Buying for love

The poor lass stood on the doorstep like a waif and stray trying to sell us pictures from a folder under her arm.

She said her name was Miya and in perfect English – but with perhaps a Polish or Croat accent – she explained that she was from a group of young artists who were setting up a not-for-profit gallery in Liverpool.

They needed funds and were going door to door to try to raise capital by selling some of their art.

It got me to thinking how great it would be to have the ability – and spare cash – to be able to talent-spot up and coming young artists and buy their paintings?Read more »

Merseyside’s forgotten artists

Learning about antiques and fine art continues to fascinate me and I feel like I'm on a never-ending journey. Two things happened this week to set me off in a new direction. Both involve the work of local artists.

First, I heard I talk by a museum and art gallery curator about the life and work of the Herdman family of painters and second, an auction catalogue dropped through my letterbox with one of the most amusing front cover illustrations I've seen in a long time.Read more »

Charles Tunnicliffe, high-flying wildlife artist

by Christopher Proudlove©
Charles Tunnicliffe looked for all the world like a farmer ... big and burly, with hands like cornbin lids, more likely to be swinging a pitchfork than holding a paintbrush. In fact, he was a deeply sensitive craftsman of delicate, artistic skill who became arguably Britain's finest wildlife artist of his time.

He drew birds mostly ... with such scientific precision and painstaking care that it cost him his sight. He was born a farmer but died in 1979 a Royal Academician leaving behind him a legacy of wonderful art; only now has his work gained widespread recognition and acclaim.

The first hint of the artist's future importance was in May, 1981, when a
collection of several hundred drawings, sketchbooks and manuscripts that had been found in his studio at Shorelands overlooking the Malltraeth Estuary on Anglesey, North Wales, were sent for sale at Christie's.

The remarkable collection was Tunnicliffe's private reference library: a painted and sketched record of plummage, beaks, feet and eyes of every species of bird imaginable, birds in flight, birds feeding, swimming, perching, all captured in exact, measured detail.

These pictures were the tools of his trade, his catalogue for his commission customers, but apart from a brief exhibition in 1974, the world was unaware of them. However, publicity surrounding the auction dispersal of the collection alerted the authorities.

With three days to spare before the sale, Anglesey Borough Council stepped in with a £400,000 bid and bought the entire collection. It was the culmination of a national appeal, led by Tunnicliffe’s friend, Wales’s greatest 20th century artist the late Sir Kyffin Williams, backed by the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (of which Tunnicliffe had been a vice-president and benefactor) and the National Museum of Wales. The collection can be seen today at Oriel Ynys Môn, near Llangefni, which was built specifically to house it.

Charles Tunnicliffe (1901-1979) was born in 1901 in Langley, near Macclesfield, Cheshire, the son of William Tunnicliffe, and his wife, Margaret. The couple also had two daughters.

In 1903, the family moved to a small farm that took its name from the village of Sutton Lane Ends, again on the outskirts of Macclesfield, and it was there that Tunnicliffe found his first artistic inspiration.

From an early age he had surprised his family and teachers with his ability to draw animals. The boy's schoolmaster realised his talents and arranged a scholarship for him at Macclesfield College of Art, where he fitted his studies around helping his father on the farm.

Under normal circumstances the young boy would have followed his father into farming, but the art bug had bitten deep. Some summer mornings Tunnicliffe would be up at four o'clock and harnessing the horse to cut the hayfield before starting his day's work as a student.

However, an abrupt change of environment came a couple of years after the Armistice. Tunnicliffe's art tutors suggested he try for a scholarship at the Royal College of Art and when he was accepted at the age of 19, he leapt at the chance to broaden his horizons.

There was great excitement on the auction circuit when a cache of drawings by Tunnicliffe, some of which were believed to be previously unseen and unpublished, were uncovered in the home of his late niece.
It appears that in addition to the measured drawings now on exhibition in Anglesey, Tunnicliffe made a number of bequests to family members, one of which was a group of about 18 works discovered in her home following his niece’s recent death. They were sold at Cheshire auctioneers Peter Wilson in July for a total of £14,382. They had been expected to fetch £10,000. Click here to see some of the works sold.

Again the young student impressed and he readily agreed when it was suggested he stay on for an extra year to study etching. It was during this time that he produced a now prized series of etchings showing mainly farming and rural scenes. He also met Winifred Wonnacott who later became his wife.

After living for seven years in London, latterly earning a living as a printmaker, he returned to Macclesfield, married Winifred and set about making a career for himself as a book illustrator and commercial artist.

His first commission was for wood engravings for Henry Williamson's “Tarka the Otter”, followed by “The Lone Swallows”, “The Old Stag” and “A Peregrine's Saga”, Tunnicliffe illustrated more than 80 books including ones by H.E. Bates and Ernest Hemingway.

Tunnicliffe was elected an Associate of the Royal Academy in 1945, more than anything for the high standard of his engraving. He was elected a full Academician 10 years later.

His ties with the Cheshire countryside were finally broken in 1947 when he and his wife found a house on Anglesey suitable for their studio. They had been regular visitors to the island on birdwatching trips and the house, Shorelands, at Malltraeth, with magnificent views to Snowdon and at the Water's edge of the Cefni estuary, he described as his “escape”.

