IT LOOKS LIKE MODERN sculpture at first sight. On closer examination, these fascinatingly shaped objects have carefully constructed scales, like the markings on a ruler or a protractor, attached to them. They are astronomical instruments that were constructed for the Rajput king Sawai Jai Singh (1688-1743), and they were completed by 1734. Together, they comprise Jaipur’s Jantar Mantar (literally ‘calculating instruments’). They were used to construct what has turned out to be extremely accurate astronomical tables.
Sawai Jai Singh was very interested in mathematics, astrology, astronomy, architecture, and literature. He studied scientific works by, for example, Ptolemy, Newton, Flamstead, and Euclid. He had Euclid’s “Elements of Geometry” translated into Sanskrit. His interest in astronomy might have been inspired in1702 by his tutor Jagannatha Samrat.
The Jantar Mantar in Jaipur contains 18 separate stone instruments with metal attachments . My knowledge of astronomy is minimal. So, I will not try to explain for what purpose each was, and still can be, used. A Wikipedia page (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jantar_Mantar,_Jaipur) can help with explaining their purposes.
To a visitor, like me, who is unversed in astronomy, and to those who are familiar with modern astronomical instruments, the Jantar Mantar presents the visitor with one of the most extraordinary looking tourist sights that India has to offer. It is not unique. In addition to the one in Jaipur, Sawai Jai Singh built four others in northern India. However, the one at Jaipur is the largest and best preserved.
If one did not know its purpose, the Jantar Mantar observatory compound would seem as if it is one of the world’s most superb sculpture parks.
UNTIL ABOUT 1991, my widowed father resided in my childhood home in northwest London. For as long as I can remember, there was a collection of black and white photographs in a cardboard Kodak photographic paper box. The photographs contained images of sculptures, which my mother Helen Yamey (1920-1980) had created at St Martins School of Art in London during the later 1950s and first half of the following decade. In 1991, my father married again, and moved from our childhood home to another address. Every now and then, after my father moved, I used to ask him what had happened to the photographs. He used to reply that he did not know where they were. Maybe, he suggested, they were stored somewhere in the garage of his new home. He died in 2020. After that, I thought that it was extremely unlikely that I would ever set eyes on the photographs again.
A year or two after my father’s demise, his widow, my stepmother, arranged to meet me at a café. When she arrived, she was carrying a plastic carrier bag, which she handed to me. To my great delight, I found that it contained the Kodak box filled with photographs of my mother’s sculptures. I posted a few of these images on the Internet. Some months after that, my friend Edesio mentioned that he was impressed by the images of my mother’s sculptures, and suggested to me that I should write something about my mother and her art. This I have done.
When I began writing my mother’s biography, our daughter Mala, who is an art historian and a curator, sent me a pdf file containing the contents of a catalogue of an exhibition held at London’s Grosvenor Gallery in the 1960s. It contained mention of some of my mother’s work that appeared in the exhibition. Mala did a little more research and discovered the existence of catalogues of other exhibitions in which my mother’s sculpture was included. I investigated these catalogues and came across a few more, I was surprised by what I discovered.
During the first half of the 1960s, my mother’s sculptures were selected to appear in exhibitions alongside artworks created by artists, many of whom are now quite famous. These include, to mention but a few, David Hockney, Henry Moore, Barbara Hepworth, Howard Hodgkin, Bridget Riley, Kim Lim, and LS Lowry. These exhibitions were held when I was between 8 and 13 years old. In those days, I was not particularly interested in my mother’s artistic activities and was too young for the names of these artists to mean anything to me. In addition, I do not recall even having been told that my mother was participating in exhibitions, let alone showing her work alongside that of these now famous creators. So, until I studied these catalogues more than 40 years after my mother died, I had no idea that for a while she was in the vanguard of 20th century British sculpture. Had I not been stimulated into beginning to write about her, I would not have known that my mother, who never boasted about her achievements, had been an artist of such a high calibre.
