tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18622279158702620562024-03-16T01:11:42.742+00:00Evelyn DunbarAn occasional series of commentaries on her paintings by Christopher Campbell-HowesChristopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.comBlogger99125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-1158647870221923852024-02-17T10:01:00.009+00:002024-02-25T10:20:52.607+00:00Joseph in Prison (1949-50)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5sgAis1pr44/W-sJS3UUZ3I/AAAAAAAAC_4/M-Fg1bKyWW4FVrPhmsEl3Fj1OohS9G9QQCLcBGAs/s1600/Joseph%2Bin%2BPrison%2B3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="364" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5sgAis1pr44/W-sJS3UUZ3I/AAAAAAAAC_4/M-Fg1bKyWW4FVrPhmsEl3Fj1OohS9G9QQCLcBGAs/s640/Joseph%2Bin%2BPrison%2B3.jpg" width="516" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Joseph in Prison </span></span></i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">1949-50 Oil on canvas 46 x 36cm (18" x 14") Photograph reproduced by kind permission of <a href="http://www.woolleyandwallis.co.uk/">Woolley and Wallis</a></span></span></span></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> It's always a very special moment when a long-lost painting of Evelyn's appears out of the blue. The moment becomes more special when the painting in question is one of a set or group, and the event takes on a yet greater significance when the painting hasn't been seen publicly for the best part of 70 years.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Evelyn, a committed Christian Scientist, knew parts of the Bible well, especially the Old Testament. Genesis, the first book of the Old Testament, consists largely of narratives, some would say foundation legends, rich in truths if not in truth, of the origins of the Jewish people. Indeed, Joseph's father Jacob had the alternative name Israel, indicating fatherhood of his people.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Joseph had a particular appeal to Evelyn. Last-born but one, he was his father's favourite, to the annoyance of his many brothers. He's probably best known for his famous coat of many colours, a present from his father, a gift translated into popular 20th century musical idiom by Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber as his <i>Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat</i>. Joseph had a propensity for the interpretation of dreams. Two youthful dreams suggested his superiority over the rest of his family, something hardly likely to endear him to his siblings.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There were echoes of this to some extent in Evelyn's family situation. At certain times in her career she felt something of a cuckoo in the nest of a family of Kentish shopkeepers. (She refers to herself as such in her 1937/38 allegory <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2017/01/april-193738.html">April</a>.) Kindly and welcoming people though her Dunbar siblings were, they sometimes found it difficult to come to terms with an artist sister who, despite several years of professional training, earned next to nothing, received very few commissions, lived at home and subsisted on handouts from her father's and her wealthy uncle Stead Cowling's estates. Her mother Florence, an amateur artist, defended her stoutly at home, and it may well be that Evelyn felt her own situation just as sharply as her siblings.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Evelyn later referred to 1937/40 as her crisis years. Towards the end of 1937 she separated from Charles Mahoney, her former Royal College of Art tutor and later colleague and lover. A miscarriage deepened her depression and her future as an artist looked very bleak indeed. It was at this time that the idea of a series of paintings illustrative of the career of Joseph came into her head.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Joseph's Dream</i> 1938-43 Oil on canvas 46 x 76cm (18" x 30") Photograph: Cambridgeshire County Council. Private collection</span></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The first of what eventually became a trilogy was <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2017/05/josephs-dream-1938-42.html"><i>Joseph's Dream</i></a>, a diptych or two-panel painting showing the adolescent Joseph in some perplexity confronted by his twin dreams of his brothers and parents bowing in homage before him, firstly in the form of sheaves of corn and then as the sun, moon and stars. <i>Joseph's Dream</i> was unfinished at the outbreak of World War 2 in 1939, by which time Evelyn had all but forsaken painting and was working behind the counter in her sisters' shop on Rochester High Street.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Everything changed for her in 1940. Through the intercession of friends in the art world, particularly Sir William Rothenstein, she was gazetted as an official war artist. Then, during an early posting to paint Land Girls at Sparsholt Farm Institute, near Winchester, she met Roger Folley, formerly an agricultural economist but then an RAF officer. They married two years later. With Roger's encouragement and - by his own account - help in modelling Joseph's figure but not his face, Evelyn completed <i>Joseph's Dream</i> in time for exhibition with the New English Art Club in 1943, where it attracted a favourable press reception but remained unsold.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">After the war Evelyn and Roger settled down to their first taste of extended married life, firstly in Warwickshire and later in Oxfordshire when Roger obtained a post at Oxford University Agricultural Research Institute. So began the most productive and inventive period of Evelyn's career. Away from her family (Florence had died in 1944) the tensions that underlay <i>Joseph's Dream</i> disappeared, giving place to wider and maybe nobler visions of reconciliation, among them the conviction, given the biblical Joseph's later history, that one day she would be worthy of them.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the Genesis story, Joseph's brothers had been extraordinarily hostile to him and would have murdered him if Reuben, the eldest brother, had not intervened. He proposed instead that they should rob Joseph of his many-coloured coat, smear it with goat's blood to suggest to their father Jacob that he had been killed by a wild beast, and then push him into a deep pit, where he would certainly die. I hasten to add that this is not in any way to imply, of course, that the Dunbar siblings harboured murderous designs on their youngest sister.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Where did the image of Joseph's pit come from? One of the more unexpected of Evelyn's pastimes was rock-climbing, something she learnt from Roger, himself an experienced cragsman and fell-walker. One of their many rucksack-and-climbing-boot expeditions took them to Gordale Scar, a deep and forbidding ravine near Malham in North Yorkshire. The immediate visionary trigger that fused Joseph's pit with Gordale Scar isn't known, but the result was <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2016/11/joseph-in-pit-1947.html"><i>Joseph in the Pit</i></a>, painted in 1947. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Joseph in the Pit</i> 1947 Oil on canvas 46 x 26cm (18" x 10") Photograph Petra van der Wal ©Christopher Campbell-Howes Private collection</span></b></span></span></span></div><span style="color: #741b47;"><b>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Back to Genesis: in fact Joseph survived. Some of his brothers hauled him out and sold him to a band of passing nomads, who took him to Egypt, where they sold him as a slave. He was bought by Pharaoh's captain of the guard, a man called Potiphar. Attracted by Joseph's manly bearing, Potiphar's wife attempted to seduce him. When Joseph refused her advances, her lust turned to anger. She accused him of attempted rape and Joseph was thrown into prison.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">So the third of Evelyn's Joseph trilogy is <i>Joseph in Prison</i>. Joseph has proved himself an able and trustworthy man to the prison governor, who gives him certain responsibilities. Among them is care of his fellow-prisoners, who include two of Pharaoh's close servants, his chief butler and chief baker. We aren't told why they were in prison, simply that Pharaoh was 'wroth' against them.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">(Image as above, reproduced for ease of reference)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sharing the same cell, each had a disturbing dream. The Genesis account goes on (Chapter 40, verse 6) '<i>And Joseph came into them in the morning, and looked upon them, and, behold, they were sad</i>'. Here we are plunged into the actuality of Evelyn's <i>Joseph in Prison. </i>Joseph, the central figure in red, has opened the cell from the outside - evidence of his trustworthiness - to give breakfast of sheep's milk or something similar to the two inmates. Through the window dawn is breaking. Joseph, seen from above and in quarter profile, has a strong resemblance to Roger Folley. What is happening?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Later they recount their dreams. Joseph interprets them: for the butler it means release and a return to his former royal duties, but for the baker it means death. And so it turns out. Eventually Joseph's dream-prowess reaches Pharaoh's ears: he too has had a dream, which Joseph interprets as meaning that seven years of plenty would be followed by seven years of bad harvests and famine. And so it comes to pass. Joseph becomes Pharoah's right hand man, in charge of agricultural management and the storage of corn in years of plenty and of its distribution in time of famine. The predicted famine is universal. The now aged Jacob and his sons come from their land of Canaan to find corn. They apply to Joseph: they do not recognise him in his Pharaonic grandeur, even less - perhaps hardly surprisingly - from his new name, Zaphnath-Paaneah, supposedly meaning 'the god speaks: man lives'. (He is known as Aziz in the Koranic version of this story.) But Joseph recognises them, and after some vetting he allows them corn in plenty. He has become the provider for his people, reconciliation is complete, and maybe Evelyn has proved herself worthy of her family.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A strong and constant thread running through Evelyn's work is the contract, or covenant, or promise, that the Creator will provide the means for mankind to survive and flourish in exchange for mankind's undertaking to look after creation with intelligence, industry and love. The notion is most simply expressed in the early Genesis creation legend of the Garden of Eden, given to Adam and Eve 'to dress it and keep it'. When Evelyn was painting <i>Joseph in Prison,</i> Roger - in any case a keen gardener - was working at the Oxford University Agricultural Research Institute. In 1950 he was appointed to the Economics Department of Imperial College, London, at its agricultural campus in Wye, Kent, where he became a leading horticultural economist with a worldwide reputation in certain areas.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Would it be over-fanciful </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">for Evelyn to equate, compare or identify Roger with the biblical Joseph? It's true that in other images (e.g. <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2013/05/autumn-and-poet-1960.html"><i>Autumn and the Poet</i></a>) Evelyn has vested him with the mantle of one who, through his intellectual work, kept his side of the Creator's bargain and its promise of provision. In 2023 a sketch turned up from the Hammer Mill Oast collection, the vast quantity of sketches, studies, juvenilia and unsold or minor work stored in her studio at her death and covering her entire career.<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX8tu5o00z7WH9LI9ikXAuo0CWUJUddq2cvdzPu0G7LguojYVWV7eEh1dIgHc89sWAVgb6fiM4rGYqYMILZawNmQWbUk_ZS_iJ1S2cZAa-c1_2gURSHyzANmIJH6WJrcl8EFrRLN_FKtcTD32DiwQ0NnTlWL3lXuJnMrY2d2Daw8G3tekXRBYAL1dnufd_/s600/Joseph%20in%20Prison%20with%20facial%20smudge.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="437" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX8tu5o00z7WH9LI9ikXAuo0CWUJUddq2cvdzPu0G7LguojYVWV7eEh1dIgHc89sWAVgb6fiM4rGYqYMILZawNmQWbUk_ZS_iJ1S2cZAa-c1_2gURSHyzANmIJH6WJrcl8EFrRLN_FKtcTD32DiwQ0NnTlWL3lXuJnMrY2d2Daw8G3tekXRBYAL1dnufd_/w291-h400/Joseph%20in%20Prison%20with%20facial%20smudge.jpg" width="291" /></a></div></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Sketch for <i>Joseph in Prison</i> 1949 Pencil Photograph ©<a href="https://lissllewellyn.com/" target="_blank">Liss Llewellyn</a> Private collection</b></span></span><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">Here Joseph's head is scumbled as though with a not-very-clean eraser or even a damp finger, while a little to the right two heads appear. Both are of Roger, the upper more worked than the lower, exactly of the scale and direction of look were it to replace the head of Joseph. (An orphan female face appears in the lower right-hand corner, through a quasi-spider's web of scribbling. I don't think it can have any connection with the ongoing business. It was just Evelyn's habit to allow herself to be sidetracked in her sketches.)</span><span style="font-family: times;"> <br /></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Joseph in Prison</i> was exhibited in Oxford in 1949 or 1950, where it was sold to Lionel Herbert, a prominent Oxford solicitor. Lionel Herbert lent it back to Evelyn for her solo exhibition at Wye in 1953, since when it has not been seen in public. For me it is privilege to be in a position to show for the first time since 1953 all three paintings in Evelyn's <i>Joseph</i> trilogy.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2024 </span></span></span></span><br />
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>
