M. L. Kappa

Portraits

On a trip to London my fondness for portraits drew me, first, to the refurbished National Portrait Gallery. A few highlights below.

The Duke of Wellington, by Sir Thomas Lawrence

Lucian Freud’s portrait of Irish writer Caroline Blackwood, after they had eloped to Paris together.

A wonderfully quirky self-portrait by Raqib Shaw, *The Final Submission in Fire on Ice.* The detail is amazing if you zoom in.

The beautiful Zadie Smith, by Toyin Ojih Odutola

Onwards to the National Gallery, to see the Franz Hals exhibition. One of the most important 17th-century Dutch artists, Hals was a portraitist par excellence, a virtuoso who painted mostly a la prima, without a preliminary sketch (this is difficult to imagine, given his assured brushstrokes and beautiful detail.)

His portraits possess a unique liveliness of expression, and he painted his subjects smiling or laughing, something few painters dared to attempt.

The Laughing Cavalier, one of his most famous paintings

He also portrayed people in informal positions, especially his friends…

…and was sought after by couples and families for his seemingly casual, yet carefully posed compositions, where the affection between the subjects is apparent.

The portrait of the young girl below was one of my favourites, due to the sweetness of her expression.

He was also great at painting hands, one of my predilections.

My one caveat is that his sitters are not particularly attractive, if I may be permitted to say so. A fact impressed upon me as, going out of the exhibition, I came upon a portrait of a young man by Titian.

And another by Bronzino. Were Italians better looking than the Dutch, or did the painters idealise them more?

I then wandered into a small but stunning exhibition of the idiosyncratic painter Jean-Etienne Liotard. Born in Geneva, he travelled widely and was a master of pastel, a very delicate and subtle medium.

In 1754 he produced a masterpiece, The Lavergne Family Breakfast, which he sold to William Ponsonby, Viscount Duncannon, for the then princely sum of 200 guineas. Upon the latter’s invitation he went with him to Constantinople, where he stayed for four years, growing a long a bushy beard, adopting Turkish dress and calling himself the ‘Turkish Painter.’

I really find this lovely – the detail, the expression on the faces…

Having not seen his painting for twenty years, he then went back and made an exact replica in oil. This is the first time the paintings have been exhibited together.

On the left in oil, and on the right the original in pastel

Liotard sounds like a very amusing fellow, as well as being a most accomplished artist. However, having met the love of his life, he shaved off his beard, this being a condition of the marriage. He made numerous portraits in pastel, such as the one below of Lady Anne Somerset, looking much older than her fourteen years, with her cascading locks and plunging neckline.

I will end this post with the portrait of a horse, the beautiful Arabian stallion Whistlejacket, by George Stubbs. One of my favourite pictures in the National Gallery.

Van Gogh: the last paintings

In the last 70 days of his life, Van Gogh produced 74 paintings and 33 drawings! A huge burst of productivity before he sadly put an end to his life.

The current exhibition at the Musée d’Orsay in Paris is the first devoted to this period in his life, spent at Auvers-sur-Oise, which was the home of Dr Gachet, his friend, mentor and supporter—a man who specialized in the treatment of melancholia but was also a lover and connoisseur of art, friend to the Impressionists and a collector and amateur artist. There he could also be closer to his brother Theo, an art dealer.

From May 20 1890 to July 29th, in a frenzied artistic renewal, he painted one or two canvases per day, mostly “alla prima”, using thick pigment directly on the canvas.

If you look at the detail, you can see bits of bare canvas, as well as the boldness of the strokes and the thikness of the paint

In the drawings, he interestingly mixes oil and aquarelle, and sometimes other media, such as graphite and wash.

Luminous landscapes, portraits and still lifes.

Pure colours, and sheer boldness which delivers a huge emotional impact.

The exhibition is well worth the effort, because although not large, almost every painting is a masterpiece—the artist in full maturity and control of his expression.

The highlight, however, of a very special show, was the room with 11 paintings in the rare ‘double square’ format.

Autumn mood

In Greece the sea is still warm enough to swim in, but here in Normandy where we mainly live now the weather has turned, despite the steady rain being interrupted by periods of brillian sunshine. At 7.30 am it is still pitch dark; there is a chill in the air that inspires the lighting of a fire in the chimney, although the heating is not on yet.

