Anne Desmet: Kaleidoscope/London Exhibition @ Guildhall Art Gallery

This is a lovely exhibition of the popular, accessible and inspiring artist Anne Desmet – imaginative, decorative, beautiful to look at, civilised, teasingly clever and FREE.

British Museum Great Court by Anne Desmet @ in Kaleidoscope/London at the Guildhall Art Gallery

From the website and the press release I hadn’t really grasped the scale of the exhibition. With over 150 works this is a major retrospective, which features series of works from as far back as 1990 right up to the present day, including 41 London-themed kaleidoscopic prints created exclusively for this new exhibition.

1. Wood carver par excellence

Born in 1964, Anne Desmet is a well-established artist and member of the Royal Academy who specializes in wood engravings, linocuts and mixed-media collages.

Desmet is a highly skilled carver in wood and creator of dazzling woodcuts. She is only the third artist to be elected to the RA for working in the medium of wood engraving. The exhibition includes a fascinating 6-minute film shot at her studio in Hackney which follows the entire process through, from starting with an endpiece bit of wood, then showing the various sharp carving tools she used to get her effects, through to rolling the print ink flat, inking the cut and then making the print.

There are also four display cases showing the raw wood piece, the tools she uses, the final engraved wood blocks, her notebooks, sketches and so on.

Display case in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery, showing, from left to right, a sketchbook, a virgin block of end-grain wood with some of her carving tools, and a finished engraving block (photo by the author)

Most of these woodcuts are in black and white. Some are coloured in but colour isn’t her thing: shapes and patterns are her thing. She can do astonishingly realistic depictions of Italian or London landmarks, gardens and buildings, but its the way she then mashes up these images which get her juices flowing (see below).

2. Architecture

Desmet is strongly attracted by architecture and in particular architecture with strong mathematical lines and geometric shapes. There are three rooms and the first one contains cityscapes and townscapes, depictions of Rome, rooftops of Italian provincial towns, scenes from Oxford (the Radcliffe Camera, Balliol College) and, in a surprise, a piece I really liked, a fantasia of Tudor chimney stacks as she observed them when she was, believe it or not, artist in residence in Eton, in 2016.

‘Urban Jungle’ by Anne Desmet (2016) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery

3. Fantasias

As you can tell from the Eton picture, this is a fantasia made up of lots of chimneys combined together into an improbably dense and overloaded image. She does the same to her Oxford landmarks, moving beyond the obvious aesthetic appeal of the colleges and instead creating fantastical images of, for example, the Radcliffe Camera, whose mighty dome appears ten or more times in a mashed-up fantastical image.

These clear crisp but fantastical images reminded me a little of the woodcut covers Scottish artist and novelist Alisdair Gray made for the covers of his books and short stories and John Lawrence’s illustrations for some of Philip Pullman’s fantasy stories, also set in Oxford. Also, the most fantastical of them are strongly redolent of Maurits Escher‘s optical illusions.

There are a handful of works from the 1990s which are completely fantastical, showing piles of household bric-a-brac (scissors, tape measure) mingled with learned tools such as you might find in a 17th century engraving depicting science (protractors and compass), with the image of Peter Breughel’s version of the Tower of Babel in the background and, snuffling in the foreground, miniature bulldozers and tiny people.

‘Wood Engraver’s Tower’ by Anne Desmet (2020) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery

This image, Breughel’s tower, recurs throughout all of her work, sometimes centre stage, sometimes cropping up as an unexpected detail. It speaks to her interest in architecture, in large buildings, but also to the passage of time, and inevitable decay and collapse. Decline and fall. Ruined cities, empty streets, abandoned buildings…

My favourites in the first room were a series of images made by cutting up original prints and remaking them as collages. In particular I liked this one which takes is inspiration from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s children’s story, ‘The Little Prince’, which I liked for its sci fi vibe but mainly for its shape and design and feel. Note the tiny photo of the Radcliffe Camera floating incongruously at the top right.