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Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-40857743461095494912024-01-30T15:52:00.042+00:002024-02-01T16:42:18.940+00:00Pea Pickers at Ripper's Cross (1951)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpRaIxiKpXirgslwVddpliQRzQMxosbQnRovYfpCubcPom3qc4DGnBUaIVTCUbumuEU0JRSXeYQe4oh8ccLxQwGZCJ2GOSL1ody2FfXjXOrcyjRzkifQQ8FQn8VqXh3eF3GGrA4XUfj7ZGLwJgmKapwlO1YGJxwhH5S1NQWVowpPpeGKLlA8Wl45ykHQ/s624/Fig.%20275%20Pea%20Picking%20at%20Ripper's%20Cross%20Farm.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="624" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpRaIxiKpXirgslwVddpliQRzQMxosbQnRovYfpCubcPom3qc4DGnBUaIVTCUbumuEU0JRSXeYQe4oh8ccLxQwGZCJ2GOSL1ody2FfXjXOrcyjRzkifQQ8FQn8VqXh3eF3GGrA4XUfj7ZGLwJgmKapwlO1YGJxwhH5S1NQWVowpPpeGKLlA8Wl45ykHQ/w640-h512/Fig.%20275%20Pea%20Picking%20at%20Ripper's%20Cross%20Farm.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><i> </i><span><i>Pea Pickers at Ripper's Cross</i> 1951 oil on canvas 14 x 18in (35.3 x 45.5cm). Imperial War Museum</span></span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">In 1950 Evelyn's husband, Roger Folley, who since World War 2 had been working for Oxford University Agricultural Research Department, took up a new and more rewarding post at Wye College, in east Kent. Wye College was the centre of the agricultural economics campus of Imperial College, London. While the move meant new professional horizons for Roger, for Evelyn it meant abandoning the many colleagues and friends she had at Oxford, chiefly centred on the Ruskin School of Art, where she had been teaching. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Leaving Oxford was a difficult time for Evelyn, a wrench and a painful separation, aggravated by the house she and Roger rented, The Elms, being as isolated as anywhere can be in rural Kent. At first solitary and unemployed, she found it to some extent in the Christian Science Reading Room in nearby Ashford. The Ashford Christian Scientists appear to have been an integrated and energetic group, mainly of women of much the same age as Evelyn, who was 44 in December 1950. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Apart from formal lectures and seminars, Roger Folley's Wye College work included visiting local farms, establishing a rapport with them, arranging and overseeing student placements and generally working in tandem with these farms to maximise efficiency and productivity. One such farm was Ripper's Cross, close to the village of Hothfield, west of Ashford, where the farm manager was called Allender. In due course the two couples, Folley and Allender, met: Evelyn and Marcella Allender took to each other at once, both quickly forming part of a circle of close friends. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">With <i>Pea Pickers at Ripper's Cross</i> it seems that Evelyn has reverted to her wartime Women's Land Army images, but resemblance is superficial and if the Imperial War Museum accepted the gift (from a Mr David Bunker, a frequent visitor to the Allenders) in 1992 of <i>Pea Pickers at Ripper's Cross</i> it was not because of any community with its existing group of Dunbars. In fact it has no connection with her wartime painting; Evelyn's employment by the War Artists' Advisory Committee ceased in 1945, six years previously.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's a spontaneous work, as cheerful and glad-hearted as ever, as though Evelyn had driven the few miles from The Elms to Hothfield to call on Marcella Allender, with whom she had gone for a walk down the Bethersden road. Was she struck by the unexpected flecks and flashes of colour of a gang of pea-pickers, themselves like a sudden patch of wild flowers?</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">No time, then, to do more than briefly record the overall scene in her sketchbook, or possibly on the back of a bill or an envelope: the geometry of the fields, the stately procession of <i>cumulus humilis</i> clouds, some midfield oaks, outliers of the remnants of the ancient Wealden forest stretching to the western horizon; no time to do more than hint at the bulbous shapes in the foreground so that we can't be certain what they represent, other than reminding us that nature's gifts rarely come in forms that are pinched or skeletal. By contrast the human figures, which I imagine Evelyn putting in on her return from Hothfield, are carefully drawn, their postures and attitudes convincingly recorded as they bend among the notoriously straggly and tangled pea-vines to snap off the pods and put them into sacks.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Did Evelyn consider this painting finished? Her general principle was not to sign anything unless it was finished. There's no signature here. Perhaps it doesn't matter. <i>Pea Pickers at Ripper's Cross</i> says enough to us about the Weald, about harmonies of green, about the closeness of mankind to the soil, about the eternal year-round organic whole. And maybe about peace after conflict, which is perhaps why the Imperial War Museum accepted it.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * *</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Thanks to Mr Colin, one time resident of Ripper's Cross Farm, for his contribution.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2024. All rights reserved.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /></p><div class="MsoNormal">
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-2261650764802799292023-04-19T17:08:00.062+01:002024-02-22T12:06:25.916+00:00Looking beyond the frame: (6) The Queue at the Fish Shop, (7) It weren't me, Miss<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY5VUddvL0LWfo_nJrxFVg4HG-F6UYD0wuBWc5W0kVBtLEQSCkDGqxXZ6stR4WxnmBjCOQmQxkcHGLL9e1hzMf3DB5IXvuOQsWVjt3mZmAuRxrUtumOSdc_IRnxgtyw99Q0rUGQsR2AjX6jEBhNKbKm4je7iH6XcOHnp23hqtn7bWvCHi9O0-5KxEL9Q/s630/Fig.%20220%20Queue%20at%20the%20Fish%20Shop.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="211" data-original-width="630" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY5VUddvL0LWfo_nJrxFVg4HG-F6UYD0wuBWc5W0kVBtLEQSCkDGqxXZ6stR4WxnmBjCOQmQxkcHGLL9e1hzMf3DB5IXvuOQsWVjt3mZmAuRxrUtumOSdc_IRnxgtyw99Q0rUGQsR2AjX6jEBhNKbKm4je7iH6XcOHnp23hqtn7bWvCHi9O0-5KxEL9Q/w640-h214/Fig.%20220%20Queue%20at%20the%20Fish%20Shop.jpg" width="640" /></a> <br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: small;"><i>The Queue at the Fish Shop</i> Oil on canvas 1942-5 Imperial War Museum</span></b></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">In this mini-series of Evelyn's paintings and drawings, in which figures look beyond the frame to some great matter, to something of particular importance, we come to <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-queue-at-fish-shop-1942-45.html" target="_blank"><i>The Queue at the Fish Shop</i></a> of 1942-5. Excluding portraits, there are only 7 such figures: (1) <i><a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2023/03/looking-out-of-frame-1.html" target="_blank">August</a></i>, (2) <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/1862227915870262056/5983982463253983784" target="_blank"><i>Putting on Anti-Gas Protective Clothing</i></a>, (3) <i><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/1862227915870262056/5983982463253983784" target="_blank">Dorset</a></i>, (4) <i><a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2023/04/looking-beyond-frame-3-joseph-in-pit.html" target="_blank">Joseph in the Pit</a></i>, (5) <i><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/1862227915870262056/1877109531513035256" target="_blank">'Zacchaeus'</a></i>, (6) <i>The Queue at the Fish Shop</i>, and (7) ...wait and see: Evelyn's little joke. (Or is it?)<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Evelyn, in self-portrait, is looking at us. She's impassive, unsmiling.
How it would have transformed the whole painting and minimised its
impact if she had been smiling! Nor is she angry. (Evelyn never was:
impatient sometimes, but never angry.) She's challenging our
complacency, maybe our mistrust. Let's explore this in a little detail.<br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
There are certain lines, actual or implied, in <i>The Queue at the Fish Shop</i>.
The cyclist is Evelyn's husband, Flight Lieutenant Roger Folley, RAF. If you extend the line of Roger's handlebars (it does no harm to do it
with a transparent plastic ruler on a reproduction), if you extend the
line of the fold of his fore-and-aft cap, if you follow the line of
heads in the left-hand queue, you arrive at the same point: the
beginning of the inscription LARGE SUPPLIES OF FRESH FISH FROM THE COAST
DAILY. Just at the moment, of course, there aren't any fish at all, and
superficially Evelyn is pointing an inescapable irony. But there will
be. It's a promise. The guarantor of that promise is Roger, standing for the Royal Air Force and by implication the armed services. It must have
been very exciting for Evelyn to cast this mantle on the shoulders of her fiancé: she started <i>The Queue at the Fish Shop</i> to mark their engagement, in February 1942. It was a personal statement. It was by no means a War Artists' Advisory Committee commission.<br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
My thesis in these six - but not the seventh - 'Beyond the Frame' images is that, deliberately or instinctively, Evelyn draws our attention to major themes - death, war, personal tragedy (as in <i>August</i>), religious epiphany (as in '<i>Zacchaeus</i>') - by giving them an unseen offstage existence, and creating the onstage, on-canvas tension and drama through her characters' reactions to them. <i>The Queue at the Fish Shop</i>, is exceptional in that what is offstage is a guarantee, a promise kept. We aren't so very far, once again, from Evelyn's driving notion of
the Covenant, the contract between the Creator and mankind: in return
for mankind's love for and care of the earth, the Creator promises
endless abundance. It's this that Evelyn, in an earnest stare that some
feel uncomfortable to confront for very long, is asking us not to
forget.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * * </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">(7) It weren't me, Miss</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIIig1UnV_z-tGaFX8GybJz72fw3ZiE8u1xQ_lG3R9AaXrUJv3GpT08FJgC82zO1zUcWpCv2ChYABqpc6ugqV3rXi4otPGz0wNKENnW6w8gCPO7x682Anu25qbbLcRyF9y_fYNpyG3RBJ41e8SnpRDY-DSvMrLcdaFfwh91HO3EO6PIhh7AL3uO-hwXA/s600/Land%20Girls%20Going%20to%20Bed%20sketch.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="434" data-original-width="600" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIIig1UnV_z-tGaFX8GybJz72fw3ZiE8u1xQ_lG3R9AaXrUJv3GpT08FJgC82zO1zUcWpCv2ChYABqpc6ugqV3rXi4otPGz0wNKENnW6w8gCPO7x682Anu25qbbLcRyF9y_fYNpyG3RBJ41e8SnpRDY-DSvMrLcdaFfwh91HO3EO6PIhh7AL3uO-hwXA/w400-h289/Land%20Girls%20Going%20to%20Bed%20sketch.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: small;"> Sketch for <i>Land Girls Going to Bed</i> 1943 Photograph ©Liss Llewellyn</span><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: small;"><br /></span></b></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Above is a sketch for <i>Land Girls Going to Bed</i>. These Land Girls were billeted in a large country house, probably in or near Wooler, Northumberland. Evelyn included them in her portfolio of images from the Borders in May, 1943. These young women have allowed Evelyn into their dormitory to record them preparing for bed. One might be already asleep, the girl in the bunk below turns out in the final oil version to be applying cold cream to her face, and there's nothing much to be said about the other two girls, one kneeling in front of a chest of drawers, the other sketched in profile in the foreground. In the final version, however, she takes on a character absent from the sketch. Here she is:</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWJyi569Jrmjw51HJV2U6QoCs6IpJ9vjVs85UnSmCNanX8XaN9nvLv-1-_vMkG5YE03qvBVQiU6VMbsjuDra98msrSCr4DwOoxCv9eith63o7scfoWwLAdDNF6tw5JokFFmArgvR0m_CN5XGFjfa_hhHcONWEydY5QRiiQXYXucLo1K60jTYTTrVhMJg/s229/Looking%20beyond%20the%20frame.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="229" data-original-width="197" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWJyi569Jrmjw51HJV2U6QoCs6IpJ9vjVs85UnSmCNanX8XaN9nvLv-1-_vMkG5YE03qvBVQiU6VMbsjuDra98msrSCr4DwOoxCv9eith63o7scfoWwLAdDNF6tw5JokFFmArgvR0m_CN5XGFjfa_hhHcONWEydY5QRiiQXYXucLo1K60jTYTTrVhMJg/s1600/Looking%20beyond%20the%20frame.jpg" width="197" /></a></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="color: #741b47;"><i> Land Girls Going to Bed</i> (detail)</span></b></span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">What is she looking at, beyond the frame, as she tugs her Women's Land Army jumper over her liberty bodice? Evelyn doesn't tell us, but as we should know by now, there's always something else in her work, something hidden, something hinted at, something alluded to, something unexpected for us to discover, we mightn't be far out if we supposed that what the girl is looking at is a supervisor, maybe a warden, asking 'Right, who broke the bunk? Come on, own up!'<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here's the final version: <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNlN-mIyKNB6u7F0xcw3S3glb696YYAmEDIg8mgB2aMLu9rTs5tDAmg4RDqZ2FVwJXdBwDkGM_J4j0GU5TlfbfuXYFQLeZwtibFkl--m_w1YIGQzq-V3Wi1dngxxIwH5PKUhoEzWiEorU-6JhyflfKhg9dLcBQyu8u9zLh5p7T344cakoH4ceQP4pmdA/s800/Fig.%20234%20Land%20Girls%20going%20to%20Bed.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="800" height="429" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNlN-mIyKNB6u7F0xcw3S3glb696YYAmEDIg8mgB2aMLu9rTs5tDAmg4RDqZ2FVwJXdBwDkGM_J4j0GU5TlfbfuXYFQLeZwtibFkl--m_w1YIGQzq-V3Wi1dngxxIwH5PKUhoEzWiEorU-6JhyflfKhg9dLcBQyu8u9zLh5p7T344cakoH4ceQP4pmdA/w640-h429/Fig.%20234%20Land%20Girls%20going%20to%20Bed.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i><b><span style="color: #741b47;"><i>Land Girls Going to Bed</i> Oil on canvas 1943 Imperial War Museum</span></b></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">If we look carefully at the lower of the two visible bunks, the side rail, the one close to those slippers, has come adrift. The nearer end appears to rest on the floor, meaning that Cold Cream Girl is going to have a lop-sided night. If we dismissed this as poor draughtsmanship (which we shouldn't have done: artists of Evelyn's calibre just don't make mistakes like that), we've only to refer to her sketch: it's just as deliberate there. What's more, someone has placed that rush-seated chair so as to obscure the broken bed rail. Clearly there's been some larking about. Who bust it? Who was bouncing on it? I don't think the answer is far to seek. However momentous Evelyn's off-stage concerns are, no doubt this was of equally pressing immediate importance to the beady-eyed girl undressing. What do you think? </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * * </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><i>This is the 100th post in this blog, and with it I take my leave of the thousands of readers who have stayed the course since I first started this series of essays and commentaries on Evelyn Dunbar's work in 2011. Thank you all for your loyalty and support; I hope you've enjoyed reading them as much as I've enjoyed writing them. Best wishes to you all.