ROSE HILTON, who would have been 90 this summer, is being celebrated with a sparkling memorial show in London. Her brilliantly abstracted landscapes and figures in intriguing settings combine in a toast to life.
She was the last survivor from the heyday of Modernist art in Cornwall. As muse and carer for the rampageous Roger Hilton, she also had a rare perspective as a liberated artist and a put-upon wife. Her art evolved ravishingly in the half of her life spent in merry widowhood, but it had always been her mainspring. She made the most of every scrap of existence, revelling in people most of all.
When I posed for her once, in a studio high above Newlyn harbor, she said: ‘This is so good of you. The last man who took his clothes off in my studio came to read the electricity meter.’ Such was this woman’s charm. Her looks were a knockout, too. A tall, lithe figure who could throw together designer outfits and bargain-basement refits, she remained unselfconsciously stylish until her death aged 87.
Born Rosemary Phipps, a Kent baker’s daughter from Leigh, near Tonbridge, she was the fourth of eight children in a Plymouth Brethren family. Art and music were banned—save for Biblical scenes and chapel hymns—but the quietly subversive siblings conspired to enjoy blissful rural childhoods.
Mrs Phipps, a thwarted missionary, settled for enlisting her children in the service of the Lord—preachers, ideally, or at least doctors, nurses and teachers. Rosemary secretly applied to the Royal College of Art and all hell broke loose when a scholarship was secured.
Denne historien er fra June 23, 2021-utgaven av Country Life UK.
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Denne historien er fra June 23, 2021-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.
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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