It was there that he produced his best work. Commissions flooded in and at the same time he toiled unremittingly on the measured drawings of wildlife. Word spread that Tunnicliffe wanted dead birds to measure and draw and friends would watch for fatalities at the roadside and bring them to his house. Rarer finds sometimes arrived by post but all had died by accident - Tunnicliffe refused to kill a bird in order to draw it.

This exact recording of wildlife was a gruelling task, drawing of a creature often taking up to four days to complete, and Tunnicliffe's health began to suffer. The death of his wife in 1969 affected him badly and his eyesight began to fail. He died in 1979, in his chair by the fireside from a heart attack, a year after being awarded the OBE.


Picture shows a gouache study of Waxwings, sold for £200. Click here to see a slideshow of other works by Charles Tunnicliffe

16980-061010-869370-87


© 2006 All Rights Reserved.

Picasso - pictures for the price of a print

by Christopher Proudlove©
It's possible to pick up a Pablo Picasso print on an Internet site selling posters for £7.99. At the time of writing, a quick check on eBay revealed around 300 currently up for auction, some with a "Buy It Now" option for as little as £4.99. They were all probably printed yesterday. How then do you explain the fact that the print with the lady riding sidesaddle illustrated here sold for £1,650. Or indeed that the other two, at the foot of this page, fetched just £700 and £620 respectively. What makes the conundrum even more difficult to understand is that the auctioneer estimated the value of each of them before the sale at £200-300.

No, I don't know either, but I have a theory. At the spring sale of Impressionist art at Sotheby's in New York, Picasso's portrait of his mistress Dora Maar with her black cat perched on her shoulder sold for £51.6 million. The price that was more than twice the estimate and made the work the second most expensive painting in auction history. The ripple effect spread across the entire art market and Picassos flooded onto the market, one dealer reportedly taking 25 of the artist's works to Switzerland's Art Basel fair last week and selling three of them on the first day.

London's blockbuster Impressionist sales in June were awash with them as owners tried to cash in their investments. At Sotheby's, two of the top 10 most valuable paintings in the sale were by Picasso: an oil on canvas titled The Painter and His Model, done in 1963, sold for £7.4 million, while an oil on board painted in 1901 and showing elegantly dressed racegoers, titled "Les Courses à Auteuil", sold for £2.6 million.

Perhaps it was coincidence that the trio of Picasso prints appeared in a provincial sale when they did, but they were received enthusiastically and made the estimates look woefully inadequate. The three coloured lithographs came from the artist's "Toros Y Toreros" (Bulls and Bullfighters" Series and were titled respectively: “The Bull Ring of Arles”; “The Bull Fight” and “Jacqueline on horseback”.

Picasso’s fascination with the bullfight started when he was a young boy in Malaga. His childhood notebooks from school are filled with sketches of matadors, bullrings, and picadors. Interestingly, the first oil ever created by the young artist was of a matador (1889-1890) and the bullfight remained an important theme that Picasso continued to explore throughout his creative years.

Naturally, a unique work by Picasso is out of the reach of all but the mega-rich, but prints remain affordable - at least for the time being. But there are prints and there are prints. The three illustrated dated from the 1950s and were early impressions of limited editions which in each case numbered just 125. And most importantly, they were signed by the artist himself. This fact alone confers huge significance on the value. Literally hundreds and hundreds of thousands of Picasso prints are in existence, but not all of them bear his signature which in effect, was his seal of approval.

The trio were originally retailed by the London dealers Templeton & Rawling, whose gallery was based in Kendal Street W2. Each print was accompanied by its authentication certificate, and all three were framed and ready to hang on the wall. Each was a potential prize for a Picasso aficionado with champagne taste but beer pocket money.

Dramatic image

Most valuable of the three, "Jacqueline on Horseback" was an early number 27 in the edition. Another clue to its significance was the impressed the date on the plate which read 10.3.59. "The Bullfight", also numbered 27 in the edition, was an altogether more dramatic image, showing the matador being tossed head over heels by the bull which stands on its hind legs. It sold for £700, while the altogether more childlike and sketchy "The Bullring of Arles", again number 27 in the edition, was cheapest and £620.

Clearly, there is more to buying Picasso prints than it first might appear. Picasso was a prolific printmaker, using all the different techniques to master the art. His lithographs, etchings, drypoints, lino cuts, woodcuts and aquatints were all experiments aimed at pushing the boundaries further and further. Indeed, some of Picasso's graphic works are combinations of several techniques, which really tested his printmaker's skills.

A series of 15 drypoints and etchings called Les Saltimbanques (The street acrobats) were Picasso's first venture into printmaking in 1905 and the results were published by the dealer Vollard in 1913. More followed in the early 1930s but it was not until after the Second World War that most of Picasso's prints were created.

From 1945 to 1949 he produced a massive body of about 200 lithographs working in close co-operation with Henri Deschamps, a professional printmaker from the Mourlot studio, a renowned art publisher and print workshop in Paris.

Prices vary wildly. In May this year, Christie's New York sold an etching and aquatint done in 1938 and titled "Girl with Tambourine" for £401,800. It was signed in pencil and numbered number 17 from an edition of 30, but as we have seen, 1950s signed Picasso prints can be purchased for a fraction of the price.

