CONSTABLE: Innocent Messenger of Doom?

DISCOVER: CONSTABLE AND THE HAY WAIN
At The National Gallery, London

Until 2 February 2025

NG1207 John Constable – The Hay Wain (1821)
Oil on canvas (130.2 × 185.4 cm)
© The National Gallery, London

A visitor to the latest Discover exhibition at The National Gallery could be forgiven for missing the star of the show, John Constable’s The Hay Wain, even as it is prominently displayed for visitors entering the main space of the Sunley Room area. The eager viewer might almost dismiss this magnum opus of British art as they might think they know it so well, as close to thirty other works fill this superbly curated space to engage their attention. This is one of the strengths of this exhibition as there is so much to look at and consider. It’s the kind of show that will, I am sure, not become tiresome if you can make several visits and that you could drop in to see just the one item on display.

In fact on first entering a kind of vestibule the curators had cleverly set up a palpable dichotomy of preparatory nudges to influence the visitors before the main space was entered. Constable is not only in the past, but is also now in terms of setting an example of painting as personal expression and for subject matter (*see another reference to Constable and contemporary painting in the notes section). The phenomenon of the European landscape tradition in art generally, and of English landskip in particular, is one of the more positive contributions that this sometimes narrow minded Sceptered Isle has, and continues, to contribute to the phenomenon of ‘art’. Our collective love and appreciation of the landscape (in some ways a constructed notion from the natural world that might best be called the environment) is worth celebrating and preserving.

But also displayed here in the introductory room are ten reproductions that sets up a duplexity that makes the exhibition so relevant, and modern, for today and tomorrow. These disparate but related images reveal, and in an odd sense celebrate, evidence of Constable’s ongoing influence on Britain’s visual culture. Including well-known imagery from Hockney (who like Constable no longer requires a first name), Peter Kennard and Frank Auerbach the viewer might casually eyeball the imagery and move on, feeling the magnetic pull of The Hay Wain. This is what I did, but something niggled.

But still in this first room, the viewer, if already a Constable fan, could be well satisfied with seeing Constable’s Cenotaph to the Memory of Sir Joshua Reynolds, that was the last painting he exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1836, to prepare them for an experience of looking back on an era when British painting finally made its mark on the already well developed great European tradition. After all, ‘Constable’ is one of those names, along with Hogarth, Reynolds, Gainsborough, Stubbs, Turner et al that harks back to the Golden Age of British painting. On this singular wall Cenotaph takes on the feel of an altarpiece.

So, appropriately on view in this space are a map of Constable Country (a.k.a. Suffolk), partly to make the point that the Grand Tour was not absolutely essential, plus the medal that the painter was awarded by King Charles X of France in 1824 for showing The Hay Wain in the Paris Salon that year (which, coincidently, was the year when the NG first opened in Angerstein’s London townhouse in Pall Mall – moving to its current location in 1838). The Centotaph canvas demonstrates Constable’s appreciation of the first president of the Royal Academy who insisted that ‘modern’ artists engage with the classical art of the past to reinforce their pictorial interests in depicting, and celebrating Nature in the present.

Then, on approaching The Hay Wain in the main space a wonderful Thomas Gainsborough, Cornard Wood, near Sudbury, Suffolk (1748) commands attention and shows the viewer where Constable was coming from geographically, aesthetically and stylistically in a contemporary context, via the influence and example from the painters who emerged in the previous generation. With Gainsborough the exhibition adds George Stubbs (The Reapers of 1783 hangs next to the Gainsborough) and George Morland (amongst others) as crucial forerunners, plus Constable’s near contemporaries including John Crome, Francis Danby, John Linnell and Richard Parkes Bonnington. As expected, J.M.W. Turner is here too, though perhaps in a quiet way as pundits could argue forever over who is the greatest British landscape painter. Turner was far more of an entrepreneur than Constable and so to some degree represents the development of the marketplace, often via the print or the washing line of watercolours drying above his bathtub, than Constable the rural conservative. Undoubtedly, this function of the landscape picture production as a moneymaking artefact was an aesthetically pleasant aspect of the growth of the capitalist marketplace that, as it happens, was born in the agrarian context of English countryside (see Ellen Meiksins Wood: The Origin of Capitalism).

Maybe it was this culturally sober yet complex young man from Suffolk who took British art into Europe (well, Paris and Berlin) despite his tendency to balance professional London life with his beloved Dedham Vale in his home countryside. Constable painted Landscape: Noon (The Hay Wain) in 1821 when he was just 44 years old. Not unusually, the large painting that we know and love was actually produced in London. Also on display are the ‘six footer’ study (the third of six), and a relatively tiny study, Sketch for ‘The Hay Wain’ (c.1820), that can be considered the first version of his most revered work. This latter work is the one I think I could return to see if only one painting was made available on my next visit to the NG, particularly as it will have to be returned to the Yale Center for British Art in Connecticut when the show ends next February. Being hung next to the ‘six footer’ was curatorially daring but apt and demonstrates to any aspiring painter that preliminary works can be any size in relation to the final product.

