Sunday, 11 January 2026

Caroline Walker: On Solitude

Caroline Walker, Table Laying, Late Morning, May 2020, oil on canvas (artist copyright)
 

On a walk round the autumn sales exhibition at Sothebys last year there were a few works that really jumped out: a smallish Francis Bacon that dominated a room containing a much larger Rodin; an Anselm Kiefer so vast you would need an aircraft hangar to keep it in; and downstairs a painting by Caroline Walker (above) from the series devoted to her mother Janet. Someone bought the painting in the auction and I hope they were as excited as I would be if I were the successful bidder.

I've been looking at and thinking about Walker's work since we met by chance at Hatchards bookshop on Piccadilly before the pandemic. I'd never seen one of her paintings at that point, and when I did get to stand in front of one (at Victoria Miro, I think) my reaction to the work was inevitably influenced by my recollection of her as a disarmingly funny, rather watchful person who warned me that if I googled her name I would have to navigate past an artist who made light-hearted paintings of cows. I doubt this is the case today, with Walker enjoying a growing international reputation. Her exhibition Mothering - now at Pallant House after a successful run at Hepworth Wakefield - has attracted more critical interest than most out-of-London shows.

Caroline Walker, Me & Laurie 6 Weeks Old, 2024, oil on board (artist copyright)
 

I've been enjoying her book of the same name, although as is often the way with art books the experience of looking at the small printed versions of her paintings is nothing like that of standing among them; her paintings are often cinematic in scale, with life-size figures - a reflection perhaps of her interest in film (she would make a great cinematographer). Although Walker does base her paintings on photographs so perhaps it's fitting to see her work in reproduction like this, at several removes and leaps in scale from the real moment that originally inspired her.

What is it that makes Walker's paintings stand out so boldly from the crowd? For a start it's unusual for a contemporary artist to show us real scenes and situations in the way that Walker does. Catching sight of her painting across the room there's an immediate, vivid impression of the scene depicted. We're used to quickly seizing on and identifying images these days, and with Walker the subject is often immediately itself. 

Clearly this is no accident. Walker talks with unusual candour and thoughtfulness about her own work, often drawing attention to her choice of subject matter. In recent years she has focused on the work that women tend to do, from domestic chores to child-raising (paid and unpaid). With Mothering this includes her own experience as a mum twice over, an experience she has analysed (and continues to investigate) with the rigour of a social scientist.

Anyone who has spent time looking at Victorian art will be aware how easy it is for depictions of children to slide into sentimentality, but I think Walker is too tough for that. When asked at a recent event how - in light of this challenge - she goes about painting youngsters she replied with typical disarming humour, 'Well I always try to remember that the head's going to be very big, you know disproportionally big.' A child in a painting is primarily another visual problem to solve.

So there's a sense in which Walker is a hard-nosed documentary maker but her paintings are not simply statements of fact. Her artistic process involves taking numerous photos, setting them aside for a while, then going back to them and either selecting the most interesting one or combining several to create a composition. She then makes drawings (I think to puzzle out the values) and, when she is ready, sets about painting with sureness and vigour. At different stages in this process the moment to be depicted is selected (for design, palette, light, mood), cropped, edited, simplified into lights and darks, and then re-imagined fairly rapidly in paint on canvas. 

Which is a lengthy way of saying that each painting is a carefully considered and yet spontaneous creative act. Walker is a 21st century Scottish Colourist, both controlled and flamboyant.

Caroline Walker, Desayuno, 2017, oil on linen (artist copyright)

When I met Caroline Walker she had been experimenting with different genres and approaches, on the one hand making documentary paintings of women working in nail bars and on the other visiting Palm Springs and LA, where she directed professional models in carefully staged scenes. These paintings have cinematic qualities of tension and anxiety, but on her return to the UK Walker turned away from this approach and back to documentary. 

For the series Home, made with the charity Women for Refugee Women and exhibited at Kettle's Yard, she could not direct the women who posed for her as she had her American models. The photo shoots were sometimes stressful, reflecting the difficult life situations of these vulnerable women, but Walker's tangential, glance-from-the-corner-of-the-eye approach proved a good one and the resulting paintings are both intimate and powerful.   