Prints from large editions, made after the artist's death and obviously therefore unsigned, but still by skilled printmakers copying his drawings as their base material are still highly collectable though not necessarily good vehicles for investment. The ones to avoid are those that purport to have been signed by the master but whose signatures are also copies and engraved onto the plates from which the prints are produced.

Or you could just buy them anyway because they look great in any trendy minimalist setting when framed and hung together. And when you get bored with them you simply throw them away and replace them with new, cheap alternatives.

Pictures show, top: "Jacqueline on horseback”, which sold for £1,650

Above, left: "The Bull Ring of Arles", which sold for £620 and "The Bull Fight", which sold for £700

75955-060925-676689-46


© 2006 All Rights Reserved.

Pictures from an exhibition - George Stubbs works reunited

by Christopher Proudlove©
The exhibition marking the bicentenary of the death of George Stubbs - which opened at Liverpool's Walker Art Gallery earlier this month, prior to a spell at Tate Britain and subsequently at the Frick Collection - has been eagerly anticipated. Rarely does the public get to see paintings by the great artist from normally closed private collections, but cooperation between the Lady Lever Art Gallery and Tate Britain has reunited four unique works for the first time since Stubbs painted them in the 1770s.

Interestingly, however, they are not paintings in the accepted sense. Stubbs’ reputation as a painter of animals in general and horses in particular is unassailable. What is less well known is that in the 1770s, Stubbs began a series of experiments to perfect a technique of painting on pottery.

The catalyst was his friendship with Josiah Wedgwood, who had revolutionised the pottery manufacturing process at his Etruria works in the Staffordshire Potteries. Wedgwood invited Stubbs to stay with his family at Etruria in 1780 and together they worked on making large pottery plaques on which the process could be attempted.

In the first instance, Stubbs painted a number of wooden plaques as models for his pottery versions and he and Wedgwood subsequently worked to repeat the process using a ceramic “canvas” and enamels rather than oil-based paint. When the pot was fired, the enamel vitrified in the heat, much like a glaze, but with far more delicate and subtle results.

The work was successful, as could be seen in a self-portrait in enamels on an oval Wedgwood plaque that Stubbs painted in 1781, the same year that he was elected to membership of the Royal Academy. Regarded then as merely a sporting painter, Stubbs was looked down upon by the art establishment anyway and at a time when even watercolour paintings were regarded as somehow second class art, his fellow Academicians were not impressed.

To see how wrong they were, I recommend you visit the Walker exhibition. There, together again for the first time since they were painted are two of the Wedgwood earthenware plaques, on loan from the Lady Lever Art Gallery, Port Sunlight, alongside the versions painted on wood, now in the Tate Britain collection. The plaques show haymakers at work and it is fascinating to compare the results.

One of five children of a comfortably off Liverpool leather worker, George Stubbs (1724-1806) started painting as a child drawing the animal bones from his father’s business. The boy had little formal art training, perhaps only for a few weeks in 1739, when he was briefly apprenticed to a Lancashire painter and engraver named Hamlet Winstanley. The tutelage ended after Stubbs objected to the amount of copying the was instructed to do, probably more for Winstanley’s benefit than his own.

By 1745 Stubbs had moved to York, and set himself up as a portrait painter. Interestingly, by the time he was 21, he also knew enough about anatomy to be able to instruct medical students studying at the hospital there.

George Stubbs: A Celebration runs at the Walker until July 30. Admission is free. From Liverpool it moves to Tate Britain from August 21 August to January 2007 and thereafter at the Frick Collection, New York, from February to May 2007.

He also won a commission from a Dr. John Burton in 1751 to draw engravings of foetuses to illustrate a book on midwifery, subsequently arranging for a local engraver to teach him how to etch the plates from which the book was printed.

In 1754, he went to Italy to study art and in the Palazzo di Conservatori, he saw an antique Roman statue of a lion clawing at a horse's back. This was almost certainly the inspiration for a series of later pictures of a horse being frightened and subsequently attacked by a lion. One of them, from the Lady Lever, can be seen in the exhibition.

By then, Stubbs was living in London with his common law wife, Mary Spencer. The couple had a son, George Townley Stubbs (1756-1815) who also became an engraver and printmaker.

By now the commissions were rolling in and many of Stubbs' great masterpieces featuring famous racehorses, hunters, their foals and their rich and important owners date from this period. He also produced a series of superb open-air portraits, so-called conversation pieces, of some of his clients and friends, notably the Wedgwood family.

Stubbs’ knowledge of horse anatomy was gained from scientifically dissecting the animals and he even managed to obtain the carcass of a tiger, which he also dissected and studied in detail, making dozens of drawings which were snapped up by veterinary surgeons of the day.

Despite a growing reputation as a scientist, Stubbs executed many commissions for the gentry, either riding to hounds or with their favourite hunter, which helped finance publication of his magnificent 1766 treatise called Anatomy of the Horse. In it, horses are shown with layer after layer of flesh and muscle removed, culminating in the perfectly drafted skeleton.

Stubbs was also commissioned to paint the first kangaroo brought to England, while other wild animals in Stubbs' pictures include a moose, rhinoceros, a baboon with a macaque monkey, a yak, and notable a commission commemorating the gift of a cheetah to George III by the Governor of Madras, Sir George Pigot.