But I had surely been taunted by those other images and so returned with some sense that something very relevant right here, right now, was being manifested. After my preliminary stroll around the show to tune in, looking more attentively at the last three images I was a little unnerved, perhaps intimidated. After all, I assume that like most visitors I am here to marvel at some impressive landscape works. Social reality (Chris Shaw), satire and humour (Cold War Steve) and climate change (Quentin Devine) was implied so strongly yet so innocently by the reproductions, undermined, or at least questions and recategorises every other image in the exhibition. Miss the display wall of contemporary works and an engaging display of paintings, prints and drawings – plus a rather quaint set of country folk figures purportedly made by Constable himself (though, I dare say, unlikely) – is certainly visually pleasurable, aesthetically satisfying and informative. The show is rich in social and political history, and in setting the historical context that Constable was affected by, engaged with and duly influenced himself. Constable is in our lives, in our visual psyches. How many homes in the UK have a landscape print, photograph or painting on a wall? The art historical thrust of this exhibition – of the whole institution – confidently insists, as always, that the viewer should be aware of any artist’s influences and the context of periods of style and subject matter. Paintings are never just lonesome, singular, objects even in the broadest context and are not merely decoration for the living room (** see personal memories in the notes). But the modern works, even as reproductions, give the viewing an unexpected frisson.

In a way, Kennard’s Haywain with Cruise Missiles (1980) sets up what could have been far more exploited as the major theme for this exhibition, as imagery from this later generation of artists, (Shaw, Cold War Steve and Devine) reinforce a message of shock and despair, obliging the viewer to take stock of any so-called beautiful or awesomely sublime landscape scenario as various regimes wage war with nuclear arms in the background and as global warming continues to affect the climate. Though, to be fair to the curators, this political aspect is acknowledged in the catalogue – which if you cannot get to see the exhibition I fully recommend that you acquire the publication, as it not only records this marvellous display, but also is a useful primer for the burgeoning art history aficionado who must understand that the visual arts always has a social, cultural, economic and political context, and a reinterpretive one at that.

Ignore the contemporary works at your peril. Are they (to appropriate a Constable term for highflying clouds) Messengers? Via Constable, these contemporary artists may well be saying something we all need to hear. With the revered Constable to reference they might challenge the mindset of the masses with less derision from some quarters than the environmental protesters. Which made me wonder if they attack the wrong targets? These passionate and well-meaning iconoclasts could choose to celebrate rather than diminish their respective responsibilities of protecting our cultural as well as our natural environments by preserving and developing our survivalist consciousness with more integrity. Art might save us yet – and Constable was right there as the agrarian revolution took hold.

We can all drink to that. (***)

Geoff Hands (October 2024)

NOTES:

* Reference to a painting in Late Constable at the Royal Academy (2021): https://fineartruminations.com/2022/01/29/contemporary-british-painting-prize-2021/

“A woman and her partner are standing in front of A Farmhouse near the Water’s Edge (‘On the Stour’) by John Constable. “Does he ask questions?” she reactively inquires. I think it’s a rhetorical question. It’s certainly a gift of a question and I now wonder, was the painting asking questions about subject matter; perception; time; self; the painting process or the fiction of imagery and invented composition? Constable also appears to have gouged his palette knife into the surface of the oil painting and it is an unsettling image. I doubt that the subject matter is merely a farmhouse or a landscape. Paintings have so much to offer and so much potential for interpretation, with endless ground to cover. It’s no wonder they continue to intrigue viewer and maker alike.”

** The first ‘work of art’ I recall in my parental home, way back in the mid-1960s, was a reproduction of The Hay Wain that came free with the electric fire that my mother purchased to replace the coal fire in our living room. About ten years later I was an art student and, on my first trip to a London gallery (18 February 1976), I was fortunate enough to see the Constable: Paintings, Watercolours & Drawings exhibition at The Tate Gallery, which of course included, The Hay Wain. Many thanks to Mr Vettise at Shrewsbury School of Art.