<br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2023. All rights reserved. </span> </p><p></p>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-18771095315130352562023-04-17T10:07:00.011+01:002023-08-11T15:30:44.795+01:00Looking beyond the frame (5) 'Zacchaeus'<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOWosPRy--5mEu3mHKTJRGYoBgyOe-75z4K3gURIrwUnkQvGDy-2fhRqCU1q2vE7EwzNHC9dgnZPOjp-aV1TQBPkT9C_i1ZhGxXs3NGV0SxW4Eiy_ZyqgwcAHcnRdoh98nsjg2HsMitOo_LyyM2KMpipjdtLX0iLsw4Izy0aQ0Qj7E_FZLKeMi1NH6w/s1573/Zacchaeus.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1573" data-original-width="1285" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOWosPRy--5mEu3mHKTJRGYoBgyOe-75z4K3gURIrwUnkQvGDy-2fhRqCU1q2vE7EwzNHC9dgnZPOjp-aV1TQBPkT9C_i1ZhGxXs3NGV0SxW4Eiy_ZyqgwcAHcnRdoh98nsjg2HsMitOo_LyyM2KMpipjdtLX0iLsw4Izy0aQ0Qj7E_FZLKeMi1NH6w/w522-h640/Zacchaeus.jpg" width="522" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: small;"> '<i>Zacchaeus</i>' pre-1933 Pen and wash heightened with white on paper Signed 'E.Dunbar' Private collection</span></span></b></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;">I ought to preface '<i>Zacchaeus</i>' and its fascinating back story by putting <b>CONJECTURE ALERT</b> at the head: what follows is the piecing together of several sometimes quite disparate elements in the hope of composing a convincing narrative. Alas, some of what follows is guesswork - informed guesswork, I hope, but still more conjecture than good scholarship has houseroom for. If any reader knows better or has information to add to the following reconstruction, please leave a comment. I'd be very grateful!<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>* * *<br /></b></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">In about 1922, when Evelyn was in her mid-teens, she seems to have considered illustrating a series of Bible stories in pen and ink, and in contemporary dress. What her purpose was we don't know, but we can maybe assume some project connected with the Christian Science community in Rochester of which her family (apart from her father William) were committed members. Biblical illustration was something that drove her throughout her life: her final completed painting was <i><a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2013/05/jacobs-dream-1960.html" target="_blank">Jacob's Dream</a></i>, on her easel in her studio when she died in May 1960. One such early drawing was <i>Martha, Mary and Lazarus</i>:</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5nLg1UeAdsgybQ4CT-Aknuf2OySnG-K3HRmrTP8htII4B7z0zXmJfWbO747hGVr0ML-IIglfcKB3XMcqFtPhqTJu5RSvDeMXMbdmi6J9Zzh9ScyEdF58F9fzG5AKkDXMmcoyKfGlEhfJN5nsI3xA3GYuNdEVQHGdnA6zdSlbRNsQoonVsHsZyclT2VA/s512/Martha,%20Mary%20and%20Lazarus.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5nLg1UeAdsgybQ4CT-Aknuf2OySnG-K3HRmrTP8htII4B7z0zXmJfWbO747hGVr0ML-IIglfcKB3XMcqFtPhqTJu5RSvDeMXMbdmi6J9Zzh9ScyEdF58F9fzG5AKkDXMmcoyKfGlEhfJN5nsI3xA3GYuNdEVQHGdnA6zdSlbRNsQoonVsHsZyclT2VA/w313-h400/Martha,%20Mary%20and%20Lazarus.jpg" width="313" /></a></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="color: #741b47;"><i> Martha, Mary and Lazarus</i> 1922 Pen and wash on paper NS Image ©Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford</span></b></span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Evelyn has gone to St Luke' gospel, chapter 10, for his account of Jesus' visit to the house where the siblings Lazarus, Martha and their young sister Mary lived. Lazarus doesn't appear in Evelyn's picture: the man on the left is Jesus; sitting on a plaid rug opposite him, enraptured by his discourse, is Mary, who has some resemblance to the teenage Evelyn; in the background is Martha, peeling apples or potatoes in a posture reminiscent of Evelyn's mother Florence that we've seen <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2019/09/the-kitchen-at-244-high-street.html" target="_blank">elsewhere</a>. Jesus has taken his boots off, a standard practice in Islam, one which the Koran shares with the Old Testament, denoting that the place where he is and the context of his teaching is sacred. How much Evelyn knew of Stanley Spencer's casting of scriptural subjects in modern dress and surroundings we don't know, but for Evelyn to do so, in the context of her own home, and possibly including herself, is surely an equally powerful vector.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">In 1957, towards the end of her life, the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford asked Evelyn, who had been teaching part-time in Oxford for some years, for some samples of her work. She chose to donate a couple of family pencil portraits and <i>Martha, Mary and Lazarus</i>. It may be noteworthy that Evelyn didn't sign it.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Was <i>Martha, Mary and Lazarus</i> the only Biblical pen-and-ink illustration in the series?</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * *</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the final months of Evelyn's postgraduate year at the Royal College of Art Evelyn volunteered to join a small team of recent graduates to decorate the hall at Brockley School for Boys in south-east London. She did so at the invitation of her mural tutor, Charles Mahoney. It was a big project, and the work lasted, largely uninterrupted, for a little under three years, April 1933 to February 1936. As the project neared its end, by which time Evelyn and Mahoney had become lovers, she looked about for other projects and commissions. One result of her search was an invitation in March 1936 by Athole Hay, Registrar at the Royal College of Art, to submit mural designs for the interior decoration of some new buildings at the University of London.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">To accompany this request she was asked to submit a supporting portfolio of her work, to be delivered to Athole Hay at the Royal College of Art, and this she did. What happened to this portfolio is not known. It seems to have disappeared from the RCA. Having left the RCA three years before, Evelyn no longer had an automatic entrée there, even less after she and Mahoney separated in 1937. There's some suggestion in the Evelyn-Mahoney correspondence, now housed in the Tate Archive, that she asked him to collect it or at least enquire about it. Evelyn was concerned that it shouldn't fall into unauthorised hands. There the story dies until many years later.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was in 2010 or thereabouts that a very fine pen and ink drawing, rather hurriedly signed 'E Dunbar' in the style she favoured in the mid-1930s, came to light in a document drawer in a piece of furniture once belonging to Eric Ravilious, who died in 1942. When his daughter Anne Ullmann told me about it she had no idea how it came to be there. Although he never taught Evelyn, Eric Ravilious had taught at the Royal College of Art throughout the years of her studentship and thereafter. Evelyn and Ravilious hardly knew each other. The likelihood, but pure conjecture, is that the pen and ink drawing had come from Evelyn's missing portfolio.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * *</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's an impressive piece of work, of a depth rarely achieved with pen, ink and wash, heightened with white, alive with movement and excitement. Here it is again for reference:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha4M6ZBIOuuCvU9AXYFpiGY0gLuv2IMCU_e0APR8SdJjLrzwGeP-TbC-cDnHpDzQVy6NIXfxKUcPq4Zqtl3WLs337y0LtsiSbU9y7g5TGGJc3GAVlBSXRKTyravUenhj3A9-xcZwMal_aXWLQNPhwPtYuI-96HQAB63aD4hVyHtu2lL6uKpijPGdm5wg/s1573/Zacchaeus.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1573" data-original-width="1285" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha4M6ZBIOuuCvU9AXYFpiGY0gLuv2IMCU_e0APR8SdJjLrzwGeP-TbC-cDnHpDzQVy6NIXfxKUcPq4Zqtl3WLs337y0LtsiSbU9y7g5TGGJc3GAVlBSXRKTyravUenhj3A9-xcZwMal_aXWLQNPhwPtYuI-96HQAB63aD4hVyHtu2lL6uKpijPGdm5wg/w522-h640/Zacchaeus.jpg" width="522" /></a></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">This, then, is another in this mini-series of images Evelyn has created in which a principal figure is looking beyond the frame. There are only 7, and one of them, number 7, is one of Evelyn's jokes; this is number 5. It's a technique Evelyn uses to evoke something of great importance happening beyond the frame. Some would say that what is happening here is of unequalled significance.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Clearly something very exciting is about to happen. A star-struck, enraptured girl - could she be the same girl as in <i>Martha, Mary and Lazarus</i> above? - is looking out of the frame at something so blinding, so brilliantly powerful that the girl next to her has to shield her eyes. Other people (I can count sixteen), it seems of all ages, are hurrying to see what's going on, what's happening beyond the frame, who's coming. And two, to get a better view, are climbing a tree, one by ladder and one, not an enormous person, by rope or - it isn't clear - rope ladder, slung from a much higher branch.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Could there be a clue in St Luke, chapter 19? Has Evelyn transported her imagination to 1st Century AD Jericho, clothing her scene in modern dress? <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">And Jesus entered and passed through Jericho. And behold, there was a man called Zacchaeus...and he sought to see Jesus who he was; and could not for the press, because he was little of stature. And he ran before, and climbed up into a sycomore tree to see him: for he was to pass that way. And when Jesus came to the place, he looked up, and saw him, and said unto him, Zacchaeus, make haste, and come down; for today I must abide at thy house...</span></blockquote></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">But how did this drawing come into Eric Ravilious' possession? Better not to ask, surely. A conjecture too far.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2023. All rights reserved.</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></p><div class="MsoNormal">
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div><p><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /><br /></span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /></p>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-14510485103526062072023-04-01T11:25:00.012+01:002023-08-11T15:13:45.997+01:00Looking beyond the frame (4) Joseph in the Pit<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJj5kLIx5m9w3O9tGnCrS0SSoQD2dyPClRZCsY3n3OpHFF3PfcVLIv_Ibvsu4t4YpqKoJ-mOvm1oB1ZBE52tTylwmpGlwVW0EU45CeZ4jodwm_iSddQqFSvaIIhJbcbQeI1M-ldQn7VZZnkZZ6lrIiS1HDhA9HgVhZ_ycYc1S-QAENg1Rz57Y23B7Mg/s768/Fig.%20269%20Joseph%20in%20the%20pit.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="426" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJj5kLIx5m9w3O9tGnCrS0SSoQD2dyPClRZCsY3n3OpHFF3PfcVLIv_Ibvsu4t4YpqKoJ-mOvm1oB1ZBE52tTylwmpGlwVW0EU45CeZ4jodwm_iSddQqFSvaIIhJbcbQeI1M-ldQn7VZZnkZZ6lrIiS1HDhA9HgVhZ_ycYc1S-QAENg1Rz57Y23B7Mg/w356-h640/Fig.%20269%20Joseph%20in%20the%20pit.jpg" width="356" /></a></div> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="color: #741b47;"><i>Joseph in the Pit</i> Oil on canvas 1947 Photograph Petra van der Wal ©Christopher Campbell-Howes Private collection</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Here is poor Joseph, youngest of Jacob's sons and his father's favourite. If he's unfamiliar through reading of Genesis, Chapter 37, he's reasonably universally known though the late 1960s musical <i>Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat</i>. Evelyn's picture above is the second of a trilogy of paintings illustrating crucial moments in the Joseph story. The first is <i>Joseph's Dream</i>, begun in about 1937 and analysed <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2017/05/josephs-dream-1938-42.html" target="_blank">here</a>, and the third is <i><a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2018/11/joseph-in-prison-1949-50.html" target="_blank">Joseph in Prison</a></i>, completed some 12 years later.<br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Joseph's brothers, destined to found the 12 tribes of Israel, detested Joseph bitterly, partly because of his favoured family standing and partly because of his boastfully egocentric dreams. The brothers plotted to kill him, but were dissuaded from murder by the eldest, Reuben, who suggested that they should let nature take its course by robbing him of his coat of many colours and throwing him into a pit, where he would certainly die of starvation or be eaten by a wild beast.<br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>* * * <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Shortly after World War 2 Evelyn went with her husband Roger Folley to the Yorkshire dales, a walking expedition which included exploring Gordale Scar, a massive limestone ravine, possibly a collapsed cave. Has she invoked Gordale Scar as the backdrop for Joseph's discomfiture? Was this the trigger for the continuation and completion of Evelyn's long-considered Joseph trilogy? </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><i>Joseph in the Pit</i> is unique in a curious way. It's the only painting in her entire canon (we exclude minor works like <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2012/09/lake-district-interlude-1941.html" target="_blank">mice climbing Lake District mountains</a>) which features mountainous scenery in the form of bare unyielding rock, with not the slightest hint of any form of growth or hint of regeneration, in which the hand of man hasn't intervened to work the land. So Joseph is condemned to die...apparently.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><i>Joseph in the Pit</i> is unusual, if not quite unique, in another way: it's another of the very few paintings, I believe 7 in all, in which the principal subject is looking out beyond the frame, searching, regretting, identifying, welcoming something of the greatest personal or general significance. Here Joseph, stripped of everything apart from a sort of undershirt, looks despairingly upwards for any sign of help. Maybe Evelyn, as she often did, had a line of a Psalm handy as she conceived the design of her painting, perhaps Psalm121: <i>I will lift up mine eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my help</i>, in the 17th century diction she loved.