Royal patronage followed, notably from the Prince of Wales, and all 18 paintings by Stubbs still hang at Windsor Castle and Buckingham Palace.

However, by now in his 70s and despite his artistic success, Stubbs found himself in financial difficulties. Nevertheless, he embarked on yet another project which he called "A Comparative Anatomical Exposition of the Human Body with that of a Tiger and a Common Fowl" for which he completed 100 drawings and 18 engravings. Stubbs died on July 10,1806, in poor financial circumstances.

Pictures show, top: Self-portrait on a White Hunter. This is one of the enamel paintings by Stubbs on Wedgwood pottery plaques in the exhibition
Below, left to right: Haycarting - one of the enamel paintings by Stubbs on Wedgwood pottery plaques in the exhibition
A Cheetah and a Stag, one of the most important works in the exhibition, with its theme of raw animal speed waiting to be unleashed. Copyright Manchester Art Gallery
A Lion and a Lioness. Stubbs had an understanding of the anatomy of such creatures at a time when few people had seen them in the flesh. Copyright Simon C Dickinson Ltd

Click here for a slideshow of works by George Stubbs

Are you a struggling artist? David Pott offers help

David Pott has been selling his work on eBay for 10 months now. His blog ArtistsAnon: gives 10 Tips for Making a Living on eBay, as well as 7 Tips on How to Create Art That Sells on eBay. I can't paint to save my life, but others might find David's help invaluable.

Picture framing: fun but an art not for the faint-hearted

by Christopher Proudlove�
Español | Deutsche | Français | Italiano | Português

They stand ranged around the walls of our new living room like ranks of drunken soldiers each relying on the other to stop them falling flat on their faces. How long it will take before we pluck up the courage to start hanging our pictures
- and indeed how many we have space for - remains to be seen.

The scene reminds me of set-up days at an art gallery or auction sale. Just as they arrived off the back of our removal van, when pictures are delivered for exhibition or sale view, they all land at once.

It must be a constant nightmare for organisers of such events, but they know what to expect, and having been trained in such matters, they know how to display and light the works to show them off at their best.

We, on the other hand, haven't a clue. Like all collections (and a bit like Topsy) the number of objects we own just grew and grew. But they arrived at the old house piece by piece over a period of many years.

Consequently, we either acquired pieces for specific places, or else when we found something we felt we couldn't live without, we forced ourselves into finding a home for it.

It may have looked like a junk shop, but it all made sense to us and we also like to think that the stuff sat happily next to each other in some semblance of order.

The challenge now is starting with a blank but much smaller canvas.

Had we lived in the 17th century, where and how to hang pictures would not have been a problem, although general lack of funds might have been an issue, but that's another story.

Well-heeled gentlemen collectors had rooms set aside in their homes to house what became to be known as their "cabinets of curiosities" and contemporary paintings and prints from the period show the walls literally covered from floor to ceiling with pictures.

What TV's Changing Rooms team would have made of it doesn't bear thinking about.

To see the detail in the pictures nearest floor would have required the viewer to get down on hands and knees, while a pair of binoculars would have been useful for those uppermost in the room. No surprise then that a set of high library steps was always kept handy.

Today's collectors also have the heartache of coming to terms with the fact that the vagaries of fashion over the years has resulted in many fine picture frames being scrapped to be replaced by something considered "more modern".

It's a happy occasion, therefore, when an auction house picture cataloguer can describe a work as being offered in its original or contemporary frame -- the latter meaning not modern but contemporary with the work it surrounds.

The arithmetical increase in value is of course dependent on the picture in question, but the difference can be so spectacular that dealers and collectors are now seeking out antique frames in an attempt to undo some of the damage done by their predecessors over the years.

To put a picture back in the kind of frame in which it left the artist's studio is akin to reuniting twins separated at birth.

I know many picture dealers who have shelves tucked away at the back of their galleries on which lie dozens of fine but forlorn frames, each waiting for the right picture to turn up and enable its owner to make a killing.

We once experienced a small moment of success ourselves. Arguably our finest needlework sampler, dated 1815, was found languishing in an antique shop where it had been framed with stripped pine, not unlike the ready-made frames being churned out today on the High Street.

It looked hideous but the sampler was precious and we snapped it up for less than £20. Then, a few weeks later, we came across a magnificent Victorian mahogany cushion-shaped frame that had long since lost its contents.

We probably would have bought it anyway but if memory served -- and it was a complete hunch -- the size looked broadly similar to that of our precious sampler. When we got it home, the two fitted together so snugly that clearly they were made for each other.

The consequent rise in value aside, the sampler remains precious to us and will be one of the first things we hang once we come across that courage that I mentioned earlier.

In the meantime, we are on the lookout for frames by the English virtuoso woodcarver Grinling Gibbons (1648-1721).

Masterly carvings

Gibbons was born in Rotterdam but returned to England in 1672 and was appointed by Charles II as Master Carver in Wood to the Crown, a role he continued to fulfil throughout the reign of George I.

Sir Christopher Wren employed him for the architectural decoration.of Blenheim and Whitehall Palace, while the library of Trinity College, Cambridge, contains examples of his masterly carvings.