I have written my memories of my mother in a book called “Remembering Helen: My Mother the Artist” (available from Amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DKCZ7J7X/) . In it I have tried to describe her upbringing; what she was like as a mother; and her achievements in the world of sculpture. I have included many of the images I found in the box of photographs, and our daughter has written some insightful notes on her grandmother’s sculptural styles and the techniques. I hope that my book will help bring my mother’s artistic achievements out of obscurity. Modest as she was, I feel that it would be good if she were to get at least a little of the fame she deserved.
My mother, HELEN YAMEY (1920-1980) was born in South Africa. In 1948, she came to the UK, and by 1952, she had become a sculptor. In the 1950s and ‘60s, she worked in the Sculpture Department of London’s St Martins School of Art alongside now famous sculptors including Elisabeth Frink, Anthony Caro, David Annesley, Eduardo Paolozzi, Menashe Kadishman, William Tucker, and Phillip King. Helen’s work was of a sufficiently high quality for it to be selected for showing in exhibitions that included the above-mentioned artists as well as others including David Hockney, Henry Moore, Barbara Hepworth, Paula Rego, Bridget Riley, Duncan Grant, and Jean Arp. Yet, unlike the artists listed, she and her work have become largely forgotten.
In my biography of Helen, “Remembering Helen: My Mother the Artist”, I describe her career as an artist, what she was like as a person, and explore why she did not make a reputation like those with whom she worked and exhibited. The book contains illustrations of many of Helen’s sculptures, and my daughter, Mala Yamey, an art historian and curator, has written notes about my mother’s sculptural works.
EVERY TIME WE visit the town of St Ives in Cornwall, we come across something we have not seen before. On our most recent visit at the end of June 2024, we came across three sculptures by Barbara Hepworth (1903-1975), which were new to us. I will describe two of them in this essay, and leave the third for another time.
Hepworth migrated from Hampstead (in north London) with her second husband, the artist Ben Nicholson (1894-1982), and children, to St Ives in Cornwall at the outbreak of WW2. She lived there until the end of her life. From 1949 onwards, she lived and worked in Trewyn Studios, close to the busy heart of St Ives. This building is now a Barbara Hepworth Museum and Sculpture Garden maintained by the Tate Gallery. Visitors can see Hepworth’s studio and her garden next to it. The garden was laid out to designs created by Hepworth and her friend, the composer Priaulx Rainier (1903-1986). The garden contains works by the sculptor, which are arranged exactly as their creator had planned. We pay a visit to this lovely place every time we visit St Ives.
On our latest visit, we took a wrong turning, and headed down a narrow, sloping street. To our great delight we found a large outdoor sculpture by Barabara Hepworth, standing outside the front of the town’s Guildhall. Entitled “Dual Form”, this large abstract artwork made of cast bronze was created in 1965. It is part of an edition of 7 castings. The artist presented it to the town in 1968. It has blueish hues.
The other sculpture that we had not seen before is in a side chapel of St Ives’s gothic parish church of St Ia. Unlike “Dual Form”, it is figurative rather than abstract, and it is carved in shiny white stone. It depicts the Madonna and Child. Hepworth created this work following the death of her elder son, Paul Skeaping, who was an RAF air pilot. He was killed in an accident in Thailand in February 1953. The sculpture was unveiled in the church, where she found peace during her grieving, in 1954.
The two sculptures described above give a good idea of the breadth of Hepworth’s artistic talent. More evidence of her amazing creativity can be discovered in her former home, now a museum. In another piece, I will describe another sculpture and something I had not realised about Hepworth’s connection with St Ives.
ON OUR WAY FROM Bury Street (near Piccadilly) to Trafalgar Square, we walked through the garden in the centre of St James Square. In addition to its permanent resident, a bronze equestrian statue of King William III (sculpted in 1807), the garden contained several sculptures by Helaine Blumenfeld, who was born in New York City in 1942. Her artistic education was in the USA and France. In 1970, she moved to Grantchester in Cambridgeshire where she lives and works. She was awarded an OBE in 2011.
The works on display in the square until the 26th of July 2024 have been presented by the Hignell Gallery. Although the sculptures, which are almost but not completely abstract, are made of folded sheets of metal, they look like large pieces of cloth being blown by the wind. To enjoy them fully, it is a good idea to walk around each of them. As you encircle each sculpture, you keep seeing something different. Some of the pieces reminded me a little of certain sculptures created by Tony Cragg (born 1949). Like Cragg’s sculptures, Blumenfeld’s creations are well-suited for open air display.
