Sunflowers on the walls in London’s Mayfair

SINCE TIME IMMEMORIAL artists have been influenced and inspired by creators who preceded them. In the case of the German artist Anselm Kiefer (born 1945), he has been both influenced and inspired by Vincent Van Gogh (1853-1890), who was born almost a century before him. Both artists have broken boundaries, and explored new ways of expressing themselves in painting. At two Mayfair galleries, White Cube (Mason Yard; until 16 August 2025) and Thaddeus Ropac (in Dover Street), you can see some of Kiefer’s paintings that illustrate his response to Van Gogh, and in particular the Dutch artist’s depictions of sunflowers and wheat fields.

By Anselm Kiefer

At the age of 18, Anselm Kiefer made a journey following in the footsteps of Van Gogh. The White Cube’s website revealed the route he took:

“… from the Netherlands to Belgium, Paris, and finally to Arles, where, in the final years of his life, Van Gogh created many of his most iconic works.”

It is those works painted in Arles that are reflected in Kiefer’s creations that are on display in both galleries as well as in a temporary exhibition in London’s Royal Academy in Piccadilly. Almost all of Kiefer’s images at White Cube and Thaddeus Ropac contain sunflowers and/or depictions of fields of agricultural crops. Unlike Van Gogh’s paintings, there are no human figures depicted in Kiefer’s artworks. In one of them, there is a flock of menacing looking black birds with wings outstretched. Kiefer’s crops made by sticking materials onto his canvases look much more sinister than the often-vivid depictions of agricultural landscapes created by Van Gogh. In their own ways, both Van Gogh and Kiefer portray the world as a disturbed place. In the case of the Dutch artist, this might have been due to his psychologically disturbed state of mind when he was in Arles. In Kiefer’s case, one must remember that he was born at the end of WW2 in a country devastated by conflict and the horrendous dictatorship that preceded it.

Although I am often less than convinced by pairing and comparing two artists in exhibitions such as that at the Royal Academy, but putting Vincent and Anselm side-by-side is both intriguing and appropriate. Having viewed the Kiefer works at the two Mayfair galleries, I now look forward to seeing how the Royal Academy’s curators have dealt with the relationship between the two artists.

Misled by a label at an exhibition in Hull

THE FERENS ART Gallery in the centre of Hull contains a superb collection of well-displayed artworks dating from the fourteenth century until today. While we were visiting it, we viewed a temporary exhibition of works that depict sirens, the mythological females that lure sailors to their deaths. One of the exhibits, on loan from the British Museum, is a fifth century BC Greek vase, which bears one of the earliest known depictions of the Sirens and Ulysses. Magnificent as this is, another exhibit also intrigued me.

It is a painting by Annie Swynnerton (1844-1933), called “Oceanid” and created in 1904. Next to the painting, the museum has installed an information panel that includes the following:

“The first woman to join the Royal Academy since it was founded in 1768, Swynnerton forced open the door of the artworld for many to follow.”

Well, that surprised me because I knew that the female painter Angelica Kauffman (1747-1807) had been involved with London’s Royal Academy of Arts (‘RA’). She and another woman, the artist Mary Moser (1744-1809) were founding Members of the RA. However, despite these two women, the RA remained a strictly male preserve for a long time. So, how could the Ferens Gallery have justified what was written on the label next to Swynnerton’s painting? The explanation can be found on a page of the RA’s website (www.royalacademy.org.uk/article/magazine-ra250-female-invasion-women-at-the-ra):

“Finally, in 1922, the painter Annie Swynnerton became the first woman Associate of the RA (now a defunct category of membership). This historic breakthrough meant little in practice; Swynnerton was 78 years old by this point and never became a full RA. She was followed by Laura Knight who was elected as an Academician in 1936. Knight acknowledged the importance of her predecessor saying, ‘Any woman reaching the heights in the fine arts had been almost unknown until Mrs Swynnerton came and broke down the barriers of prejudice’.”

Although at first sight, the exhibition label seemed to suggest that before Swynnerton, the RA had been closed to women, it is not completely inaccurate, but I felt that its wording could easily be misleading.