Working mostly in limewood, Gibbons' trademark was carved cascading fruit, leaves, flowers, foliage, fish, and birds which were so delicate they could be applied with equal success to panelling, furniture, walls and fine frames

Gibbons is said to have produced a cravat made of limewood in a perfect imitation of Venetian needlepoint. The "cravat" was so lifelike that having worn it in 1763, Horace Walpole commented: "There is no instance of man before Gibbons who gave to wood the loose and airy lightness of flowers".

However, such things are the stuff of dreams and museum exhibits.

Today's collectors are more likely to find frames from the Victorian and Edwardian eras and many of them remain surprisingly affordable.

Stripped of their contents and previously discarded, it is only now that they are becoming appreciated for what they are: real wood, quality-made (although admittedly by machine and mass-produced) throwbacks to a period when quality was valued and even the simplest photograph or print was cherished.

Some of the most charming frames to seek out are those veneered in bird's eye walnut, maple, painted (or "scrumbled") pine and the so-called Oxford frame with its unique characteristic of sides of "which cross each other and project some distance at the corners" as the Oxford English Dictionary. puts it.

Or "the barbarism called an Oxford frame" as one writer expressed his distaste in Modern Parish Churches published in 1874.

No one is really sure how this type of frame got its name but it has been suggested it was introduced to echo the book corners used by printers of publications for the Oxford Movement.

In existence from 1833-1845, the movement was a small pressure group at Oxford University who argued against the increasing secularisation of the Church of England.

The challenge then is finding appropriate artworks to go inside all these previously redundant frames.

Among the dozens of pictures we own, you can count on one hand the number that have seen paint.

One contains a lovingly embroidered baby's bib that we bought from a church jumble sale for 1p. It's probably no older than the 1940s.

Another was the best way we could think of to display a hand-coloured and beautifully embossed invitation and its accompanying envelope to a wedding that dates from the Regency period and a third shows a vase of flowers. In fact, the “vase�? is created from cardboard and the “flowers�? are seaweed.

We are still looking, as the tin trunk in the garage stuffed with pictureless old picture frames can testify!

Pictures show, top:
This lovely late 17th, early 18th century copy of Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa turned up in a provincial saleroom in the summer and was valued as much for its contemporary carved giltwood Florentine frame. It sold for £3,400

Below, left to right:
Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema (1836-1912) was among a group of artists, including the Pre- Raphaelites, who from the 1850s reacted against the mass- produced Victorian frames and developed a distinctive so-called “tabernacle frame�? like the one pictured here framing his watercolour A Votice Offering, otherwise called The Last Roses. Inspired by Renaissance altarpieces, the architectural frames have fluted pillasters, Ionic capitals and a frieze of anthemion drawn from Greek antiquity.

This George III giltwood frame is notable for its boldly carved acanthus leaves. The portrait is of Elizabeth Myddleton (c1730-1772) chatelaine of Chirk Castle

United in love and picture frame, in this case a carved Florentine giltwood example worth £400-600

A rare Charles II giltwood frame carved with cherub masks flanked by swags of fruit and flowers and a pair of dolphins. Note the similarity of the top with the brass-faced longcase clocks of the period

This highly masculine ebonised oval frame is the perfect accompaniment to a portrait of a male sitter. Frame and watercolour portrait each date from circa 1800 and are estimated at £300-500

Fine art: painting that keeps up with the Joneses

Español | Deutsche | Français | Italiano | Português

By Christopher Proudlove©

One day, I'll write about the fortunes of a forgotten artist who will suddenly be rediscovered and lauded by art historians far cleverer than I'll ever be. I'm not holding my breath!

Longstanding readers will know how keen I am. In these pages I've already reminded both them and myself about Liverpool's Herdman family of watercolourists; Birkenhead artist Harry B. Neilson, (1861-1941); Liverpudlian artist, George Haydock Dodgson (1811 - 1880) and Wallasey-born Frances Macdonald.

I thought I was on to something when the respected dealer and fine art agent in Old Master and British paintings, Ben Elwes, contacted me to tell me about a rare picture by a previously little known Welsh artist which he has for sale.

Clearly the work is important. Not only was the picture, illustrated here, the star piece in his new gallery at 45 Maddox Street, but Elwes also unveiled it at the International Fine Art Fair in New York last week at an asking price of £70,000. It went down well and sold shortly after the fair opened.

It was painted by Thomas Jones of Pencerrrig (1742-1803) of whom few had heard until major exhibitions were mounted at the National Museum and Gallery, Cardiff, the Whitworth Gallery, Manchester, and the National Gallery in London, marking the bicentenary of his death.

If that wasn't enough, a beautiful book titled "An Artist Rediscovered" was published to coincide with the exhibitions, co-edited by Ann Sumner, the curator of fine art at the National Museums and Galleries of Wales, and Greg Smith.

Although Jones was a talented landscape artist, until then little had been written about his life and work and many of his paintings had never before been published.

That was quickly resolved. In addition to essays by leading Jones scholars the book was illustrated by more than 150 paintings from throughout the artist's career, many of which were being seen by a wider audience for the first time. Curses - beaten to it again!

