Tranquility in Turner

THE feeling one experiences in nature - picturesque, open and tranquil - one experiences here in his art.

The feeling the artist once has felt in front of nature, one experiences here in front of his works in the heart.

Turner, the most beloved British artist, has always been regarded as an audacious figure whose boldness could be well seen in his most experimental and dramatic paintings. However, in the exhibition 'Late Turner' at Tate, some of his watercolours reveal a most tranquil quality that is usually not seen in the turmoils of his seascape, fiery and vortical oil works and have really touched me.

FIRST, have a look at Lake Lucerne- The Bay of Uri, from Brunnen (Fig. 1), which is also the first watercolour in the exhibition that grabbed my eyes. If I am not told it is a watercolour by Turner, the first thing that will come to my mind would be a Chinese ink painting, regardless of the colour of the ink. That was exactly how I felt at the first sight of it. I was surprised by the atmospheric effect, the various light shades, the simple, almost calligraphic, outlines of the ships and shipmen - all these seem to be the quality of a Chinese ink painting, but actually were done by the most innovative English painter of the early nineteenth century. Another watercolour (Fig. 2) in Room 2 also unfolds a very charming and moody feeling of the night.

Fig. 1 Lake Lucerne- The Bay of Uri, from Brunnen, c. 1841-2, watercolour on paper (photograph provided by Tate)

Fig. 2 Fishermen on the Lagoon, Moonlight, 1840, watercolour on paper (photograph provided by Tate)

Turner's widely and talented use of watercolour has lifted up this medium, which used to be inferior to oil paint for centuries, to an unprecedented height and finally to reach an independent state of being in British society of art. Interestingly, because of Turner's favour of watercolour alongside his oil paint production, his watercolour and oil works have shown strong interractional influences. Many of his watercolour works resemble the quality of oil paintings and could be seen as a work of art in its own right, due to his use of rich colours, his occasional application of thick gouache or other materials that make the work less transparent, and the finished look of the watercolour works. Vice versa, many of his oil paintings also resemble the quality of watercolour works, from the mirror-like translucency of the Ancient Rome (Fig. 3) to the lightly touched late work Norham Castle, Sunrise (Fig. 4), all revealing a special quality of translucency and fluidity similar to watercolour works. Whether it was consciously done or not, it seems that what Turner tried to achieve through this common quality in both mediums is an atmospheric effect of nature - a feeling you get in a day of mist, a feeling you get when you half-close your eyes, a feeling you get from your memory back at your place, or a feeling you get in your heart. That is why the sky and the sea blend with one another, that is why all you could see and remember is the colours, that is why the rays of the sun surmount everything and the mist in the air obscure what we see. Turner enjoys the dramatic look that nature unfolds itself just like the way he enjoys the visionary effect of art. With the sketchy touches, shapeless forms, blended mist, radiant light and overpowering colours , Turner expresses an impression, a mood that foresees the abstract means and expressive power of the modern art. These lyrical visions and poetic mood are well paired and compared with the poems of Byron, whom the late Turner admired and whose words Turner often inscribed.

Fig. 3 Ancient Rome; Agrippina Landing with the Ashes of Germanicus, exhibited 1839, oil paint on canvas (photograph provided by Tate)

Fig. 4 Norham Castle, Sunrise, c. 1845, oil paint on canvas (photograph provided by Tate) 

I USED to write an essay on Turner's watercolours between 1825 and 1838, preceding the works in this exhibition. Those watercolours in early years still mostly reveal brilliant colours, and many are composed of two or three colour zones. And as I watched them over and over again, I realised what Constable has said the 'golden visions' of Turner, 'glorious and beautiful...and one could live and die with such pictures.’ But some of the late watercolours shown in Room 6 of this exhibition show a different quality - lighter touch of colour, more translucent rendering of mountains and waters, and a sense of serenity. This tranquility I felt is all that made me write a blog. The Blue Rigi, Sunrise (Fig. 5), almost the first of a series of sample studies of Swiss landscapes, is one of the most beautiful piece. The first picture shown below (Fig. 5a) is from the official website of Tate, the colour of which should appear stronger in real life, therefore I include a second picture in the public domain (Fig. 5b) that may better present the original colour of the watercolour. It is truly beautiful and affecting, as anyone can see.