From rural Cornwall to the Royal Academy in London

ONE OF MY FAVOURITE National Trust properties in England is Trerice, which is about 2.3 miles south of the Cornish town of Newquay – not one of my favourite places in Cornwall.  We visit the house and gardens at Trerice every time we spend time in Cornwall, and always discover soothing there that we had not noticed before.

This tine (June 2024), one of the volunteers working in the house pointed out a painting by John Opie (1761-1807). I had not come across his name before. Our informant told us that he had been born in Cornwall, and thought that he had been involved with the establishment of the Royal Academy. He was born at Trevallas between St Agnes and Perranporth, both of which are not far from Trerice. At an early age, his artistic talents became evident, but his father, a carpenter, wanted John to become a carpenter. A physician, Dr Wolcot, met him at the place where he was an apprentice, and reecognising John’s artistic skills, paid for him to be released from his apprenticeship. Wolcot encouraged Opie, and by the start of the 1790s, he was a successful portraitist in Cornwall.

In 1781, Wolcot took Opie to London, where his works were admired by great artists of the time including Sir Joshua Reynolds, who compared John’s work to that of Caravaggio and Velasquez. A year later, Opie began working independently of Wolcot, who had been supporting him up until then. An acquaintance of Dr Wolcot introduced Opie to the court of King George III. This led to Opie being commissioned to paint portraits of people of high rank in English society and royalty. In 1886, he was elected a full member of the Royal Academy, and in 1805 he was appointed a professor in that esteemed institution.

There are three paintings by Opie hanging on the walls of Trerice house. One is a portrait, and another a self-portrait. The third, which depicts three people playing cards, is a copy of the same picture that can be seen at Petworth house. The version at Trerice is believed to have been painted by Opie and others in his studio. Each of the three people in it have smiles. It is thought that in this painting, Opie was experimenting with the depiction of smiling. Although attractive, this picture is not as attractive as his other two paintings in Trerice.

It is always pleasant to re-visit places, and always exciting to discover something one had missed on earlier trips to that same location. As well as the lovely interiors at Trerice, the gardens surrounding it are always a joy to behold.

Entangled messaging at an exhibition at London’s Royal Academy

I LEAVE SOME EXHIBITIONS feeling both inspired and exhilarated. Some other displays of art neither thrill nor depress me. However, the current show at the Royal Academy of Art (‘RA’) in London’s Piccadilly – “Entangled Pasts 1768 – now” – left me feeling both disappointed and a little irritated. Before proceeding further, I should explain that 1768 was the year in which the RA was founded. The exhibition is, to quote its associated handout, to explore:

“… connections between art associated with the Royal Academy and Britain’s colonial histories.”

It does this by mixing artworks by academicians with those by other artists in a series of mostly poorly lit, gloomy galleries. Each of the rooms is supposed to contain works that are connected with a particular theme, although I found that the linkage between the artworks and the theme within each gallery was weak to say the least.

The sad thing is that many of the exhibits on display are interesting works of art, but seeing them altogether reminded me of visiting a poorly organised jumble sale. Although the works in each room were supposed to be thematically linked, that was hard to realise by looking at them as a group. The overarching concept of the exhibition was to, yet again, remind us of Britain’s unsavoury history of relations with ‘people of colour’. Consequently, many exhibits were ones that had been exhibited before in shows with similar messaging. One gallery managed to combine the unpleasant history of Britain’s involvement with the slave trade with another topical subject – climate change. This is probably because there are many who link colonialisation with industrialisation and its effects on climate.

Although I am presenting you with a negative view of the exhibition, I should in all fairness point out a couple of things I loved. One was an installation consisting of models of ships suspended from the ceiling by fine threads. This visually exciting work was created by Hew Locke, and was in one of the few rooms that was brightly lit. The other exhibit, which occupied two galleries was a collection of painted wooden cut-outs depicting people at a carnival. This work, which was accompanied by a soundtrack with voice and music, was created by Lubaina Hamid – like Locke a Royal Academician – in 2004. I was also interested to see the original painting of Dido Elizabeth Belle and her cousin Lady Elizabeth Murray by David Martin (1737-1797), who was a Royal Academician. These two ladies were associated with Kenwood House in north London, where a photograph of the painting is on display. It was nice to see the original. There were other artworks I liked in the exhibition, but felt that their impact was spoiled by being displayed alongside other works without much evidence of thoughtful curating.