<br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>And of course help did come, in the form of a band of desert nomads who discovered Joseph, hauled him up, took him to Egypt with them and sold him as a slave. He never looked back.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2023. All rights reserved.</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #c00000; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /><br /></span></i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tqrybpc2n4Y/WHpnQuyuPRI/AAAAAAAACik/5yAzmUHHi8cM75Yx83WPo3m_dyQQNo7cgCLcB/s1600/ED%2BCOVER.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tqrybpc2n4Y/WHpnQuyuPRI/AAAAAAAACik/5yAzmUHHi8cM75Yx83WPo3m_dyQQNo7cgCLcB/s320/ED%2BCOVER.jpg" width="236" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-59839824632539837842023-03-17T17:27:00.277+00:002023-08-11T15:42:22.005+01:00Looking beyond the frame: (2) Dorset and (3) Putting on Anti-Gas Protective Clothing<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCoo9Nk0yOowokE2Prdzr7l37ivHyT_uQ6dW-97dwmHsz2ur10OEHCnlPJeBAEujoIaZqk-nP3VYSR49a_zyJcg80M6OAFPDGT_JulKPuOK5TKurJnyuUAy4uNKJLWpvcdrjRLprKKLMU1P6ZJPeDSWB9Ab9aVCFXbGZqwH4gs9IMlNfEdEx_2ibUGPg/s3462/Evelyn%20Dunbar%20Dorset.tif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2886" data-original-width="3462" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCoo9Nk0yOowokE2Prdzr7l37ivHyT_uQ6dW-97dwmHsz2ur10OEHCnlPJeBAEujoIaZqk-nP3VYSR49a_zyJcg80M6OAFPDGT_JulKPuOK5TKurJnyuUAy4uNKJLWpvcdrjRLprKKLMU1P6ZJPeDSWB9Ab9aVCFXbGZqwH4gs9IMlNfEdEx_2ibUGPg/w400-h334/Evelyn%20Dunbar%20Dorset.tif" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="color: #741b47;"><i> Dorset</i> oil on canvas 1947-48 Photograph: Ben Taylor ©The owner Private collection</span></b></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Dorset</i> is another of Evelyn's paintings in which<span style="font-size: small;"><b> </b><span style="font-size: large;">the subject looks out of the frame. The previous post looked at <i>August</i>, a largely autobiographical image, enveloped in deep emotions. The conclusion was drawn that when Evelyn wants to express something particularly profound, moving<b> </b>or important, the principal figure's gaze is concentrated on something, actual or notional, outside the frame. In all Evelyn's work there are only 7 such images<span style="font-size: small;"><b>,</b><span style="font-size: large;"> so the rarity of this arrangement perhaps indicates the importance she deliberately laid on her subject and its implications.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">The fascinating back-story of <i>Dorset</i> is told <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2012/12/dorset-1946-47.html" target="_blank">here</a>. Briefly, the figure is based on Anne Garland, heroine of Thomas Hardy's novel <i>The Trumpet Major</i>. She has climbed to a vantage point on Portland Bill, the southernmost point of the county of Dorset, which has wide views over the English Channel. The views are wide enough to encompass and follow the course of shipping up and down the Channel. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">The date is September 16th, 1805, and the time is about 4pm. It's not certain that Evelyn knew this, or even needed to know it, although given the colouring of the grasses about her and the early autumnal feel of the landscape, maybe she has done some homework in the interests of historical accuracy. In fact these details come from a contemporary ship's log: none other than the log of <i>HMS Victory</i>, outward bound from Portsmouth on a voyage that will culminate five weeks later near Cadiz, off the Atlantic coast of Spain, by Cape Trafalgar.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">Among the ship's company of <i>HMS Victory</i> are Bob Loveday, whom Anne Garland will eventually marry, Admiral Horatio Nelson and, to square the circle, the captain of <i>HMS Victory</i>, Thomas Masterman Hardy, whom Thomas Hardy the novelist claimed as a distant family relative. Both Hardys were Dorset men.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">What the people of Britain - including the fictional Anne Garland - knew in the summer of 1805 was that Napoleon, intent on invading Britain, had gathered a massive fleet of transports at Boulogne to ferry his 200,000 strong army across the Channel. All he needed was the French navy to protect its passage for the few hours it would take to cross the Channel. In Napoleon's words: 'Let us be masters of the Channel for six hours, and we are masters of the world'.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">At Trafalgar on October 21st 1805 the French fleet was destroyed. Britain was safe. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">Part of the price Britain paid for salvation was the death of Nelson, shot by a sniper high in the rigging of a French ship. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">(In fact Napoleon, ever impatient with the non-arrival of his navy, struck camp at Boulogne in late August and marched off to trouble southern Germany. The whole vast but eventually futile enterprise had been financed by the Louisiana Purchase, the sale of Louisiana by France to the infant United States.) <br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">End of history lesson. Not, of course, that you needed it, but it gives us the background against which Anne Garland, conscious and fearful of great national danger threatening, focuses her gaze through the protective shield of her hands to a point beyond the frame where the great battleship - with her suitor on board - slowly disappears over the western horizon. Thank you, Thomas Hardy, and thank you, Evelyn.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">We move on to something curiously similar.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjVrFS7_tRHBN-Ull59BjFW6fthFyibgweeZa33pFgZXO9E265KaYQj1EEMzE65fuKZjjXyIRYD0zrhY2GzN61SdrIcl9DJG9CDmgkiA9Eqku532wiUjy0pss6bRhRHOyZE3TAFEeUKx6aShQoyCwiC3hDkXZDlJ_IvGB-Sw3rAQQQsMNxmyGdncOiVg/s250/Fig.%20196%20Anti-gas%20Protective%20Clothing.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="201" data-original-width="250" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjVrFS7_tRHBN-Ull59BjFW6fthFyibgweeZa33pFgZXO9E265KaYQj1EEMzE65fuKZjjXyIRYD0zrhY2GzN61SdrIcl9DJG9CDmgkiA9Eqku532wiUjy0pss6bRhRHOyZE3TAFEeUKx6aShQoyCwiC3hDkXZDlJ_IvGB-Sw3rAQQQsMNxmyGdncOiVg/w400-h322/Fig.%20196%20Anti-gas%20Protective%20Clothing.jpeg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #741b47;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><b><i>Putting on Anti-Gas Protective Clothing</i> 1940 Oil on canvas Imperial War Museum, London</b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /> <br /><a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2012/07/putting-on-anti-gas-protective-clothing.html" target="_blank"><i>Putting on Anti-Gas Protective Clothing</i></a> was the first of Evelyn's war paintings. Perhaps unexpectedly, it bears comparison with <i>Dorset</i> above. It's another of the very few paintings in Evelyn's output in which the principal subject - seen alone in the final box - is looking beyond the frame, indicating something particularly significant or important. It was very well received by the War Artists' Advisory Committee, to the extent that Evelyn appears to have received a bonus payment for it by order of Sir Kenneth Clark, the WAAC chairman. It was painted in May and June, 1940.<br /> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">At the outbreak of war in September 1939 gas attacks, using the same gases - phosgene, chlorine and mustard gas - as those used in World War 1 were widely expected. Gas masks were issued to the entire British population. Warning, recovery and primary care, particularly in the cities, of victims of gas attack were entrusted to Air Raid Precautions (later Civil Defence), a civilian organisation drawing its members partly from the Women's Voluntary Service, which is exactly what Evelyn's subjects were. By the final frame her principal subject, helmeted and dressed in rubberised anti-gas material probably dating from World War 1, is facing with grim determination the dreadful threat from German poison gas bombing raids...</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">...which never happened. However, before Evelyn's paint was fully dry the threat of gas had been replaced by something else. In late May and early June 1940 the news was grim. The British army, maintaining a presence in northern France since the outbreak of war, had been outmanœuvred and driven by Hitler's armies to the Channel coast. An enormous rescue operation, overseen by the Royal Navy, evacuated thousands of British, Commonwealth and French troops from the beaches of Dunkirk. Immense amounts of equipment were abandoned. The army was broken. Soon afterwards France fell. The German army lay poised to invade. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">And in the few weeks' interim between Evelyn sketching out her first designs and signing off <i>Anti-Gas Protective Clothing</i> in the bottom right hand corner, there was a change of Prime Minister: the ineffectual Neville Chamberlain was replaced by Winston Churchill. Evelyn has tilted her subject's head in an attitude of defiance and determination, which cleverly allows us to see her face through the perspex of her gas mask. It is this expression which make me wonder if she had seen a photograph of Winston Churchill at much the same time, similarly looking resolutely upwards and outwards towards the national peril.<br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><img alt="Up To 29% Off on Towel - Winston Churchill- N... | Groupon Goods" aria-label="" class="n3VNCb pT0Scc KAlRDb" data-noaft="1" role="" src="https://img.grouponcdn.com/stores/3xZzBtye7xNYAQPoPsxEzrebVrHk/storesoi39473629-3280x1968/v1/c870x524.jpg" style="height: 335.48px; margin: 0px; width: 557px;" /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span><span><span><span><span>Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2023. All rights reserved</span></span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"> </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #c00000; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 107%;">Further reading...<br /><br /></span></i></b></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal"> <b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"> by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br /> is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank"> Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br /> 448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><b><span style="color: #741b47;"> </span></b></span><br /></p>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-40287250746287387172023-03-08T18:55:00.006+00:002023-08-11T15:35:37.393+01:00Looking beyond the frame (1): August<div class="separator"><p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p></div><div class="separator"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrcpEzb3jrJj9XOT6ks0iohAvuyPlyeEKwAfkPgqiMXLhuLDP4DA3Bw5tODz1paxqiFmEGK8c4US9jOYb7XDjJFJCI2uAhgdqEIL0UIglQ10-5Lk6Rp_-nHzA2j7geLKLmrfpsiEaALLJGj80BgXZms-Psv1T5jJRFOT1ZMQORNPo2c6DCL1IXEzjkVg/s560/Fig.%20180%20August.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="372" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrcpEzb3jrJj9XOT6ks0iohAvuyPlyeEKwAfkPgqiMXLhuLDP4DA3Bw5tODz1paxqiFmEGK8c4US9jOYb7XDjJFJCI2uAhgdqEIL0UIglQ10-5Lk6Rp_-nHzA2j7geLKLmrfpsiEaALLJGj80BgXZms-Psv1T5jJRFOT1ZMQORNPo2c6DCL1IXEzjkVg/w426-h640/Fig.%20180%20August.png" width="426" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="color: #741b47;"><b><i>August </i>1938 Oil on canvas Photo Michael Shaw ©Christopher Campbell-Howes Private collection.</b></span></p></div><p> <span style="font-size: large;">This is <i>August</i>. We've met her before, <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2017/01/august-1937-38.html" target="_blank">here</a>. She first appeared in Evelyn's imagination as a line drawing in her <i>Country Life 1938 Gardener's Diary</i>:</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXU-D9Qgg4F5NCvFDfarh8-NEZ9tAU0KzIK3-qcApl6F_x74pYU4kn1RDr16z_i7Ym6dEekjr8rQfi33Dqeg3eA2N_HZRAx1hb3Bz0aEGv1j8zHipGS0DE9tTULLRdqmzjbq7jaHyBzkA5kxpXhGMQ1Nn3FOGtYphbpg70__3PEHX4twvLksy7XTPSw/s3820/Fig.%20178%20GD%20August.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3820" data-original-width="2830" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXU-D9Qgg4F5NCvFDfarh8-NEZ9tAU0KzIK3-qcApl6F_x74pYU4kn1RDr16z_i7Ym6dEekjr8rQfi33Dqeg3eA2N_HZRAx1hb3Bz0aEGv1j8zHipGS0DE9tTULLRdqmzjbq7jaHyBzkA5kxpXhGMQ1Nn3FOGtYphbpg70__3PEHX4twvLksy7XTPSw/w474-h640/Fig.%20178%20GD%20August.jpg" width="474" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><i>August</i> 1937 Pen and ink, from <i>Country Life 1938 Gardener's Diary</i></span></b></span><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">When <i>August </i>was cleaned, some years after Michael Shaw's photograph was taken, several questions were raised, including whether she was looking out of the frame, or whether she had her eyes closed and was daydreaming about events past or, perhaps more importantly, to come.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzC3yXedyyRB2u0uLuv54MOta9-URj4xd7_b5-vmsmLb7ok7iwpmgNzdh8J9klBmfF0NlodDh6tovfGCR-xwe-3UWwRQvCkZTJwjyMp7E8AKprclyl-tTLzfFmvoO_cbokZMXlcl20Q78DS0Rch_CoUH3i4x26QhJrHRKuiYMbDpHshIq9FCAb1LGWbA/s1511/August%20cleaned%20(detail).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1347" data-original-width="1511" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzC3yXedyyRB2u0uLuv54MOta9-URj4xd7_b5-vmsmLb7ok7iwpmgNzdh8J9klBmfF0NlodDh6tovfGCR-xwe-3UWwRQvCkZTJwjyMp7E8AKprclyl-tTLzfFmvoO_cbokZMXlcl20Q78DS0Rch_CoUH3i4x26QhJrHRKuiYMbDpHshIq9FCAb1LGWbA/s320/August%20cleaned%20(detail).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;">August (detail)</span></b></i></span><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Is that an eye, peeping out from beneath her Elephant's Ear leaf hat, or an eyelash, suggesting that her eye is closed and that she is deep in thought? In the much sharper <i>1938 Gardener's Diary</i> drawing, there's no suggestion of an eye at all.