Fig. 5a The Blue Rigi, Sunrise, 1842, watercolour on paper (photograph provided by Tate)

Fig. 5b The Blue Rigi, Sunrise, 1842, watercolour on paper (photograph in the public domain)

Watercolours on the next wall are a series of sample studies with the view of Lake Lucerne. These sample studies are speculative drawings that Turner's agent, Thomas Griffith, showed to attract the interest of a circle of prospective patrons. Again, the images here offered from Tate's website (Fig. 6, 7, 8) are not identical to the original looks of the works one sees face-to-face. These images below appear lighter and more transparent than the original effects, and the last example (Fig. 8) should appear more fluid in real life. What has touched me is again the diluted washes and the translucent colours that create the atmospheric effect and poetic mood of the scene. The colour itself, especially the blue of the water, with different shades created by various layers of washes, is so pure and attractive that it seems to absorb you into its beautiful depth. The atmosphere seems to have the power to bring you into its little world of nature and back to the peaceful state of mind that you may have in front of the real nature. It is this feeling of tranquility that is very different from the dramatic, passionate feel of Turner's other works and has hooked me in this room of watercolours. These watercolours of Turner have created the same atmosphere and feeling that nature itself may effect on us.

Fig. 7 Lake Lucerne: Sample Study, 1844, graphite and watercolour on paper (photograph provided by Tate)

Fig. 7 Lake Lucerne: Sample Study, 1844, graphite and watercolour on paper (photograph provided by Tate)

Fig. 8 Lucerne by Moonlight: Sample Study, c.1842–3, watercolour on paper (photograph provided by Tate)

As the exhibition has summarised, watercolour is the medium that Turner had indisputably made his own. Though the exhibition is called 'Late Turner: Painting Set Free', I just want to bring to attention the opposite quality that the late Turner once has shown us through his watercolour works: the tranquility and mystery of nature.

Deeply touched in Marmottan Monet

It was a thrilling experience in the Musée Marmottan Monet in Paris.

In love with Monet was something long time ago and he was one of the first artist who ever grabbed my heart like he did to many one else. Soon after I learned art history, he went out of my attention and gave way to some older, more sophisticated artists. Even in the Orangerie last year, it was Renoir who caught my eyes instead of Monet. But this year, yesterday, I was totally blown away by Monet's wonderfully beautiful works in the Marmottan. 

In the temporary exhibition of the earlier works of Monet and other Impressionists, I was still talking to myself saying that there must be energy around the masters' works because I could feel my heart beating faster and my body trembling like electricity going through when I got closer to the great works. But as I approached the last piece of the exhibition, Monet's Hemerocalles au bord de l'eau (fig. 1), it was already not feelings as simple as that; it became a feeling of touching and thrill so immense that overwhelmed my whole body and heart that tears burst into my eyes. The big canvas, with its beautiful rich and translucent blue all over the place with different shades of the colour, interplaying with the lively strokes of various greens on the bottom, and with several glaring paints of red hemerocallis on the left and right. The whole colour scheme was so harmoniously arranged, with details sketchy but still clearly seen, and especially my eyes lingered on the reds for long - the paints are so prominent, thick and the colour so vivid that I could feel the strong sense of life within it as well as the presence of the painter himself through it. It reminded me of the similar vitality of Van Gogh, and maybe that is what makes them so wonderful and perpetual - the ever-pulsing vitality of life. Everyone stood still in front of the work and stared for long without leaving; it after all these years made me in love with Monet again. Turning my head around, I saw the sign 'Monet permanent collection' - I knew there might be a great more excitement waiting for me on another floor.

Fig. 1 Hemerocalles au bord de l'eau 1914-17

I walked down the stairs and as I reached the bottom, I glimpsed at the waterlilies hanging all around the room. I was so excited that I couldn't believe my eyes but meanwhile I didn't dare to see all of them all at once for fear of being over-excited. I walked to the beginning, the earlier pieces of Monet's works, and covered my eyes in order not to glance at the later part. Then I approached the manifesto piece: Impression, Sumrise (fig. 2). It was smaller than I thought, but was pretty much the same as I had seen it in reproductions everywhere else. It is sketchy, and after all, it was still just an early piece, though I felt very honoured to be able to have a look at it. Then the water lilies came into my sight. The earlier ones were misty, soft presentation of the pond and its surroundings (fig. 3) or the relatively clearer depiction of single, bigger waterlilies (fig. 4). It is at the turn of the century that he started to paint relatively small portion of the pond. 