Actually, I was 50 years too late. It was about then that Jones' memoirs were rediscovered and published (by the Walpole Society), leading eventually to him being recognised as a major artistic personality where previously he had been all but forgotten.

The memoirs were never written for publication. They were, as he wrote at the time, "from short hints and Memoranda of a Diary, which for many years I had been in the habit of keeping, the original Intention only for the Amusement of vacant hours and the Perusal of a Few".

Most comprehensive memoirs

But they are the most comprehensive memoirs of any artist of the time and they make fascinating reading.

Jones was a "gentleman artist". He was the second of 16 children (seven of whom died in childhood) whose parents, Thomas and Hannah Jones, were landowners in Trefonnen, Radnorshire.

His mother inherited a house and estate in Pencerrig, near Builth Wells, and he was educated at Christ College, Brecon, and Jesus College, Oxford, destined for a career in the Church.

However, the death of his wealthy uncle, John Hope, who had been financing the young man's education put paid to that ambition and rejecting the idea of going to sea -- the other career for the younger sons of the landed gentry -- he managed to persuade his parents to let him train to be an artist.

At the age of 19, he enrolled at William Shipley's Drawing School in London, where he became a pupil of fellow Welsh artist Richard Wilson, but "copying drawings of Ears, Eyes, mouths & Noses" among "little boys of half my age" was humiliating for Jones.

But he was a quick learner. By 1766, he had been elected to the Society of Artists, the year after Gainsborough.

Although not really needing to make a living from painting, Jones became a professional artist, returning to Wales 10 years later.

However, like many other young artists of the period, he was desperate to travel abroad and like Wilson, Jones was determined to tour Italy. In those days it took a month to get there and he arrived in Rome towards the end of 1776.

In his memoirs Jones calls the city a "magickal land" and he remained there for almost two years before visiting Naples, socialising all the time with an expat British community of artists and patrons.

A series of small oil-sketches, painted during this time have been described as masterpieces of observation but after six years, Jones became homesick for his native land and returned in 1782 having heard that his father had died.

He took with him his lover, a Danish widow named Maria Moncke, and their two young daughters, a situation which must have caused raised eyebrows, despite her passing herself off as his housekeeper. They later married and settled in London with Jones receiving an annual income from his inheritance.

His elder brother, Major John Jones, a bachelor, died in 1787 and the artist found himself required to return to and take over the running of the family estate at Penkerigg near Builth Wells.

In addition to tracts of land, the family also owned Llandrindod Hall in Llandrindod Wells, which was let out as a hotel, as was his father's family home, Trefonnen, all of which provided an annual income of £4,000 and a comfortable lifestyle for Jones and his family.

His anger at discovering that drawings he had left in London during his visit to Italy had been ruined was eventually forgotten and he busied himself making oil and watercolour sketches of the surrounding Radnorshire countryside.

Entering fully into the local society, he was appointed High Sheriff of Radnorshire in 1791 and a magistrate the following year. Maria died after a long illness in 1799, a loss which deeply affected Jones, who died at Pencerrig in 1803.

It is interesting to add that when 50 watercolours and oil views in both Wales and Italy by Jones were offered in an auction at Christie's in London in 1954, they were described as "The property of a lady who had whose husband was a descendant of Thomas Jones, a pupil of Richard Wilson, RA".

The sale excited the attention of two of London's most important dealers -- Colnaghi and Agnews -- the most expensive lot selling for £33.12s (£33.60)! The National Museum of Wales was another buyer in the sale and their purchases can be seen there today.

Colnaghi was quickly able to find buyers for its purchases, their customers including the Ashmolean Museum, the Fitzwilliam Museum and the Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery. They were no doubt somewhat cheaper than the work sold in New York last week!

Pictures show, top:
Thomas Jones (British, 1742-1803) A Neapolitan Coastal View from Pozzuoli, painted in 1781. The oil on canvas measures 38.5 X 29 inches (97.8 X 73.6 cm) and is signed and dated lower left: THO:JONES · Ft MDCCCLXXXI A NAPOLI. In a period Italian carved and gilded frame, the work is priced at £70,000
Below:

Family life at Pencerrig was captured in this conversation piece by Jones' friend, the Italian artist Francesco Renaldi (1755-1798). The painting shows Jones with his palette and easel, his wife Maria spinning wool and their two daughters, one of whom is playing the harpsichord. The second man is as yet unidentified and could be one of Jones' brothers or Renaldi himself. In 1797, when the piece was painted, Maria was probably already suffering ill health and Jones was deeply affected by her death two years later. The painting can be seen in the collection of the National Museums and Galleries of Wales in Cardiff

Flowers that never wither or die

Jan van Huysum

Español | Deutsche | Français | Italiano | Português
by Christopher Proudlove©

What would I buy if money was no object? A big house, a big garden … and the staff to run it all.

The thought occurred as I gave the patch of weeds we call a lawn its first cut after winter.

The half-hour it took was ample time to conjure up day-dreams of life-enhancing improvements to my lot!

I don't do gardening, but I do like a nicely laid out and well presented garden. Regrettably, I have neither time nor inclination to achieve either.

Sadly, I don't have the money to invest in an alternative: a collection of flower paintings by Dutch Old Masters.

