Truth is often stranger than fiction, isn't it? Head to the newly opened venue of Charleston in Lewes for Dorothy Hepworth and Patricia Preece: An Untold Story , an exhibition that relates a piece of art history that, you have to say, would make a good film. And here are the two principal characters: Dorothy, on the left, a talented graduate of the Slade School of Fine Art , and her fellow student, friend, lover, partner and collaborator Patricia, perhaps not quite so talented, but both passionate about art. The photograph seems to tell you a lot. Dorothy looks a little bit awkward and ill at ease, slightly frumpy, androgynous even. Patricia appears confident, glamorous, exuberant, perhaps a little.... possessive? But maybe we're getting ahead of ourselves. We need to establish the plot.... The rather retiring Hepworth and the outgoing, gregarious Preece became inseparable as students, and they planned to set up a studio together after graduation. In 1922, Preece took exam
If you want a great view of London, there's always been one place to go: Greenwich Hill. Where else then, to depict the distant towers and spires of the City about a dozen years after the Great Fire of 1666 that razed so much of it, with a windmill on the heights of Highgate or Hampstead. These days, your eyes might be drawn more to the right, to the towers of Canary Wharf.
This painting, attributed to the Dutch painter Johannes Vorsterman (or maybe Vorstermans), is the opening image in The Architecture of London, a show at the Guildhall Art Gallery in the heart of the City that's sometimes quite fascinating, at other times a little bit on the dull side. This isn't really an exhibition full of great paintings, but it demonstrates both how London has changed down the years as well as how artists have interpreted one of the greatest cities in the world.
That's not to say there aren't some big names. Such as the master of the cityscape himself, Canaletto, making London look like Venice as usual. This is the view through an arch of Westminster Bridge as it was under construction in the mid-18th century, a project that would mean that, after hundreds of years, London Bridge was no longer the only fixed crossing over the Thames.
Canaletto gives his painting scale by the addition of the figures in small boats along the bottom edge, as well as through one wonderful detail: Over on the right-hand side, a bucket hangs down from the bridge on a rope. Nice touch, Giovanni.
Several works alongside the Canaletto illustrate his influence on home-grown artists -- Samuel Scott, William James and William Marlow. Sadly, if you're hoping for a bit of Whistler for a late 19th-century river view to contrast with the Venetian, you'll be disappointed. But fast-forward to the 20th century, and you'll see a river view that at first glance looks very modern -- but then you realise what's missing.
David R. Thomas's London from the Top of the Shell Centre dates from the end of the Swinging Sixties. The capital looks remarkably pristine, and there are red buses and other vehicles on Waterloo Bridge (though the traffic seems notably light). But where's the National Theatre? Not built yet. And where are all the high-rises in the City? Not built yet either. The Post Office Tower and Centre Point are the biggest kids on the block, towering over the West End.
London is constantly changing; one large section of this show gives us pictures of bridges being demolished and rebuilt, the Great Fire and other conflagrations, post-war bomb sites and redevelopment; it's perhaps the least interesting part of the exhibition. One picture that sticks in the imagination, though, is James Wallace Ore's Bombed Ruins near St Paul's, London. Wallace Ore served in the London Fire Brigade, and his dramatic painting highlights the huge arcs of water playing from the firefighters' hoses as they struggle to extinguish the flames amid massive destruction. St Paul's looks down on the scene, still standing, but a red bus appears to sink into a sea of rubble.
There's another moving wartime scene from John Piper. The debris has been cleared from Christ Church, Newgate Street, near St Paul's, after it was gutted by German incendiary bombs. Piper's job as a war artist was to document the destruction, but this is a surprisingly calm and still image, as if the church were an ancient ruin.
One joy of this show is coming across painters whose work we don't know at all: Clifford Charman's Street of Shadows, Greenwich features a solitary male figure walking past a pub, sharply picked out by the shadow from the sun, while Ken Howard's Cheapside 10.10 a.m, 10 February 1970 is striking for its rendition of the reflection in a plate-glass window; it's a picture that makes you stop and look again, questioning what you're seeing.
This exhibition is perhaps at its best when things get more intimate, at least in terms of buildings. The view from the rear window of a suburban house seems to have been remarkably popular with artists. Algernon Newton was often a chronicler of empty streets, but the Backs of Houses, Harley Street, London from 1925 betrays traces of everyday life: some washing drying on a balcony, a wrinkled curtain, chimney smoke.
There's more going on in Jonathan Pike's Rooftops, a finely detailed view over the tops of rows of terraced houses. At adjacent windows in what appear to be separate houses, a man sits at a table while a naked woman is drying herself with a towel.
And then there's Lucian Freud's Wasteground with Houses, Paddington. It's a look out of the window of his studio, the setting for all those fleshy nudes, and Freud turns his view away for once to all the stuff that's been dumped behind the fence, most notably a mattress.
Spencer Gore was at it too: We see an Impressionistic rendering of Mornington Crescent, but also a more modernist approach to the view From a Window in Cambrian Road, Richmond, to which Gore moved in 1913. This may have been the last painting Gore worked on; although unfinished, it was used to illustrate his obituary.
