Distractions

I haven’t posted much on here lately, and suspect this may continue to be the case for a little while. This is because a new distraction has arrived in the form of Edward Geraint, born October 16th. This is him, ready to go out for a walk.

Dante in the Nineteenth Century

I’m very excited by the recent publication of Dante in the Nineteenth Century edited by Nick Havely, to which I contributed a chapter.

Book synopsis

The nineteenth century saw the reinvention of Dante as a Romantic and national poet, his recognition as the canonical ‘central man of all the world’ and the Commedia‘s diffusion as a widely accessible text. Addressing these aspects of Dante’s presence during a key period of his modern reception, this collection of essays draws upon a number of papers given at the international conference ‘Dante in the Nineteenth Century’, held at the University of York in July 2008, and combines the work of established experts in the field with that of younger scholars who are breaking important new ground on the subject. It is distinctive in concentrating on the reception of Dante from Romanticism through the cult of Beatrice and mid-century criticism, translation and visual art, to the development of scholarship and popularization. The volume explores diverse nineteenth-century historical, intellectual, artistic and literary contexts in the cultures of Italy, France, the British Isles and the United States.

Contents

Nick Havely: Introduction

Michael O’Neill: ‘Admirable for Conciseness and Vigour’: Dante and English Romantic Poetry’s Dealings

with Epic

Timothy Webb: Stories of Rimini: Leigh Hunt, Byron and the Fate of Francesca

Nick Havely: Francesca Franciosa: Exile, Language and History in Foscolo’s Articles on Dante

Serena Trowbridge: ‘A Silent Heart’: Christina Rossetti’s ‘Monna Innominata’ as a Reconstruction of Dante’s Beatrice

Cristina Figueredo: Christina Rossetti’s ‘Monna Innominata’: Reflections in/on Dante

Fabio Camilletti: Ninfa fiorentina: The Falling of Beatrice from Florence to Modern Metropolis

 Alison Milbank: Dante, Ruskin and Rossetti: Grotesque Realism

Christoph Irmscher: Reading for our Delight: Longfellow and Francesca

Aida Audeh: Rodin’s Gates of Hell and Dante’s Divine Comedy: The Literal and Allegorical in the Paolo and Francesca Episode of Inferno 5

Guyda Armstrong: Nineteenth-Century Translations and the Invention of Boccaccio-dantista

Spencer Pearce: Dante and Psychology in the Late Nineteenth Century

Elena Borelli: Dante between Darwin and Freud: Giovanni Pascoli’s Dantean Writings

James Robinson: Purgatorio in the Portrait: Dante, Heterodoxy and the Education of James Joyce

Anne Laurence: Exploiting Dante: Dante and his Women Popularizers, 1850-1910.

You can find out more about the book here.

Wilde and Stoppard

At the Old Rep theatre, Birmingham Rep are currently running The Importance of Being Earnest alongside Tom Stoppard’s play Travesties, with the same cast. But much more links the two plays than just the cast; if you can, it’s well worth seeing first Wilde’s play and then Stoppard’s, even if you’re already familiar with Earnest. The Rep Earnest is good; the cast seem sharp, and manage to deliver the lines with a freshness that sometimes escapes even the best cast (I always hold my breath before Lady Bracknell says, ‘A handbag?’ dreading too much emphasis). The plot, of doubles, confused identities, social mores and farcical happenings, is presented with little that is new, but that is perhaps just as well: it’s a solid, enjoyable performance, with Gwendoline and Cecily perhaps slightly more sparkling than Algernon and Jack. It would be difficult to fail to appreciate either the acting or the wit of Wilde’s play.

Travesties is likely to be less familiar as a play, but, like all of Stoppard’s plays, it is marvellously funny, clever, intertextual, and slightly devious. The play features a retired British Consul official, Henry Carr, reminiscing about his time in Zurich in 1917, when he met Lenin, James Joyce and the Dadaist Tristan Tzara. His reminiscences, however, become muddled with his part in a performance of The Importance of Being Earnest, so what we see is a confused version of events in which we can never be sure if what we are seeing is the truth. The cast do a great job of switching personas, so that we catch glimpses of Earnest alongside characters purporting to be historical figures. When one has recently seen Earnest, it’s also possible to see just how much Stoppard draws on and plays with Wilde’s play whilst creating his own, totally new play.