‘Out of This World’ by Anne Desmet (2022) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery

4. Mashing

So far so fairly realistic and there’s ample evidence that Desmet she can do breath-takingly realistic renderings of buildings and views. But the central concept is that Desmet chops up her work. It is sliced and diced, filleted, repeated, duplicated and recombined in a myriad ways, and it’s these processes which create her really stunning works. I made a list of the treatments she subjects her works to:

  • basic realistic engraving
  • fantasias – Tower of Babel, Eton chimneys, multiplying Radcliffe Cameras
  • collages
  • the same scene with variations – Urban Development or St Paul’s
  • mounted on razor shells – cityscapes, Olympic buildings
  • mounted on squares – Olympic Site A to Z
  • mounted on slate – Perimeter Fence
  • tall images – the angel tower
  • sliced as by a paper shredder – the British Museum Grand Court sliced vertically, horizontally and diagonally
  • hangings – British Museum
  • cut-out illuminated by an LED light – St Paul’s
  • behind glass cubes
  • behind convex clock glass circle
  • on crockery fragments – angels
  • kaleidoscope

Kaleidoscope

The technique central to maybe half of these works is the simple but surprisingly effective technique of using a kaleidoscope.

The exhibition quote Desmet’s own explanation, which I’ll quote in full:

‘Many of the collages were made in 2022 while I was undergoing treatment for breast cancer and consequently, they reflect something of a wild scattergun of thoughts that were running through my mind at that time, such as escape, possible new worlds, and the climate crisis.

‘The framework for those thoughts was inspired by a kaleidoscope toy that I had bought at the Sir John Soane’s Museum some years ago, which breaks up whatever view you’re looking at into extraordinary triangulated repeat-patterns.

‘I set about applying a kaleidoscope lens to my London imagery to create new work for the exhibition at Guildhall Art Gallery. By seeing the city anew and with a sense of its unexpected possibilities, I hope that my work will inspire optimism and constructive thinking in our uncertain times.’

Sky Windows

And so she set about reviewing prints from her earlier wood-engravings, linocuts and hand-drawn lithographs, and kaleidoscoping them. The most comprehensive example is the piece titled ‘RA: Sky Window’. In 2017 the Royal Academy was undergoing a refurbishment and Desmet made some beautifully realistic paintings of the building.

‘RA Revolution’ by Anne Desmet (2017) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery

Then, as explained, in 2023, she returned to the image armed with her kaleidoscope and realised that she could manipulate the skyline of the building so as to place the blue of the sky at the centre of a surprising variety of shapes.

Installation view of ‘Sky Windows’ by Anne Desmet (2023) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery (photo by the author)

And then she realised the blue sky could itself be changed to reflect, among other things, the changing seasons. And so she made versions featuring, for example, fireworks, snowflakes, pumpkins and so on, and the thought, why stop there? Why not be frivolous and whimsical, so there are ones with a rainbow, hot air balloons and helicopters, airplanes high in the sky leaving vapour trails. Suddenly you realise how much goes on in the sky above us without our really noticing.

‘Sky Window 23: Stars and Satellites’ by Anne Desmet (2023) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery (photo by the author)

There are 24 in total, building up into a beguiling, entrancing series. I realised it’s much like the idea of a theme and variations, a stock genre of classical music: first state the theme, then work through a host of inventive variations (Beethoven’s Diabelli variations. Elgar’s Enigma variations spring to mind).

So self-contained and neat is the idea and the execution that a) the entire series of 24 is assigned a room of its own off to the side of the main gallery and b) you can buy the box set!

Installation view of the Sky Windows box set in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery (photo by the author)

London Gardens

She does the same thing but with a different visual result in a series called ‘London Kaleidoscope’. Here she starts with totally realistic (and wonderfully vivid and detailed) engravings of a) a London garden, in fact the view from her house and b) a pub down the road with a red phone box outside.

‘QEH’ by Anne Desmet (1998) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery

She collages the original prints, to include the red phone box and greenery from the garden, and then takes her kaleidoscope to the original works and comes up with a (small) set of really vivid, beautiful images, arguably the best in the exhibition. They are London but seen in an entirely new, novel, fun and beautiful way.