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">And that garden seat...in the drawing the word '(Au)gust' appears in the iron work of the back-rest; Evelyn has edited it out from the oil version. Not only that: wrought iron garden seats in this general style appear in several places in Evelyn's images from the mid-1930s. Some are associated with the garden at Brick House, Edward and Charlotte Bawden's home in Great Bardfield, Essex, a place Evelyn used sometimes to visit with her lover Charles Mahoney, somewhere with particular significances in the development of their relationship. Here they are together, in a detail from a letter to Mahoney from the winter of 1934-35.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhleRTi3BkWCvyFGAFwetWgyUgI0PDjz6qb0PpGcVMmbXX_o0VnegY8e6UsEzO7dSaQSklLtKyzojr0dVNpOc-ir8Doum0mzgZq4wJFXGCMkgJqr-QgEqtyd5979cdPvPGhX9S_uoxKSqKoEIamh1uASip5Sk4rquMKiz_r7dv207TybSSwQ1LNaSrPvg/s415/Bawden-style%20garden%20seat.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="415" data-original-width="397" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhleRTi3BkWCvyFGAFwetWgyUgI0PDjz6qb0PpGcVMmbXX_o0VnegY8e6UsEzO7dSaQSklLtKyzojr0dVNpOc-ir8Doum0mzgZq4wJFXGCMkgJqr-QgEqtyd5979cdPvPGhX9S_uoxKSqKoEIamh1uASip5Sk4rquMKiz_r7dv207TybSSwQ1LNaSrPvg/s320/Bawden-style%20garden%20seat.jpg" width="306" /></a></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="color: #741b47;">Detail from letter to Mahoney, winter 1934-35. Tate Archive, reference TGA200921 Personal papers of Charles Mahoney</span><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">But in <i>August</i> she is a solitary figure, alone with her thoughts and visions. Her erstwhile partner has disappeared.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * *<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>August</i> was painted in late 1937 or 1938, at a particularly difficult period of Evelyn's life. We can assume that the <i>Gardener's Diary</i> drawing came first, no later than the autumn of 1937, in good time for the 1938 diary to be on booksellers' and stationers' shelves, and that the painting followed later. The cleaning revealed a certain violence, indeed a savagery about Evelyn's brushwork totally absent from its sister pieces, <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2017/01/february-1937-38.html" target="_blank"><i>February</i></a> and <i><a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2017/01/april-193738.html" target="_blank">April</a></i>, that might lead one to believe that at some time in its history attempts had been made to overpaint some of the rawer episodes with a medium that flaked away in the cleaning process. These 'month' paintings, <i>August</i>, <i>February</i> and <i>April,</i> were never disposed of during Evelyn's lifetime. After her death, in 1960 at the age of 53, her husband Roger Folley passed them, together with almost her entire residual studio, to Alec Dunbar, the younger of Evelyn's two brothers. In due course <i>August</i> was assigned elsewhere in part settlement of an unpaid debt.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * * <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Figures which look out of the frame are very rare indeed in Evelyn's work. In all the hundreds of images which make up her work - portraits are excepted, of course - there are only seven. All seven, six women and one young man, are in the grip of very powerful emotions. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here then is the first of the seven, <i>August,</i> taking the persona of Evelyn/Eve in the Garden of Eden, dressed in the scarlet of lust, forbidden fruit on her lap, the serpent disguised as a garden hose complete with pump, abandoned by her lover...and at this point we might wonder to what grim extent this painting is autobiographical. After an increasingly tottery relationship Evelyn and Mahoney separated in late August or early September of 1937. At that time or a little earlier Evelyn discovered she was pregnant. Early on in her pregnancy she miscarried. Much lay beyond the frame of her actuality. Her past expectations, her hopes for the future lay in ruins about her. Clearly she had much to ponder, eyes open or eyes closed.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2023. All right reserved</span></p><div class="MsoNormal">
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><br /></p><br /> <p></p><p></p><br /> <br /><p></p><br />Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-46737852142951268202023-01-14T11:55:00.016+00:002023-09-22T09:47:42.222+01:00Brook from Amage (1959)<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKo6pnCWyPyYeAzgGlFpdewIVMQ35SzklwprMUXsWLSfWi-41a8nYevRZADzWkHUFKU3Xm00U5ERjIE7qvQHoSXuZT2ZZhstB47XD2Y9RDhO7dq3G3VPuXuUEaKHYMLyMFWI6go3f4Bi2A7U4sjvithEocZq-p-fEcIBkMpvLu7tPHDUaefXmghBaYfA/s1380/Fig.%20281%20Brook%20from%20Amage.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="1380" height="381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKo6pnCWyPyYeAzgGlFpdewIVMQ35SzklwprMUXsWLSfWi-41a8nYevRZADzWkHUFKU3Xm00U5ERjIE7qvQHoSXuZT2ZZhstB47XD2Y9RDhO7dq3G3VPuXuUEaKHYMLyMFWI6go3f4Bi2A7U4sjvithEocZq-p-fEcIBkMpvLu7tPHDUaefXmghBaYfA/w640-h381/Fig.%20281%20Brook%20from%20Amage.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i> </i><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><i>Brook from Amage</i> Oil on canvas 1959 Photograph Richard Valencia ©The author Private collection</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b> </b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Brook from Amage</i> is among the last landscapes Evelyn painted. It dates from the early autumn of 1959; she died the following May. It's among the most personally revealing pictures from her brush.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">We're in East Kent, not far from where Evelyn and her husband Roger Folley lived in the 1950s. Amage is the name of a farm standing on the road linking the villages of Brook and Wye, where Roger Folley lectured in horticultural economics at the College. This road runs along the foot of the North Downs, taking in views across arable land and pasture towards Brook, whose tiled roofs and Norman church appear, not very prominently, in the upper left-hand quarter of Evelyn's canvas.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Evelyn came late to landscape. Her portfolio opens with a few fairly drab East Sussex landscapes, chiefly around Ticehurst. Ticehurst was the home of her aunt Clara Cowling, with whom Evelyn used to stay occasionally, especially during what she called her 'crisis' years, 1937-40, following her separation from Charles Mahoney. A deeper and more consuming interest in landscape developed late in her career, in fact during the last few years of her life, 1950-60, the period when she and Roger Folley lived in a succession of houses in or about Wye. (No landscapes feature in her immediate post-war output, when her focus was chiefly on allegory.)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">The title <i>Brook from Amage</i>, is succinct, to say the least. It's also almost unique: only one other landscape has a title given by Evelyn herself, the almost contemporary <i>The Great Stour at Wye</i>.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJeAW_b_teNUY-xeBByQpq6n3FGTDjekCb2wM0isz840LctItSRulBPjgRjLlvWRbvfAuiFj8yZjVQiErKXGZF1jJPqlyQ65MZ049esNnsiFcNdqTgu-CQ6deLo7UKKSYKvZGm9D0X8fSqnZm87_xJ9qk8yLP4e2qOk_6G50_ZLklaDSF7ikWs9TE5sA/s688/Fig.%20280%20Great%20Stour.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="688" data-original-width="537" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJeAW_b_teNUY-xeBByQpq6n3FGTDjekCb2wM0isz840LctItSRulBPjgRjLlvWRbvfAuiFj8yZjVQiErKXGZF1jJPqlyQ65MZ049esNnsiFcNdqTgu-CQ6deLo7UKKSYKvZGm9D0X8fSqnZm87_xJ9qk8yLP4e2qOk_6G50_ZLklaDSF7ikWs9TE5sA/s320/Fig.%20280%20Great%20Stour.jpg" width="250" /></a></div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>The Great Stour at Wye</i> oil on canvas 1958 Photograph: Richard Valencia ©Christopher Campbell-Howes private collection</b></span></span></span><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">No other landscape is identified by Evelyn herself. If they have titles, they are bland and generalised, like <i>Sussex Landscape</i>, below, so named by Roger Folley:<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlG3FUyMiWh6UXKqHoks2SNzDcQplEtbJ4p8F-k0w25fPQ7ULYk5rCyMAWYMvop914NxlNqksW0-nS6mVKz2KJZ10fEh0UcSAaDwc4ULDzs-30Cjk2iXcOBPZCa4bhHogHjMlKQxvug1XKDVdI_Tb9gK4Gv4Pv-U6riQifwR3yg7vpXz918XlDek5sA/s3000/evelyn-dunbar-sussex-landscape.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="3000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlG3FUyMiWh6UXKqHoks2SNzDcQplEtbJ4p8F-k0w25fPQ7ULYk5rCyMAWYMvop914NxlNqksW0-nS6mVKz2KJZ10fEh0UcSAaDwc4ULDzs-30Cjk2iXcOBPZCa4bhHogHjMlKQxvug1XKDVdI_Tb9gK4Gv4Pv-U6riQifwR3yg7vpXz918XlDek5sA/s320/evelyn-dunbar-sussex-landscape.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>'<i>Sussex Landscape</i>' oil on canvas c.1938 Photograph ©Christopher Campbell-Howes private collection</b></span></span></span><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2013/01/wye-from-olantigh-1953_20.html" target="_blank"><i>Wye from Olantigh</i></a> was so named not by Evelyn, but simply through the tradition of the family that owned it. With <i>Brook from Amage</i> it's as though Evelyn wants us to know exactly where it represents. <i>Brook from Amage</i> isn't</span><span style="font-size: large;"> a particularly prepossessing landscape. While it's by no means
disagreeable, it's not a scene of great natural beauty, it doesn't tick
many of the boxes established by better-known landscape artists. Besides,
it's raining, something quite unusual in landscape painting, but we'll come to that in a minute. I don't think for a moment that Evelyn is
trying to distract us from admiration of the natural beauty of the extreme
eastern corner of the Weald, but that she wants to tell us something else.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Superficially <i>Brook from Amage</i> is a pleasant, unassuming - one might say undemanding - pastoral scene. However, as in so much of Evelyn's work, there are several layers of significance. We might begin with the observation that the hand of man is evident everywhere, from the hedging to the buildings in Brook, from the telegraph poles to the curious tower structure on the horizon in the extreme top left-hand corner. More to Evelyn's point is the neat and organised layout of the fields as far as the eye can distinguish them, their different colourings testifying to rotations of crops and to a healthy balance between arable and stock farming: indeed, in the yellowish field centre right livestock - are they sheep? - are grazing among the residual stalks of harvested cereal. Everything is controlled, measured, productive, in fact 'a landscape worked and loved in equal measure', to quote a motto I once found, improbably, inscribed into the masonry of a car park wall on the Isle of Harris.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">*** <br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Evelyn arrived in East Kent in 1950, following Roger Folley's appointment at Wye College. To start with they rented a house called The Elms, which stood in an isolated and lonely position a half mile or so from the hamlet of Hinxhill. They had come from Oxfordshire, Evelyn leaving behind an active artistic life centred on the two Oxford art colleges at which she taught, the School of Art and the Ruskin. Although she continued to teach, travelling regularly to Oxford and back, for her the move was a savage separation from the circumstances which gave birth to some of her most mature and significant creation. <br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Initially she found some relief from the isolation of The Elms in nearby Ashford, where there was a thriving Christian Science community, into which both she and her husband were made welcome. To what extent Roger Folley shared his wife's Christian Science is debatable, but I don't think he had any difficulty in sharing her ideas about what I have called the Covenant. This notion, that the Creator (with or without a capital C, as you think best) gave the earth freely to mankind, in return for mankind's promise to look after it with intelligence, industry and love, pervades Evelyn's work. To me its exact relationship within Christian Science is unclear. It maybe owes as much to her mother Florence as to Mary Baker Eddy, the founder of Christian Science. It's more clearly defined in various places in the Bible, most notably in Genesis, where God gives Adam - and Eve - the Garden of Eden to 'dress it and keep it'. It's also recognised in certain of the Psalms, which leads me to a curious circumstance, if I can be excused from relating a personal reminiscence.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the mid 1950s, when I was in my early teens I used to stay at The Elms for a few days during most school holidays. I would be woken most mornings by a muffled recitation, maybe lasting ten minutes, from Roger's and Evelyn's bedroom next door. The exchanges were regular, as though they were reading to each other, each taking alternate passages. What they were reading was mostly unrecognisable, but in one instance it seemed to me that I had heard 'And thy clouds drop fatness', an expression memorable for its oddness. I recognised it; in a recent scholarship exam I'd had to compare and contrast two versions of Psalm 65, say King James and the Revised Version, in which vv. 10-13 run as follows:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: large;">Thou waterest the ridges thereof [i.e. the earth] abundantly: thou settlest the furrows thereof: thou makest it soft with showers: thou blessest the springing thereof.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: large;">Thou crownest the year with thy goodness: <i>and thy clouds drop fatness.</i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: large;">They drop upon the pastures of the wilderness: and the little hills rejoice on every side.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: large;">The pastures are clothed with flocks; the valleys also are covered over with corn; they shout for joy, they also sing.</span></span></div></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">So it appeared that Roger Folley had been drawn into Christian Science from his Lancashire Methodist background, if only to the extent that he and Evelyn used to read the Bible together first thing in the morning. (I later learnt that they read from a programme of Bible readings suggested by the Christian Science Church.)