It was a pleasure to see these sculptures in St James Square on a hot, sunny day, when the garden was populated by office workers on the lawn, enjoying the sun and their lunches.
INSIDE KENWOOD HOUSE (in north London), the visitor can see a glorious collection of paintings by famous artists such as (to name but a few): Vermeer, Rembrandt, Constable, Gainsborough, Reynolds, Cuyp, Romney, and Van Dyck. These works are part of the Iveagh Bequest, which was the collection of paintings bought by the art collector, Irish brewing magnate, and philanthropist Edward Cecil Guinness, 1st Earl of Iveagh (1847-1927).
In the grounds of Kenwood House, there are two sculptures created after Iveagh’s death. They are both by sculptors, who are considered as some of the greatest British artists of the 20th century. One of them, which is near the house, is by Barbara Hepworth (1903-1975), and the other, which we examined when we walked past it today, illustrated above, is by Henry Moore (1898-1986). His large bronze sculpture is called “Two Piece Reclining Figure No. 5”, and was completed in 1963-1964. It has been lent to Kenwood by the Tate Gallery.
Apart from being superb sculptors and having works at Kenwood, Hepworth and Moore have other things in common. Both studied at the Leeds School of Art, where they met. And both lived in Hampstead, which is close to Kenwood, for a while between the two World Wars. While they were in Hampstead, they had studios close to each other: Hepworth in Mall Studios, and Moore in nearby Parkhill Road. You can find out more about their lives in Hampstead in my book “Beneath a Wide Sky: Hampstead and its Environs”.
I ENJOY VIEWING sculpture displayed in the open-air. Seeing sculpture ‘al-fresco’ is for me much more pleasant than viewing it in a gallery. From time to time, the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew hosts outdoor sculpture displays. In the past, I have seen exhibitions of works by Henry Moore and Dale Chihuly. This year (2024), there are several sculptures by Marc Quinn dotted around the gardens. Quinn, who was born in the UK in 1964 is an adventurous creator, whose works sometimes give rise to controversy. I do not believe that the collection of his works now on display in Kew will give rise to much, if any, controversy.
Except for several bronze sculptures depicting larger than life bonsai trees, which have been placed in the Temperate House, the rest of the sculptures are made in highly reflective stainless steel. Appropriately for their setting, these sculptures are derived from the shapes of plants, leaves, and flowers. Because they are so reflective, they reflect the plants and trees growing near them. This helps to camouflage them, or make them seem as if they are merging with the surrounding vegetation. Although they contrast dramatically with their surroundings, their reflective nature softens the contrast when viewed from certain angles.
When I see sculpture next to nature, I often feel that however well the artwork has been created, it often palls when compared to what Nature has created. Quinn’s work at Kew has this effect, but somehow, probably because it reflects the plants around it, the comparison between what he created and what has been growing naturally is not too marked, and did not disturb me.
A visit to Kew Gardens is always enjoyable, and seeing the place with Quinn’s work in situ was a good experience. The exhibition will continue until the 29th of September 2024.
ST BARTHOLOMEW THE GREAT church in the City of London was founded in 1123 by Rahere, a courtier of King Henry the 1st, who reigned from 1100 to 1135. It was originally built as the church for an Augustinian priory, which was abolished and partly destroyed during the reign of King Henry VIII. When this happened (in 1539), the priory church’s nave was demolished, leaving only the apse and beyond it, the Lady Chapel. The choir, which used to be at the west end of the apse and at the eastern end of the demolished nave, now stands at the east end of what is now the nave, but was formerly the apse. The current nave (formerly the apse of the original church) is a magnificent example of Norman architecture. I could go on describing this magnificent church in great detail, but I will not because plenty of people have done it before me (e.g., https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Bartholomew-the-Great and https://medievallondon.ace.fordham.edu/exhibits/show/medieval-london-sites/stbartsgreatchurch). Instead, I will mention a couple of the many interesting items in the church that caught my interest during a visit today (the 2nd of April 2024).