Caroline Walker, Joy, 11.30am Hackney, 2017, oil on linen (artist copyright)

If this was a tricky assignment then Walker's next major series was in some ways more challenging. Having spent the previous years searching for inspiration among unfamiliar people and places, she turned her attention to the most familiar person and place she knew. The painting series Janet (Ingelby Gallery 2020) is a sort of fly-on-the-wall documentary following Walker's mother on her daily round of chores, a project I imagine both women began in some trepidation given that it would bring public attention to their personal lives. 

But this of course is what makes the paintings so fascinating: Janet's everyday world is intensely private, shared once upon a time by her children, one of whom happened to become an artist with an uncanny ability to conjure magic out of ordinary domestic spaces... Given their shared history Walker must have felt she was viewing her mother through time as well as in space, and I think maybe it's this that lends the paintings their strange, haunting beauty. Janet herself remains (to my eye) rather remote, tantalisingly unknowable even to (perhaps especially to?) her own daughter. 

Just to add another layer of generational complexity, Caroline herself was pregnant while working on this series and now has two children of her own. They appear here and there in Mothering as do other members of her family. Maybe art historians of the future will place Walker's work within the context of the private-is-public social media world, and yes these colour-soaked, eminently instagrammable paintings are certainly of our time.

Caroline Walker, Daphne, 2021, oil on linen (artist copyright)

But I don't think we should focus solely on the contemporaneity of these paintings any more than we should on Walker's choice of motifs. My personal favourite in the current exhibition is Daphne, a typically large-format depiction of the view through a wide downstairs window into the living room where Walker's young daughter can be seen. This was a moment seized by the artist (who rushed out via the open door on the right to take the photo) and then lovingly reimagined. We may notice the framing first - all that blue - and then the bold darks and lights of houseplant and ceiling lamps and then, her head framed between cushions, the little girl. She is inseparable at this moment from the interior with its honeyed light, a child at home where she belongs and perhaps just coming into awareness of this fact; her mother is outside among the blue shadows, looking in.

We all view art through the filter of our own experiences and predelicitions, and subject-wise what I love most about Caroline Walker's paintings is her representation of solitude. Not loneliness (although solitude can be lonely, of course) but the experience of being what we all are: an individual with our own inner life. The people she depicts are often lost in thought, viewed (even when close up) across the space that separates one person from another.

Caroline Walker: Mothering is at Pallant House, Chichester, until 26 April.  





Monday, 6 October 2025

Jamie Luoto: Shadows of Unseen Grief

Jamie Luoto, The Swallowing, 2025 (copyright the artist)
 

I recently went along to the private view of an exhibition by an artist I'd never heard of, at a gallery I'd never visited before, braving the south London rain to do so and - thanks to a delayed train - having to run to get there before the end. I don't run often, but something about the image of the work sent out in the Kristin Hjellegjerde gallery newsletter forced me to make the effort. 


The Swallowing, by American painter Jamie Luoto, shows a naked woman kneeling on a dark polished floor, her body curled around a white mask and her own head invisible. The light that illuminates her skin also throws (or seems to throw) shadows on the curtain behind her, while a glass of white liquid that may or may not be milk hovers in the air above her at a perilous angle. In fact something has already spilt on her, and when we look up from the viscous drips we see the shadow of a dog or wolf, a terrifying animal with saliva dribbling from its snarling mouth. Another, equally fierce beast faces it, menacing the tiny hares which are running around below them, across the hump of shadow cast by the woman's curved back... 


The woman's shadow has a tail, which seems to belong to a black cat half-hidden between her body and the curtain. Meanwhile the glossy cherries scattered on the floor in front of her (have they fallen from her hand?) cast their own shadows; one falls on her ankle, marking the skin.


This was the painting that drew me from Hastings on a late-running train, then from London Bridge station in driving rain. I arrived to find the gallery full of people drinking wine and talking animatedly, ie a typical pv scene. The first work I came to showed a dead hare, its back legs suspended in the air, in a circle of cherries. The hare was painted beautifully in the manner of old Dutch still life but with 21st century sensitivity.


Jamie Luoto, Cherry Hare, 2025 (copyright the artist)

And there were its tiny shadow-cousins, fleeing giant wolf-dogs in a shadow play that was also perhaps not a shadow play, and there the woman curled protectively around herself on the floor that might be a stage (in a room full of people who were, perhaps, unwittingly playing the role of audience). Yet to learn what had driven Jamie Luoto to make the haunting works in this exhibition, I gazed at the painting, profoundly moved in a way that is hard to describe but which had something to do with feeling-memories of childhood terror and emotional distress - the kind of visceral emotional experience that often seems harder to find in a contemporary art gallery than it in a cinema or a bookshop.  