Autumn is a productive time, with a good harvest of apples and pears

The last of the tomatoes

Dahlias still thriving

The leaves have started to turn

More indoor time means more art making

Morning Window. Oil and varnish on book cover

An interior on a hardbook cover primed with gesso (instead of paper or canvas)

I was inspired by the pears to make an oil sketch on another, embossed, book cover.

In my art workshop we have been drawing shoes!

And a wet and dismal Saturday (it steadily rained all day) drove me to bake a totally unnecessary—but delicious—cake. Of course the apples and pears make lovely crumbles and pies and compote, but I was in the mood for something different. Something I’ve wanted to try for a while. It is Yottam Ottolenghi’s Lemon and Blueberry one-bowl loaf. Only I did not have a loaf tin and the blueberries were frozen, but I don’t think it made a difference.

The trick is to roll the blueberries in flour before putting in the batter—in my case, straight out of the freezer. It was an easy cake and highly recommended.

Down memory lane: the art comp

When I was fourteen, my school entered one of my paintings in a competition in India, The Shankar’s International Children’s Competition. How my—very inspiring—art teacher, Mrs Orfanou, came upon this competition, I have no idea.

I won a ‘gold medal’ in my category, for my painting of racehorses. I think it was done in gouache.

I don’t remember having actually received a real gold medal, but I must have had some kind of certificate and also a copy of the book the organisers published each year.

There are 17000 entries from 83 countries! There are twelve pages of photographs of the gold medalists, for every category. Along with the paintings, there are also short stories and poems.

Look how old-fashioned some of the suggested subjects are—I wonder if kids today even know what a pedlar or a hawker is.

Interestingly, I googled the competition, and it continued until 2019! Having been set up in 1949 for children in India, the next year it was opened to kids from all over the world. Sadly, I could not find anything more recent than 2019, so I assume it is no more.

In an unexpected turn of events, via the competition I acquired an Indian penpal named, if memory serves me right, Rajesh Malhotra, with whom I corresponded for a number of years. No idea what we wrote about, I suppose school and hobbies etc. We also practiced our English! (This was before the internet, and Facebook, obviously—people actually wrote letters.)

Footnote: When you decide to sort out the bookcases, the unexpected might turn up.

Summer reading

For anyone who does not already have a huge TBR pile and wants something to read for the rest of the summer—at the beach, or if it is pouring outside—here are a few recommendations from my recent forays into literature.

The Marriage Portrait, by Maggie O’Farrell, tells the story of Lucrezia, daughter of the richest man in Florence, who is married at fifteen to the Duke of Ferrara, whom she suspects of trying to kill her. The details of the period and settings are vividly imagined and portrayed and the suspenseful story only adds to the enjoyment. Based on historical facts.

Perhaps Greek friends, but not only, would enjoy The Clover House, the story of a family set in the city of Patras in Greece during two periods: in 1940 during the war, and in the present day. Complex characters and family secrets.

I am a fan of William Boyd, and The Romantic ticks all the boxes. The saga of Cashel Greville Ross is a fascinating one, and beautifully told. Something to sink into.

For lovers of thrillers, a recommendation from Ian Rankin, who is one of my favourite crime writers. All the Sinners Bleed is a chilling but unputdownable read. Great characters, suspense and endless twists.

The best seller Lessons in Chemistry, by Bonnie Garmus, lives up to its reputation. A fun, quirky story, with original characters, it would be the ideal beach read.

A Winter Chase, by Mary Kingston is for fans of Jane Austen. Set in the Regency era, it is no bodice-ripper, like many of these sort of books nowadays are, featuring bare-chested dukes clutching begowned maidens on the cover. This is an exploration of class and family values.

Fey’s War, by Catherine Bailey, tells a true, incredible story, and it makes for harrowing reading. A WWII tale of a mother whose sons are taken away by the Nazi, and her quest to find them.

For horse lovers, and not only (knowledge of horses is not a prerequisite for enjoyment), Kick the Latch, by Kathryn Scanlan, provides a fascinating view into American racing. Written like a memoir, (it is based on transcribed interviews with Sonia, a horse trainer), in short bites full of humour, it depicts the daily vicissitudes of one woman’s life at the racetrack.

I like everything by Amanda Craig, and her latest, The Three Graces, is set in Tuscany, making for perfect summer reading. An earlier book I had somehow missed, Hearts and Minds does not disappoint. It is a heartwarming and thought-provoking look into the realities in modern Britain. As always, her characters are diverse and likeable and, as usual, some we have met before, in previous books.