I felt that “Entangled Pasts” was yet another ‘blockbuster’ show designed to earn income, which is greatly needed in the present difficult economic climate. This exhibition exploits the race card to attract visitors, which it appears to be doing. Just in case I have not discouraged you from seeing the show, you should know that it ends on the 28th of April 2024.

His fame as a scientist was eclipsed by Charles Darwin

A SHORT CARRIAGEWAY leads from Piccadilly into the courtyard of London’s Royal Academy of Art. It passes beneath a magnificent tall archway with a curved ceiling. Within the arch there are two doorways leading from the carriageway. The one to the west is the entrance to the headquarters of the Linnaean Society. This organisation was founded in 1788 by Sir James Edward Smith (1759–1828). It is named after the pioneer of modern taxonomy, Carl Linnaeus (1707-1778). It was he who ‘invented’ the modern method of classifying and naming animal and plant species. For example, human beings form the species Homo sapiens. After Linnaeus died, Sir James Smith purchased some of his collections of specimens, books, and other items. These are now preserved by the Society (see www.linnean.org/), which is the world’s oldest surviving organisation dedicated to the study of natural history. Its mission is to understand, disseminate information about, and protect, the natural world.

Alfred Wallace in the Linnean Society library

On the first of July 1858, a paper was read to the members of the Linnaean Society. Its title was “On the Tendency of Species to form Varieties; and on the Perpetuation of Varieties and Species by Natural Means of Selection”. Its authors were Charles Darwin (1809-1892) and Alfred Russel Wallace (1823–1913). Both men had come up with the same idea independently – namely, that evolution was based on what is now known as ‘natural selection’.  With his publication of “On the origin of species by means of natural selection” in 1859, Charles Darwin eclipsed Wallace as far as being recognised as the ‘father of modern evolutionary theory’. However, the two men continued to be good friends until the end of Darwin’s life. They are both amply celebrated for their achievements by the Linnaean Society.

Apart from making adventurous trips to study species and their variations in the Malay Archipelago – studies that led him to develop his ideas about evolution – Wallace became famous for his other endeavours. His work made him the founder of a discipline known as biogeography – the geographical distribution of species. He was also one of the first people to discuss the deleterious impact of man on the environment. His “Tropical Nature and Other Essays”, published in 1878 warned about the dangers posed by man’s activities (e.g., deforestation). In 1904, he published a work in which he made a serious scientific study of the possibility that there was life on Mars. Wallace’s deep interest in spiritualism, mesmerism, and his views on vaccination (he was against vaccination), led to the downfall of his reputation amongst his contemporaries in the scientific establishment. Sadly, after his death, his name was barely remembered until more recently when several biographies were published. These rehabilitate his reputation as a scientist of great importance.

During our recent visit to the Linnean Society, we viewed a small but fascinating exhibition about Wallace. It is being held in the Society’s magnificent library until the 20th of December 2023. The exhibits include Wallace’s personal library and other exhibits relating to his life and work. Everything is beautifully explained by good labelling, and the library staff were very friendly and informative.

William Kentridge at the Royal Academy of Art in London

THE ARTIST WILLIAM Kentridge (born 1955), son of a prominent lawyer, is a South African. His creations are usually highly imaginative and often politically challenging and critical of the subjugation of non-European African people. This is fascinating given his privileged background – having been brought up in a South Africa where the ‘white’ people were a highly advantaged section of the population until the ending of the apartheid regime (and maybe even now to some extent).

His artworks are frequently dramatic, often employing cinematographic and sometimes theatrical techniques. The messages they convey to the viewers can be both disturbing and humorous, sometimes both simultaneously. Whenever I have seen them, I have been both fascinated visually as well as moved emotionally.