‘London Gardens Kaleidoscope 1’ by Anne Desmet (2023) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery (photo by the author)

The same scene with variations

Depicting a scene over time. Thus one of my favourites, the lovely ‘Urban Development’, depicts the front of a London house at seven times of day, showing the sun rising and its light slowly revealing more and more details of the scene.

‘Urban Development’ by Anne Desmet (2023) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery (photo by the author)

Mounted on razor shells

There are at least three pieces which consist images of buildings carefully cut out and stuck onto razor shells. These are all exquisite and the fragility of the process and the end result gives you a fantastic sense of fragility and delicacy.

Installation view of ‘Fragile Earth’ by Anne Desmet (2022) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery

In this piece fragments from prints she’s made of London, Rome, New York, Venice are collaged to produce an international skyline with the natural pink/purple colouring of the shells giving the sense of sunset over this megalopolis.

As good or better is the smaller series made using images she drew, carved and printed of the build-up to the London Olympics in 2012. Here is a finely detailed view of the Olympic velodrome cut up and pasted onto six razor shells. Amazingly powerful, the exquisite detailing of the original image then cut up onto these very fragile artefacts from a fragile, damaged natural world.

‘Fragile Hope’ by Anne Desmet (2012) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery (photo by the author)

The third razor shell work is ‘Fires of London’, created using 18 razor-clam shells to dramatise the many historic fires of London over the last 1,500 years. The work has just been acquired for the Guildhall’s permanent collection.

‘Fires of London’ by Anne Desmet (2012) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery (photo by the author)

Mounted on squares

There’s some example of another type of mounting, chopping an image up into small, mounted squares. In this example a wood engraving of the Olympic site is collaged / mixed into the relevant A to Z map of the same location, and then diced up into 75 small squares.

Olympic Site Map Metamorphosis by Anne Desmet (2010)

I love collage, pieces and fragments and, because I live in London, the A to Z map has an additional frisson or connotation. It is also a fairly obvious meditation on the dichotomy between map and world, which always fascinated me.

Towers

A number of the works are tall and narrow, mimicking the tall chimneys or towers she’s interested in – I’ve shown the Eton chimneys, above. There’s a similar series showing a ‘tower of angels’.

‘Tower of Angels’ by Anne Desmet (2020) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery

The angel tower is one of a set of works inspired by Victorian bas-relief decorative angel sculptures near the ceiling in the Royal Academy’s Gallery 3. She created individual prints, this tower, and a work in ceramics (see below). The theme of angels (sometimes used as a nickname for nurses) seemed appropriate when she was making them, during the first year of the pandemic lockdown. You can tell these are more modern works because they have more edge. In particular, in some of the works the angels are wearing protective face masks. COVID art.

‘Triptych for Our Times’ by Anne Desmet (2020) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery (photo by the author)

Sliced as by a paper shredder

She feeds versions of her lovely print of the British Museum Grand Court through a shredder. One sliced vertically, one horizontally, one diagonally. This image doesn’t do it justice. Only in the flesh can you see the fineness of the very thin paper shreds, curling slightly at the corners, which convey a powerful sense of evanescent fragility, a continuous theme throughout her work.

‘British Museum Diagonals’ by Anne Desmet (2005) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery

Mounted on slate

This was another of my favourites. Only 2 or 3 of the works were mounted on slate but it’s a powerful material and it seemed, to me, strongly appropriate for the subject. It’s a depiction, a dramatisation, of the forbidding metal fences erected all around the Olympic site in East London in the years while it was being built.

‘Perimeter fence’ by Anne Desmet (2012) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery (photo by the author)

I went for a walk around the area during that time and was intimidated, indeed slightly scared, and irked, by the way these ‘games for the people’ involved shutting off vast areas which had previously been free to roam, for years and years. In this piece the shredding technique a) re-enacts the look of the vertical metal fences b) enacts the way you could only glimpse fragments of what was going on on the sites through the slats and c) the slate mounting conveys the adamantine, hard, take-no-prisoners high security vibe which was imposed across the whole area.

