Three images, at least, should startle the crows. The first is a drawing of a nun fairly beaming with humour. The second is a painting of a Parisian concierge with an expression of such rancorous gloom she threatens to undermine the characteristic quietude of the Gwen John portrait. The third is a monochrome photograph of the artist herself, circa 1908, working as a life model for Rodin and here blown up to the size of life – in effect, a gigantic nude.
This is a show with a mission to surprise, to jump us out of our old preconceptions. The Welsh-born Gwen John (1876-1939) is no longer to be seen as a lonely recluse, fragile, withdrawn and pale as her painting. Instead we are presented, in this first “major retrospective” for 20 years, with “a story of connections”.
Some are social: her many friends and correspondents, from early days at the Slade to life in Paris, and later the suburb of Meudon, where she moves to be closer to Rodin. Some are sexual: the passionate friendships with a succession of female artists; the 10-year affair with Rodin that ends in stricken misery. Most are to do with painting itself.
John is shown copying a 17th-century Dutch scene by Gabriël Metsu, practising tonal variations in the manner of her sometime teacher Whistler, painting quiet interiors at the same time as Edouard Vuillard and the French intimists, as well as the Danish artist Vilhelm Hammershøi.
She paints Dieppe by night. So does Sickert, whose 1910 painting The Old Hotel Royale belongs to Pallant House and is therefore pressed into service. She used to live in Camden; so we see Spencer Gore’s abysmal Interior, 31 Mornington Crescent, London, as stuffed with Edwardian bric-a-brac as John’s rooms are empty.
She drew herself nude, remarkably. So did her German contemporary Paula Modersohn-Becker. Their sketches are paired together to emphasise the radicalism of these two women, but the chosen images are alas so disappointingly cursory as to undermine the point.
And here is the first dilemma. This show is so eager to make a social figure out of John that it occasionally loses her in the jostle. Here are her friends Ida Nettleship (wan sketches) and Mary Constance Lloyd (flimsy still lifes), her first boyfriend (middling portraits) and her last (Rodin, represented here with some bafflingly weak drawings).
Indeed, almost the earliest work here is John’s own watercolour of a thronged room in her London digs, in what is probably 21 Fitzroy Square. The show’s curator, Alicia Foster, who has also written a new biography that is exemplary in its social and art historical research, has been able to identify every Slade student in the image. But it remains a piece of clumsy juvenilia.
Still, it involves figures in rooms, and that is what we are here for. The girl in blue, the sad girl, the girl with a cat, the young convalescent: nobody knows her name for certain, only that she appears in many of Gwen John’s paintings, three-quarter length, positioned slightly to the left, hands clasped, occasionally with a book in gently sifting light.
Sometimes she appears to be seated, yet no chair is depicted. Sometimes she is backed against a wall, or sitting in a space so shallow as to be almost indeterminate, or merging with the mysterious atmosphere.
Pallant House has managed to borrow John’s beautiful Girl in a Blue Dress (c.1914) from a private collection. Here it is as if the girl, her clothes, the wall and even her shadow are all consubstantial, of a piece with the pale and hazy oil paint.
Something of this relationship between light and spirit is apparent even when John is working in watercolour. In a self-portrait from 1909, borrowed from the Musée Rodin, the artist leans forward with a letter in her hand (perhaps one of the hundreds she wrote to him). She is in some sort of room, to the extent that the scene is not outdoors, but all that you see or know of it is the pale reverberation of paint. It feels more like a state of mind.
Waiting, hoping, brimming with the anticipation of opening the envelope, or sending it, or setting eyes on her lover: the picture is all delicate pressure. And so it goes with these strange and tensile paintings, which do not resemble anything by Whistler no matter that they might share a close-toned palette.
How she made them matters. An essay from Tate Britain’s 2004 brother-sister show of Gwen John and Augustus John explained that she mixed chalk both with her paint and also an absorbent ground of glue. That makes the paint paler and stiffer to move about. There is nothing quick or fluid about her art; the dappled, stippled, steadily covered surfaces (and atmospheres) are slow and hard-won.
John’s primacy was scarcely in doubt back then and nor was her passionate involvement with other artists. Augustus John, in a well-known quote, wrote that “she wasn’t chaste or subdued but amorous and proud”. So this exhibition, in its ambition to show John anew, has to branch out.
It has the captivating portraits of nuns, and of women and children glimpsed from behind at mass, superbly presented at the Barber Institute in 2008. It has one of the exquisite paintings of John’s Paris attic that have become synonymous with Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own. But it also has, unfortunately, a lot of mediocre works by John and her contemporaries that are still drifting around for sale on the secondary market.
And by throwing the emphasis in all directions – what’s the book in the picture, what’s on the wall in the Gore – it sacrifices art to history. The exhibition simply contains and attempts too much. The only thing that matters is the one thing stinted on here – namely Gwen John’s singularity.
