Where the wild things are

In his paintings, Archibald Thorburn captured the essence of Nature, whether it was piercing-cold snow enveloping a stricken deer or the existential fear of the ptarmigan. This talent for conveying atmosphere set him apart, finds Charles Harris

WILDLIFE painting fills an important space in the human heart. Unlike other genres that are often regarded as superior, it has no overt message; not religious or revolutionary, political or patriotic, not angst-ridden, fashionable or sophisticated.

However, it speaks to strong instincts— atavism and love of natural beauty. Animals have long been favoured subjects for artists, but were often inaccurately portrayed. Thoroughbreds galloped with legs extended like rocking-horses, birds were not airworthy. Audubon (1785–1851) produced popular, but unnatural pictures of dead birds (posed on wire), coloured by assistants. Edward Lear (1812–88) was the first major wildlife artist to draw birds from life. His contemporary Joseph Wolf (1820–99), whom Landseer (1802–73) called ‘the best all round animal artist who ever lived’, arrived in London in 1848 and became a favoured illustrator with Livingstone and Darwin. He would greatly influence his successor, arguably the finest wildlife artist of all: Archibald Thorburn.

Born in 1860, Thorburn was the fifth son of Robert, a Scottish painter of miniatures for Queen Victoria (until 1853, after which time he ceased this work). As a child, Thorburn explored the countryside around his home at Lasswade, near Edinburgh, drawing and painting wildlife and flowers. His father encouraged and taught him, placing great emphasis upon accuracy, sometimes tearing up laboriously prepared work. By the age of 12, he was skilful with watercolour, pen and ink.