Hangings

Closely related are a couple of hangings applying the kaleidoscope technique to the British Museum Grand Court image, rearranging details into immensely pleasing geometric patterns. From a distance they look like abstract geometric shapes but when you go up close you can see the architectural details of the Museum walls and ceiling. Magical!

Two hangings by Anne Desmet (2012) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery (photo by the author)

Cutout illuminated by an LED light

There’s a series of six pictures of St Paul’s cathedral, taken from the identical same sport but showing it at different times of night, and in history, so with some scenes depicting the Blitz, enemy planes overhead and searchlights.

‘St Paul’s: Dance’ by Anne Desmet (2002) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery

One of these has been reworked so the white parts of the image are made translucent (by a laser, apparently) and has been attached to an LED light box so as to create a little son-et-lumiere. To be honest, this felt a bit gimmicky and was one of the very few pieces which didn’t work for me.

‘London’s Secret Stars’ by Anne Desmet (2002) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery

Behind glass cubes

Like one of her engravings of the Olympic velodrome, cut into squares and smoothly rounded glass cubes set over each square.

‘Olympic Memory’ by Anne Desmet (2010) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery

Interesting experiment but a bit self-defeating as it was hard if not impossible to make out the original image, which explains why it only occurs once.

Behind a convex clock glass circle

Speaking of glass, another image manipulation she’s experimented with is placing a collage or print behind a convex glass circle such as you find on the front of old grandfather clocks. An interesting idea but, in my opinion, this blunted your reading of her finely drawn, detailed images, working against her strengths and so this was the one format which didn’t really light my candle. This flat photo of one doesn’t at all convey the shiny bulbous effect of the work.

‘Constructed Space III’ by Anne Desmet (2013) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery

The curators point out how the use of convex glass, as used in old-style clocks, strongly references the notion of Time, linking up with the passage of time indicated, in different ways, by other series (St Paul’s at night; Sky Windows; Urban development and so on). So a clever-clever idea, but I don’t think works in practice, as actual artefacts.

On crockery fragments

On the other hand, I love fragments, wrecks and ruins, bits of industrial detritus, which is why I love the Arte Povera movement, minimalism, the wonderful photos of Jane and Louise Wilson, the great Cornelia Parker and so on. And so I loved the handful of places where she’s laminated her lovely images into fragments of crockery, as with this striking dismantling of one of the angel images.

‘Angel Fragment 2’ by Anne Desmet (2021) in ‘Kaleidoscope/London’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery (photo by the author)

Again, this speaks to the recurrent them in her work of large buildings or neo-classical architecture or Victorian art (as here) degraded, broken, fragmented by the passage of time.

Thoughts

Delightful, inspiring, endlessly inventive, beautiful images and, in the shape of the video and the display cases, very informative about the craft of wood engraving. And it’s FREE. Go and see it.


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Scene Through Wood: A Century of Modern Wood Engraving @ the Heath Robinson Museum

The British Society of Wood Engravers (SWE) was founded just over 100 years ago, in 1920, by leading artists including Lucien Pissarro and John Nash. Its aim was to promote wood engraving for modern artists.

This lovely exhibition, ‘Scene Through Wood’, was first shown at Oxford’s Ashmolean Museum in 2020 to commemorate the Society’s centenary. Now, a few years later, it has come to the small but beautifully formed Heath Robinson Museum in Pinner, north west London and you really should go and see it.

‘Scene Through Wood’ brings together about 70 wood engravings, from the 19th and 20th centuries, from the Society of Wood Engravers’ collection as well as private collections, and by artist engravers around the world, including Britain, Europe, Russia, Canada, the USA, China and Japan. It is curated by noted engraver and artist Anne Desmet (RA).

The exhibition amounts not only to a visual feast of some of the finest wood engravings from the past 100 years, but introduces you to some 50 not-so-well-known artists who have specialised in this format. And, as you slowly patiently make your way round the exhibits, you begin to get a feel of the great variety of styles and approaches which are possible in this monochrome format.