Fig. 2  Impression, soleil levant 1872-73

Fig. 3 Bras de Seine près de Giverny, soleil levant 1897

Fig. 4 Nymphéas, effet du soir 1897

The ones that I love the most are those he painted in the middle of the time span during which he painted water lilies, roughly in 1900s and 10s - when he started to paint only a portion of the pond but still in a very delicate way, rather than the very sketchy or some of the furious ones made later as his eyesight deteriorated. These are the ones that really show his great aestheticism, the harmonious rendering of colour and light with wonderfully lively texture. My favourite piece in the permanent collection is Nymphéas of 1903 (fig. 5), a soft, delicate rendering. The whole colour scheme is delicate and harmonious. The rendering of the leaves are very lovely with only two or three brush strokes depicting one piece, lively and poetic; some even seem to be dancing. And again the little touches of a brilliant colour like yellow or red give the form of the flower and add to the great vitality of the work.

Fig. 5 Nymphéas 1903

Some later works of 1910s and 20s (fig. 5) are much more sketchy and unclear as the brush strokes became bigger and details less delicately rendered when Monet's eyesight got worse. Especially those long horizontal works like those in the Orangery are very roughly done. They are meant to be viewed from far away, however, they are also good to be observed closed-up, since as the canvas gets closer and bigger to you, you would feel like walking into the fantasy land of various blues of Monet, which gives you a full, embrasive feeling. There are also some of these later works that look even furious in colour and texture, with strong colour contrast and rough impasto, some even appearing inharmonious. It may either represent his state of mind, or simply one of his many experimental pieces as he tried to render the water lilies in all types of weather conditions and styles. However, some 1920s ones tend to be innovative in composition and style, some imitating Japanese design (fig. 6), some are arranged in a very abstract and decorative manner (fig. 7), and some representing flowers in different way which occupy a lot of the picture space (fig. 8).

Fig. 6 Les Roses 1925-26

Fig. 7 Glycines 1919-20

Fig. 8 Iris jaunes et mauve (not full canvas) 1924-25 

Some 1910s ones are very brilliant as they tend to have rougher texture than those made earlier in 1890s and 1900s, but still keep the harmony and delicacy. The impasto gives the feeling of life and the passion of the artist, in which you seem to feel the emotion and temper of the artist. Even though some ones (fig. 9, 10) go to a very extreme degree of roughness that it seem the painting is more about the texture than the thing represented. Though those ones are less appealing compared with some more harmonious work to me, but simply scrutinising the texture itself, you would feel that it tends to give you a real feeling of the texture of the plant - a rough surface, which reminds me so much of the works of Constable, who in the early 19th century already started to explore the potential of paint and whose impasto texture would glitter so beautifully in light as those would in Monet's painting. Talking about the surface texture, it reminds me of the comparison I always make between Renoir and Monet, two of my favourite Impressionistic painters. Both of them tried to render harmony and beauty, one through females, one through nature, but in very different way.s Renoir is sweet and very feminine, not only in the subject matter, but also in his style - the very soft, smooth, fluid, sugary quality of the colour and surface; whereas Monet's work always seems to me more masculine compared with Renoir's, with his rougher texture and brushworks, which appears to me a type of beauty more long-lasting. These differences in style must partly come from the differences in their character, for example, Renoir had a soft heart who always appreciated and wanted to represent the beautiful, sweet aspects of life. The Hemerocalles au bord de l'eau (fig. 1) by Monet upstairs is such a wonderful, wonderful 1910s piece of him. These harmonious, delicate 1910 ones with thinner, clearer brushworks, but relatively rougher texture than, say, Nymphéas of 1903 (fig. 4), tend to be my most favourite among all, which are not all presented here in the Marmottan. 

Fig. 9 Le Pont japonais

Fig. 10 Saule pleureur (not full canvas) 1918-19

I was surrounded and overwhelmed by the dreamed beauty as well as the emotion of Monet. It was already not simply a little shiver or heartbeat that I had felt upstairs, it was a deep touch and thrill of my heart. I finished the collection with tears holding in my eyes from the beginning to the end. It seems that the modern painting, with more freedom to paint in a more personal, abstract and poetic way, are usually much more emotionally charged. Through the beauty and harmony of Monet's painting, what we feel is not only the shock of beauty, but also the charge of emotion, which echoes with the emotion it ignites in our heart. No words, no way could I express the strong feeling that I had during my visit in Marmottan, what I could only did was to close my eyes and give my deepest honour and respect to the marvelous artist. It was this feeling that I would never forget and it was these touching moments that I would forever keep with me wherever I go deep down in my heart. 

