The Princes in the Tower. Sir John Everett Millais, 1878. Oil on Canvas, Royal Holloway, University of London
Now for something that everybody knows. Millais’ Princes in the Tower is less of a pictorial reference to Shakespeare or the representation of a well-known scene from English history than a reflection of his own time.
In this instance; Millais’ representation of the Princes embodies the Victorian tendency for the idealisation of childhood innocence and the supposedly inherent naturalness of unformed humanity- both of which developed as a response to the industrialisation of nineteenth century society and the influence that it exercised over the lives of adults and children alike.
The contrast between the children in the painting and known images of the working poor could not be more plain; and in this sense there are grounds to argue that Millais’ work provided the contemporary viewer with a pictorial refuge from the ugliness and inequality of Industrial Britain.
This habit of taking refuge in romanticised representations of the historical/literary past is a tendency that still exists today; but the contemporary symbolism of The Princes in the Tower does not end with the Princes themselves. The looming shadows in the painting could equally be seen to represent the sinister influence of a progressively industrial society- although it cannot be definitively ascertained that this view coincided with the intentions of the artist.
In relation to the play; the painting assumes a reasonably widespread familiarity with the historical past and key works of English literature, which in turn reflects the increased prosperity of those who benefited from Britain’s industrial growth – and it is a reasonably certain fact that, despite the availability of print culture, images of this kind would not have been widely seen in the mid to late nineteenth century.
Henri Fuseli, Macbeth and the Witches . Oil on canvas (date and location unknown)
Henri Fuseli’s Macbeth and the Witches is a painting of contrast between the incorporeality of the witches and the physical solidity of Macbeth. As is usual with Fuseli’s works; this is achieved by means of a painterly contrast between ‘light’ and ‘dark’ in a way that is symbolic as well as material. In other words; the hidden darkness of Macbeth is revealed by contrast with that of the witches who, while they seek to mislead through obscure prophecy do not themselves instigate the murderous actions of the eponymous ‘King’:
‘Say from whence/You owe this strange intelligence, or why/Upon this blasted heath you stop our way/With such prophetic greeting? (Act I :Scene III)
In fact, it is Macbeth who commands the witches to speak; and when they fail to explain their prophecy places his personal interpretation on the witches’ words in order to realise his own latent ambition.
Returning to the painting; Fuseli translates words in to visual language not only through chiaroscuro or the contrasting use of light and dark but also through the illusion of movement within a static medium. The ‘blasted heath’, for example, is indicated by the darkened sky, the disordered hair and clothing of Macbeth and the clothing of the witches- although whether the heath is ‘blasted’ by a temporal or supernatural wind is not made clear by either the visual or the literary text.
To conclude; while painted representations of Shakespeare in fine art provide a basic outline of the ‘story’ it is left to the viewer to provide the imaginative details and to ‘piece out [the] imperfections’ (Henry V: Prologue) of the artist with their own thoughts.
The Mock Marriage of Orlando and Rosalind. Walter Howell Deverell , circa 1848 to1854. Birmingham Museums and Art Gallery
I have nothing particularly ‘academic’ to say about this painting other than to comment on the idyllicised woodland setting; untamed imagery being a common painterly device within the context of nineteenth century industrialisation.
From a technical and artistic viewpoint Deverell’s Orlando and Rosalind is concerned with colour rather than with form; using contrast rather than shape to manipulate and direct the viewer’s eye. The various greens of the sylvan and pastoral background are contrasted and offset by the ferns in the foreground and the green stockings worn by the third figure.
The remainder of the painting predominantly consists of black and brown tones; with a focus for the eye in the brighter tones of Rosalind’s attire.
However, the main point about this painting is that there is no such thing as ‘pure’ colour.
What appears to be white is in reality a combination of blue, yellow ochre and grey. Shades of ‘brown’ are created through varying combinations of yellow ochre, red and black – while the ‘green’ areas of the painting actually incorporate additional shades of yellow and brown.
Re-presenting colour is therefore a form of optical illusion; wherein the eye is encouraged to see something other than what is actually there. Even the concept of naming and defining things by colour is the purposeful over-simplification of a more complex physical reality.
King Lear disinheriting Cordelia fresco John Rogers Herbert 1850 Art in Parliament Collection
This nineteenth century execution of a scene from King Lear references classically Renaissance conventions of pictorial representation in terms of the triangular relationship between Lear, Cordelia and Regan/Goneril; thereby incorporating nostalgia for times past in a similar way to Waterhouse’s adaptation of a scene from The Tempest.