‘The Cyder Feast’ by Edward Calvert (1828)

Sections

The exhibition is arranged into a number of sections and so is my review.

1. Beginnings

‘Beginnings’ starts with by far the earliest piece in the exhibition, ‘Christ in Limbo’ by Albrecht Dürer from 1510. Dürer was one of the first European artists to use printmaking and produced produced around 346 woodcuts during his career.

But woodcuts are different from wood engravings, and wood engraving, apparently, has the distinction of being one of the only art forms to have been invented in Britain. By the 1770s Thomas Bewick was engraving end-grain boxwood using bespoke tools. His ‘invention’ quickly spread around the industrialised world and was adapted for a variety of purposes, commercial and fine arts. The first display case contains a selection of steel engraving tools, and a roundel of end-grain boxwood the surface of which has been ground perfectly smooth and level and ready for engraving.

Put very simply, the artist etches a design into the hardwood which is then inked. The wood which has remained etched takes the ink and this part is printed on paper when the inked block is applied to it. The parts of the wood which have been gouged, striated, etched or scratched do not take the ink and thus show up white in the print.

Early experimenters included the prolific poet-artist, William Blake, Edward Calvert and the wonderful painter Samuel Palmer, all represented here. When I was a teenager I read the Complete William Blake, memorised the Songs of Innocence and Experience, devoted many hours to memorising Blake’s convoluted personal mythology. But later, in my 30s, I found myself warming very much to the delicate, mysterious magic of Samuel Palmer’s paintings. ‘Harvesters under a Crescent Moon’ is the only wood engraving Palmer ever made and it’s tiny.

‘Harvesters under a Crescent Moon’ by Samuel Palmer (1826)

Size matters

This brings me to a general point about the exhibition as a whole, which is size. It would be easy for your initial impression of the exhibition to be that all the works are a bit samey. Almost all the exhibits are black and white. And they also tend to be on the small size, A4 size or so. Half a dozen are strikingly bigger than this but plenty are smaller and some are minuscule.

Hence the gallery supplies a number of magnifying glasses because the thing about wood prints, as a general rule, is that you really have to lean and and study them. Oil paintings and watercolours can afford to be on a huge scale and make great sweeping gestures of colour which immediately leap out and grab you. Almost all these wood engravings, by contrast, require you to lean in and pay attention.

2. A sense of scale

In fact the second section in the exhibition is called ‘A sense of scale’ and explores the question of size, exploring the range of sizes possible with wood engravings, juxtaposing the tiny Samuel Palmer with the biggest thing in the show, ‘Mirage I’ (2014) by the Chinese artist Shi Lei. From a distance the Shi Lei piece looks like the face of a man wearing glasses regarding us with a withering look, except that the entire image appears to be bubbling and melting, maybe some post-nuclear holocaust atrocity.

‘Mirage I’ by Shi Lei (2014)

Only when you look closely do you realise that a) it’s a composite image which has been created out of nine separate blocks and then stuck together, and b) that the overall image is, rather in the style of Salvador Dali, itself made up of figures of writhing naked bodies. Because of the uneasy, rather sickening effect, this was by far my least favourite image in the exhibition.

David Gentleman

In fact, talking of size and scale, arguably both the largest and the smallest engravings cited in the show were produced by the same artist, David Gentleman (born 1930), one of the most successful commercial artists of his day. Because among his huge range of work are:

1. Postage stamps commissioned by Royal Mail, in this case a 9p Christmas stamp from 1977 showing a partridge in a pear tree.

Christmas stamp by David Gentleman (1977)

2. And the huge mural lining the platforms at Charing Cross underground station in London. I doubt if many other wood engravings have been reproduced at such scale.