Travesties is funny; but not quite in the way that Wilde’s play is. It also makes some serious points, some of which are emphasised by the farcical, and indeed surreal, aspects of the play (which are usually derived from confusions in Carr’s memory). These serious issues relate to the war, in which Carr had served, and to the purposes and means of art (mostly dealt with in dialogues between Carr and Tzara, and Carr and Joyce), and to the rise of Communism and Russian politics. To pull off these two plays, with their multiple layers of meaning, intertextuality (not just Stoppard referring to Wilde,  but also I noticed a number of other direct quotations, including Tzara, Joyce and Lenin, of course, but also Wordsworth, Shakespeare and many more. I’m pleased to see that the Rep website features a guide to Travesties which, whilst designed for students and teachers, is likely to be of interest to many theatregoers.

Women War Artists

Whilst at the Imperial War Museum, I also took in the exhibition on Women War Artists, which is on until November 27th. It’s quite a small (free) exhibition,  but includes some diverse and interesting paintings that demonstrate aspects of women’s engagement with war throughout the twentieth century. There are paintings which depict women war workers, such as Laura Knight’s famous Ruby Loftus Screwing a Breech Ring (1943), right, and Flora Lion’s Women’s Canteen (1918), left, as well as some lovely individual portraits by Victoria Monkhouse. Each painting is accompanied by a brief discussion of the role of women as depicted in the painting, making it a very informative exhibition. There are, of course, paintings by women who went into war zones, using the title ‘Official War Artist’, commissioned during the Second World War (before then women could not use this title). Some of the paintings, such as those by Linda Kitson, were actually commissioned by the Imperial War Museum, when she went to the Falklands with the troops – the first time a woman artist had been able to do this. There are other battlefield images, but after the battle: Olive Mudie-Cooke’s images of the Somme and the Italian Front, for example.

Another very moving painting, and very famous, is Laura Knight’s The Nuremburg Trial (1946) – a very powerful painting which combines the stillness of the courtroom with the horrors of war. The pictures included in the exhibition record hospitals, sites of battles, ships, farms, a forge, factories, and the home front, such as Evelyn Dunbar’s The Queue at the Fish Shop (1944), below, a reminder of the hardships of life away from the heat of battle. The exhibition certainly shows an unofficial side to war as well as the development of the professional woman war artist. As the notes to the exhibition say, the cost of war is clearly counted in these pictures: ‘homelessness, exile, occupation, deaths and atrocity’ all feature, as well as experiences of the Blitz.

Once upon a Wartime

Last week we had a couple of days in London, during which we paid a visit to the Imperial War Museum, as I wanted to see the 1940s House before it finally closes at the end of January, as well as the Once Upon a Wartime exhibition of children’s books, which is due to close at the end of October and will then transfer to IWM North. Once Upon a Wartime is really aimed at children, but the exhibition included several books I remember borrowing from the school library when I was about 10, and I wanted to see how the exhibition ‘framed’ the problems of war for children. As it turned out, it wasn’t what I expected, but it was well done and I enjoyed it.

The premise of the exhibition was to take five well-known books written since World War Two, and to fit each of them into certain categories: the information at the beginning of the exhibition suggested that children’s books about war tended to contain certain themes: loyalty, separation, excitement, survival and identity. In fact, though, the exhibition did much more than that, using particular aspects of the books to teach the visitor about aspects of different conflicts.

The first book was Michael Morpurgo’s War Horse, which, it was suggested, embodies the theme of loyalty in war. Most of the exhibition featuring this book looked at the role of horses in the First World War, from a model of a horse in full kit, to footage of horses on the battlefield. The second book, one of the ones I enjoyed as a child, was Nina Bawden’s Carrie’s War, whose theme is separation. There was plenty of information about evacuees relating to the book, and the lives of children who were evacuated, as well as information about the experiences of the author which led to the writing of the book.