*** NG bans liquid after artwork damagedhttps://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/c89ljnwgpqwo

LINKS:

National Gallery

CBPP review with reference to Constable’s Farmhouse painting

Alexandra Harris writes on John Constable’s last decade, which includes Constable’s Farmhouse painting (The Phillips Collection, Washington, DC)

From the BBC news website

Climate protestors glue themselves to John Constable masterpiece

REMBRANDT: Paintings Must Be Seen For Real

Rembrandt in Brighton at Brighton Museum & Art Gallery

10 May to 4 August 2024

Rembrandt Self Portrait at the Age of 34 1640 Oil on canvas, 91 × 75 cm Bought, 1861 NG672 https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/NG672

Earlier this year I posted the following advice to painters on my Painting Studio Strategies Instagram account: ‘Paintings must be seen for real’. Of course, it’s an obvious thing to say, but we all (not only painters) should see actual works whenever possible. The obvious reasons for looking at a painting are straightforward: the viewer sees the work without changes to its size, the colours and tones are not affected by a printed reproduction or the screen settings, the surface qualities are not smoothed out and you can get up close (within reason). But there’s another element, which is subjective and relies on the viewer giving ample time to experiencing the work.

In this instance I imagined the painter (myself included) in the studio surrounded by one’s own paintings with images of other artists’ work, especially our heroes, only being accessed through books or on our iPhone screens. There might be a few postcards on the wall too, although I suspect that card sales have plummeted since the advent of the mobile device and through being allowed to take photographs in most exhibitions for personal use.

When we do see a painting for real, by which I mean one from the greatest of all painters such as Rembrandt, there might be a degree of surprise or just a reminder that paint, most especially oil paint, is an astonishing medium. In the right hands a painted image can move into a region beyond what we might call ‘materiality’ today. The experience of looking might even go beyond ‘subject matter’ too. As I mentioned above, there is surely a subjective aspect to this point of view but I would advise a detractor to visit an institution, such as the National Gallery in London, to tune into the alluring charisma and sublimity of the paint medium. Or maybe just its ordinariness as an ingredient in a composition (I am thinking here of Piero della Francesca) will suffice.

So when a painting by your favourite Old Master is displayed in the local art gallery, just a ten-minute walk from the Phoenix Art Space studio for me, there is no excuse to not visit several times. In fact for the locals we just have to pay once and we can revisit the Brighton Museum and Art Gallery as often as we wish for twelve months. So I expect to pay homage to Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn’s ‘Self Portrait at the age of 34’ (1640) quite a few times up until August this year. The painting is on loan from the National Gallery to celebrate the Bicentenary of one of the most important art galleries in the world. Twelve paintings from the collection are being lent to venues across the UK, which would be a great initiative to continue and to expand to even more galleries for many years to come.

If I try to define the impact of this astonishing self-portrait it’s difficult not to fall into well-worn cliché, particularly in relation to the gaze of the sitter connecting with the viewer, or the implied humanity of engaging with a fellow human being from so far back in time. Then there’s the art historical and cultural information that not unreasonably feeds into the experience of appreciating the painting (see the impressively curated NG website for a full explanation, link below). One could even make a connection, if contemporaneity is sought, to notions of the ‘selfie’ today, although the virtual instaneity of the self-portrait type image made with a smartphone will generally be quite superficial, even facile. Rembrandt’s heavily implied self-confidence and promoting of his painting skills are clearly on display. But this is certainly not a painting that celebrates selfhood or reveals the more modernistic sense of existentiality that questions the times one lives in. The painting is certainly a form of advertising as Rembrandt sought commissions from the wealthy Dutch collectors of the 1640s.

But there’s just something about the paint and its application, and about the control of colour and tonality that Rembrandt fuses so well with the subject beyond appearance. Does the face/head represents thought and ideas, whilst the hand on the parapet in the foreground represents the human hand that physically works in conjunction with the intelligence. Is this a manifesto of sorts that elevates the painter to the realm of the poet? Rembrandt, the painter, achieves a notion of image (visual art) with ideas (expressed through literature, most especially poetry) that we might consider ‘abstract’ – beyond but reliant upon the visual and the written or spoken word*. The indefinable ‘X factor’, to use modern parlance.

On my second visit another viewer commented to her partner, “The more you look the more you see. It’s the detail.” Yes, I thought, but it’s the aura too. This does not seem to be down to skill alone. It’s not purely about the painter’s choice of what to do and how to do it. It’s from a training, and a looking at other artists (Titian in particular) and of having some practical purpose in the subject matter. But more still.

You really have to see it to believe it. And, fellow painter, if you get the chance to visit buy a postcard for just 75p.

Geoff Hands (June 2024)

* This connection of painting with poetry was mentioned by Bart Cornelis, National Gallery Curator of Dutch and Flemish painting, in a public talk connected with the showing of the Rembrandt portrait.

LINKS:

Brighton Museum & Art Gallery

The National Gallery, London

https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/rembrandt-self-portrait-at-the-age-of-34

Phoenix Art Space – https://phoenixartspace.org/

Instagram – @painting_studio_strategies