But also at the same time my conscious, critical, art-historically literate self was analysing the work, noting the playful reality shifts between 'real' and 'shadow' worlds, the familiarity of the curled form - picturing a work by Blake or Fuselli that I haven't been able to find and maybe imagined - and more play in the borrowing of hare and cherries from the earlier painting (while a nautilus shell in the corner of another painting seemed to reflect the shape of the curled-up woman in this one), and more still in the theatrical mask (she's playing a role?), and further references: the curtains that reminded me of the David Lynch movie Mulholland Drive; the fairy tale atmosphere evoking Angela Carter, Lotte Reiniger's shadow-play shorts...


Another viewer will come with their own set of references, their own memories, and they will experience this wonderful exhibition 'Shadows of Unseen Grief in their own way. Jamie Luoto's paintings will be on display in Bermondsey until Saturday 11 October, then they will be gone, many to new homes... (not, I'm sad to say, mine!)





 

Tuesday, 11 February 2025

ERIC RAVILIOUS: CHANGING VIEWS

Eric Ravilious, Tea at Furlongs, 1939, watercolour

Hello!

To mark the tenth anniversary of my 2015 exhibition Ravilious at Dulwich Picture Gallery I’m giving a celebratory double lecture online, 2 x 50 minutes with an interval.

As well as introducing the life and work of Eric Ravilious to people who are not that familiar with the artist, the longer format will allow time to introduce some less well-known work and to explore some favourite watercolours, wood engravings and ceramic designs in more depth.

Since curating the Dulwich show I’ve put on two further Ravilious exhibitions as well as the current Dulwich exhibition, Tirzah Garwood: Beyond Ravilious. I’ve also spent a couple of years working on the catalogue raisonnĂ© of Ravilious watercolours, a project I hope to pick up again this year.

The upshot of all this is that my view of this enigmatic artist has changed (and continues to change), and I’m looking forward to sharing some of my research into his influences, techniques, etc, with you later in the month.

Researching Ravilious can be frustrating, given the lack of cold, hard facts about him and his work, but it’s fun to follow a hunch and see where it leads...

If you'd like to come along to Eric Ravilious: Changing Views, tickets are available via Eventbrite

Wednesday, 27 November 2024

FOUR STARS FOR TIRZAH GARWOOD!

 

Tirzah Garwood, untitled embroidery (woman watering)

It's always gratifying to get some press for an exhibition, but the reviews of Tirzah Garwood: Beyond Ravilious have been particularly enjoyable. Writers seem to have enjoyed coming face to face with an artist they haven't really seen before, and to have been affected by Garwood's peculiar magic as I was and as visitors to the gallery seem to be. We're not making claims about greatness or saying art should be this and not that... we've simply put up works by an artist the world (we feel) will be better for knowing, and said, 'Come and have a look.' I admire Jenny Scott and staff at Dulwich for doing that, and Garwood's family too. Links to articles below - some unfortunately behind a paywall.

'Joyous, curious, inventive and droll,' Tirzah Garwood: Beyond Ravilious reviewed by Laura Cumming in The Observer

'How the Forgotten Art of Tirzah Garwood finally came to Light' Tirzah Garwood: Beyond Ravilious preview by Rachel Cooke for The Observer

'Varied and visionary', Tirzah Garwood: Beyond Ravilious reviewed by Florence Hallett in The i

'In from the Cold,' Tirzah Garwood: Beyond Ravilious preview by Florence Hallett for The Art Newspaper

'So much more than "Mrs Eric Ravilious"', Tirzah Garwood: Beyond Ravilious preview by Laura Freeman in The Times

'The mother of invention,' Tirzah Garwood: Beyond Ravilious reviewed by Daisy Dawnay for World of Interiors 

Tirzah Garwood: Lost and Found, review by Sarah Hyde for Airmail

The Magic of Tirzah Garwood, review by Mathew Lyons for Engleberg Ideas

Framing Art History's Most Famous Friendships - and Fall-outs, Ruth Millington for New York Observer

Tirzah Garwood's English Satires, review by Michael Podger for The New Statesman

'Tirzah Garwood: unveiling a forgotten visionary', my introduction for ArtUK

Tirzah Garwood: Beyond Ravilious is at Dulwich Picture Gallery until May 2025. Have a look at the Bloomberg Connects app for some extras!


