The James McNeill Whistler exhibition at Tate Britain is big, probably a bit too big, but it's packed with beautiful pictures and it's not in the least bit boring. That's not surprising as Whistler led a colourful life, never shying from controversy and confrontation -- notably pursuing a high-profile libel case against John Ruskin -- and he produced art that was groundbreaking, hugely influential and enormously atmospheric. Including, of course, probably one of the most recognisable paintings in art history, that of his mother in profile, dressed in black. It's in this show, and we'll be taking a look at it shortly. But we start in Whistler's studio, where the artist has painted himself at work, palette and brush in his hands, and looking out directly at us, the viewers. This is the first picture you see in the show, and we're told that for Whistler, the studio was a place for public performance, as well as making art. So here he is, making a statemen...
As you might expect, there's a fair bit of both Lucian Freud and Francis Bacon in All Too Human: Bacon, Freud and a Century of Painting Life at Tate Britain in London. But we've had quite a lot of both these big names on show recently, so you might get more out of it discovering something different from other artists in this exhibition.
The premise, according to the Tate, is that the show "celebrates the painters in Britain who strove to represent human figures, their relationships and surroundings in the most intimate of ways." There's a certain feeling, though, that this show is made up of a number of disparate bits that don't quite hang together. And you wonder how David Hockney doesn't get a look-in in a survey of the last century of British figurative painting.
The period before 1945 gets fairly short shrift as well, knocked off quickly in the first of 11 rooms. There are two Stanley Spencers on each side of the entrance door, both of his second wife, Patricia Preece. Stanley was certainly obsessed with her, so that's quite a relationship to start off with. This is the one with her clothes on:
Alongside some very murky Walter Sickerts, there's Chaim Soutine and some interesting David Bombergs, though two of those are, a bit disconcertingly, Spanish landscapes.
And then in the next room, it's suddenly and shockingly on to a set of earlyish works by Bacon, including Study of a Baboon. There's a sole Alberto Giacometti bronze in here too, rather confusingly.
The slight feeling of disjointedness about the show is increased when you come to a whole room devoted to Indian artist FN Souza, not a name many of us will have conjured with before. There are angry black nudes and religious works, too, and there's a definite story to be told in such pictures as Negro in Mourning as Britain took its first uncertain steps toward multiculturalism in the 1950s and 60s. But does Souza really merit nine paintings here?
So it's on to Freud, and the precise brushstrokes of some of his early post-war work. The tiny cat in Girl With a Kitten seems ever more on the point of being strangled. A far better time is being had by the animal in Girl With a White Dog from just a few years later, though the tension is evident on the face of the artist's first wife.
Freud's meticulousness is mirrored in a different way by William Coldstream and Euan Uglow in this section, appropriately entitled An Analytical Gaze. Coldstream focused on the painstaking process of measurement and adjustment. His Seated Nude of 1952-53 took 90 hours to paint over more than 30 sessions. A picture of the same name from two decades later leaves very visible traces of the artist's method in the lines used to work out the composition. Georgia, by Coldstream's pupil Uglow, was about five years in the making.
You can't imagine Leon Kossoff taking five years over Building Site, Victoria Street from 1961. This is one painting you can't view in two dimensions. Get right up close and take a side-on look at the incredible texture of the brushwork, as if all the mud on that construction site is being churned up into paint. Frank Auerbach was at it as well, Rebuilding the Empire Cinema, Leicester Square. Both were pupils of Bomberg, and there's a feeling here, at least for a bit, that the show is starting to make sense.
Ten years later, Kossoff was indoors in Willesden for Children's Swimming Pool, Autumn Afternoon, and you can continue your London tour as he painted Christ Church, Spitalfields, Morning in 1990. Meanwhile, Auerbach turned his gaze to Mornington Crescent....
There's a big section devoted to Freud's later studio work, in which he moved away from his earlier approach to use coarser brushwork. He stood to paint, creating high viewpoints, and the studio is as much the subject as the sitters. Fourteen fine pictures here, including Leigh Bowery and Britain's most famous benefits supervisor, Sue Tilley, Sleeping by the Lion Carpet.
After the second helping of Freud, there's more Bacon, looking at how he used photographic sources in his work. In Three Figures and Portrait from 1975, there's the looming presence of the artist's lover, George Dyer, who committed suicide a few years earlier.
Two last rooms bring us up to date. Paula Rego gets one to herself, but there are some possibly less familiar names among the four contemporary women artists in the very final section to give you something to go away and think about.
Freud's muse, Celia Paul, is perhaps the best known, and has two paintings here, as has Cecily Brown. In the latter's Teenage Wildlife, something you probably shouldn't be looking at can just be glimpsed through the foliage. Lynette Yiadom-Boakye paints her pictures of people who don't actually exist in just one day. Take that, Coldstream and Uglow. But it's probably Jenny Saville's Reverse that sticks in the memory. It's huge and it's fleshy. It's All Too Human.
