The V&A has an unparalleled collection of hundreds of works by John Constable (1776–1837), but hardly anyone seems to know about them. This is perhaps because they’re usually kept on an upper floor of the Henry Cole Wing, rather off the beaten track for most visitors.
This new exhibition gives us the chance to examine the V&A’s treasures, but because it has been installed in the extensive suite of galleries usually reserved for big survey shows, such as Art Deco or Modernism, a great deal of other material is also required to fill the space. So, instead of an exhibition devoted to the genius of Constable, we have an intensely art-historical display intended to demonstrate how much he owed to the masters of the past. This was an approach tried by the Tate in an ill-fated exhibition called Turner and the Masters in 2009. It didn’t work then, and it doesn’t really work now.
The problem with exhibitions dealing with the various influences on an artist is that they fall between surveys of a period and monographic shows that concentrate on one subject. Falling between, they satisfy the requirements of neither, and are usually exercises driven by the academic ambitions of curators. They are often fascinating — as indeed is this one — but they tend not to be particularly viewer-friendly, juxtaposing the lead name and public attraction with other artists of a similar (and sometimes difficult to distinguish) type. Thus people come to see Constable, and find themselves also looking at Ruisdael, Turner, John Linnell, Thomas Jones, William Mulready, and so on. The effect can be confusing.
Gainsborough, Rubens, Girtin and Claude all feature here, some of them more welcome than others in the comparisons they instigate. Rubens’s ‘Landscape by Moonlight’ is a fine painting, but frankly I’d rather not see Constable’s rather melodramatic response to it. Once the point has been made that Constable copied Old Masters in order to learn (a time-honoured activity, after all), the repetition of it becomes the stuff of academic treatise, of footnote and appendix.
Luckily, this is not all the exhibition has to offer, and there are plenty of choice Constables to beguile the eye and lift the heart. There are various sub-themes (Constable as collector, Constable in the company of his contemporaries, Constable commissioning prints after his paintings; all subjects of considerable interest), but the chief value of the exhibition is the selection of mostly small works. Studies of foliage and poppies, ‘Dedham Vale from Flatford Lane’, a lovely liquid ‘Barges on the Stour’, the cool cloud studies, of course, and the hotter ‘Sketch at Hampstead: Evening’. Compare the gentle but exact notation, a kind of minimalism in ink, of the preparatory drawing with the finished oil of ‘Water-meadows near Salisbury’. Note the flicks of light, like mica dust, over ‘A View of Salisbury from Archdeacon Fisher’s House’. Other treats are the large bistre and sepia drawing after Titian, ‘Study for a Cornfield’, and the Stonehenge pictures. Glorious.
My advice for anyone who wants simply to see some cracking paintings by Constable is to be selective in what you’re looking at, and seek out the plein-air sketches, the drawings and the full-scale sketches, and compare them to other Constables. The best things to pay attention to are Constable’s lively visual language and extraordinary formal invention, not to how he relates to Ruisdael or Claude. As the great art historian E.H. Gombrich wrote: ‘That the artist can learn from tradition …it never entered Constable’s mind to doubt…. He thought, and rightly, that only experimentation can show the artist a way out of the prison of style towards a greater truth…. Making still comes before matching.’
BY THE WAY, THE NEW ‘THE PILL’ IS OUT AND IT IS AN INDEPTH INTERVIEW ABOUT ART AND LIFE WITH SWISS ARTIST ANGELA LYN