Both the objects of interest stand in the southwest corner of the church, close to the entrance that leads to the path that runs along the location of the long-since demolished apse of the priory church. The two things stand a few feet from each other. One of them is a carved stone font, said to be one of the two oldest fonts in London – the other being in the parish church of St Dunstan & All Saints in Stepney. What interested me about St Bartholomew’s font, which is still in use, is that it was here that the painter William Hogarth (1697-1764) was baptised. He had been born in a house in Bartholomew Close near the church in the Smithfield district of London.
Hogarth was a successful artist in his time, and has become recognised as one of the famous British artists of the 18th century. Not far from the font, there is a dramatic gold coloured sculpture by one of the most famous British artists of our times – Damien Hirst (born 1965). The sculpture, which is on loan from the artist, is called “Exquisite Pain.” It is Hirst’s depiction of St Bartholomew holding his skin, having been flayed. The church’s website (www.greatstbarts.com/visiting-us/artworks/damien-hirst-exquisite-pain/) revealed:
“St Bartholomew, one of the original twelve disciples, was sent as an Apostle to Armenia, where he was killed by being skinned alive. The classic iconography of the saint sees him naked, his muscles exposed, his skin hanging over his arm – and in his hands, the instruments of his torture. This statue sees Damien Hirst conform to this imagery, but give it a unique twist: the instrument in his hand is not a standard knife, but a scalpel, used in the hospital across the road which also bears the saint’s name.”
I think it is a wonderful sculpture. However, like most works of art, it might not suit everyone’s taste, but there is no doubting that its dramatic impact and skilful execution are remarkable.
While Hirst’s fame is great today, and his works command high prices, I wonder whether his reputation as a notable British artist will survive as long as Hogarth’s.
LAST YEAR, THE exhibits at Tate Britain were re arranged – or ‘rehung’ as the gallery likes to put it. In addition to rearranging the paintings and sculptures – very excellently I might add – previously unseen exhibits were added to the galleries. One of these is in a small gallery containing sculptures and some drawings by the British artist Henry Moore (1898-1986).
The additional exhibit in this gallery devoted to Moore is a glass cabinet containing a Ban the Bomb poster – a photomontage – designed by Henri Kay Henrion (1914-1990). I went to school in Belsize Park with one of his sons for a few years. The rest of the contents of the cabinet are documents – mainly press cuttings – about one of the sculptures near to the cabinet. They relate to a sculpture Moore created for the University of Chicago. The bronze sculpture, which at first sight resembles a combination of an atomic ‘mushroom cloud. with a distorted face beneath it, is called “Atom Piece (Working Model for Nuclear Energy)”. The Tate’s website (www.tate.org.uk/art/research-publications/henry-moore/henry-moore-om-ch-atom-piece-working-model-for-nuclear-energy-r1171996) explained:
“As its subtitle suggests, Atom Piece (Working Model for Nuclear Energy) 1964–5 represents the intermediary stage in the development of a much larger sculpture, Nuclear Energy 1964–6, which Moore was commissioned to make for the University of Chicago to mark the twenty-fifth anniversary of the first controlled generation of nuclear power, conducted by the Italian physicist Enrico Fermi in 1942.”
The sculpture next to the cabinet is one of 13 bronze castings that Moore had made from one of his plaster maquettes that were created whilst planning the larger sculpture commissioned by the University of Chicago. Moore donated it to the Tate.
The photomontage by Henrion shows a human skull superimposed by a mushroom cloud. He created it in about 1959. The Tate’s website mentioned that Moore was most probably aware of Henrion’s terrifying image long before he created the sculpture for Chicago:
“Moore is likely to have been familiar with Henrion’s photomontage: in 1950 he had signed a letter published in the Times protesting against the potential use of atomic weapons, and in 1958 had become one of the founding sponsors of the CND.”
Although I have seen the ‘atomic’ sculpture by Moore at Tate Britain many times, I had not taken any special interest in it. However, thanks to the superb ‘rehang’ at the gallery and the addition of the glass case containing Henrion’s image, I began to appreciate the atomic sculpture, and strangely also began to enjoy Moore’s sculptures even more than I had before.
yamey 