It would have been an investment that would have paid dividends. Old Masters have risen in value almost without fail every year for the last 10 or more and the trend looks set to continue.

But I could afford to collect flower prints like the ones illustrated here.

The great thing is there are flower pictures to suit all pockets - from £100 to £1 million or more. You should buy the best you can afford.

Flower pictures look decorative in any setting; they don't need watering or weeding; they never wither and die and they don't get infested with greenfly.

The Dutch have always been entranced by flowers, particularly tulips, but they were luxuries that only the rich could afford.

In the 17th century, rich Dutch traders would bedeck their homes with flowers as a display of wealth that their peers could only grow ever more jealous about.

It was the Chinese who first painted flowers, mostly on silk and as early as the 7th century AD.

Sadly, the medium was only slightly more durable that the flowers themselves and such early pictures are known only by reference to them in contemporary writing.

In Europe, the first use of flowers in art was probably as decoration to medieval manuscripts and as backgrounds to religious paintings intended for churches and monasteries, the iris and lily being the most usually associated with the subject matter.

It would be asking for trouble to try to say who was the first European painter to paint a flower picture for the sake of the flowers alone.

Suffice it to say that the practice was established by about 1500 and was common place by about 1600, the lead being taken by artists in the Low Countries.

It was a turning point in the history of Western art, since most of what had gone before was of religious or mythological subjects painted in the main for churches and palaces.

However, the gradual development of trade between nations and the general increase in wealth brought many more luxury goods to a greater market.

Flowers were one such commodity which caught the imagination of European courts and the wealthy landowners who actively competed with each other to devise the most exciting and well-stocked gardens replete with exotic cultivars.

In the early 1630s, a single bulb of a rare or exotic tulip cost about three times the annual wage of a skilled manual worker or about the price of a smart Amsterdam town house - quite literally more than worth their weight in gold.

The only time since then that tulip bulbs have been so highly valued was during the "hunger winter" of 1944-45 when a Nazi blockade in Occupied Holland forced the beleaguered populace to eat them to stave off starvation.

The golden period of Dutch flower painting was roughly between 1650 and 1750, led in the main by Jan Davidsz de Heem (1606-1683/4).

Breathtakingly convincing

De Heem had a masterful control of colour and contrast, enabling him to construct three-dimensional illusions that were breathtakingly convincing.

His work was to influence an entire generation of artists into following his style, notably Jan Brueghal, Johannes Bosschaert, Jan Davidsz de Heem, Willem van Aelst, Rachel Ruysch and Jan van Huysum.

The downside of all this is the cost. The going price for a decent Old Master flower painting these days is more than I earn a year.

So what's the alternative? Well, consider the beautiful orchid prints here.

Each is an illustration by John Nugent Fitch (1840-1927), the botanical illustrator and lithographer famous for his "Orchid Album" first published in 1882.

Fitch was the nephew of the great botanical illustrator Walter Hood Fitch who between 1834-77 drew more than 2,700 plates for Curtis's Botanical Magazine.

Nugent Fitch took up the task for many years after his uncle's retirement in 1878.

Curtis's Botanical Magazine has been published continuously since 1787 and is now published for the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew.

William Curtis (1746-1799) was a trained pharmacist living in London. He was fascinated by the study of flora and insects and maintained a large garden where he grew beautiful exotic plants.

A large number of the prints found on the market today were published by Curtis and bear his address at St. George Crescent. They start at around £100 apiece

Another name to watch out for is Doctor Robert Thornton who inherited the family fortune and spent every penny of it in publishing a book of engraved illustrations of flowers.

In the end, it bankrupted him. Thornton even organised a lottery with copies of the book as prizes.

Sadly, the gamble did not pay off. Insufficient tickets were sold, leaving Thornton even further in the red and "was forever after a beggared man" to quote one contemporary report of the catastrophe.

Today, a copy of the complete book is priced in the realms of Old Masters, but single prints occasionally come on to the auction market and change hands for £2,000 to £3,000 apiece.

Thornton's interest in botany and natural history started as a boy. He kept a small botanic garden and an aviary and incurred his grandmother's wrath for spending his time catching insects and butterflies in her garden instead of minding his studies.

The idea for his flower engravings was formulated while at university. It would be a masterwork in many volumes that would surpass all others. His inheritance would fund it.

Grandly, he called it The Temple of Flora and no expense would be spared on the "botanical work of national importance".

Thornton commissioned paintings of the plants from leading botanical artists of the day and the most capable engravers to produce the plates.

Each measured 23 inches by 18 inches and were much acclaimed for their dramatic representation of the flowers in romantic landscapes.

It was a truly important work. Not only was it the first to depict the flowers in their natural surroundings, but the idea of printing them in colour was uncommon at this date and exceptionally expensive.

Thornton's fixation with detail and thoroughness led to many expensive alterations and changes in the search for perfection for each plate.
In some cases more than one plate was engraved and others were engraved first in aquatint and then in mezzotint.

By the time Temple of Flora was published, Britain was at war with Napoleon and the government raised taxes to pay for it, making money tight among Thornton's likely customers. Few copies of the book were sold.

Faced with mounting debt and disappointing sales, he successfully petitioned George III for royal assent to an Act enabling him to dispose of his collection of paintings, drawings and engravings to recover some of his expenses "by way of Chance".

