425 The End by Yosef Cohen, a sculpture of the mechanism of a cheap electric clock, stripped of the face to be just the little motor and three hands and the second hand painfully ticking from half past to quarter to and then falling back top half past. We both found this hypnotic and strangely gripping (£88)
  • 558-563 a set of beautiful etchings of Scottish, Lake District and Norfolk scenery in black and white by Norman Ackroyd RA (£500-950)
  • 569-572 the usual clutch of amateurish Tracey Emin polymure gravures which were by far the most bought-up items, festooned in red dots which means people have bought copies of them (they come in editions of 90)
  • 824 Samson. My son really liked this enormous painting of a mountain done in paint larded so thick and rough onto the canvas that it had cracked. By the well-known Anselm Kiefer and not for sale (in the version on display the egg in the image I’ve linked to is replaced by a rifle. I think my son liked the rifle as much as the clotted paintwork)
  • 836 My son’s favourite, Flood by Shirazeh Houshiary, 6 or 7 foot by 3 or 4 foot wide aluminium sheet covered in blue with abstract stripes giving a mysterious textured feel and concentrating in a rough black circle towards the top. (From her home page > Selected works > Painting > Flood.)
  • 840 Chicken chair by Olu Shobowale, a gruesome lifesize sculpture of a double throne made out of old chicken bones, yuk. (£1,300). Reminded me of the throne of guns created by African craftsmen from decommissioned weapons and exhibited at the British Museum a while ago.
  • 1165 Layed Back, a 3 or 4 foot square image of Snoopy made entirely of playing cards by David Mach RA (£21,600)
  • 1189 It was also David Mach who created the leopard made from coat hangers, titled Spike, probably the single most striking artefact in the exhibition (£170,000)
  • 1198, my personal favourite, I laughed out loud for a minute. Self-portrait as a litter bin by Michael Landy RA, a perfect rendering of a plastic litter bin except made in bronze (£26,000).
  • 1240 Miss Sugar Cone Unsure a ceramic sculpture of half a dozen ice cream cones melting into each other by Anna Barlow (£1,600).
  • 1250 Banded Throng by Stephen Cox RA, a set of 25 African style masks made of granite with bands of gold across them (£40,000).
  • 1272 Feathered Child I by Lucy Glendinning an extraordinary sculpture of a child crouched on the floor, made of bird feathers (£12,000).
  • 1297 Cloned Marmot with petbottle by William Sweetlove, a sculpture in silver-plated bronze of two marmots, their heads splashed with red paint. Made me laugh out loud (£3,500). On Google I found various images splashed with other coloured paints. Maybe it’s a whole series.
  • 1475 Heaven’s Breath by Kenneth Draper RA, a wonderful 3D construction with metal slivers, like sperms suspended an inch or two over the surface. Very sci-fi. This image doesn’t do it justice, it’s much bigger and more haunting.
  • 1188 Yogini: Horse by Stephen Cox RA. A 6 foot sculpture in granite of a woman’s nude body but with the head of a horse superimposed the length of its torso so that the horse’s eyes are the breasts and the horse’s nostrils are over the loins. Big, striking and disturbing. (£60,000)
  • 1266 Spillage by Rebecca Griffiths, a big silicon and aluminium sculpture of a cloak slung over truncated shoulders, with no head either, but the (metal) cloak clinging to the outline of two shapely buttocks. The Turin Buttocks, as I renamed it. Them.
  • 908 Walking Drawings, Cumbrian Heavy Horses I by Everton Wright, an enormous photo (lamda c-type print) of horses on a beach (£5,500).
  • 1176-80 pencil sketches of nude women by Ralph Brown RA. Not absolutely brilliant but suggestive, poignant, intimate, fragile cartoons of the female figure (£2,760).
  • 579-581 three exquisite screenprints by Stephen Chambers RA (£1,350-£1,430). Chambers exhibited a small set of similar dream-like images in primary colours on a paisley background last year, that time of figures falling in a dreamlike way out of trees. I like them a lot; they’re like good quality book illustrations; they have the same dreamy feeling as the Moomintroll books!
  • 1461 Ndutu, a striking photo (ultrachrome in acrylic block) by well-known photographer David Usill.

From which I realise that I tend to prefer sculptures, and then prints and etchings and photos, to paintings; and prefer abstract or quirky paintings to more routine, “realistic” ones. In my humble opinion painting is a tired medium in which it’s very difficult to do anything new; whereas there’s still lots of unexplored space in sculpture and objects and installations which can flexibly reflect, in unanticipated ways, the vastness of the world around us and the complexity of human experience.

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