Vol. 165 / No. 1447
Vol. 165 / No. 1447
Pallant House Gallery, Chichester, 13th May–8th October
With the recent trend to ‘discover’ women artists who have been previously overlooked and underappreciated in the history of art, many are finally getting the recognition they deserve. However, we are not the first generation to undertake this task, and some artists being ‘rediscovered’ have in fact never been lost. What then, if anything, can be learnt about such artists as Gwen John (1876–1939), who was brought to the fore during the first wave of feminist art history in the 1970s and 1980s? John is well-represented in national and international collections; a catalogue raisonné has been published of her oil paintings; and her work has featured in major exhibitions and publications.[1] Alicia Foster’s answer is to remove her from the scholarly silos into which she has been funnelled. The persistent view of John as a solitary artist – impoverished, obsessive and working in total isolation from the modernist art movements happening around her – is challenged in this exhibition and accompanying critical biography.[2]
The third room considers the First World War and its aftermath. Foster posits that John’s colour palette became more sombre during the war, and suggests her series of ten paintings now known collectively as The convalescent was a metaphor for post-conflict France. However, this is difficult to confirm given the great uncertainty regarding the dates of John’s oil paintings.[3] After the war she began exhibiting her work in the Salons in Paris. This is briefly acknowledged in the exhibition by the inclusion of drawings of Breton children, which are similar to works she exhibited there. The room also contains a drawing of a boy’s head by Paul Cezanne (1881–82; private collection) for comparison. Also touched upon here is John’s interest in literature, which is demonstrated through the inclusion of two of her books, loaned from the National Library of Wales, Aberystwyth.
The final room, by far the largest, contains an even greater mix of themes: religion, the artist’s penchant for repetition, the landscape, night scenes and her work on paper. Here we find the greatest concentration of work by John in the exhibition. The series of nuns that she painted for the Dominican Sisters of the Presentation in Meudon in the 1910s command the room, the subjects staring out at the viewer. Her drawings when grouped together, as the artist herself preferred, also have a significant wall presence.[4]
Although the exhibition may be smaller than expected, no doubt due to difficulty obtaining some loans, there is still much to see and consider.[5] The comparisons with fellow artists expand our understanding of the context within which John was practising, and in most cases her work emerges favourably. More archival material and works on paper would, however, have been welcome. The text panels and object labels provide a comprehensive overview, but for those seeking further explanation, Foster’s extensively illustrated, erudite and readable book will be helpful. Conversely, whereas the book can at times feel like an inventory of well- known modernists, the exhibition presents a more streamlined selection. The entrance section confusingly mixes early works with late ones, and the large reproduction of a photograph of the artist posing nude is shown without context alongside the paintings of nuns. These may simply be accommodations to the space. Overall, both the book and the exhibition present a new critical context for examining John’s œuvre. By tracing the artist’s connections to the modernist revolution happening around her, it makes her role within it clearer. Foster’s research offers an important lesson to those currently re-evaluating the role women have played in art and its history: no one acts in complete isolation.
[1] Gwen John’s work can be found in most public collections in the United Kingdom, including significant holdings at the National Museum of Wales, Cardiff, the National Galleries of Scotland, Edinburgh, and Tate as well as in international collections, such as the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, and the Yale Center for British Art, New Haven. See also D.F. Jenkins, ed.: exh. cat. Gwen John and Augustus John, London (Tate Britain) 2004; C. Lloyd-Morgan, ed.: Gwen John: Letters and Notebooks, London 2004; and C. Langdale: Gwen John: With a Catalogue Raisonné of the Paintings and a Selection of the Drawings, New Haven and London 1987.
[2] Accompanying publication: Gwen John: Art and Life in Paris and London. By Alicia Foster. 272 pp. incl. 122 col. ills. (Thames and Hudson, London and New York, 2023), £30. ISBN 978–0–500–02557–4. The exhibition will travel to the Holburne Museum, Bath (21st October 2023–14th April 2024).
[3] The foreword to the catalogue raisonné cites this series as causing problems for a chronological arrangement of John’s paintings as they were completed over a number of years from the late 1910s to at least the mid- 1920s. See Langdale, op. cit. (note 1), p.vi.
[4] Letter from Gwen John to Ursula Tyrwhitt, 6th September [postmark 6th October 1918], in Lloyd-Morgan, op. cit. (note 1), p.106.
[5] For example, the recentre hang of Tate’s permanent collection at Tate Britain, London, meant that some of its works could not be loaned. Similarly, the manuscript collection in the National Library of Wales relating to John is mostly bound into archival volumes, meaning that the display of individual objects was not feasible. Conversely, there are many rarely seen works from private collections on view.