Mural at Charing Cross underground station by David Gentleman (1979)

3. The theatre of life

This is followed by a wall of images all falling under the loose heading ‘The theatre of life’. This brings together images of types of people or human activities, such as:

  • Peter Blake’s engravings of four characters from a circus (1974 to 78)
  • dark and powerful images from the 1930s depicting the Great Depression in America Clare Leighton
  • images of ‘Bowlplayers in Sunlight’ by Gwendolen Raverat (1922), the first woman engraver to come to prominence

Comparing and contrasting these figures made you realise that engraving does best when it goes with the tendency to stylisation intrinsic in the form. Trying to achieve the sinuous curves and slow of organic objects is a big ask for an art form which works with chisels and incising tools, and so I thought a piece like Point-to-Point by Rachel Reckitt (1936) didn’t really work. Or I didn’t like the way it worked. By contrast in Le Sporting Bar (1929), it seemed to me that Ian Macnab had worked with the grain of the form to create a kind of semi-geometric stylisation which I enjoyed. But then I love Wyndham Lewis, the Vorticists and all varieties of geometric modernism.

The standout piece in this section was a much more recent work, ‘Fallen Angel’ (2006) by Hilary Paynter, not particularly geometric, certainly not a thing of hard edges and angles, a showcase of how soft and mysterious and rather wonderful a wood engraving can be.

Fallen Angel’ by Hilary Paynter (2006)

4. Construction and destruction

Following on from this is a section titled ‘Construction and destruction’. If we’ve just been looking at human recreation, sports and leisure time, here are people at war, or coping with fires and floods. It includes:

  • ‘Minesweeping Gear’ by James Taylor Dolby (1947)
  • ‘Northern Waters’ (1942) and ‘Sharp Attack’ (1944) by Geoffrey Wales
  • ‘Mill Fire’ (1997) and ‘Deluge’ (2000) by Ian Corfe-Stephens
  • ‘Shot’ (2010) by Chris Pig where ambulancemen and bystanders crowd round someone lying on a stretcher who has, apparently, just been shot

For me the standout piece, and one which typifies many of the strengths of wood engraving, is a marvellous piece by Hilary Paynter, titled ‘Tree with a Long Memory’ (2003).

Tree with a Long Memory’ by Hilary Paynter (2003)

This is a classic example of the need to lean in and look closer at a wood engraving. The more I looked, the more the piece delivered up its wonders. For a start it took me a few moments to realise that the shape of the image represents the trunk of a mature tress which has been sliced across, as when a tree is cut down with a chainsaw revealing the rings of growth for you to count.

Anyway, only when I really peered into the image did I realise that it contains a wonderful set of symbols of humanity’s achievements over the past 3,000 years or so, namely Stonehenge, the Parthenon and a Roman amphitheatre (at the bottom), what might be a Renaissance encampment such as the Field of the Cloth of Gold hanging upside down in the middle, on the left rows and rows of white crosses as in a First World War cemetery, in the top left a jet plane looping the loop, and on the top right the sinewy shape of a 6-lane motorway snaking into the distance. And on the lower right-hand side the timeless labour of working the land, ploughing and sowing which was once done by horse-drawn ploughs, now by diesel-driven machinery, but the eternal round of sowing and reaping which is the basis of all civilisation, the row upon row of furrows echoing the growth lines of the tree.

5. The built environment

Next up is a section titled ‘The built environment’. Given the form’s predisposition to angles and edges, buildings, rooftops, windows, streets of terraced houses and so on are tailor made subjects for engraving. Thus I loved the very first piece in this section, ‘Yorkshire’ (1920) by the noted Modernist artist Edward Wadsworth.

‘Yorkshire’ by Edward Wadsworth (1920)

This section is dominated by an impressive set of unusually large engravings of a view of the Brooklyn Bridge in New York, each coloured differently, by the exhibition curator, Anne Desmet. Desmet is on record as saying the sequence was in part inspired by Monet’s set of paintings of the facade of Rouen Cathedral at different times of day. They can be viewed on Desmet’s website.

This section also contains some interesting technical experiments by Desmet. ‘Babel Tower Revisited’ (2018) is round and uses slightly convex glass cover so give the impression the image is bulging out into the room. ‘Fires of London’ (2015) in which slender prints of engravings of the Great Fire have been cut out to form narrow tall images and glued onto 18 razor shells.

It also contains the striking (and tinted) ‘Petra I’ by Geri Waddington (2004).