Wednesday, 18 September 2024

TIRZAH GARWOOD LECTURE NEWS!

Tirzah Garwood, Erskine Returning at Dawn, 1950, oil on canvas

I'm thrilled that my exhibition Tirzah Garwood: Beyond Ravilious will be opening at Dulwich Picture Gallery on 19 November. It's been a fascinating journey since I suggested the show to them three or so years ago, not least because so little study has been made of Garwood's work before. Her life is quite well-documented, thanks to her autobiography Long Live Great Bardfield (written 1942 and after, but only published recently) and to Margy Kinmonth's film Eric Ravilious: Drawn to War. But few outside a close circle of family, friends and fans know her wood engravings, marbled papers, model house constructions and paintings at all well.

So it's been exciting to bring together eighty-plus of these works (along with ten by her first husband, Eric Ravilious) and arrange them in what I hope is a helpful way. I've been wanting to do this for a long time, and in 2018 did bring together Garwood and Ravilious in my exhibition In Relation: Nine Couples who Transformed Modern British Art at RWA Bristol. That experience persuaded me to include a few pertinent wood engravings and watercolours by Ravilious in the first half of the Garwood show; the artists' contrasting approaches to similar motifs are fascinating, and the comparison sheds valuable light on Garwood's creative development.

You'll have an opportunity to get to know Tirzah Garwood a bit better before the exhibition because I'm giving an online lecture on 1 October, which will be recorded and made available to ticket holders for the rest of the month. If you follow the link you should find all the info you need.

 



Tuesday, 23 July 2024

TIRZAH GARWOOD: BEYOND RAVILIOUS OPENS IN NOVEMBER!

Exhibition catalogue published by PWP/Bloomsbury, design by Lucy Morton
 

I've been fascinated by Tirzah Garwood (1908-51) ever since I began researching her first husband Eric Ravilious (1903-42). The works I saw here and there seemed dark and strange, not at all like his and not really like anyone else's either. As a writer, her voice runs through the Ravilious in Pictures series I wrote for the Mainstone Press between 2009 and 2012, thanks to her daughter Anne Ullmann kindly sending me snippets of Garwood's autobiography. This was published in 2012 by Fleece Press as Long Live Great Bardfield, and is now in a paperback edition published by Persephone

I was able to include Garwood alongside Ravilious in my 2018 exhibition In Relation: Nine Couples Who Transformed Modern British Art (see below), which got me thinking about their artistic relationship. Here were two brilliant creative minds that developed together. Ravilious was a youthful twenty-two when they met in 1926, Garwood a mature seventeen. Although he was her teacher, it wasn't long before her influence was felt in his work, for instance in his inclusion of her doll's house as a Lodging House in his Morley College murals (1928-30). 

Through the first half of Tirzah Garwood: Beyond Ravilious, this creative relationship is explored in what I hope is an illuminating way. The second half, though, is all Garwood. It brings together for the first time almost all of her haunting, folk-art-inspired oil paintings and almost every one of her mesmerising collaged house constructions. I can't wait for people to see it!

Tirzah Garwood: Beyond Ravilious opens at Dulwich Picture Gallery on 19 November 2024.

Tuesday, 13 February 2024

NEWS! NEWS! NEWS! TIRZAH GARWOOD AT DULWICH PICTURE GALLERY

Tirzah Garwood, Hornet and Wild Rose, 1950 (Towner)

Another lengthy silence and another valid excuse... I've been hard at work putting together the first major museum exhibition devoted to the art of Tirzah Garwood (1908-51) since the memorial exhibition shortly after her death. 

Tirzah Garwood: Beyond Ravilious will open at Dulwich Picture Gallery in November, and I am absolutely delighted to be bringing the work of this remarkable artist to the audience she deserves. I was going to say 'unknown' artist but in fact Garwood is familiar to quite a number of people, thanks to her autobiography Long Live Great Bardfield and to Margy Kinmonth's film Eric Ravilious: Drawn to War

Some of the wood engravings she made in her early twenties are also well-known, having been reproduced here and there, but those were a small - if brilliant - part of her artistic achievement. In the 1930s and 1940s she made exquisite decorative papers using a marbling technique that was all her own and went on, in the few years she had between the end of World War Two and her death from breast cancer, to create a series of compelling house constructions or dioramas and a group of hauntingly beautiful oil paintings.