The Royal Academy of Art in London’s Piccadilly has a large retrospective exhibition of Kentridge’s work until the 11th of December 2022. Apart from numerous drawings, tapestries, and other static artworks, there are plenty of his cinematographic installations on display. In fact, there are too many of these installations. Each one is amazing to see, but having so many together in one place spoiled their intended impact. Just as the first chocolate from a box is wonderful, eating all of them at once gives one indigestion, and this was the case with the Royal Academy’s crowded assemblage of Kentridge’s works. Too much was crammed together in insufficient space. To be fully enjoyed, each of his installations should be seen on their own in a sufficiently spacious environment – they need ample room to breathe and express themselves.This overcrowding was a pity because the exhibition does not allow his works to shine in their full glory.

A man from China painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds

THERE IS A ROOM in Knole House (near Sevenoaks in Kent), which contains several portraits painted by Joshua Reynolds (1723-1792). One of them is a self-portrait. Near to this, there is a portrait of a man with a red cap, seated cross-legged. His youthful face has Chinese features. The sitter is Wang-y-tong (‘Huang Ya Dong’: born c 1753). Reynolds painted him in about 1776.

Wang was one of the earliest known Chinese people to have visited England. He came over following in the footsteps of an earlier Chinese visitor, the artist Tan-Che-Qua (c1728-1796), who arrived in London in 1769. Tan met King George III, and his work was shown at the Royal Academy in 1770. In about 1770, Wang was brought from Canton to England by John Bradby Blake (1745-1773), an employee of the East India Company. Blake was a naturalist and was interested in Wang’s knowledge of cultivating Chinese plants, and their uses. Wikipedia noted:

“Wang visited the Royal Society on 12 January 1775. In a letter of 1775, he is said to be about 22 years old. He was visited at Blake’s house, where he discussed the manufacture of Chinese ceramics with Josiah Wedgwood, and acupuncture with physician Andrew Duncan.”

It also describes how Wang became a page to Giovanna Bacelli (1753-1801), who was a mistress of John Sackville, 3rd Duke of Dorset, who owned Knole House. Wang lived at Knole, and was educated at the nearby Sevenoaks School. He returned to China by 1784, at which date he was working as a trader in Canton.

Wang’s portrait hangs amongst those of many famous men painted by Reynolds, including Samuel Johnson and David Garrick, as well as the 3rd Duke. The latter is said to have paid Joshua Reynolds 70 guineas (almost £76) to paint Wang’s excellent portrait. Wang was well-received in England. It would be interesting to learn what he thought about life as he found it at Knole and other places he visited in England.

An Australian artist in London

THE ARTIST DAMIEN Hirst has given London’s art lovers a great gift. In October 2015, he opened his Newport Street Gallery (near Lambeth Bridge) to the public. Housed in a former theatre scenery workshop, which has been beautifully modernised, the gallery puts on a series of exhibitions of artworks (mainly paintings) from Hirst’s enormous personal collection, which he has been creating since the late 1980s. The current exhibition, “Cloud of Witness”, which ends on the 10th of July 2022, is of works by an artist born in Australia, who created many of his paintings in London: Keith Cunningham (1929-2014). I had never heard of him before seeing the exhibition.

Cunningham arrived in London in 1949 and enrolled at the Central School of Art and Design, where he aimed to improve his skills as a graphic designer. In 1952, having developed an interest in painting, he joined the Royal College of Art (‘RCA’), where he worked alongside now famous artists including Leon Kossoff, Joe Tilson, and Frank Auerbach. He exhibited in the prestigious London Group in 1956 and the two years following. This group had been formed as an association of modernist artists, who wished to escape the restrictive criteria of the Royal Academy. In 1964, he was invited to become a full member of the Group, but for unknown reasons he declined. By 1967, he had ceased exhibiting his work and was making his living as a graphic designer and teaching at the London College of Printing. Despite this, he continued producing paintings until his death. He kept his paintings hidden from view in a spare room. So, it is fortunate for us that Damien Hirst acquired many of them and put them on public display this year.