The high-rise blocks where many Londoners live today have not been ignored. David Hepher's late-1970s Albany Flats records a block on the Aylesbury Estate in Southwark. Hepher slightly bowed the perspective to give the appearance of the building towering over the viewer, while he mixed sand with his paint to reproduce the grainy concrete of the architecture.
Let's finish with one close-up image we liked, by an artist we don't normally take to. There's one of Ben Johnson's acrylic cityscapes, showing the view from the National Gallery, near the start of this show. We tend to find them over-clinical, shorn as they are of people, traffic and shop signage. But this composition based on the roof trusses of Smithfield Market has a rhythmic, almost abstract quality to it, referencing the ribcages of the animal carcases sold there.
We found quite a lot to like in this show, and if you're a lover of London and keen to see some little-known artists, you'll find much to interest you. If you're expecting art on the grand scale, though, you may feel a bit short-changed. It was near-empty when we visited on a Saturday afternoon, making for an oddly flat experience in the midst of this bustling city.
Canaletto, London Seen Through the Arch of Westminster Bridge, 1747, Collection of the Duke of Northumberland
John Piper, Christ Church, Newgate Street, 1941, Museum of London
Spencer Frederick Gore, From a Window in Cambrian Road, Richmond, 1913, Guildhall Art Gallery, City of London Corporation
David Hepher, Albany Flats, 1977-9, Tate. © David Hepher, courtesy of Flowers Gallery; Photo: Tate, London 2019
Ben Johnson, Market Arcade, 1986, Museum of London
That's not to say there aren't some big names. Such as the master of the cityscape himself, Canaletto, making London look like Venice as usual. This is the view through an arch of Westminster Bridge as it was under construction in the mid-18th century, a project that would mean that, after hundreds of years, London Bridge was no longer the only fixed crossing over the Thames.
Several works alongside the Canaletto illustrate his influence on home-grown artists -- Samuel Scott, William James and William Marlow. Sadly, if you're hoping for a bit of Whistler for a late 19th-century river view to contrast with the Venetian, you'll be disappointed. But fast-forward to the 20th century, and you'll see a river view that at first glance looks very modern -- but then you realise what's missing.
David R. Thomas's London from the Top of the Shell Centre dates from the end of the Swinging Sixties. The capital looks remarkably pristine, and there are red buses and other vehicles on Waterloo Bridge (though the traffic seems notably light). But where's the National Theatre? Not built yet. And where are all the high-rises in the City? Not built yet either. The Post Office Tower and Centre Point are the biggest kids on the block, towering over the West End.
London is constantly changing; one large section of this show gives us pictures of bridges being demolished and rebuilt, the Great Fire and other conflagrations, post-war bomb sites and redevelopment; it's perhaps the least interesting part of the exhibition. One picture that sticks in the imagination, though, is James Wallace Ore's Bombed Ruins near St Paul's, London. Wallace Ore served in the London Fire Brigade, and his dramatic painting highlights the huge arcs of water playing from the firefighters' hoses as they struggle to extinguish the flames amid massive destruction. St Paul's looks down on the scene, still standing, but a red bus appears to sink into a sea of rubble.
There's another moving wartime scene from John Piper. The debris has been cleared from Christ Church, Newgate Street, near St Paul's, after it was gutted by German incendiary bombs. Piper's job as a war artist was to document the destruction, but this is a surprisingly calm and still image, as if the church were an ancient ruin.
This exhibition is perhaps at its best when things get more intimate, at least in terms of buildings. The view from the rear window of a suburban house seems to have been remarkably popular with artists. Algernon Newton was often a chronicler of empty streets, but the Backs of Houses, Harley Street, London from 1925 betrays traces of everyday life: some washing drying on a balcony, a wrinkled curtain, chimney smoke.
There's more going on in Jonathan Pike's Rooftops, a finely detailed view over the tops of rows of terraced houses. At adjacent windows in what appear to be separate houses, a man sits at a table while a naked woman is drying herself with a towel.
And then there's Lucian Freud's Wasteground with Houses, Paddington. It's a look out of the window of his studio, the setting for all those fleshy nudes, and Freud turns his view away for once to all the stuff that's been dumped behind the fence, most notably a mattress.
Practicalities
The Architecture of London is on at the Guildhall Art Gallery until December 1. It's open from 1000 to 1700 Mondays to Saturdays and 1200 to 1600 on Sundays. Full-price tickets cost £10 and can be bought online here. The gallery is right next to the Guildhall itself, just off Gresham St, and Moorgate, Bank and St Paul's are the nearest rail and Tube stations.Images
Attributed to Johannes Vorsterman, London from Greenwich Park, c. 1678, Guildhall Art Gallery, City of London CorporationCanaletto, London Seen Through the Arch of Westminster Bridge, 1747, Collection of the Duke of Northumberland
John Piper, Christ Church, Newgate Street, 1941, Museum of London
Spencer Frederick Gore, From a Window in Cambrian Road, Richmond, 1913, Guildhall Art Gallery, City of London Corporation
David Hepher, Albany Flats, 1977-9, Tate. © David Hepher, courtesy of Flowers Gallery; Photo: Tate, London 2019
Ben Johnson, Market Arcade, 1986, Museum of London
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