</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is not to suggest that having read this passage Evelyn packed up her landscape gear and made for Amage to paint the farmland stretching across to Brook. The dates are wrong, for one thing: the painting comes from two or three years after my overheard Psalm-recitation. Besides, at the time Evelyn lived at The Elms: not a difficult journey, a little longer, but far out of step with an important spiritual implication we will come to presently.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">But I can imagine that, having been familar for some time with that view and what it could be invoked to express, on one morning in September 1959 she did indeed pack her equipment, easel, camp stool, boxes of paints, sticks of charcoal and jars of brushes and maybe her umbrella into the back of their Morris Oxford Traveller. Her 10-minute journey would take her the two or three miles from her home at Staple Farm on the outskirts of Hastingleigh, a village on an escarpment of the North Downs, down Coldharbour Lane to its junction with Amage Road, along which she drove for a half-mile or so before arriving at Amage Farm. Here below is the view again, for reference purposes, and I can well imagine Evelyn's spiritual joy and uplift on confirming that it reflects those verses from Psalm 65 very closely indeed. But why should she choose a wet morning?</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3EZ0wgGt1IOYA52EuKkh7Qe91v-gi2mpfi9DWhSVjbaakUw5WtN3WFzaSBSDRLGGOsF1nTbNwzfoOywur_bzRVsRCs5sjAlSNhui4067f4iB2TB2Q51sRr3Eemms__YcUS_BBGxVWkYDPMm86a7UdxneROmvWIf2sqSXv87rjHFaAMGLs20MtVoNy1A/s1380/Fig.%20281%20Brook%20from%20Amage.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="1380" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3EZ0wgGt1IOYA52EuKkh7Qe91v-gi2mpfi9DWhSVjbaakUw5WtN3WFzaSBSDRLGGOsF1nTbNwzfoOywur_bzRVsRCs5sjAlSNhui4067f4iB2TB2Q51sRr3Eemms__YcUS_BBGxVWkYDPMm86a7UdxneROmvWIf2sqSXv87rjHFaAMGLs20MtVoNy1A/w640-h380/Fig.%20281%20Brook%20from%20Amage.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">How do you paint rain? More particularly, how do you paint rain in a landscape that doesn't stray too far from the conventional? Evelyn starts with a grey and leaden sky, low rain-bearing clouds that have come in from the North Sea, judging by the way the cattle have turned their rumps towards the incoming weather. She would perhaps have had in mind a quotation from the book of Job - always a favourite with Evelyn - which she used in something from twenty years before, her <i>Country Life 1938 Gardener's Diary</i>:</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Who can number the clouds in wisdom? Or who can stay the bottles of heaven</span> [...] <span style="font-family: helvetica;">?</span> (Job 38, 37; i.e Who can stop it raining?)</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><p></p></span></span></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Evelyn has few means by which to emphasise the rain, but one stands out. It's surely no accident that in almost the exact centre of the picture she has painted a cow lying down. This cow is slightly separated from the rest of the herd, many of which are also lying down. While there may be no scientific proof that cows lie down when it's raining or about to rain, it's a widely enough held notion to carry Evelyn's point, and to acknowledge that into each life some rain must fall.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * * <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">In 2007 Roger Folley, by that time 95, put together a statement entitled <i>The Husband's Narrative</i>. He distributed numbered copies among family and friends, in the wake of a burgeoning of interest in Evelyn's life and work, partly expressed through a 2006 exhibition to mark the centenary of her birth, and partly to redress certain imbalances in popular misconceptions about her, chiefly that she painted little in the post-war years when in fact the opposite was true. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>The Husband's Narrative </i>mentioned for the first time something that had been a closed subject for many years: Evelyn's health and Christian Science teaching. Evelyn died suddenly and unexpectedly in May 1960, aged 53. Roger wrote in <i>The Husband's Narrative</i>:</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">'Apparently in good health, she passed away without warning or farewell: no bed, no walls, just the clouds. The manner of her death caused much heart searching. Just once she mentioned "I've never felt quite right since we went to the dance" meaning the All Night Ball at the senate House, in 1958. She was not suffering in any way that I could see and I left her to deal with it in her own way: it was not life-threatening'.</span></blockquote></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">How Evelyn dealt with a condition that led to coronary atheroma - the cause of death given on her death certificate - can only be guessed at. Death from coronary atheroma results from a gradual build-up of fatty tissues in the blood vessels surrounding the heart. Symptoms include progressive fatigue, breathlessness and chest pain among others over months. As a Christian Scientist Evelyn would have dealt with this as something of satanic origin, to be treated with denial of its existence, fortified by prayer. It's with great temerity that I make the suggestion that she tried to come to terms with the physical problems, perhaps a temporary crisis that she was experiencing, through her work, in particular through <i>Brook from Amage</i>. Moreover, she didn't sign it, and although the signing or initialling of her work can occasionally be inconsistent, Evelyn does not sign work that is unfinished or, more importantly, work that is a testament to a personal problem or struggle. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">The right hand side of<i> Brook from Amage</i> takes the viewer across the fields westwards towards the Great Stour and beyond to the low hills on the horizon, Challock Lees and Eastwell Park. The left hand, south western side is more specific. The eye follows a diagonal line sketched by some foreground foliage (which Evelyn may never have completed), passing a beech or oak still in full green leaf, almost touches the chancel, the eastern end of Brook church, picks up the road leading up Spelders Hill and finishes with a curious building, a tower. What lies beyond, over the horizon, is hidden from the viewer.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">But Evelyn knows very well what lies beyond. The top of Spelders Hill turns out to be the end of a ridge. A few hundred metres along it lies The Elms, the house in which Evelyn lived from 1950 until almost the end of 1957.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPEvHAyiKd2EQbC4lUFh3SoNrkszCIHJIp4m6N5yK9wQmH48X4bMWOs3vgZUppRsgqoBi0mv57APv5X-1Aedb71AXeuDnJtzbWnDyf6h6_i1hNvLBr1AeLlbiJ1ZlSrgEpwFLVbN5T4f1_HXYc5YnwhOrD29TxepE0PxZi9SZVi6ntBhLOU-B5NTUQSg/s640/130411%20The%20Elms%202.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPEvHAyiKd2EQbC4lUFh3SoNrkszCIHJIp4m6N5yK9wQmH48X4bMWOs3vgZUppRsgqoBi0mv57APv5X-1Aedb71AXeuDnJtzbWnDyf6h6_i1hNvLBr1AeLlbiJ1ZlSrgEpwFLVbN5T4f1_HXYc5YnwhOrD29TxepE0PxZi9SZVi6ntBhLOU-B5NTUQSg/s320/130411%20The%20Elms%202.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"> The Elms, Hinxhill: Evelyn's and Roger Folley's home 1950-57</span></b></span></span><br /></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was at The Elms that Evelyn was at her most contented. As mentioned above, it took a little while for her to acclimatise and find her feet, but once settled she embarked on a period of her life during which she produced some of her most remarkable work. (Her studio, with a strong north light, stood between the porch and the conservatory.) She maintained a teaching presence in Oxford, and started taking a few private pupils locally. She played a full part in the cultural life of Wye College, arranging lectures from eminent artists and musicians. She designed scenery and sets for the college Drama Club. She enjoyed fell-walking and rock-scrambling holidays in the Lake District and skiing in the French Alps. She provided weekend and sometimes longer accommodation for boys from the Caldecott Community, a nearby children's home. She played a full part in the activities of the East Kent Art Society. She had a wonderful gift for friendship, specifically within the Christian Science congregation and more generally in the local community. She was closer to her family, based in Rochester and Maidstone, than she had been when living in Oxfordshire. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">All these riches were associated with The Elms. Although they continued unabated at Tan House, a stopgap house in the village of Wye before moving in 1958 to Staple Farm, her activities had their full measure at The Elms, where I think she was free of the pain that assailed her progressively from mid-1958 onwards. <i>Brook from Amage</i> is an acknowledgement partly of discomfort-free days over the horizon, and partly of troubles that were current when she sought to combat them through this painting. I suspect that the following lines from the book of Job -</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord. (Job 1 v21)</span></span></blockquote><p><span style="font-size: large;">- were never very far away from her thoughts in her last months.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2023. All rights reserved.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /></p><div class="MsoNormal">
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><p><br /></p></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div><p></p></div>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-67257003157629115252022-12-02T17:51:00.098+00:002022-12-03T13:48:57.309+00:00'Maternity buds' (1937)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7OYqoVkxo7ehmeNBIwbx7FKlCjg-2JdsWvPBHDfEUqQ3We2XgNCxNX2S8DVhQYPgclKx1PKbgKnnIwScDETadGDK22fgWh5FenRkaO7C1CHyIttAJoSsfBrDqBCutSklWmIa376CzASCGJ-sGBMbK5czb8zrRlj_MZs10Po7d1W7aAdRWfjJNbF2QKg/s3309/Phallic%20bud%205.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3309" data-original-width="1913" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7OYqoVkxo7ehmeNBIwbx7FKlCjg-2JdsWvPBHDfEUqQ3We2XgNCxNX2S8DVhQYPgclKx1PKbgKnnIwScDETadGDK22fgWh5FenRkaO7C1CHyIttAJoSsfBrDqBCutSklWmIa376CzASCGJ-sGBMbK5czb8zrRlj_MZs10Po7d1W7aAdRWfjJNbF2QKg/w370-h640/Phallic%20bud%205.jpg" width="370" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b>'<i>Maternity bud</i>' 1937 Pen and ink on cartridge paper Photograph ©LissLlewellyn</b></span><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">In about 1936 Evelyn started, from not much more than a doodle, to design a personal letter format, consisting of a vase, flower pot or stylised flower bed, from which grew two flowered stems up the sides of the paper, between which she wrote her message.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><img alt="Evelyn Dunbar - Design 2 for personal correspondence" class="attachment-large size-large" height="323" src="https://i0.wp.com/modernbritishartgallery.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/09/Evelyn-Dunbar-Design-2-for-personal-correspondence.jpg?fit=800%2C999&ssl=1" width="259" /> <img alt="Evelyn Dunbar - Design for personal correspondence" class="attachment-large size-large" height="323" src="https://i0.wp.com/modernbritishartgallery.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/09/Evelyn-Dunbar-Design-for-personal-correspondence.jpg?fit=800%2C1001&ssl=1" width="258" /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"> Designs for personal correspondence, c.1936. Image ©LissLlewellyn</span></b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"></span></b></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"></span></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlRHTcuGVF-YZdTMrObHuSj60k9w2i77aVoic7h_dB2Z7h6fh7uZNfX2bJkcyQKybmrzluqffA3Hvr66Ye_qzmnaUjDJIfIRF5b4fAIfL7vMp12ZOcMxPHgDpDLxw7YNZcWQHfwcr5QalTwWFhOXprMFxB8y-IeHPCAluW15MmTKSC5M-WRO6_WO4T1g/s2881/Fig.%20156%20A.%20Gwynne-Jones.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2881" data-original-width="1805" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlRHTcuGVF-YZdTMrObHuSj60k9w2i77aVoic7h_dB2Z7h6fh7uZNfX2bJkcyQKybmrzluqffA3Hvr66Ye_qzmnaUjDJIfIRF5b4fAIfL7vMp12ZOcMxPHgDpDLxw7YNZcWQHfwcr5QalTwWFhOXprMFxB8y-IeHPCAluW15MmTKSC5M-WRO6_WO4T1g/w400-h640/Fig.%20156%20A.%20Gwynne-Jones.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Letter to Allan Gwynne Jones, 26th February 1937 (?) Private collection</span></b></span></span><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">The letter reproduced above is one of the very few in this format that survive. Mostly they are uncoloured, but Evelyn has pulled the stops out to congratulate her first-year Royal College of Art tutor, Allan Gwynne Jones, who became a lifelong friend, on his engagement to Rosemary Allan, a fellow artist. She calls him 'Sir', not because he has been knighted (he never was) but out of a friendly respect. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">As often the case with Evelyn, there may be some decoding to do: is there any significance in tulips, carnations and harebells growing out of a three-year old rose stock? Did Allan Gwynne Jones have a walled garden with one door open, the other closed? One can only wonder, and maybe wonder at the purpose of such an exercise, but clearly it suited her fancy to vary the flowers and the setting to complement the character of her correspondent or the subject of her message.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">By late 1936 or early 1937 it appeared to Evelyn that her relationship with Charles Mahoney, a former Royal College of Art tutor and later lover, was coming apart. She had shared with him their major work to date, the extensive <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2012/05/evelyn-dunbar-brockley-murals-1933-36.html" target="_blank">murals at Brockley School</a> in south-east London, which were inaugurated in February 1936. The later mural panels hinted at the autumn of their relationship. Nevertheless Evelyn saw her future in partnership with Mahoney, professional as well as personal. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Evelyn's letters to Mahoney suggest that he needed some encouragement to take part in their only professional joint venture, <i>Gardeners' Choice</i>, published by Routledge in late 1937 and reprinted by Persephone Books in 2015. It's arguable how genuine a joint venture this somewhat forward-looking gardening book was. As for their personal relationship, the same series of letters carries Evelyn's frequent suggestions for gardens they might develop together, houses they might live in together, places they might travel to together. Eventually she made her top call: to cement the union they should have children together. She made this clear in a series of images, mostly in drawings in her letters, but occasionally in more weighty formats, like the canvas entitled <i>Opportunity</i>, closely examined <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2021/11/opportunity-1936.html" target="_blank">here</a>. Below is the most evolved of the Opportunity images. The reference to Mahoney is at once clear: sunflowers, as seen in Opportunity's hat and at the top of the ladder, and in many of his other paintings, might well be said to be Mahoney's trade-mark.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSv9dp6PnhoQaEHTfeAAB8jzSci8e75AfkQ1I0dQyRzmJI7a5PqOfTouwgpbxAQJGIdVJMOU7BEP_-czNEzwIohal6dRqchWUi8-T-DXi2ACOY8HY7SLKWgrgT__dGNb3XyRx-gih9gG8OiUO1KBIykTexJz1PRNlHDQ-tLEVc3EtW6zdC-qX7NduhDg/s1254/Opportunity%20NEAC%201936.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1254" data-original-width="1250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSv9dp6PnhoQaEHTfeAAB8jzSci8e75AfkQ1I0dQyRzmJI7a5PqOfTouwgpbxAQJGIdVJMOU7BEP_-czNEzwIohal6dRqchWUi8-T-DXi2ACOY8HY7SLKWgrgT__dGNb3XyRx-gih9gG8OiUO1KBIykTexJz1PRNlHDQ-tLEVc3EtW6zdC-qX7NduhDg/s320/Opportunity%20NEAC%201936.jpg" width="319" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Opportunity</i> 1936 Oil on canvas 61 x 61cm (24 x 24in), diameter 53.3cm (21in)</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"> Photograph: ©Bonhams, by kind permission. Private collection</span></b></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">It seems curious that a 30-year-old woman should need, or feel obliged, to communicate with her lover about their personal procreation by coded drawings. (And possibly more bizarre to work up her sketches into oils, later to be exhibited in public and sold, as was the case with <i>Opportunity</i> above, admittedly after Evelyn and Mahoney had separated.) Perhaps procreation was something Evelyn found difficult to talk about. She may have had a <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2021/06/waternymphomania-1928.html" target="_blank">distressing liaison</a> in Germany some years earlier. Maybe it really was easier and less traumatic for her to express herself through drawings. There's no evidence that Mahoney ever saw her early sketches, which amplified an ingenious and original idea.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLAUOJElmBzxEFMDKdgNtvbhLZef057ez-uQxQo5kbY0qF3NnrDiSC6mwCgxbMJ4eeXa0QxtGjS84sfcZnZ4-BN4ExwHWzUD9FFx13oPRiJ6t0DSr3WKZ1mJeEZsSF7hMBlu-KfAx_bM10-HXJdpUEiFs3VQLa_JMMYRYep3sD1MR8Jc5hMnHsWCxlrA/s2637/Phallic%20bud%203.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2637" data-original-width="1933" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLAUOJElmBzxEFMDKdgNtvbhLZef057ez-uQxQo5kbY0qF3NnrDiSC6mwCgxbMJ4eeXa0QxtGjS84sfcZnZ4-BN4ExwHWzUD9FFx13oPRiJ6t0DSr3WKZ1mJeEZsSF7hMBlu-KfAx_bM10-HXJdpUEiFs3VQLa_JMMYRYep3sD1MR8Jc5hMnHsWCxlrA/w294-h400/Phallic%20bud%203.heic" width="294" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Studies for '<i>Maternity bud</i>' (1) Pen and ink on writing paper. 1937. Photograph ©LissLlewellyn</b></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the top left hand corner there are the surround stems, growing out of a fluted bowl and culminating in a crudely-drawn sunflower. Mahoney is being invoked and addressed, through his trade-mark flower. In the centre is a shape perhaps reminiscent - at this stage - of a sheaf of wheat, being held together by a small boy wrapping his arms round it. Various unexplained shapes occupy the bulbous swelling at the top of the sheaf. Moving clockwise, the sheaf gives way in prominence to a roughly drawn peacock, probably another reference to Mahoney and Evelyn's habit of sometimes calling him (with no hint of a ruder vernacular) 'cock' and 'matey cock'.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Further clockwise, the bulge at the top of the sheaf appears to show something quite remarkable: two shadowy human figures, apparently wrapped in a sort of caul. Finally, more detail of the small boy hugging the sheaf. A similar sketch amplifies some of these elements:<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrZv8jVaRAkTzmkH_U1cmpgPZLzvBmamtHC3WtoZEXH0oB5yd6TYkubmMTp1N65KxyTwwNrWfAdJJu7hZjXhgM_sDvn-L40FOFSAE0U8TmfnzJRmjaI8kN9RIShRX_FwgJzBp20Io0H3VYQgQt_rL3KlVXGqvQnY-I1gU4O8d4Va4fsGyKUXsvC1dQcQ/s2613/Phallic%20bud%206.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2361" data-original-width="2613" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrZv8jVaRAkTzmkH_U1cmpgPZLzvBmamtHC3WtoZEXH0oB5yd6TYkubmMTp1N65KxyTwwNrWfAdJJu7hZjXhgM_sDvn-L40FOFSAE0U8TmfnzJRmjaI8kN9RIShRX_FwgJzBp20Io0H3VYQgQt_rL3KlVXGqvQnY-I1gU4O8d4Va4fsGyKUXsvC1dQcQ/s320/Phallic%20bud%206.jpg" width="320" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Studies for '<i>Maternity bud</i>' (2) Pen and ink on writing paper. 1937. Photograph ©LissLlewellyn</b></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> </b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">Moving left to right, the 'sheaf'</span><span style="color: black;"> is now seen to contain, and to shelter and protect in its folds, a mother-figure centrally with - it isn't very clear - a tiny baby on her left and a slightly older one on her right. The sheaf-hugging boy is shown in greater detail. The fluted bowl is set in a formal garden, with gateposts, a columned balustrade and two attendant peacocks, like heraldic supporters. The stem of the plants, here reduced</span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"> to a single line, has somehow retained its thorns. </span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">Finally Evelyn arrives at a version close to the definitive image at the top of this essay:</span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQ0zWhMcC5yrF9Dk1S4dL9tJ0sPC_-KsiqUWaae8rywZsEjZF06_o2YsaQ0K7Z1skGzsONj9_2a7wxM6_T20sIfpVGgXbpOS_XGgnmlJWh3enUrGF3reYt1mO2S-ENaFnsmkb3uh1O31S75aNIpInYLPTnHwIjx83pspfZaMHREBv_KIW_RLzWDK-ow/s2977/Phallic%20bud.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2977" data-original-width="2145" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQ0zWhMcC5yrF9Dk1S4dL9tJ0sPC_-KsiqUWaae8rywZsEjZF06_o2YsaQ0K7Z1skGzsONj9_2a7wxM6_T20sIfpVGgXbpOS_XGgnmlJWh3enUrGF3reYt1mO2S-ENaFnsmkb3uh1O31S75aNIpInYLPTnHwIjx83pspfZaMHREBv_KIW_RLzWDK-ow/w462-h640/Phallic%20bud.heic" width="462" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Sketch for '<i>Maternity bud</i>' (3) Pen and ink on writing paper. 1937. Photograph ©LissLlewellyn</b></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span>The same peacocks in their balustraded parkland, the same stem (although without its thorns), the same sunflower insistence, but a little more detail in the human figures contained within the folds of what is now more evidently not a caul, but a sort of prepuce: a mother-figure centrally, babies either side. Perhaps we can now see that the boy gives scale to the phallus he is holding upright and erect. In botany the bud contains the seed: the phallus resembles the stem and the bud. Is she implying that the maternity for which she longed lay at the tip of Mahoney's manhood? <br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span>Did Mahoney ever see these drawings? It's possible that he never did. All Evelyn's known letters to Mahoney are preserved in the Tate Archive, the generous gift of his daughter. Although some letters from the final anguished months of their relationship may have been suppressed, none of the known letters contains material anything like that shown here. This material comes exclusively from the Hammer Mill Oast collection, the contents of Evelyn's residual studio, passed on to her siblings at her death in 1960. </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span>Although Mahoney, in a hearsay and unverifiable remark, replied to Evelyn's urgings by saying children would stunt both their careers, nevertheless he presumably responded to some extent, because in the autumn of 1937 Evelyn miscarried. The authority for this was Roger Folley, the RAF officer and - in peace time - horticultural economist, whom she married in 1942, and in whom she confided when, to her mortification, it was discovered that she was unable to conceive. </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span>In the spring of 1936 Evelyn left the Brockley lodgings she had rented while working on the later Brockley murals and returned to The Cedars. She saw Mahoney at weekends. Occasionally they went to stay with friends together, notably with Edward and Charlotte Bawden at Great Bardfield, where because of their dedication to gardening they had been for some time nicknamed 'Adam and Eve'. This was the summer of the <i>Opportunity</i> images. It was also the summer dominated by <i>Gardeners' Choice</i>, planning, writing, choosing plants and travelling to see them, sometimes to Evelyn's aunt, the green-fingered Clara Cowling, whose East Sussex house, Steellands, featured in some of Evelyn's decorative vignettes. To work on the book Mahoney sometimes went to stay near Evelyn in Rochester, not at The Cedars, but at 42 St Margaret's Street, not far from the castle and cathedral. We can perhaps dare to hope that Evelyn was happy in that summer and autumn: she and Mahoney were working together on a joint project and the subject of a closer union through children had at least been broached.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span>Work continued on the book throughout the spring of 1937. Evelyn sketched Mahoney drawing plants that would feature in <i>Gardeners' Choice</i>. Paul, the Dunbars' dog, seems unimpressed.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span></span></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__BzAp-86r5y-Y8LcSncd1elbKKzLUD3ekmn5rE1G6c_xmR1y1gdXuGLHnDTqhzQijMVhpw7N6qNlT_g2oZKEsMpITLWldXwFlJYfKixXX4PrFoANsBfLbR-rrJDy74s7bWDFRMGOPY6saE6sr0O4E12MbkFxn0x5-2DPbAB_swQiT2q8hWdT2agyeg/s790/Fig.%20171a%20Mahoney%20drawing%20plants%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="552" data-original-width="790" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__BzAp-86r5y-Y8LcSncd1elbKKzLUD3ekmn5rE1G6c_xmR1y1gdXuGLHnDTqhzQijMVhpw7N6qNlT_g2oZKEsMpITLWldXwFlJYfKixXX4PrFoANsBfLbR-rrJDy74s7bWDFRMGOPY6saE6sr0O4E12MbkFxn0x5-2DPbAB_swQiT2q8hWdT2agyeg/w320-h224/Fig.%20171a%20Mahoney%20drawing%20plants%201.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRoOEKdDnLZ0jNhnghdSV0iiJP0R3dDZqHTjhPCnCDWuynQ9u_ZY40s9RZZksnZ1tTBmpb7xdjaW9XS4esXJBSp5W5RxIvt6l7AMxOGHv_cFRBEHYwoNk13VESpS-r9vh-rtF6RL_Q8ejtPs4ZaZrcEd5qP-oWN4LW5OW7VhXIuPVcRyZd45X3y25RBg/s1008/Fig.%20171b%20Mahoney%20drawing%20plants%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1008" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRoOEKdDnLZ0jNhnghdSV0iiJP0R3dDZqHTjhPCnCDWuynQ9u_ZY40s9RZZksnZ1tTBmpb7xdjaW9XS4esXJBSp5W5RxIvt6l7AMxOGHv_cFRBEHYwoNk13VESpS-r9vh-rtF6RL_Q8ejtPs4ZaZrcEd5qP-oWN4LW5OW7VhXIuPVcRyZd45X3y25RBg/s320/Fig.%20171b%20Mahoney%20drawing%20plants%202.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Charles Mahoney drawing plants in the garden at The Cedars, spring 1937. Unidentifiable plant above; <i>Bergenia crassifolia</i> in the lower drawing</span></b></span></span></span></span><br /></div></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span>It's difficult to establish what happened through the summer and early autumn of 1937. A conjectural succession of events can perhaps be listed as follows, but not necessarily in the order in which they occurred:</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span>*Routledge intend to include <i>Gardeners' Choice</i> in their Christmas 1937 list. Proofs have to be in by September if the book is to appear on booksellers' shelves in good time. <br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span>*Edward Bawden is reminded of his undertaking to write a Foreword to <i>Gardeners' Choice</i>. His much-delayed MS arrives at 42 St Margaret's Street, where Mahoney is staying, on September 3rd. It needs considerable editing. Mahoney tells him it has arrived too late for inclusion. (Bawden's text was discovered among Mahoney's papers in c.2010. It was included in facsimile in Persephone Books' 2015 reprint of <i>Gardeners' Choice</i>.)<br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span>*Evelyn discovers she is pregnant.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span>*Mahoney and his brother Jim buy a cottage in Wrotham, near Maidstone, for their mother Bessie. Mahoney, who has been living for some years in a succession of lodgings, including the Hampstead studio Evelyn rented in 1933-5, moves in too. Evelyn has not been told. Her dreams of living with Mahoney are shattered.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span>*Evelyn and Mahoney have separated. She works overtime preparing <i>Gardeners' Choice</i> for publication on her own, all in longhand. There is an unknown quantity of re-writing. It is probably this that caused Roger Folley to say, many years later, that 'Evelyn wrote most of <i>Gardeners' Choice</i>'. In any case it was supposed that a greater share of the writing fell to Evelyn, while Mahoney was responsible for most of the plant drawings. As time passes, however, and as more and more drawings of plants featured in <i>Gardeners' Choice</i> appear from the long-lost Hammer Mill Oast collection, i.e. Evelyn's residual studio, it's clear that she drew far more than the modest quantity originally assigned to her.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span>*In the closing months of 1937 Evelyn miscarries. It's likely that, alone of the Dunbars, her mother Florence knows.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span>* * * <br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span>There's a bizarre little footnote to all this. As mentioned above, Mahoney kept all Evelyn's letters to him. In 1941 he married Dorothy Bishop, primarily a calligrapher. Some years later the Mahoneys' Christmas card appeared, designed by Dorothy. Here it is, shown next to one of Evelyn's <i>Opportunity</i> letters from 1936. Very strange.<br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> <br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEufyIl3aziwLifs_QliBX4N7xjmzdj5BNvw6u0rhHNRtsKfegYGDR4rHa0z2pc-EY5jlHSd16P3YJ4WC9NQCNT56D6kOwb_k2ocGTJYZf8Rt3yCZC43Gwj8DhCJQCMus4a2dSJ-6Qd3yb65emLo-ohU0u17j1gMBg8fyMApLpQY2gsbQ3fFrMXiWdKg/s2028/proto-Opportunity%20plus.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1130" data-original-width="2028" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEufyIl3aziwLifs_QliBX4N7xjmzdj5BNvw6u0rhHNRtsKfegYGDR4rHa0z2pc-EY5jlHSd16P3YJ4WC9NQCNT56D6kOwb_k2ocGTJYZf8Rt3yCZC43Gwj8DhCJQCMus4a2dSJ-6Qd3yb65emLo-ohU0u17j1gMBg8fyMApLpQY2gsbQ3fFrMXiWdKg/w640-h356/proto-Opportunity%20plus.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span><span style="color: black;"><span> Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2022. All rights reserved.</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><div class="MsoNormal">