Next was The Machine Gunners by Robert Westall, a book I remember finding thrilling, and indeed the chosen theme here was the excitement that children may find (however inappropriately) in war. The perception of war by children who have been sheltered from its worst aspects was well-depicted here, looking at children’s search for trophies from crashed planes, for example, and their desire to capture an enemy soldier. The book ends sadly, though, and the need to balance excitement with the true nature of war was brought out carefully here.

Ian Serraillier’s The Silver Sword was the next book; the theme was survival, and the exhibition told the story of displaced children in Europe, with direct experiences of the terror and destructiveness of Nazism in countries such as Poland. A huge map showed the experiences of children all over Europe. The final book was Bernard Ashley’s Little Soldier, the only one featured which I haven’t read. The theme was identity, linked to ethnicity and the issue of child soldiers. The most contemporary of the books featured, it seemed a worthwhile note to end on, looking at issues which face children in war zones and even in this country today.

 

Pre-Raphaelitism in Dundee

Last week I was at the Wildering Phantasies conference in Dundee, which was very enjoyable, informative and inspiring. The programme was very varied, including a really good and diverse range of papers and keynotes, as well as other events including a screening of Ken Russell’s film Dante’s Inferno (terrifying and hilarious in equal measures!), a visit to Dundee’s McManus Gallery, and an exhibition at the university’s own Lamb Gallery. The McManus is housed in a great Gothic building, and has some interesting works in their collection, such as Millais’s (rather chocolate-box) Puss in Boots, some marvellous Morris/Burne-Jones stained glass (the cartoons of which are in Birmingham), and, of course, Rossetti’s Dante’s Dream (left). I was also fascinated to see the work of Joseph Noel Paton, a painter with whose work I was unfamiliar, but who manifests distinct Pre-Raphaelite tendencies.

I found out more about Paton at the Lamb Gallery in the university, where a special exhibition on ‘Noel Paton and the Pre-Raphaelites’ was being held. The exhibition includes a range of paintings by Pre-Raphaelite and associated painters, some owned by the university and some by Dundee Museums and Galleries. These paintings include the work of Frederick and Emma Sandys, and pencil drawings by Dante Gabriel Rossetti including ‘Delia’ and a study for Dante’s Dream. There was also a lovely Millais self portrait of 1883. As well as some books, the exhibition also contained paintings by Scottish painters associated with the Pre-Raphaelites, including Paton. I was interested to hear that Paton had in fact been asked to join the PRB, but declined (largely on geographical reasons, as far as I know). His paintings, such as The Dowie Dens o’ Yarrow (1860) (right), make particularly interesting viewing for those of us with a Pre-Raphaelite interest.

Overall I had a splendid time, met many interesting people and have lots of enthusiasm and good ideas for my own work, too. Despite the lengthy round-trip (though not as long as many other attendees) it was well worth the trouble.

The Cult of Beauty

On Saturday we had a day-trip to London to see ‘The Cult of Beauty’ at the V&A, before it closes (on July 17th so not long now if you haven’t already seen it!) It’s had some amazing reviews, and everyone seems to have seen it, and I’m glad we made the effort to go. I can’t remember ever seeing such a remarkable collection of objects in one place, and the exhibition, true to the V&A’s approach, provided a fascinating mixture of objets d’art, paintings, furniture, books and other appropriate items (such as this marvellous William de Morgan dish).

I won’t write a detailed review, since there are so many out there (see this in The Guardian, for example, which suggests that this exhibition could revise our view of Victorian art and culture, or this glowing report by Waldemar Januszczak), but in my opinion the exhibition mostly lived up to its reputation. The exhibition is devoted to the work of the Aesthetic movement, the hedonistic offspring of the Arts and Crafts Movement. The exhibition therefore builds up to the apex of Aestheticism: beginning with Pre-Raphaelitism, some earlier Rossettis, some Burne-Jones, Rossetti’s bedroom, etc; then moving towards the Arts and Crafts movement with Morris and Burne-Jones furniture (so beautiful I wanted to stroke it – but resisted), with its morality and integrity combined with its beauty (summarised in Morris’s famous line “Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful”). Finally we reach the apex of Aestheticism, culminating in the hedonism of Oscar Wilde’s “art for art’s sake”, the designs of Beardsley, and the paintings of Moore and Whistler. By now, meaning and morality have vanished in a backlash against the earlier Victorians, and a modern, sleek aesthetic has replaced the more realist designs of the earlier artists.