The last twenty of these Garwood painted in her last year, when she knew she was dying and yet was somehow able to paint works that are at once radiant and uncanny. They are not at all like her first husband's watercolours, but she did share with him an 'innocent eye' that was a lot less innocent than it seemed, and an ability to get to the very essence of things.

Roll on November!

Tirzah Garwood: Beyond Ravilious opens at Dulwich Picture Gallery in November, almost ten years after my exhibition Ravilious opened there. I'll be advertising an online lecture to introduce the show soon...

Sunday, 5 November 2023

ERIC RAVILIOUS: NEW YEAR SNOW

Eric Ravilious, New Year Snow, 1938, watercolour 

 

I wrote the note below for Dreweatts, who were selling New Year Snow in their recent auction, Robert Kime: The Personal Collection...

This atmospheric watercolour depicts a picturesque valley in the Welsh borders and, at the same time, shows us a master at work.

Early in 1938 Ravilious travelled to Capel-y-Ffin, a hamlet in the Honddu valley not far from the ruins of Llanthony Priory. Having concentrated on illustration and design for a couple of years he was at last free to paint watercolours, and to take his time doing so. He had booked a room in the hamlet’s solitary farmhouse for two months, and looked forward to exploring a landscape that was wilder than his native Sussex.

Steeped as he was in the English watercolour tradition, Ravilious was well aware that JMW Turner, John Sell Cotman and other luminaries had painted the valley before him, although those earlier Romantic artists had tended to focus on the ruined abbey. A more recent visitor was artist-poet David Jones, who had stayed with Eric Gill and his entourage in Capel-y-Ffin in the 1920s. Ravilious admired the strong modern line and delicate palette of Jones’s watercolours, which present subjects similar to this but in a very different style.

In New Year Snow Ravilious presented a recognisable view south-east along the valley, towards the distinctive buttress of Loxidge Tump. He was no topographer, however, and here he redirected the course of the river so that it bends across the composition, roughly mirroring the curve of hills against the sky. Water, land and sky are painted with remarkable economy, with only the lightest of washes across the hilltops. Mostly the watercolour has been applied in single strokes, often with a dry brush. The white paper showing through suggests here rough grass dusted with snow and there the shimmer of moving water, while conveying at the same time a feeling of light-heartedness and freedom.

In place of the ruins beloved of Turner’s generation, we have the kind of man-made object that delighted Ravilious: a sheep feeder on wheels set centre stage and at a precarious angle. This positioning and the clarity of the draughtsmanship lend a slightly dreamlike quality to the scene.

In May 1939 Ravilious held his third exhibition of watercolours at the prestigious London gallery of Arthur Tooth and Son, the show that cemented his reputation. In The Observer, Jan Gordon praised Ravilious’s extraordinary technique, which made the most mundane object ‘appear as something magic, almost mystic, distilled out of the ordinary everyday.’ Twenty-seven watercolours are listed in the catalogue; New Year Snow is No. 1.

I can't remember the exact figure, but the work ended up selling for over £300,000... New Year Snow is featured in my book Ravilious in Pictures: A Travelling Artist, published by The Mainstone Press.

Monday, 2 October 2023

Boutiques! Boutiques! Boutiques!

'Gramophones', from Boutiques, illustrated by Lucien Boucher

Exciting news for lovers of astonishing books: Tim Mainstone has just published the third in his remarkable trilogy of books celebrating both a golden age of illustration and a glorious epoch in the history of shopping. Details of the Boutiques trilogy are available on the Mainstone Press website, but if you want to get a real sense of what these three beautiful volumes are like, why not come along to our special launch event on 12 October? It's at Maggs Bros, the antiquarian bookseller, on London's Bedford Square, and starts at 6pm.