Renaissance Italy

In late March, I went to Venice with our programme and then visited other cities like Florence and Milan. The trip was a travel back in time, a time that was one of the peaks of the human civilization.

The outside preserves the exterior; the inside houses the essence. All the works that are supposed to be the most renowned masterpieces shocked me - a shock that I felt more deeply than last year when I visited Rome. One really has to look at the real piece of work to be able to admire the awe of it. It was not until I saw the original artworks that I truly understood the beauty and greatness of it. Originals may also surprise you and make you fall in love with an artist you have not paid much attention before. This time, the one that surprised me and was also the first masterpiece that came into my eyes was the Frari Triptych of Giovanni Bellini (fig. 1).

Fig. 1 Frari Triptych, by Giovanni Bellini, 1488, St. Mary of the Fraris (Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari), Venice

My teacher said, 'This is the work that made me decide to become an art historian.' I went closer and observed carefully to see what it was that made it so special to her. The triptych is not very close from the viewer, but even from far away, it looks so realistic. The arch seems to be a real concave space. The figures are so naturalistic. The more you gaze at it, the more life-like the figures become. The saint in black seems to look back at you with his penetrating eyes. All the volumes of bodies and the sense of space are so real. Finally when you finish observing the main figures, your eye fall onto the angels at Virgin's feet. And you are attracted by them so much again. They look so lovely and real with on the same realistic steps that seem to extend into our space. My eyes lingered on the angels and the details, trying to see them as clearly as possible and did not want to leave.

The next day, we went to the church of San Zaccharia where I saw another Bellini's altarpiece, one of his late works, that was even more astounding and beautiful to me than the Frari one and is by far my favourite, favourite piece of him. The Virgin appears younger and prettier, and the two female saints beautifully drawn add to the sweetness and tenderness of this painting that made me like it more. Figures and the scene are integrated in one space instead of being separated by a triptych. And again everything looks so naturalistic. With the viewer being able to look at it much closer, I admired it better and more, and it was the moment that I truly saw the beauty of Bellini and was in love with him. It is the ultimate naturalism and the sweet idealism - of  especially the female figures - that are so touching.

Fig. 2 San Zaccharia Altarpiece, by Giovanni Bellini, 1505, San Zaccharia Church (Chiesa di San Zaccaria), Venice

Florence, the centre of the Renaissance, houses many of the best works of that time. I saw The Birth of Venus (fig. 3), the most celebrated work of another early Renaissance master Botticelli and probably also the most celebrated work of the Uffizi Gallery. It totally grabbed my heart no matter how many times I had seen it in books or on the screen. The experience of looking at the real painting is so different from that of looking at it from elsewhere. It was a wholly new experience as if I had never seen it before. Not only could I able to observe the details and the quality better, look at the colours more truly, but the sheer size of it also shocked me and contributed to the beauty of it - an experience and feeling I had every time when I looked at an original masterpiece. You will always be surprised by the size of a work, something out of your expectation, and then you will feel that the size of the work is just appropriate to make it a great piece of work. The same experience happens when I went into the refectory that houses the Last Supper of Leonardo. The sheer size of it shocked me first and the most, and it was also the size that made the work appear all the more wonderful; and only after that, after appreciating the scale of it, I started to scrutinize the details within such perfect scale of the work. Similarly, the size of The Birth of Venus appeared bigger than I thought which adds to the grandeur of the work, but not too big and looks just enough to render the heavenly figures, the details, and to emanate such a sense of beauty. The same face that I have been familiar with looks like a new beauty and evermore sweet. Even though the colour fads a bit, but it still looks so comfortable and harmonious. Only in front of the work did I realize the extremely sweet feeling that the figures brought to us and the wonder of the work. You would not feel the robot-like feels of the figures, not feel the little bit awkwardness of the gesture, nor the paleness of the skin; all you can feel is beauty and perfection. Venus, standing lively in the painting, right in front of and high above you, looks so charming. It was from the real experience that I really got to understand the sweetness of Botticelli which is manifested in every figure of him. Sweet, modest, and peaceful - a real beauty of the pure Renaissance.

