Peyton Skipwith enjoys an exhibition that reasserts the reputation of a leading female figure in Victorian art
IN the early 1960s, when Victorian art was at the nadir of its fortunes, Helen Allingham (1848–1926) was regarded as the doyenne of the ‘Jolly Hollyhocks School’ of watercolour painting. Her entire output, and sole subject matter, was deemed to consist of rather twee view of Surrey cottages with roses rambling round the porch and hollyhocks beside the door. True, she did paint a number of such scenes, but she also painted a great deal more and she only lived in Surrey for a mere seven years of her 78-year life.
Born Helen Paterson, the daughter of a doctor, she was brought up in Altrincham, Cheshire, until she was 14, when her father died of diphtheria, as did her three-year-old sister. After this tragedy, her mother moved the family to Birmingham, where Helen attended the School of Art; two years later, she moved to London and entered the Royal Academy Schools and, very soon after, she was receiving her first commissions for black-and-white magazine illustrations.
These were not sentimental scenes, but tough and gritty drawings of social deprivation designed to appeal to audiences reared on Luke Fildes’s Applicants for Admission to a Casual Ward and Frank Holl’s No Tidings from the Sea.
Denne historien er fra December 27, 2017-utgaven av Country Life UK.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
Allerede abonnent ? Logg på
Denne historien er fra December 27, 2017-utgaven av Country Life UK.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
Allerede abonnent? Logg på
Kitchen garden cook - Apples
'Sweet and crisp, apples are the epitome of autumn flavour'
The original Mr Rochester
Three classic houses in North Yorkshire have come to the market; the owner of one inspired Charlotte Brontë to write Jane Eyre
Get it write
Desks, once akin to instruments of torture for scribes, have become cherished repositories of memories and secrets. Matthew Dennison charts their evolution
'Sloes hath ben my food'
A possible paint for the Picts and a definite culprit in tea fraud, the cheek-suckingly sour sloe's spiritual home is indisputably in gin, says John Wright
Souvenirs of greatness
FOR many years, some large boxes have been stored and forgotten in the dark recesses of the garage. Unpacked last week, the contents turned out to be pots: some, perhaps, nearing a century old—dense terracotta, of interesting provenance.
Plants for plants' sake
The garden at Hergest Croft, Herefordshire The home of Edward Banks The Banks family is synonymous with an extraordinary collection of trees and shrubs, many of which are presents from distinguished friends, garnered over two centuries. Be prepared to be amazed, says Charles Quest-Ritson
Capturing the castle
Seventy years after Christian Dior’s last fashion show in Scotland, the brand returned under creative director Maria Grazia Chiuri for a celebratory event honouring local craftsmanship, the beauty of the land and the Auld Alliance, explains Kim Parker
Nature's own cathedral
Our tallest native tree 'most lovely of all', the stately beech creates a shaded environment that few plants can survive. John Lewis-Stempel ventures into the enchanted woods
All that money could buy
A new book explores the lost riches of London's grand houses. Its author, Steven Brindle, looks at the residences of plutocrats built by the nouveaux riches of the late-Victorian and Edwardian ages
In with the old
Diamonds are meant to sparkle in candlelight, but many now gather dust in jewellery boxes. To wear them today, we may need to reimagine them, as Hetty Lintell discovers with her grandmother's jewellery
