Paul Sandby at the RA

 
Soon after it opened, I went to the Royal Academy’s exhibition of Paul Sandby watercolours (which remains open until 13 June, so plenty of time still to visit).  Sandby (1731-1809) is called “the father of English watercolour” because of his particular genius, which paved the way for Girtin, Turner and others, but also because he elevated the watercolour to the status of serious art.  Previously, there had been a feeling that watercolour was a working tool, perhaps for colouring maps, or an effete thing that young ladies might play at, but that art meant oils.  This may have been more than a social or cultural issue – depth of colour and opacity may have been technical problems in the earlier periods, though I am straying well beyond my knowledge now.

In this light, the exhibition is full of interest.  First, of course, it is pleasant to walk through half a dozen rooms lightly hung with paintings, and to admire them free of crowds (even on a Friday evening, there were perhaps five to ten people in each room) – thinking of the sweating, obscuring hordes elbowing each other in the rooms below, straining for a glimpse of a Van Gogh at the RA’s main exhibition.

The work of Paul Sandby is varied: there are maps that he worked on for the government, aids to the suppression of Scotland; there are vicious cartoons in the style of – and ridiculing – Hogarth; there are the famous cries of London series of illustrations of street traders; and there are topographical and landscape paintings of countryside, great houses, and other striking views.  As far as I recall, everything is British – I don’t think he painted outside the country, unlike the habit of the painters after him.

I enjoyed it, and I shall probably revisit.  I shall also visit the concurrent exhibition, in an adjoining room, of eighteenth century watercolours from the RA’s own collection, to see what others were painting during his lifetime, and what the young bloods were doing as Sandby came into old age.  But I did feel that, for me at least, Sandby’s work was more purely illustrative than I would like, and seemed at times a little flat on the paper.  This is, I realise, setting a very high standard indeed, and I wouldn’t want it thought that I was dismissive of his work at all.  There is a quiet elegance, a congruity of colour and composition which is very attractive, and a subdued sense of drama in several paintings, especially of trees, and one or two of the views of Windsor Castle (eg View of Windsor on a Rejoicing Night, 1768 - below).  There is also a delicate and sly humour in the characters he portrays – the mincing elegance of two passers-by in one painting, or the improper advances being made in a pavilion in one of the Windsor views (top).

  
Sandby’s work is delightful, and I will visit again.  But I shall look out for opportunities to drink the headier drafts of Girtin and Turner soon, too.

Comments

[glo]

To Dark Puss (end of the message)
Last year, I was offered a book on meals and food in Proust's novel. The book includes excerpts from La recherche and old recipes too. I have only browsed it, and still have to focus properly on it. To tell the truth, I was put off when I found a recipe involving alive lobsters that the cook was supposed to throw in boiling water! Not to my liking at all, although sadly it is the right and only way to cook them. I also found recently in a bootsale a book commenting Proust's novel from an historical perspective and explaining what Proust was refering to in real life. And now that I have read the Powellian saga, I feel that I could engage in reading the whole Proust saga to see why some people compared the two writers. If your goal is still to read Proust, I thought we could read it together/simultaneously and report on this weblog, Mr Bagshaw permitting of course, and unless he wants to join in the pain too.
Of course, this will be a very cool thing, without deadlines or duties, and not with a competitive spirit. And if we are tired with Proust, we could let him down and come back later when we are in the mood.
I propose to start in July or August, and I hope that I will be able to keep my promises. What do you think, Dark Puss ?

[glo]

Dear Dark Puss,
Glad to see you are still with us, and I hope you will continue to visit this weblog despite having one of your own.
Yes, that's "Turner and the Masters" indeed. I was planning to go to London to see it, and then I was informed that the exhibition was due to be displayed on the continent too. Lucky us! I especially like the marine scenes from Turner, and his wonderful skies too. I will tell you more when I have visited.

Beside, I remember that we discussed Proust a few months ago , and I owe you an accurate answer about him.
I talked to a fan of Proust who rereads La recherche on a very regular basis, just like Mr Bagshaw rereads Powell or even more often. He gave me two tips that I want to transmit to you. First, he told me that he has never read Proust's work from the first page to the last page, but he recommends to forget about some pages, and then the following time, you read what you missed. He says that's the best way to cope with the whole if you want to enjoy it. Secondly, he said that usually readers take Proust too seriously; Proust'aim was to depict the French aristocrats and the socialites of his time humoristically, and he wanted them to look ridiculous. Then, the right mood for reading is to be light-headed and easygoing.

[Dark Puss]

Glo, do you mean "Turner and the Masters"? If it is that one then I certainly visited it at Tate Britain and thought it very good indeed. Very interesting to see where Turner failed to paint anything half as good (for example his copy of Titian) and of course where he begins to show his mastery and to move painting in new and exciting directions.

I hope you like it as much as I did.

[glo]

First time I hear of Paul Sandy. Sadly, I won't visit this exhibition but I will will soon visit the exhibition on Turner that was in London last winter, and I am very happy about that because Turner is one of my favourite English painters. Did you see it, Mr Bagshaw?