Each book takes as its starting point an innovative illustrated book of shops published in Paris in the 1920s: Boutiques (1925) and Boutiques de la Foire (1926), with colour lithographs by Lucien Boucher, and Boutiques Litteraires, with illustrations by Henri Guilac (1925). Each Mainstone edition features captions by Andrew Stewart and an array of historical photos, archive materials and artworks brought together in typically elegant, witty style by designers Webb & Webb. Literary flaneuse Lauren Elkin wrote an accompanying essay for the Guilac book, while fairground historian Pascal Jacob did the same for Boutiques de la Foire and I wrote on the first Boucher book. Print aficionado Neil Philip provided for each volume a succinct print and production history.

To me, these books are primarily guides for the time-travelling armchair flaneur: books to marvel at and dream in. It's important to note, however, just how little has been written about the supremely talented Boucher before now, in any language. Most of the material I drew on in my essay (with help from my A-level French) was unearthed by Tim Mainstone, who made it is his mission to discover every known fact, story or piece of gossip about this brilliant precursor to Eric Ravilious and Edward Bawden. In fact Tim spent years trawling obscure databases and publications for information not only about Boucher but also about publisher Marcel Seheur and - last, but definitely not least - the brilliant author Pierre Mac Orlan, whose waspish prose poems add a strange, dark mystery to the original book. They are included in the new edition, alongside translations by Shaun Whiteside.

Tim has published some wonderful books over the past two decades, but I'm not sure anything compares in scope, ambition and sheer wonderment to the Boutiques trilogy. If you'd like to see this work of art for yourself and hear a bit more about how it was created, come along on the 12th. You're in for a treat.



 

Monday, 20 March 2023

Soutine | Kossoff opening soon at Hastings Contemporary!

 

The prolonged lack of activity on this site is due, not to laziness as you might think, but to me having been working flat out on the exhibition opening at the end of next week at Hastings Contemporary... 

SOUTINE | KOSSOFF
HASTINGS CONTEMPORARY
1 APRIL – 24 SEPT 2023

Opening at Hastings Contemporary in April 2023, Soutine | Kossoff pairs two major figures of 20th century painting: one a master of the School of Paris, the other a master of the School of London. Soutine | Kossoff is the first museum exhibition to explore the artistic relationship between British artist Leon Kossoff (1926-2019) and Belarus-born painter Chaim Soutine (1893-1943). Undertaken with the full support of the Kossoff estate, it brings together important loans from public and private collections in the UK and overseas, providing a fascinating follow-up to The Barnes Foundation’s 2021 show Soutine / De Kooning.  

The discovery of Soutine’s paintings in the early 1950s was a significant moment for Kossoff, who was already finding his way towards the kind of direct and expressive use of paint he saw in his predecessor’s work. Soutine grew up in Belarus before migrating to Paris as a young man, while Kossoff was born and raised in London, his parents having arrived there from Ukraine as children. Although their life experiences were very different, the two artists shared a Russian Jewish heritage which perhaps brought a particular cultural sensibility to their work. To create transcendent works from the stuff of everyday life became Kossoff’s mission, as it had been Soutine’s.

The main focus of Soutine | Kossoff is on the areas of interest shared by both artists: landscape and portraiture. The exhibition features seminal landscapes painted by Soutine in southern France in the early 1920s, with highlights including Paysage aux cyprès, c1922, and Cagnes Landscape with Tree, c1925-26 (Tate). From Kossoff come major paintings of railway junctions, building sites and other scenes of unexpected beauty found in north and north-west London, among them Willesden Junction, Summer, No.2, 1966 (Alfred East Art Gallery) and Demolition of the Old House, Dalston Junction, Summer, 1974 (Tate).
Visitors will have a rare opportunity to view Kossoff’s stunning Nude on a Red Bed, 1972, alongside works such as his powerful Head of Seedo, 1964. A major group of Soutine portraits includes Le Petit PĂ¢tissier, c1927, Young Woman in a White Blouse, c1923 (Courtauld Institute) and Le Valet de Chambre, c1927.

A catalogue with top notch colour reproductions of all works is being published by Hastings Contemporary. It features an essay by yours truly and another by art historian Simonetta Fraquelli, who co-curated Soutine / De Kooning, and it was designed by Lucy Morton, previously designer of my Ravilious and Bawden catalogues for Dulwich Picture Gallery.

Soutine | Kossoff opens to the public on 1 April and runs until September. All the info you need is on the Hastings Contemporary website. Hope you can get to Sussex this summer!