Lucian Freud, Girl With a White Dog, 1950-51. (c) Tate
Leon Kossoff, Children's Swimming Pool, Autumn Afternoon, 1971, Tate. (c) Leon Kossoff
Michael Andrews, Melanie and Me Swimming, 1978-79, Tate. (c) The Estate of Michael Andrews
Jenny Saville, Reverse, 2002-03. (c) Jenny Saville. Courtesy of the artist and Gagosian
The premise, according to the Tate, is that the show "celebrates the painters in Britain who strove to represent human figures, their relationships and surroundings in the most intimate of ways." There's a certain feeling, though, that this show is made up of a number of disparate bits that don't quite hang together. And you wonder how David Hockney doesn't get a look-in in a survey of the last century of British figurative painting.
The period before 1945 gets fairly short shrift as well, knocked off quickly in the first of 11 rooms. There are two Stanley Spencers on each side of the entrance door, both of his second wife, Patricia Preece. Stanley was certainly obsessed with her, so that's quite a relationship to start off with. This is the one with her clothes on:
And then in the next room, it's suddenly and shockingly on to a set of earlyish works by Bacon, including Study of a Baboon. There's a sole Alberto Giacometti bronze in here too, rather confusingly.
The slight feeling of disjointedness about the show is increased when you come to a whole room devoted to Indian artist FN Souza, not a name many of us will have conjured with before. There are angry black nudes and religious works, too, and there's a definite story to be told in such pictures as Negro in Mourning as Britain took its first uncertain steps toward multiculturalism in the 1950s and 60s. But does Souza really merit nine paintings here?
So it's on to Freud, and the precise brushstrokes of some of his early post-war work. The tiny cat in Girl With a Kitten seems ever more on the point of being strangled. A far better time is being had by the animal in Girl With a White Dog from just a few years later, though the tension is evident on the face of the artist's first wife.
You can't imagine Leon Kossoff taking five years over Building Site, Victoria Street from 1961. This is one painting you can't view in two dimensions. Get right up close and take a side-on look at the incredible texture of the brushwork, as if all the mud on that construction site is being churned up into paint. Frank Auerbach was at it as well, Rebuilding the Empire Cinema, Leicester Square. Both were pupils of Bomberg, and there's a feeling here, at least for a bit, that the show is starting to make sense.
There's a big section devoted to Freud's later studio work, in which he moved away from his earlier approach to use coarser brushwork. He stood to paint, creating high viewpoints, and the studio is as much the subject as the sitters. Fourteen fine pictures here, including Leigh Bowery and Britain's most famous benefits supervisor, Sue Tilley, Sleeping by the Lion Carpet.
After the second helping of Freud, there's more Bacon, looking at how he used photographic sources in his work. In Three Figures and Portrait from 1975, there's the looming presence of the artist's lover, George Dyer, who committed suicide a few years earlier.
It was RB Kitaj who championed figurative art of this kind in the face of the then dominant abstraction with a show he curated in 1976, coining the term School of London to describe it. There are three Kitaj paintings here, and they're refreshingly more interesting than much of his earlier work now to be seen in the Pop Art show in Chichester. Michael Andrews was also included in that 1976 exhibition, but Melanie and Me Swimming is from a couple of years later.
Freud's muse, Celia Paul, is perhaps the best known, and has two paintings here, as has Cecily Brown. In the latter's Teenage Wildlife, something you probably shouldn't be looking at can just be glimpsed through the foliage. Lynette Yiadom-Boakye paints her pictures of people who don't actually exist in just one day. Take that, Coldstream and Uglow. But it's probably Jenny Saville's Reverse that sticks in the memory. It's huge and it's fleshy. It's All Too Human.
Practicalities
All Too Human is on at Tate Britain until August 27 and is open daily from 1000 to 1800. Full-price tickets cost £19.50, or £17 if booked in advance; they're available online here. The nearest London Underground station is Pimlico on the Victoria Line, about five minutes' walk away.
Images
Stanley Spencer, Patricia Preece, 1933, Southampton City Art Gallery. (c) The Estate of Stanley Spencer/Bridgeman ImagesLucian Freud, Girl With a White Dog, 1950-51. (c) Tate
Leon Kossoff, Children's Swimming Pool, Autumn Afternoon, 1971, Tate. (c) Leon Kossoff
Michael Andrews, Melanie and Me Swimming, 1978-79, Tate. (c) The Estate of Michael Andrews
Jenny Saville, Reverse, 2002-03. (c) Jenny Saville. Courtesy of the artist and Gagosian
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