It takes a split second these days to create an image, and how many millions are recorded daily on mobile phones, possibly never to be looked at again? You can see it all happening in the palatial surroundings of the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna, definitely one of those tick-off destinations on many travellers' bucket lists, where those in search of instant pictorial satisfaction throng the imposing statue-lined staircase for a selfie or pout for a photo in the café under the spectacular cupola. But we're not in Vienna for a quick fix, we're at the KHM to admire something more enduring in the shape of art produced almost 500 years ago by Rembrandt and his pupil Samuel van Hoogstraten that was intended to mislead your eyes into seeing the real in the unreal. Artistic deception is the story at the centre of Rembrandt--Hoogstraten: Colour and Illusion , one of the most engrossing and best-staged exhibitions we've seen this year. And, somewhat surprisingly, a show wi...
Monet, Pissarro, Sisley -- names calculated to get the crowds flocking to Tate Britain for Impressionists in London. Legros, Dalou and Carpeaux -- well, probably not, but you'll be seeing more of them than you might have bargained for if you go to this rather misleadingly named exhibition.
The show's subtitle is French Artists in Exile 1870-1904, which probably gives a rather better sense of what you are going to see. The story starts with the flight of artists and dealers to London in 1870-71 amid France's military defeat by Prussia and the bloody suppression of the popular uprising that was the Paris Commune. The scene is well set in the first room, which introduces us to the devastation and carnage behind the exodus.
Claude Monet crossed the Channel to avoid conscription while Camille Pissarro's house was used as stables by the Prussians. There are a few works from that early period on display -- the relative lightness of a Monet view of the Thames contrasting with a much browner study by Charles-Francois Daubigny, whose open-air painting made him an important precursor of the Impressionists. We see Pissarro's take on his new temporary surroundings in south London, including the Crystal Palace.
But the Impressionists don't seem to have enjoyed their exile in Britain very much, and anyway, it's time to forget them for a bit, because this show now goes in a completely different direction.
It's time for James Tissot to take centre-stage. Tissot, who'd stayed in Paris through the Commune, left at the end of 1871 and rapidly found success in Britain as a chronicler of high society from the point of view of the outsider, though it seems the English thought he was mocking them just a little bit.
There are a large number of works by Tissot here. Sharply observed, gorgeously detailed, precisely painted. But however admirable, they somehow they leave you a bit cold. Henry James dismissed one of the pictures in this show as "hard, vulgar and banal''. And Tissot was far from being an Impressionist, obviously.
Next we meet Alphonse Legros, who had been in Britain since the early 1860s and was a main point of contact for the new arrivals. Pictures by Legros, who rose to become Slade Professor of Fine Art, share a large space with sculptures by Jules Dalou, whom he championed:
It's quite a Victorian-feeling experience, this room. Heavy realism rules, and in the next section we get a series of white marble sculptures by Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux, who had worked for the deposed family of Emperor Napoleon III and now followed them into exile in England. You're really wondering where all the Impressionists have gone by now.
Actually, the Tate's been saving them up for later. A complete change of scene again as we find out how they, and other outsiders, viewed British life. The Impressionists did return to London, because there were subjects they couldn't find at home. Their appetite was whetted by scenes that weren't French: parks in which you could walk on the grass, or indulge in sporting activities. Pissarro turns out to have been a bit of a cricket fan.
Jules Dalou, Peasant Woman Nursing a Baby, 1873, photo courtesy Tate
Camille Pissarro, Kew Green, 1892, Musee d'Orsay
Claude Monet, Leicester Square, 1901, Fondation Jean et Suzanne Plaque, photo Luc Chessex
Claude Monet, Houses of Parliament, Sunlight Effect, 1903, Brooklyn Museum of Art
The show's subtitle is French Artists in Exile 1870-1904, which probably gives a rather better sense of what you are going to see. The story starts with the flight of artists and dealers to London in 1870-71 amid France's military defeat by Prussia and the bloody suppression of the popular uprising that was the Paris Commune. The scene is well set in the first room, which introduces us to the devastation and carnage behind the exodus.