This exhibition is not just a celebration of beauty, it is also a journey through the changing tastes of the Victorians. It’s a riot of colour and exuberance, and does credit to the designs and paintings of the nineteenth century, and will, I think, deservedly revive interest in them. The V&A website includes an interesting blog on Creating The Cult of Beauty if you want to find out more, or if you missed the exhibition.

Birmingham and Cornwall

Among the Missing

Recently I saw an excellent exhibition at the Penlee House Gallery in Penzance, Walter Langley and the Birmingham Boys. Before I saw the exhibition I was only vaguely aware of the connections between Birmingham artists and the Newlyn artists, but the connection is clearly a significant one. As the gallery information says, quoting from the Magazine of Art in 1898, “It was Birmingham that first discovered Newlyn”. Walter Langley himself was Birmingham born and trained, and was commissioned by a Birmingham patron to paint the lives of working fishermen in Cornwall. From a poor, working-class background himself, Langley sympathised with the hard-working and often difficult lives of his subjects, and the paintings on show in the exhibition demonstrate the depth of his empathy.

Paintings such as ‘Waiting the Return of the Fleet’ (1903), for example, demonstrate the patience and pain of the women in the fishing community – Langley’s figures are wholly believable, and conjure up their lives for the viewer. Paintings like this and ‘Lingering Hope’ (1882), which shows an elderly couple evidently thinking of their missing son, are both very much of the Newlyn School, in their style and their subject matter, but also very much of their time. There is something remarkably – and appealingly – Victorian about Langley’s paintings. The subject matter was bound to appeal to Victorian culture, I suppose: tragedy, religion, work, and some wistful orphaned children, are combined nicely in the subjects and beautifully executed, too. In several cases, lines from Tennyson (including some from In Memoriam) are used as a title, which heightens the sense of tragedy and loss.

The paintings cover life in fishing communities, from love and loss to hard work and poverty, with moments of joy interspersed with pain. Of all the painters, however, Langley’s are, to my eye at least, the best: they are generally unsentimental, almost factual, in their depiction of the life of the village, and yet they have the power to move the viewer. This is particularly the case with the paintings of loss, such as ‘Disaster!’ (1888), in which the stricken face of a young woman with a child dominates the foreground, and ‘Among the Missing’ (1884), in which one can feel the tragedy, and it is difficult not to become immersed in the potential stories of the characters portrayed.

The exhibition includes paintings by a range of artists who were trained in Birmingham but painted in Cornwall, including Edwin Harris, William Banks Fortescue, Frank Richards, William Arthur Breakspear and William John Wainwright. I found the work of these other artists to be often more sentimental and idealised than those of Langley, often verging on the pastoral. There is certainly less hard work and sorrow in the work of these other artists, and it is the Victorian unflinching facing of life and death that Langley depicts that makes his paintings stand out.

The Pre-Raphaelite Society Poetry Prize

The Pre-Raphaelite Society is delighted to announce its first Pre-Raphaelite Poetry Prize. First Prize will be £50 and publication in the Review of the Pre-Raphaelite Society.

Poems entered must up to 100 lines in length, and must relate to the Pre-Raphaelites, their successors, and their work – for example, inspired by their paintings, poetry or lives. Poems must be accompanied by a brief (100 word) explanation of the poem’s connection to the Pre-Raphaelites and their work.

Poems must be submitted with a cover sheet which includes the entrant’s name, address and email address, and the title of the poem. Poems must also be accompanied by an entry fee of £1.50, payable by cheque or postal order to The Pre-Raphaelite Society.

Only one entry per person. Please send entries to the Editor by September 10^th, 2011.

The Little Bookroom

I have started a new blog, looking at children’s books that I used to read: if you’re interested, my first review, of A Traveller in Time by Alison Uttley, can be found here.