And finally, The Means of Escape, a collection of wonderful short stories by the incomparable Penelope Fitzgerald. Something to read again and again.

I did not write a review of each book, because it would make this post interminable, and you can easily find reviews online. My purpose was to try to tempt you. I hope you find something to like.

Yet another inferno

I don’t want to go into details about the fires raging in Greece, since these can be found in all the papers and news streams. They are too awful to contemplate, as are the fires in Canada, California, and elsewhere. Nor do I want to start a discussion of what, or who, is to blame—arson, climate change, negligence… It is too painful.

Ireelevant photo of a soothing Japanese garden

All I want is to spare a thought for the people affected, who have lost holidays, possessions, properties and sometimes their lives. And another for the people fighting those fires, with immeasurable courage. Having witnessed a few myself, I know there are few things more frightening than an out-of-control blaze. Horrible for people on the ground, but perhaps even worse for the pilots, who have to fill up with water from a raging sea (it is strong winds that drive the blazes) and then fly blind through the smoke to dump it on houses and woods.

The gardens of the Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild in the south of France

And finally a thought for nature, which will be depleted for years to come, and might never recover.

I have posted peaceful pictures because we see enough violent ones in the news.

Rosemary

Good post from @agreekmatinee. Greeks use a lot of rosemary in cooking, and always have a bush growing outside the kitchen door in the country. I put sprigs inside whole fish, and in baking trays of potatoes.

Elizabeth F Woodfield - A Greek Matinee

From my garden I pluck rosemary leaves to add to my steaming hot tea. Now mid June, that is, our Winter, blooms grin, attract ants.

‘Are rosemary blooms edible too?’ I wondered.

Daughter says, ‘Yes you can eat rosemary blooms. You could crystallise and put in sugar for subtle flavouring. Also you could freeze in ice cubes to add to gin!’

Son says, ‘You could also make some kind of hair serum with the rosemary.’

‘I’ll pass on the crystallised rosemary flowers due to sugar. However, in icecubes for gin sounds good. Should practice for travelling Scotland, ha ha haa!’

‘You’ll love some of the craft gin in the UK also the zero alcohol gin. Worth a try.’

My 12 year old granddaughter’s ‘hair serum’ is super simple to make Son says. ‘She simply took fresh rosemary and placed it in a saucepan of water (not too much water), brought…

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The Tuscan hills

It is a blessing to have Italian friends, especially if they happen to have a house in Tuscany! The Tuscan landscape must be amongst the most pleasing in the world. And still quite unspoilt.

Hills upon hills, in shades of yellow, ochre and green, spiked with the dark spears of cypress, and dotted with flowering oleander.

Sometimes crowned with medieval villages, or crumbling farmhouses.

A wide, clear horizon. Blue skies.

Views from every window.

Here we are close to Pisa, Florence and Sienna, so if one is has the energy, there is a lot of art and architecture to be enjoyed within an hour’s drive. Also Forte dei Marmi, to swim and eat seafood.

There are wonderful sunsets to enjoy, while sipping a drink—and I will not even try to describe the heavenly food.

It is very tempting, however, to just stay put, eat, read, laze around, play board games and do a bit of light sketching.

Waterloo Teeth

Going to the dentist is not my favourite outing, as one can imagine. Coming out of this morning’s visit, my mouth numb on one side, I nevertheless felt grateful to have been born in the twentieth century—in ealier ages, surely by now I would have had but a few teeth left, if any at all. The torture of toothaches and dentures must have been unbearable in those days.

In old portraits, people almost never smile. Smiling might have been considered uncouth and awkward, a serious face more dignified and also easier to get a likeness from, but another reason was that many people had bad or even missing teeth. Not very flattering, even if the subject was clad in velvet and lace.

However, vanity (and practicality) made people look for solutions, starting in ancient times. The earliest known dentures—made by the Etruscans circa 700 BC, also found in Egypt and Mexico—consisted of human or animal teeth tied together with wires. Other ancient people use carved stones and shells to replace lost teeth.

In the 1700s materials improved with the introduction of walrus, elephant and hippopotamus ivory. But of course the best replacement was a real human tooth—acquired from people willing to sell them (these were difficult to find, because someone had to be desperately poor to give up his teeth) or, more easily, from corpses. Surgeons and professional grave robbers had access to these, but of course the most plentiful source was war. To get an idea of how many teeth were taken from battlefields, consider that they were sold by the barrel!