LONDON (AP) — With a few daubs of a paintbrush, the Brontë sisters have got their dots back.
More than eight decades after it was installed, a memorial to the three 19th-century sibling novelists in London’s Westminster Abbey was amended Thursday to restore the diaereses – the two dots over the e in their surname.
The dots — which indicate that the name is pronounced “brontay” rather than “bront” — were omitted when the stone tablet commemorating Charlotte, Emily and Anne was erected in the abbey’s Poets’ Corner in October 1939, just after the outbreak of World War II.
They were restored after Brontë historian Sharon Wright, editor of the Brontë Society Gazette, raised the issue with Dean of Westminster David Hoyle. The abbey asked its stonemason to tap in the dots and its conservator to paint them.
“There’s no paper record for anyone complaining about this or mentioning this, so I just wanted to put it right, really,” Wright said. “These three Yorkshire women deserve their place here, but they also deserve to have their name spelled correctly.”
It’s believed the writers’ Irish father Patrick changed the spelling of his surname from Brunty or Prunty when he went to university in England.
Raised on the wild Yorkshire moors, all three sisters died before they were 40, leaving enduring novels including Charlotte’s “Jane Eyre,” Emily’s “Wuthering Heights” and Anne’s “The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.”
Rebecca Yorke, director of the Brontë Society, welcomed the restoration.
“As the Brontës and their work are loved and respected all over the world, it’s entirely appropriate that their name is spelled correctly on their memorial,” she said.
In a case that has sent shockwaves through the Vancouver Island art community, a local art dealer has been charged with one count of fraud over $5,000. Calvin Lucyshyn, the former operator of the now-closed Winchester Galleries in Oak Bay, faces the charge after police seized hundreds of artworks, valued in the tens of millions of dollars, from various storage sites in the Greater Victoria area.
Alleged Fraud Scheme
Police allege that Lucyshyn had been taking valuable art from members of the public under the guise of appraising or consigning the pieces for sale, only to cut off all communication with the owners. This investigation began in April 2022, when police received a complaint from an individual who had provided four paintings to Lucyshyn, including three works by renowned British Columbia artist Emily Carr, and had not received any updates on their sale.
Further investigation by the Saanich Police Department revealed that this was not an isolated incident. Detectives found other alleged victims who had similar experiences with Winchester Galleries, leading police to execute search warrants at three separate storage locations across Greater Victoria.
Massive Seizure of Artworks
In what has become one of the largest art fraud investigations in recent Canadian history, authorities seized approximately 1,100 pieces of art, including more than 600 pieces from a storage site in Saanich, over 300 in Langford, and more than 100 in Oak Bay. Some of the more valuable pieces, according to police, were estimated to be worth $85,000 each.
Lucyshyn was arrested on April 21, 2022, but was later released from custody. In May 2024, a fraud charge was formally laid against him.
Artwork Returned, but Some Remain Unclaimed
In a statement released on Monday, the Saanich Police Department confirmed that 1,050 of the seized artworks have been returned to their rightful owners. However, several pieces remain unclaimed, and police continue their efforts to track down the owners of these works.
Court Proceedings Ongoing
The criminal charge against Lucyshyn has not yet been tested in court, and he has publicly stated his intention to defend himself against any pending allegations. His next court appearance is scheduled for September 10, 2024.
Impact on the Local Art Community
The news of Lucyshyn’s alleged fraud has deeply affected Vancouver Island’s art community, particularly collectors, galleries, and artists who may have been impacted by the gallery’s operations. With high-value pieces from artists like Emily Carr involved, the case underscores the vulnerabilities that can exist in art transactions.
For many art collectors, the investigation has raised concerns about the potential for fraud in the art world, particularly when it comes to dealing with private galleries and dealers. The seizure of such a vast collection of artworks has also led to questions about the management and oversight of valuable art pieces, as well as the importance of transparency and trust in the industry.
As the case continues to unfold in court, it will likely serve as a cautionary tale for collectors and galleries alike, highlighting the need for due diligence in the sale and appraisal of high-value artworks.
While much of the seized artwork has been returned, the full scale of the alleged fraud is still being unraveled. Lucyshyn’s upcoming court appearances will be closely watched, not only by the legal community but also by the wider art world, as it navigates the fallout from one of Canada’s most significant art fraud cases in recent memory.
Art collectors and individuals who believe they may have been affected by this case are encouraged to contact the Saanich Police Department to inquire about any unclaimed pieces. Additionally, the case serves as a reminder for anyone involved in high-value art transactions to work with reputable dealers and to keep thorough documentation of all transactions.
As with any investment, whether in art or other ventures, it is crucial to be cautious and informed. Art fraud can devastate personal collections and finances, but by taking steps to verify authenticity, provenance, and the reputation of dealers, collectors can help safeguard their valuable pieces.