Fig. 3 The Birth of Venus, by Sandro Botticelli, c.1484-86, Uffizi Gallery (Galleria degli Uffizi), Florence

A similar experience was when I visited Madonna of the Chair (fig. 4) of Raphael, the most famous work of the Palatine Gallery in Florence. It is almost a second painting along with The Birth of Venus that represent the art of Florence whose postcards are displayed everywhere in the city. Looking at the postcard, it was no more than a sweet painting of Raphael. But again, when approaching the real work, the beauty penetrated me. The delineation of the Virgin is so sweet, smooth, and perfect. The whole composition is so unusual but wonderfully contrived within the round frame. Moreover, the use of the primary colours and green make it rich in colour and beautiful, and it is unusual in the way of using the green - rarely as the main colour of a religious work, especially with the patterns on it, giving a humane feeling to the Virgin. Real beauty is real beauty; there is no way you could escape from it. It grabbed my eyes and I couldn't turn myself from it. Even though I walked away, I walked back as if it were a magnet. It is the idealization of the female beauty that made it so powerful and great. And underneath it, it is naturalism as well. And especially this painting has one of the most naturalistic figures of the works of Raphael, without traces of early-Renaissance robot-like feels and stiffness of face, but full of rounded, three-dimensional, and smooth features. It is sweet, perfect, and harmonious. It is again a sweet, calm representation of Renaissance, with a sense of humanity. The beauty of this painting seems to penetrate you more than that of Botticelli, because of the better naturalism and its near-perfection of the depiction of the figures and the very smooth, tender feel of the facial features of Virgin. However, it is too sweet and naturalistic that when you look at it longer, it is as if you were eating a sweet candy -sweet at the beginning, but the sweetness seem to be a bit too much as you have it more the more. Therefore for me, the sweetness of Botticelli, even though less naturalistic than that of Raphael, seems to be more long-lasting and comfy. But no one would doubt the reaching of perfection of Raphael, the ultimate idealism perfected by Raphael, and the penetrating otherworldly beauty of him - a beauty that shakes your heart and body and sticks your eyes and feet.

Fig. 4 Madonna of the Chair (or Madonna della Seggiola), by Raphael, 1514, Palatine Gallery (Galleria Palatina), Florence

After the trip in Italy, I am thinking again what it is that makes an art touching and great? What makes a masterpiece stand out among all the others? The things that made me fall in love this time in Italy are the naturalism, seen in its ultimate exemplification in Bellini, and idealism, developed all the way from early Renaissance to Raphael, the peak of the idealism and the High Renaissance, but each with their own interpretation of the ideal. Naturalism is the basis of idealism, because without the figures being naturalistic drawn, the beauty and idealism could not be build upon. Interestingly, these two features - the tendencies of naturalism and of idealism - are exactly the most significant and representative features of the Renaissance art as all the textbook and teachers once taught us. They are not only the summarized features, but are also the points that touched our hearts. Therefore, it seems reasonable the development of such trends, and it is legitimate for philosophers of the Renaissance to advocate such theories of art practices. The Neoplatonism prevalent in the Renaissance time proposed naturalism as the principle of art because God is in the image of a man, as well as idealism - the making of the ideally beautiful man as an approximate imitation of God's image, because God is in the image of a perfect beauty. These seem not only theoretical advices that come from nowhere, they are reasonable advocations, since even for me, a person totally detached from that context could be touched and feel the divinity expressed through the naturalistic and idealistic depictions - they give you a feeling of beauty and wonder, a feeling of nobility and purification, a feeling not only for admiring the beauty of art, but also of the world, of divinity, and of human ourselves. Art is not only a rediscovery of beauty, but a purification and sublimation of the self and the soul through beauty. I feel my heart is purified and glorified through the gaze at such ideal beauties. That is probably the ultimate aim of applying the principle of idealism based on naturalism.

The naturalism, idealism, and calmness make the Italian Renaissance all the more long-lasting. It is natural, so it does not disobey natural rules and it appears harmonious. It is ideal, so it sublimates the normal and glorify the divine, making it heavenly and eternal. It is calm, so it does not disturb the hearts and it relieve our soul. It is an art that wonderfully balances the symbolism and the humanity, and its harmony, divinity, and peace make it evermore lasting.