But rather than using natural realism as a means of distinguishing between pre and post –industrial Britain; this painting seeks to evoke nostalgia for the ostensibly superior civilisations of ancient Greece and Rome through visual references to the sartorial and architectural references of the classical world.
In this respect; it bears certain similarities to Raphael’s School of Athens(1509-1510)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_School_of_Athens
which likewise seeks to romanticize learning by clothing it in the trappings of (neo)classicism.
However, where Raphael’s painting idealizes intellectualism in a general sense of the term; John Herbert’s emphasis on Lear incorporates a comparatively specific focus on the Shakespearean text in order to refute the eighteenth century equation of Shakespeare’s plays with literary barbarism.
As with Fuseli’s adaptation of Titania and Bottom, Herbert’s objective may have been to ‘update’ Shakespeare’s play ; using classical imagery to contemporize his chosen Shakespearean theme. But the interesting thing about this painting is that the source play itself plays with the relationships between barbarity and civilization in terms of the integral conflict between Lear and his daughters.
In this sense, it could be argued that Herbert’s painting operates on two barely integrated levels; one of seeking to resolve the conflict between past and contemporary perceptions of Shakespearean culture and one of attempting to reconcile the purposeful (albeit partial) barbarism of the originating text with the classical visuality of Herbert’s work.
Miranda The Tempest John William Waterhouse oil on canvas 1916
Private Collection.
The style and content of paintings are determined by the time in which they are produced as much as by the subject matter and/or inspirational sources of a particular image.
In the case of The Tempest as re-presented by Waterhouse; the detailed attention to nature and the romanticised medievalism of the overall painting is arguably a response to the continued industrialisation of Western society- and above all the destructive influence of machine technology as epitomised by the First World War (1914-1917).
In this sense; the defining influences of the painting are akin to those which led to the formation of the Arts and Crafts Movement (circa.1880-1910) under the influence of writers and artists such as John Ruskin and William Morris. As with this representation of a scene from The Tempest; the point of the Arts and Crafts Movement was the nostalgic referencing of a pre-industrial and supposedly more beneficial way of life.
Although Waterhouse’s painting romanticises the past in a way that would undoubtedly be contradicted by medieval historians; it does not entirely conform to the nostalgic ideal of nature as a beneficent influence. Rather, the sinking of the ship in the raging sea represents the equally destructive power of nature itself. However, given that the ‘storm’ was conjured by Prospero; the sinking ship could also be interpreted as a symbol of man’s ability to effect his own destruction within the context of war.
History aside; as an artist what interests me about this painting is the detail of the sea and the colour combinations that are used in the execution of both sea and sky to create a lasting sense of natural realism.
tate.org.uk
Titania and Bottom Henri Fuseli c.1790. Currently on display in the Clore Gallery, Tate Britain, London, UK
I first saw this painting when I was eleven- and at this age was more interested in the painting than Shakespeare’s text.
Pictures provide immediate access to the ‘story’ and when the painting derives from the text of a play it enables you to respond and imagine in much the same way as to a staged performance.
In a way, the painting is a performance; stories told upon the stage are much the same as stories that are told through art- and it is through this painting that I first began to develop an interest in Shakespeare as pictorial narrative.
As an eighteenth century art work; Titania and Bottom reflects the Neoclassical movement that equally influenced the architectural styles, dress, literary tastes and manners of the age.
The figurative conventions employed are directly influenced by the sculpture, art and dress of ancient Greece and Rome in order to re-present Shakespeare’s play in a form and style that would have been acceptable to the audiences of the time.
The widespread re-modelling of eighteenth century art, design and culture in accordance with the ideal of classical civilisation led many to view the cultural expressions of the sixteenth to seventeenth centuries as crude and uncivilised; even barbaric- so it may be that Fuseli relied on classical imagery and references to earlier sculptural/painterly traditions in order to invest Shakespeare’s play with a degree of contemporary acceptability and universal appeal.
History aside; what I have always loved about this painting is it’s ability to tell an entire story within a single image- and indeed infinite different narratives within the imagination of the viewer.
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Titania and Bottom – Henri Fuseli – c.1790
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Shrine of Shakespeare – Sanford Robinson – 1858
