Ruralist art

An important part of education is learning to look at the world around us, and artists teach us to do this. I have posted several times on landscape artists in particular. Whether it is the Group of Seven venturing out into the Canadian wilderness, or the Impressionists following in Turner's footsteps as they try to capture the flickering moods of light and atmosphere (perhaps even travelling "inside light" the way Tolkien travelled "inside language"), or Samuel Palmer crafting natural landscapes into symbolic idylls intense with yearning, or Nicholas Roerich doing the same with the mountains of Tibet, the landscape artist allows us to see the "scenery" of our lives through new eyes. Recently David Hockney has startled many of his admirers by turning

to landscape, and a recent exhibition of his paintings of Yorkshire called "A Bigger Picture" has perhaps opened a new chapter in modern British art. Some have called his landscapes regressive. And yet every new departure in art looks backwards as well as forwards. With his new exhibition Hockney seems to have joined the Brotherhood of Ruralists. What underlies these paintings is an interest in what the camera cannot capture. What is revealed is not just what the scene looks like at a given moment and from a given angle, but what it looks like to this particular person, viewed through his unique imagination. Art always depends on the love of the artist for his subject. Even if the subject is "ugly", the artist would hardly lavish time and attention on it if not motivated to do so. And the love of Hockney for these particular landscapes is evident in every line. It doesn't seem to be the atmosphere, or the play of light, that particularly interests him, but the forms and shapes that reveal themselves to someone who, at least briefly, inhabits the landscape – shapes often made of colour. People who visit the places he painted report that they are often strewn with rubbish thrown from passing cars. Is it "untruthful" to leave out the rubbish when painting the scene? Isn't it more important to rekindle our love for the places around us, through which we walk and drive with so little attention?

Illustration: Samuel Palmer, "Garden in Shoreham", c. 1830

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A mystic in New York

"Remember"

If you go to New York, and have any interest either in art or in mysticism, do visit the Nicholas Roerich Museum, tucked away in a brownstone building up on 319 West 107th Street. Roerich was a Russian-born artist, spiritual teacher, and peacemaker – a collaborator with Diaghilev and Stravinsky – whose paintings explore the myths and symbols, the natural beauty, and the spiritual strivings of humanity around the world. The Museum displays approximately two hundred of these
works, and keeps them permanently on display. It is also a cultural centre, offering free concerts and poetry readings. The museum itself is a lovely building to visit and beautifully designed and kept.

"Kiss to the Earth"

You don't have to be an admirer of Nicholas and Helena Roerich's eclectic theosophical ideas (they were joint founders of the Agni Yoga Society), or even his efforts to bring about world peace through the harmony of religion, science and art, to appreciate his landscapes, many of which were painted in the last part of his life when the family lived in the foothills of the Himalayas, or his gorgeous set designs for various ballets, like the one on the right. The strong but often subtle colours and bold shapes give the impression of a world seen though the eyes of a child.

"Where can one have such joy as when the sun is upon the Himalayas; when the blue is more intense than sapphires; when from the far distance, the glaciers glitter as incomparable gems. All religions, all teachings, are synthesized in the Himalayas." – extracts from Shambhala.

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What's in a landscape?

In a previous post some time ago I mentioned G.K. Chesterton's aversion to impressionism, with which I did not quite agree. I want to look now at some landscape art that I find particularly inspiring, both to recommend it to your attention and to investigate a little for my own sake why I find it so appealing. I begin with a group of artists known as THE GROUP OF SEVEN or Algonquin School, whose work is being exhibited at the Dulwich Picture Gallery until 8 January. Unfortunately I will miss the exhibition, but do go if you can. The artists in this group were born or lived in Canada from the end of the
nineteenth century, and they all tended to work outdoors. They loved the forests, the plains, the rivers, the mountains of Canada, and would take off into the wilderness with a sketchbook small enough to carry in a canoe or a backpack, capturing what they could usually as far from human habitation as possible. As a formal group they exhibited between 1920 and the year they disbanded, 1933.

What is it that is so attractive about their work? It is sensitive to place, indeed it celebrates particular features of the Canadian landscape, but quite stylized and intense, almost as if  they were trying to capture some ideal version of each scene, an Edenic vision of it in bright colours and bold shapes. Unlike the impressionists, they don't particularly try to capture the weather or the passing moods of the light. In fact mostly the pictures seem not even to contain shadows: each neatly framed scene glows with an interior light. Or else the shadows are just there to accentuate form. They include human habitations in the landscape, but were sometimes accused of overlooking the effects of humanity on the landscapes they portrayed – it wasn't what primarily interested them. Browse the "Gallery" in the link provided above and make up your own mind what you think.

Next: Nicholas Roerich.

Pictures: Tom Thomson, "Autumn's Garland"; Lawren Harris, "Mount Lefroy"

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