Claude Monet crossed the Channel to avoid conscription while Camille Pissarro's house was used as stables by the Prussians. There are a few works from that early period on display -- the relative lightness of a Monet view of the Thames contrasting with a much browner study by Charles-Francois Daubigny, whose open-air painting made him an important precursor of the Impressionists. We see Pissarro's take on his new temporary surroundings in south London, including the Crystal Palace.
But the Impressionists don't seem to have enjoyed their exile in Britain very much, and anyway, it's time to forget them for a bit, because this show now goes in a completely different direction.
It's time for James Tissot to take centre-stage. Tissot, who'd stayed in Paris through the Commune, left at the end of 1871 and rapidly found success in Britain as a chronicler of high society from the point of view of the outsider, though it seems the English thought he was mocking them just a little bit.
There are a large number of works by Tissot here. Sharply observed, gorgeously detailed, precisely painted. But however admirable, they somehow they leave you a bit cold. Henry James dismissed one of the pictures in this show as "hard, vulgar and banal''. And Tissot was far from being an Impressionist, obviously.
Next we meet Alphonse Legros, who had been in Britain since the early 1860s and was a main point of contact for the new arrivals. Pictures by Legros, who rose to become Slade Professor of Fine Art, share a large space with sculptures by Jules Dalou, whom he championed:
It's quite a Victorian-feeling experience, this room. Heavy realism rules, and in the next section we get a series of white marble sculptures by Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux, who had worked for the deposed family of Emperor Napoleon III and now followed them into exile in England. You're really wondering where all the Impressionists have gone by now.
Actually, the Tate's been saving them up for later. A complete change of scene again as we find out how they, and other outsiders, viewed British life. The Impressionists did return to London, because there were subjects they couldn't find at home. Their appetite was whetted by scenes that weren't French: parks in which you could walk on the grass, or indulge in sporting activities. Pissarro turns out to have been a bit of a cricket fan.
It's all happening here in his view of Kew Green from the Musee d'Orsay.
But the eye is really caught in this section by this work by Monet from 30 years after the Franco-Prussian war, glorious splodges of colour depicting the epicentre of the West End at night.
Never has Leicester Square looked so enticing.
The Thames, though, and its bridges and the buildings that line the river are the theme that fired up the Impressionists and those associated with them. Pissarro captured Charing Cross Bridge in 1890 with a packed paddle steamer in the foreground; Alfred Sisley went upstream to depict Molesey Weir at Hampton Court.
And then there's Whistler with three of his nocturnes, including the wonderful Nocturne: Blue and Gold -- Old Battersea Bridge that looks so Japanese. Not that Whistler's a French artist...
Monet returned to London to stay at the Savoy Hotel for three consecutive winters around the turn of the 20th century to dedicate himself to a series of views of the Thames in different lights and weather, working on almost 100 canvases. Here's the Houses of Parliament in a sunlight effect:
The group of works gathered here forms a fine climax to what's been a bit of a mish-mash of an exhibition. But just to keep you on your toes, the Tate's decided to mix it up again and give you a Fauvist to finish off.
Three works by Andre Derain, sent to London in 1906 to paint his response to Monet's series, make up the last room, including a green-and-red-hued Charing Cross Bridge from the National Gallery in Washington. They illustrate just how quickly art had already moved on. Chronologically and artistically, the sequencing makes absolute sense, but there's something to be said for finishing a show on a high rather than what feels, given the advertised subject matter, a bit of an anticlimax.
Practicalities
Impressionists in London runs at Tate Britain until May 7. It's open daily from 1000 to 1800. Full-price tickets cost £19.70 and can be booked online here. The nearest London Underground station is Pimlico on the Victoria Line, about five minutes' walk away.Images
James Tissot, The Ball on Shipboard, c. 1874, TateJules Dalou, Peasant Woman Nursing a Baby, 1873, photo courtesy Tate
Camille Pissarro, Kew Green, 1892, Musee d'Orsay
Claude Monet, Leicester Square, 1901, Fondation Jean et Suzanne Plaque, photo Luc Chessex
Claude Monet, Houses of Parliament, Sunlight Effect, 1903, Brooklyn Museum of Art
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