The Myth Painter 31st July 2009
J.W. Waterhouse The Royal Academy London
Classicists may well know John William (or Nino) Waterhouse (1849-1917) for his paintings of Greek Myths. The images are probably well-known as illustrations of texts of Ovid or Homer. Calendars using his paintings often sell well. Yet this is his first major exhibition in London for many years and shows the largest ever retrospective collection of his paintings. Many are in Tate Britain (though not always on display), others are in English provincial galleries, and some have come from as far as Australia for this show.
He has been out of fashion as a Victorian painter, often regarded as sentimental and conservative in style, and recently the young women who feature in nearly all of his works have been looked at with disapproval and a suspicion of an unhealthy fascination. His reputation ought to be enhanced by this exhibition for, whatever comparisons can be made with other more modern work being done at the same time, he is clearly a terrific painter.
Look at Circe Invidiosa, for example (above middle).
Reproductions cannot convey the quality of the green he has found to give this image its attractive yet troubling atmosphere. The story is from Ovid’s Metamorphoses 14 and shows Circe jealously poisoning the sea after Glaucus, who loves Scylla, has rejected her so that Scylla will be turned into a monster. Waterhouse’s women are almost always highly attractive yet slightly dangerous creatures. His paintings feature Circe, Ariadne, Proserpina, Penelope, Echo, the Sirens and the nymphs who tempt Hylas in perhaps his best known picture (above top).
Other paintings are based on figures from English literature: the Lady of Shalott and Miranda from the Tempest. While classics teachers may often use these images to illustrate the stories of Greek mythology and particularly the way they are told by Ovid, it is worth paying some attention to the context in which Waterhouse was working. The Pre-Raphaelite painters (Rossetti, Millais, Holman Hunt) were clearly a great influence, but Waterhouse was still painting in what appears to be a similar style long after the Victorian period and also long after Picasso’s Demoiselles d’Avignon. This exhibition enables us to look at Waterhouse not just as an illustrator of stories but as an individual stylist and original painter. Is it the use of Greek mythology which makes him appear old-fashioned? Or is his use of unusual and troubling stories from Ovid a precursor of the kind of criticism now current for Ovid, which sees him not as an amusing but slight poet but as a subversive and ironic writer reworking and recreating the old stories in a new way? Perhaps we should not be saying, “Look at this charming portrayal of the Echo and Narcissus story” but “How does Waterhouse create a disturbing image of the young woman in this story?” There are also hints in the notes to the exhibition of Waterhouse’s possible interest in the occult particularly in the figure of Proserpina who seems to appear in many of his pictures although she is not named as such. Claudian’s poem the Rape of Proserpina seems to have been important to him. Questions can also be raised over possible misogyny in his portrayal of women as femmes fatales, always tempting the men in the pictures to danger, and over his fascination with young women, girls even, in sexually ambiguous poses. It may be thought however that here we are retrospectively attributing the unease of our own period back onto the late nineteenth century when a portrayal of childhood may have had very different connotations. This show seems to have been popular with the public who have been brought face to face with a demanding series of images based on Latin and Greek authors. Without a basic knowledge of the foundation texts that classicists seek to keep before the gaze of young people in Europe, the subject mater of these paintings would be baffling to many viewers. Should we really just read them as examples of significant form, of just a collection of shapes and colours, or should we know or have to work out what story the painter is trying to tell?
J.W. Waterhouse The Royal Academy London
Classicists may well know John William (or Nino) Waterhouse (1849-1917) for his paintings of Greek Myths. The images are probably well-known as illustrations of texts of Ovid or Homer. Calendars using his paintings often sell well. Yet this is his first major exhibition in London for many years and shows the largest ever retrospective collection of his paintings. Many are in Tate Britain (though not always on display), others are in English provincial galleries, and some have come from as far as Australia for this show.
He has been out of fashion as a Victorian painter, often regarded as sentimental and conservative in style, and recently the young women who feature in nearly all of his works have been looked at with disapproval and a suspicion of an unhealthy fascination. His reputation ought to be enhanced by this exhibition for, whatever comparisons can be made with other more modern work being done at the same time, he is clearly a terrific painter.
Look at Circe Invidiosa, for example (above middle).
Reproductions cannot convey the quality of the green he has found to give this image its attractive yet troubling atmosphere. The story is from Ovid’s Metamorphoses 14 and shows Circe jealously poisoning the sea after Glaucus, who loves Scylla, has rejected her so that Scylla will be turned into a monster. Waterhouse’s women are almost always highly attractive yet slightly dangerous creatures. His paintings feature Circe, Ariadne, Proserpina, Penelope, Echo, the Sirens and the nymphs who tempt Hylas in perhaps his best known picture (above top).
Other paintings are based on figures from English literature: the Lady of Shalott and Miranda from the Tempest. While classics teachers may often use these images to illustrate the stories of Greek mythology and particularly the way they are told by Ovid, it is worth paying some attention to the context in which Waterhouse was working. The Pre-Raphaelite painters (Rossetti, Millais, Holman Hunt) were clearly a great influence, but Waterhouse was still painting in what appears to be a similar style long after the Victorian period and also long after Picasso’s Demoiselles d’Avignon. This exhibition enables us to look at Waterhouse not just as an illustrator of stories but as an individual stylist and original painter. Is it the use of Greek mythology which makes him appear old-fashioned? Or is his use of unusual and troubling stories from Ovid a precursor of the kind of criticism now current for Ovid, which sees him not as an amusing but slight poet but as a subversive and ironic writer reworking and recreating the old stories in a new way? Perhaps we should not be saying, “Look at this charming portrayal of the Echo and Narcissus story” but “How does Waterhouse create a disturbing image of the young woman in this story?” There are also hints in the notes to the exhibition of Waterhouse’s possible interest in the occult particularly in the figure of Proserpina who seems to appear in many of his pictures although she is not named as such. Claudian’s poem the Rape of Proserpina seems to have been important to him. Questions can also be raised over possible misogyny in his portrayal of women as femmes fatales, always tempting the men in the pictures to danger, and over his fascination with young women, girls even, in sexually ambiguous poses. It may be thought however that here we are retrospectively attributing the unease of our own period back onto the late nineteenth century when a portrayal of childhood may have had very different connotations. This show seems to have been popular with the public who have been brought face to face with a demanding series of images based on Latin and Greek authors. Without a basic knowledge of the foundation texts that classicists seek to keep before the gaze of young people in Europe, the subject mater of these paintings would be baffling to many viewers. Should we really just read them as examples of significant form, of just a collection of shapes and colours, or should we know or have to work out what story the painter is trying to tell?
The women seem remarkably reminscent of the femmes fatales of the best of Gustave Moreau's work. Similarly with much symbolist painting, perhaps we need to see the paintings as representating both of actual figures (who need a certain amount of knowledge), but also of more formal representations of type (Waterhouse's Circe works both as an 'illustration' of Circe herself and of a female type.). Moreau's Les Prétendants has an obvious myhtological subject, but one that the painter hides by Odysseus' conspicuous absence from the frame. Part of the allure of such pictures, maybe, is that confirmation of their subject matter often lies slightly out of reach?
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