After the Battle of Waterloo there was a glut of teeth on the market. The French emperor, Napoleon, had lost 25,000 men, the Duke of Wellington’s mixed force had suffered 15,000 casualties and Blucher’s Prussians some 8,000. Viewed in the grey light of dawn the battlefield must have been a dreadful sight. But almost worse than the carnage must have been the arrival of an army of scavengers stripping dead soldiers (and some not so dead) of their valuables; coins, clothes, weapons and their teeth. Before long cartloads of teeth were heading for the Channel ports (I find this image hard to picture.)

There was already a well-established European export market for teeth, which had been started by one of George Washington’s dentists, John Greenwood, who in 1805 returned from Europe with a barrel load of human teeth from one of Napoleon’s earlier battles. George Washington suffered from tooth problems all his life, having lost his first tooth at 22; and he only had one of his own teeth left by the time he became president. He had several sets of dentures made, from various materials—but none, as popular belief has it, from wood (that is an urban legend). Some might even have been taken from slaves, another possible method for acquiring human teeth in those days.

The vast numbers of teeth flooding the London market became known as “Waterloo Teeth”. The belief that the teeth going into one’s dentures had once belonged to a brave young soldier had great commercial appeal.

However, there were already some alternatives to human teeth: The first porcelain teeth had been made in Paris by an Italian dentist in 1808. Despite that, and given that these alternatives had various flaws to start with, the demand for ‘Waterloo Teeth’ continued well into the second half of the 19th Century. At some point, due to the unbelievable slaughter of the American civil war, with over half a million deaths, the tooth trade was reversed, with millions of American teeth coming to Europe.

As for the dental health of the celebrities concerned, the Emperor Napoleon died in exile on St Helena in 1821 at the age of 52 still with all but four of his own teeth; and the Duke of Wellington lived until 1852, never having expressed a wish to acquire a set of Waterloo teeth for himself, despite having lost a few of his own.

Even as late as the 20th century, good dentistry was not available everywhere. Doris Lessing, whose parents moved to Zimbabwe (then Rhodesia) when she was five, remembers seeing her mother secretly sobbing with pain: both her parents had all their teeth removed and replaced with dentures before going to Africa.

So hurrah for modern dentistry. And apologies for the gruesome tales and photos, but I found it interesting how difficult it has been to develop something we now take for granted. I’m sure the same goes for eyeglasses—Samuel Pepys suffered much from failing eyesight, and had to read holding tubes of paper or cardboard to his eyes. But that is another story.

Oil Painting

Seeing as my studio is also my kitchen, I had been confining myself to work on paper: pencil and ink drawings, charcoal, collage, mixed media, and aquarelle. Easy to store, easy to clean, and the food does not smell of turpentine.

This was not a hardship, since I love paper—its texture, feel and smell—and I am always on the lookout for different kinds: I especially like handmade paper made in India and Nepal. Regular readers are often bombarded with photos of my work.

However, I go to a local art workshop on Mondays, and our new teacher, a young artist named Josepha, has been encouraging us to try new things, including live model, printing and street art.

We are pretty free to choose what inspires us, and I have always had a yen to try my hand at portraits—difficult but interesting. This seemed to inspire everyone else, too, so Josepha had us doing the following exercise: using a photo of a person or of a painting, we had to paint in oil directly on paper, without a pencil drawing and without waiting for layers to dry.

My Renaissance gentleman does not look like the photo, but so what?

Then, we had to paint the same person four times, but in different colours, and a restricted palette (two colours, plus white and black if needed). Here is mine:

And here is my friend Nadine’s:

She remarked the first one (top left) looked depressed, so I told her the second looks like a crook, the third is Satan and the fourth (blue) a vampire! As you can see a lot of teasing goes on, interspersed by coffee breaks involving cookies and sometimes cake. As a bonus, we have a studio dog, Josepha’s spaniel Odin.

Fortified by these experiments—plus the jokes, the encouragement and the cookies—I am at the moment obsessed with portrait painting in oil and, you guessed it, my kitchen smells like turps.

I have always been fascinated by hands, so have tried to include them in my portraits. I also like figures of people reading.

There is more inspiration—and, hopefully, progress—in the pipeline, my aim being to go on to paint friends and family. Apparently one should not do that in the beginning, because one becomes obsessed with the likeness to the detriment of everything else. We shall see.