Sickert In Venice, Dulwich Picture Gallery, London.
By William Packer, The Financial
Times 11.03.09
Sickert, born in 1860, was perhaps the most important British
artist of his time, especially in terms of his influence on the
development of the early Modern British School. A natural
cosmopolitan (he was of Danish-German extraction), after leaving
the Slade he had been briefly Whistler’s assistant, with whom
inevitably he had quarrelled, and then, in Paris, had known Manet
and befriended Degas, with whom he worked. Well before the 1880s
were out, and still in his 20s, he had had direct practical
experience of current developments in France.
To argue then, as Robert Upstone, curator of Dulwich Picture
Gallery’s exhibition does, that it was in Venice in his mid-30s
that Sickert found his true identity as an artist is perhaps to
stretch a point too far. But to say as much is to quarrel with an
emphasis rather than a principle. Rather, it would seem that at a
time when his marriage was in crisis, his career as yet critically
uncertain and his resources low, Venice offered hope and then an
escape and lasting stimulus. Above all, as indeed for Whistler in
1879, Venice afforded Sickert time and opportunity to confirm him
in his methods, his practice and his formal interests.
He had first visited Venice in 1894 and returned the following
autumn with his wife, Ellen. He was back early in 1896, his wife
finally leaving him that summer, unable to accept his infidelity,
while he stayed on. And for the next 10 years or so he would
maintain a studio, and return regularly for extended periods. At
first, his subjects were exclusively architectural, and, unlike
those of Whistler, who had looked to the “unseen” Venice of the
backstreets and canals, were drawn for the most part on familiar
tourist views.
Such paintings and studies supply the first half of the show.
Some of these drawings and smaller paintings were done on the spot
but what is clear, both from the nature of the particular image and
the quality of its notation, is that many, including the
spectacular façades of San Marco, were worked from secondary
references, from photographs or postcards. Frequently the image is
squared-up and repeated, with variations on mood, time of day and
figurative detail. It was something of a production line, and was
to prove quite lucrative, especially in Paris.
This is not necessarily a problem, for painters have had to come
to terms with the photograph ever since its invention. Sickert,
however, had argued publicly against working from a photographic
source, and would keep his subsequent accommodation to it to
himself until later in his life. But in Venice that inner conflict
was already resolved. What he would make was never in any sense a
mere copy, but a true painting, a new thing distinct in itself.
With the turn of the century, Sickert turned to Venice in its
more human aspect, as Whistler and Sargent had before him. He was
living and working in San Polo, and drew his models from the
streets and cafés. Several became his friends and perhaps his
mistresses, La Giuseppina, Carolina del’Acqua and La Inez, who all
figure prominently in the second, figurative half of the show.
There are women in natural, relaxed intimacy, alone or in
conversation.
Beautifully balanced between tone and colour, they are lovely
things, for all that they hint at the darker paintings of women
with which, back in London, they so nearly coincide. Sickert was to
regret he hadn’t worked more than he did from this living Venice,
which he said would have kept him going for years. He left in 1904,
and, in spite of all intentions, was not to return until 1929.
Leaving the exhibition, the visitor is directly confronted,
across the gallery, by Veronese’s great Petrobelli Altarpiece,
dismembered in 1795 and now for the first time as far as possible
reassembled. Dulwich owns the large lower right-hand portion, long
thought to be a discrete work. Cleaning gave the lie, and other
portions were recognised in the national galleries of Scotland and
Canada.
A chance visit by Dulwich’s own Xavier Salomon to the small
Blanton Museum at Austin, Texas, discovered the lovely head of the
Archangel Michael, here the tiny keystone of the entire structure.
Don’t miss it.