The draw was made on May 6, 1813 but it was a flop and Thornton went home a broken man. He died in his London home in 1837, leaving so little property there was no point in him making a will.

Pictures show above:
A magnificent oil on panel by Jan van Huysum, dated circa 1730. His paintings inspired generations of artists but cost today more than I earn a year

Below:
Orchid prints by John Nugent Fitch and worth £100-200 each

Louise Rayner’s postcards from home

Español | Deutsche | Français | Italiano | Português

by Christopher Proudlove

Loathe as I am to admit it, surfing the auction website eBay can be a fascinating way of spending the odd idle hour on a home computer.

One of my favourites is to key in, say, the name of the village where I was born, or, perhaps, the town where I went to school. Hit the search button and see what turns up.

You’d be surprised. I was the other day when an ancient picture postcard of my village came into view on the screen.

Instead of the bleaching and dyeing textile mill with its smoky chimney, there were rolling green fields, while the towering oak tree I used to climb as a lad was a mere sapling. Talk about feeling my age!

Similar thoughts occur when viewing the watercolours of 19th century Chester painted by Louise Rayner (1832-1929). Oh,how the old city has changed!

Horses pulling carts through the cobbled streets, market traders sitting outside the town hall selling their wares from wicker baskets under their arms, 'T. Rimmer's Boot Top Manufactory' in Watergate Street and Nooces dressmaking rooms above the Old Vaults public house in Bridge Street.

Louise Rayner’s painted records of the city that was later her home are a valuable legacy to later generations.

She was born in Markeaton Street, Derby, in 1832, the second daughter in a family of five girls and one boy.

However, after leaving Derby, the family lived in London, where Louise was largely bought up.

From there, she moved to Brighton and subsequently to 2 Ash Grove, off the Wrexham Road, in Chester. She boarded there with Robert Shearing (who owned a chemist's shop in Watergate Street) and his wife Mary Anne.

Both Louise’s parents were painters and they encouraged and tutored all six children, albeit with varying degrees of success.

Father, Samuel, was a watercolourist of some note, specialising in architectural and historical genre pictures.

He first exhibited in London in 1821 and was elected an Associate of the Old Watercolour Society in 1845.

However, his career ended in disgrace in 1851 when he was convicted by the Queen's Bench for his involvement in a serious case of fraud.

Straight away he was shunned by his previously wide circle of artist friends and the final embarrassment came when the Board of the Watercolour Society expelled him.

He continued to exhibit elsewhere up to two years before his death in 1874, but without real commercial success.

Louise, on the other hand, was soon earning a good income from the sale of numerous paintings.

She had taken up drawing at the age of 15 during a long stay at Herne Bay, and consequently studied painting seriously, receiving tuition first from her father.

Later she studied under George Cattermole (1800-1868), Edmund John Nieman (1813-1876); David Roberts (1796-1864) and Frank Stone (1800-1859) and began exhibiting oil paintings in 1852, her style resembling closely that of her father.

However, she quickly changed to watercolours almost exclusively as a medium and her early paintings are considered to be her best.

Like her sisters, notably Margaret and Nancy, Louise was also greatly influenced by Roberts, who specialised in magnificent architectural paintings and all three girls produced a great many pictures of the interiors of old and historic buildings.

Most accomplished

Most accomplished in these was Margaret Rayner, whose subjects were generally church interiors, including a number of Chester Cathedral.

She was said to paint them “with truth and force beyond those of David Roberts, hence she is more pathetic”.

Louise, on the other hand, is best known for her delightful, almost photographic, pictures of street scenes, tucked away alleys and the façades of attractive old buildings.

She would often accompany her architect brother, Richard, himself a exhibitor of landscapes in London and Derby from 1861 to 1869, on business trips and sketch while he was meeting his clients.

As a result, Louise was widely travelled, both in this country and in northern France.

She chose to visit old cathedral cities and market towns in particular, and in addition to her quaint Chester street scenes, she is also known for her views of London, Hastings, Salisbury, Tewksbury, Warwick and Edinburgh.

Her paintings of Wrexham Parish Church, in North Wales and Shrewsbury are among her best.

For nearly 50 years she was a regular exhibitor at most of the major London exhibitions, including the Royal Academy, the Old and the New Watercolour Societies, the Society of British Artists, Suffolk Street Gallery, the British Institution, the Society of Female Artists and the Dudley Gallery.

Outside London she was represented in exhibitions of the Birmingham Society of Artists and in the Walker Art Gallery in Liverpool.

Today, Chester's Grosvenor Museum houses the largest public collection of Louise Rayner's watercolours – 23 in all - and is well worth visiting.

The Ludlow Museum in Shropshire and the Williamson Art Gallery in Birkenhead also have her work on show.

However, not all Rayners hang in museums and it is still possible to acquire signed originals for your own walls - if your pocket is deep enough.

No systematic survey of the artist's work has ever been undertaken and the number of her pictures in private ownership is impossible to assess.

But they do still turn up in dealers' shop windows and in auctioneers' catalogues.

Sadly, I can only afford the postcard reproductions!

Pictures show: Louise Rayner’s Chester watercolours of (left) Bridge Street, and Watergate Row, looking north