‘Petra I’ by Geri Waddington (2004)

6. Storytelling (books)

Wood engraving is nowadays both an independent, creative art form and a versatile medium for commercial images. A display case demonstrates how the tendency to simplify and abstract subject matter can result in very striking images which can be used for book illustration. There are illustrations of Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner (by Garrick Palmer, 1994) and Goblin Market (Hilary Paynter, 2003).

More commercially, editions of J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter books have been printed with dramatic wood engraved front covers by Andrew Davidson (2013). And, best of all, the fabulous engravings produced by Chris Wormell for Philip Pullman’s ‘His Dark Materials’ sequence of novels, which are outstanding.

‘La Belle Sauvage.’ Cover illustration for ‘The Book of Dust’ by Philip Pullman (2017) based on a wood engraving by Chris Wormell

This section also contains:

  • ‘The Crucifixion’ (1927) by the famous poet-artist David Jones
  • ‘The Entombment’ (1930) by Claughton Pellew
  • ‘The Adventures of the Black Girl in Her Search for God’ (1932) by John Farleigh, for George Bernard Shaw
  • Illustrations for ‘The Famous Tragedy of the Rich Jew of Malta’ (1933) by Eric Ravilious
  • a vivid scene from ‘Moby Dick’ (1974) by Garrick Palmer
  • Illustrations for ‘Erewhon’ (1932) by Blair Hughes-Stanton

And another series or set of images (cf Desant’s Brooklyn Bridge), this time a set of 9 highly detailed studies of a bust of the Roman emperor ‘Marcus Aurelius’, depicted with the opposite of abstraction, with astonishing photographic accuracy by Simon Brett (2002).

Another part of the display tells us that wood engravings have been used to create entirely text-free books of illustration, where the reader is free to verbalise a sequence of images, exemplified by the work of the Belgian artist, Franz Masereel, whose text-free books of narrative images – such as ‘The Idea’ and ‘Story Without Words’, both on display here – were very popular, especially in Germany, during the era of silent movies, and can be counted among the forerunners of modern graphic novels.

I’d never really given it much thought but those labels you get which you can write your name on and stick in the front page of good quality books, bookplates, often feature exquisite miniature wood engravings. Examples included here are by Joan Hassall, 1946, Vladimir Kortovitch, 1990, and Grigory Babitch, 2004.

7. Abstraction and detail

This section is dominated by a work by a very distinctive artist who produced woodcuts and engravings of wonderful, beguiling and mind-bending visual puzzles, the Dutch artist Maurits Cornelis Escher.

‘Fish and Scales’ by Maurits Cornelis Escher (1959)

8. The natural world

This is the biggest section, with the most examples, and so a fascinating opportunity to analyse and compare the very wide range of wood engraving styles available. There’s a ‘Stonehenge’ from 1962 by Gertrude Hermes which looks as if the sky is made out of angrily cross-hatched icebergs.

By complete contrast is ‘Dead Trees – Sheppey’ by Monica Poole (1976) where the trees look as if they’re touching a sky which is like an inverted pond, with dynamic ripples spreading out from the trees’ touch in a surreal manner which echoes Paul Nash in the 1930s.

There are also two different artist’s views of a car headlights at night illuminating a road scene through the windscreen, ‘Through the Windscreen’ (1929) by Gertrude Hermes and ‘The Night Drive’ (1937) by Joan Hassall.

Probably my favourite work was ‘Long-tailed Duck and Whiting’ by Colin See-Paynton (1988), possibly because the fish look identical to the fish in Tintin and the Red Sea Sharks. Aren’t the ducks extraordinarily realistic? From that level of precise naturalistic detail to another large and pleasing, semi-abstract image, in the slightly mysterious Paul Nash style:

‘Under water’ by Monica Poole (1986)

Go see and enjoy this lovely, fascinating, eye-opening and deeply pleasurable exhibition.

The video (6’24”)

Anne Desmet RA is one of only three wood engravers to be elected as Academicians in the Royal Academy’s nearly 250-year history. In this video she takes us through each step in creating a wood engraving, from tracing the original drawing through to printing a first proof.


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