The Newport Street Gallery website (www.newportstreetgallery.com) describes his work succinctly:

“Cunningham’s paintings were produced in London during the post-war period, an artistic environment dominated by the likes of Francis Bacon and Lucian Freud. A student at the Royal College of Art in the mid-1950s, Cunningham worked alongside major artists such as Frank Auerbach, Leon Kossoff and Jo Tilson.

Cunningham’s sombre paintings, coated in layers of dense, sculptural brushstrokes, are populated by skulls, fighting dogs and darkly altered human figures. Like his schoolmates and teachers at the Royal College, Cunningham was interested in figurative painting, transforming the reality of everyday life into loose, slowly disintegrating forms.

His canvases, like those of Bacon, Kossoff and Auerbach, are covered in powerful strokes of dark pigments conveying strikingly expressive forms. The Cloud of Witness seeks to redefine Cunningham’s role in the London art scene of the 1950s, highlighting not only his ability but also the variety of his inspirations. To this effect, it coincides with the major show at the Royal Academy of Arts, Francis Bacon: Man and Beast, encouraging visitors to compare and contrast the works of these two artists.” Having already seen the Bacon exhibition at the Royal Academy and works by other artists mentioned in the quote, I feel that it is a good summary of what we saw at Newport Street. My favourite works in the exhibition were some of the portraits and some of the more abstract works. Undoubtedly, Cunningham was a competent artist, but having seen the exhibition, I can understand why he is not amongst the better-known artists of his generation

Blockbusters

Bauhaus

National museums in the UK do not charge entrance fees to view their permanent exhibits. However, they do charge, often quite high, fees to view special temporary exhibitions.  This is nothing new. In 1968, I saw superb exhibition at the Royal Academy about the Bauhaus school, founded in pre-WW2 Germany. It was so excellent that I visited it on three separate occasions. Likewise, with a wonderful exhibition about Tutankhamen, also held at the Royal Academy.

Now, several decades later, the museums and galleries have caught on to the idea of ‘blockbuster’ exhibitions. These try to attract vast numbers of visitors, who would not nomally visit the institution where they are being held. They often succeed in drawing the crowds, but by slightly devious means. For example, recently the Royal Academy held an exhibition called: “RUBENS AND HIS LEGACY. Van Dyck to Cezanne”. I thought, as I am sure many other visitors believed, that this was primarily an exhibition of works by Rubens. Well, it was not. There were a few paintings by this great master diluted by a far larger number of works by other artists. It would have been more honest, but less ‘sexy’ and attractive to the public, to have called this exhibition something like “THE LEGACY OF RUBENS”.

My wife visited the current exhibition at the Tate Britain, a real crowd-puller called “VAN GOGH AND BRITAIN”. Who cannot resist seeing pictures by Van Gogh? Few, judging by the crowds of people jammed into the rooms where the exhibition is being held. And, how many paintings and other works by the man who cut off his own ear were on show. There were only a few. The rest of the show was of paintings by other artists, who were definitely not of interest to the bulk of the visitors, who had paid £18 a head to see a Van Gogh show. Clearly the name of the exhibition draws in the ‘punters’. 

As with the Van Gogh exhibition, the recent Leonardo da Vinci exhibition at the National Gallery was also disappointing. A few works by the great Italian master were vastly outnumbered by works produced by inferior artists, in whom most visitors were uninterested. And, most of the ‘fillers’ in the exhibition had only tenuous connections with Leonardo.

Of course, not all blockbuster exhibitions fail to live up to their promise. Apparently, the Alexander McQueen exhibition at the Victoria and Albert Museum was a brilliant show that concentrated on the subject promised by the exhibition’s name. Another really good temporary exhibition, which attracted an entry fee, was one dedicated to Roy Lichtenstein at the Tate Modern.

Given the absence of entrance fees and the constant insufficiency of public funds, our national museums and galleries need to raise as much money as possible. The blockbuster exhibitions must be a good way of doing this. It would be better if their naming was a little more related to what the visitor is likely to see.