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><br /><br /><br /><p></p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> <br /><p></p></div>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-1889573809227207742022-11-06T17:18:00.000+00:002022-11-06T17:18:30.870+00:00Evelyn's Farmers Weekly quiz (1954)<p></p><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwTBVYNAyqQzYyvaIV8FeHz_R2wWXeuXja7uOqg72ndAuWx5GEcjVdiofMiwia0h-AjjS0Zqo2F4a4j-BRWyQI_5HaRJfjoPYpUCf97TJqdsDI46khSAWx9pAJcKl_IUjH-IWTeL92oliw8iwjzFbg_-JIgCmqp9Kt7NVJtGyk32wKhCVBgaFmZ0vaPg/s3613/Evelyn's%20Farming%20Weekly%20quiz%201954.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2301" data-original-width="3613" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwTBVYNAyqQzYyvaIV8FeHz_R2wWXeuXja7uOqg72ndAuWx5GEcjVdiofMiwia0h-AjjS0Zqo2F4a4j-BRWyQI_5HaRJfjoPYpUCf97TJqdsDI46khSAWx9pAJcKl_IUjH-IWTeL92oliw8iwjzFbg_-JIgCmqp9Kt7NVJtGyk32wKhCVBgaFmZ0vaPg/w640-h408/Evelyn's%20Farming%20Weekly%20quiz%201954.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><i>Farmers Weekly</i> puzzle chart quiz: March 1954</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">In 1954 Evelyn was commissioned by the magazine <i>Farmers Weekly</i> to contribute to a regular feature called The Farming Year: Farmers Weekly Puzzle Chart. Perhaps they came out every month: Evelyn's is dated March 1954.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">Competitors were asked to identify each of the activities shown and to indicate at which time of year - Winter, Spring, early Summer, late Summer, Autumn - each might take place. A further five activities, not among those illustrated, were to be suggested by the competitor, one for each of the specified times of year. Answers on a postcard, etc. It wasn't stated what the prize(s) might be.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">Shown is Evelyn's proof copy of what must have been a double page spread, as found recently among her residual papers stored in a Kentish oasthouse since her death in 1960. If you have the means to enlarge it, well and good. If not, I'm sorry to be unable to reproduce a more legible image. But even in its unredeemed state - one might almost say un-ironed - the pen-and-ink draughtsmanship is exquisite, a culmination of so many of her agricultural images since her time as a war artist closely involved with the Women's Land Army. Indeed, one of her images comes straight from her war years: No. 7 harks back to <i>Singling Turnips</i>, recorded on a Berwickshire farm in the spring of 1943:</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCriTQhVMQ-bjNwefC43kAlvQRdm8zLmk-Jofy7X_KNdSxN2EJjjbDe_DojlLXvzGN_QpLLNj1gu4pL9ezuMC23m3W2m7I7R3dU-v-L6RWiBxgV8Lav8_hRJxqsllfpwRjCJ4p-NkZJCVvXqtiyoBnhSDdwvWnw2zJtnQH5u3R7IO8EihZQ6JkOn2UOQ/s469/evelyn-dunbar-singling-turnips1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="469" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCriTQhVMQ-bjNwefC43kAlvQRdm8zLmk-Jofy7X_KNdSxN2EJjjbDe_DojlLXvzGN_QpLLNj1gu4pL9ezuMC23m3W2m7I7R3dU-v-L6RWiBxgV8Lav8_hRJxqsllfpwRjCJ4p-NkZJCVvXqtiyoBnhSDdwvWnw2zJtnQH5u3R7IO8EihZQ6JkOn2UOQ/s320/evelyn-dunbar-singling-turnips1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Singling Turnips</i> 1943 Oil on canvas Photograph ©England & Co. Private collection</span></b></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"></span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">These pen-and-ink drawings are the last in a short series of farming images. The most extensive was <i>A Book of Farmcraft</i> (Longmans, London, 1942) written by Michael Greenhill, senior instructor at Sparsholt Agricultural Institute, Hampshire, where Evelyn was posted in 1940 to record Land Girls in training. We see the same very careful draughtmanship in some of her illustrations for <i>A Book of Farmcraft</i>, which sold over 40,000 copies.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb5s23os08pZmReRzway9BYaznxYjAbF8OzvhMJLPKZOVMdbCZvLHQCz5MA8XexSpHisLC37hKP_UtH2LCONsQ_MvLM2QOVwLA9ZRyyZuogjgjGvq0ot3e-LlI3GcpTnBWSJlq7Kcds35EMkXVBmUALKYc0EkZHHd6BfzP_uF1hYbvKeOgW1QHoX95KQ/s1253/evelyn-dunbar-a-book-of-farmcraft-singling-and-hoeing.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1253" data-original-width="987" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb5s23os08pZmReRzway9BYaznxYjAbF8OzvhMJLPKZOVMdbCZvLHQCz5MA8XexSpHisLC37hKP_UtH2LCONsQ_MvLM2QOVwLA9ZRyyZuogjgjGvq0ot3e-LlI3GcpTnBWSJlq7Kcds35EMkXVBmUALKYc0EkZHHd6BfzP_uF1hYbvKeOgW1QHoX95KQ/s320/evelyn-dunbar-a-book-of-farmcraft-singling-and-hoeing.jpg" width="252" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQyQ41--a_iUArLxbt8cdlyaE4YvVscS56BnU1XtW-kYl8WTfJZf8yIYmM4X2u73aupbrtpJWy0L9vFxvfR-Cryy58H86YkZ7zN6s5zQZLzCz4Si2hF0k_mxQsYrCyboAnkRTKqp4Z6Yvy2HNUuAUGtPf8mr9uWPBAcSCHpAi1FIvomVZkB74koFdu2g/s962/Ed%20milking1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="378" data-original-width="962" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQyQ41--a_iUArLxbt8cdlyaE4YvVscS56BnU1XtW-kYl8WTfJZf8yIYmM4X2u73aupbrtpJWy0L9vFxvfR-Cryy58H86YkZ7zN6s5zQZLzCz4Si2hF0k_mxQsYrCyboAnkRTKqp4Z6Yvy2HNUuAUGtPf8mr9uWPBAcSCHpAi1FIvomVZkB74koFdu2g/s320/Ed%20milking1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Illustrations from <i>A Book of Farmcraft</i>. (But might one of the questions in the <i>Farmers Weekly</i> quiz feature a certain right/wrong anomaly?)</b></span></span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <i>A Book of Farmcraft</i> was followed several years later by <i>A Farm Dictionary</i> (Evans Brothers, London, 1953).<i> </i>Derek Chapman, a senior instructor at the College of Estate Management in Reading, wanted to compile an entry-level dictionary of farming terms. Chapman knew both Roger Folley, Evelyn's husband, and her <i>A Book of Farmcraft</i>; the circle was squared; Evelyn apparently was very happy to contribute to a sympathetic project emanating from the town in which she had been born. Accordingly she produced almost 100 small drawings, some done with the same concentration as those in the <i>Farmers Weekly</i> quiz above (see Oast-house in the selection below), others in which her lightness of touch is the foil to some little witticism or joke, as in Lean-to or Smoker below.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lAqz2ZysKmIolwRJCzpoXJU2Fke6JZL7kFIciFP-lfEGmiJqKHk8_ngB_kFHpNv0vac0pyFIzzpK2PlCHNulYbJODNQP6Vq2bDmvhpchNmZVcdBnl9sTRutbDfaDI8UXdoOlMW7xSqLesj6DYxbYRWpe8xJ-6QB3uB4tOwB41Lpnr4LA6C4OPu_FcQ/s427/Fig.%20274%20(1)%20Oast-House.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="391" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lAqz2ZysKmIolwRJCzpoXJU2Fke6JZL7kFIciFP-lfEGmiJqKHk8_ngB_kFHpNv0vac0pyFIzzpK2PlCHNulYbJODNQP6Vq2bDmvhpchNmZVcdBnl9sTRutbDfaDI8UXdoOlMW7xSqLesj6DYxbYRWpe8xJ-6QB3uB4tOwB41Lpnr4LA6C4OPu_FcQ/w183-h200/Fig.%20274%20(1)%20Oast-House.jpg" width="183" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDUvbgZy76o2uUu73k6rVxLBIXSuAoQzMWnRi--7WqeBDc-gM3JSKlCsLIH8aU83uMCM5QLUZqeS2gMJNMbji3JTHsDH-ovL0KUJ8LJPeWLtI2pT-iOXdPaaRzETKoEF1MRRYBkT0J7kjRDHZ_Tkz32ELztKRPVZ9vycJF7PbbzWnhcMrA9bitG_y5Yg/s410/Fig.%20274%20(3)%20Smoker.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="410" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDUvbgZy76o2uUu73k6rVxLBIXSuAoQzMWnRi--7WqeBDc-gM3JSKlCsLIH8aU83uMCM5QLUZqeS2gMJNMbji3JTHsDH-ovL0KUJ8LJPeWLtI2pT-iOXdPaaRzETKoEF1MRRYBkT0J7kjRDHZ_Tkz32ELztKRPVZ9vycJF7PbbzWnhcMrA9bitG_y5Yg/s320/Fig.%20274%20(3)%20Smoker.jpg" width="320" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3A3iJRYvJq_Lh4v8qniDDD_UcollCCxQ4PdjXyzQxzfZYBQJ-AHSSrenRwK0R5DROGKeW-86gECoo1PZSV0ERNb9Ktnj5mVJRRfBuqAmotZh8jk-FBWOG8uVQVg70WYVH1M_mDYOMLhTPQyZ7vUmCbE1c6YJlbhkNsHBAZBUtWBSsLT47EX4SqvOtKQ/s463/Fig.%20274%20(2)%20Rave.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="463" data-original-width="266" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3A3iJRYvJq_Lh4v8qniDDD_UcollCCxQ4PdjXyzQxzfZYBQJ-AHSSrenRwK0R5DROGKeW-86gECoo1PZSV0ERNb9Ktnj5mVJRRfBuqAmotZh8jk-FBWOG8uVQVg70WYVH1M_mDYOMLhTPQyZ7vUmCbE1c6YJlbhkNsHBAZBUtWBSsLT47EX4SqvOtKQ/s320/Fig.%20274%20(2)%20Rave.jpg" width="184" /></a></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIRNKojZSjHxpzYbP9Vn1ARHCoR2lXYsdhcLTtVt650YRgQCzI746CQSwycVNLfdRDK1FptLYZMDIL0TNJAae8zJAfTL5lRiUyMrZJco8hdkjnh-hvCvI8POmz_Sjyo4hevZyk9yVYTzfCcDRDyB1yW8vFGdhfGXXRO31fg7RdM0vqMD9-Spbf_YIs9Q/s472/Fig.%20274%20(4)%20Drinking%20Fountain.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="472" data-original-width="363" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIRNKojZSjHxpzYbP9Vn1ARHCoR2lXYsdhcLTtVt650YRgQCzI746CQSwycVNLfdRDK1FptLYZMDIL0TNJAae8zJAfTL5lRiUyMrZJco8hdkjnh-hvCvI8POmz_Sjyo4hevZyk9yVYTzfCcDRDyB1yW8vFGdhfGXXRO31fg7RdM0vqMD9-Spbf_YIs9Q/s320/Fig.%20274%20(4)%20Drinking%20Fountain.jpg" width="246" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3tsvFbJfx9yTu5BXUfFqsLHkYN8cYDQ_5r2P9cXhMpRxXK6ShpVKO20PgvrXwWhmCHhLv2W24R8p3U2ofsI9i58xGn9XnayZpCQN8ZvKlHxmmuBEWH9Y2ma3BnD49xDmqp4xN7ehdrlxU9mkc0m8n8zdsw8_d8J5y8GwDEwDcpjncvcZVyHuhIDEabw/s527/Fig.%20274%20(5)%20Lean-To.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="527" data-original-width="387" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3tsvFbJfx9yTu5BXUfFqsLHkYN8cYDQ_5r2P9cXhMpRxXK6ShpVKO20PgvrXwWhmCHhLv2W24R8p3U2ofsI9i58xGn9XnayZpCQN8ZvKlHxmmuBEWH9Y2ma3BnD49xDmqp4xN7ehdrlxU9mkc0m8n8zdsw8_d8J5y8GwDEwDcpjncvcZVyHuhIDEabw/s320/Fig.%20274%20(5)%20Lean-To.jpg" width="235" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Copies of <i>A Farm Dictionary, </i>which was the last book Evelyn illustrated, are extremely rare. Occasionally Evelyn's studies for individual drawings, survivors from some 60 years of storage in far from ideal conditions, come up for sale. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2022. All rights reserved.</span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span><br /></div><div><p></p></div>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-26131011386089831532022-10-31T15:19:00.002+00:002022-10-31T17:14:54.069+00:00Double vision: Wye from Olantigh (1952-3)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZRoubwRwDv27-0tyIjNlUfKaoDIlVNJCGgsKObqEdM78J83XHB596IbUzmNUPp2qnq_qRi435gZq9bHQLBNJIsEiMDGMlWj0zm-d_fD7AIy7TSSUI7Xo0qxScwa25YvoffGxt7vfBj7BqNWcJ2e1AnYUf-kAPbNfrjLF8WZIQFPiza0Bc0PJHmMIeQ/s417/Wye%20from%20Olantigh%203.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="417" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZRoubwRwDv27-0tyIjNlUfKaoDIlVNJCGgsKObqEdM78J83XHB596IbUzmNUPp2qnq_qRi435gZq9bHQLBNJIsEiMDGMlWj0zm-d_fD7AIy7TSSUI7Xo0qxScwa25YvoffGxt7vfBj7BqNWcJ2e1AnYUf-kAPbNfrjLF8WZIQFPiza0Bc0PJHmMIeQ/w400-h320/Wye%20from%20Olantigh%203.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="color: #741b47;"><b><i>Wye from Olantigh</i> (autumn) Oil on canvas ?1952 Private collection</b></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">Olantigh (pronounced Òll-en-ti), a name as ancient as any in East Kent, is a settlement about a mile north of the village of Wye consisting of a few cottages, a large country house and the surrounding parkland.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">Evelyn and her husband Roger Folley left Oxford and moved to Kent in 1950. Roger Folley had recently been appointed as a lecturer in horticultural economics at Wye College, the agricultural campus of Imperial College, London. It was a big step up for him, but Evelyn deeply regretted leaving Oxford, her teaching posts at the Oxford School of Art and the Ruskin School and the artistic coterie she delighted in and whose influence contributed to the most fertile and expressive period of her life.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">They rented The Elms, an isolated house on the edge of Hinxhill, a tiny satellite of Ashford, in Kent. With time on her hands Evelyn set out from The Elms to explore the neighbourhood, sometimes in their Morris Oxford Traveller, when easels, paints and brushes had to be carried, sometimes on her bicycle, sometimes on foot when all that needed to be carried were sketch pads and charcoal. Landscape began to preoccupy her to an extent she hadn't known before. The landscapes from the last few years of her life outnumber the combined total from her earlier periods.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">At some stage in the early 1950s Evelyn's exploration of the countryside surrounding Wye and The Elms took her to Olantigh Park. One glance, surely, between those <i>repoussoir</i> trees, with Wye church rising above the intervening woodland (and - though hardly visible here - the distant tower on the horizon of St Mary the Virgin in Ashford, done with the minutest of brushes) - one glance to suggest to Evelyn that here was a landscape modest in its sweep, at once intimate and universal, the hand of man equally evident with the hand of the creator, with or without a capital C. In fact a 'landscape worked and loved in equal measure', to quote a message I once discovered embedded in a wall in the Outer Hebrides, about as far as one can get within the British Isles from East Kent, but which I thought admirably summed up what Evelyn looked for in a landscape. <br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">I'm inclined to think <i>Wye from Olantigh</i> (above) dates from the autumn of 1952, only because, and for lack of other evidence, Evelyn mounted a solo exhibition, the only one of her career, in Wye in December 1953. Had the painting above been shown, the paint would hardly have been dry. More reasonable, in this context, to assign it to the autumn of 1952. Perhaps it doesn't matter very much. There are more interesting questions to mull over, like which came first, because...</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">...there are two accounts of <i>Wye from Olantigh</i>. Here is the pair:</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgXqiO4E7kNsHmk5pH8N5BtUzC-QbgPlqsbujV9G9sKTupPhVclS7I-B0Ulr_hnafsQ2f8UXInL0zWIrMOlhwghG_943jmqQ1al_C4vSxOBCUph6PXeq9mrqug-pgVObvivyKMH2PvcWsXr5mO43moPC_zMmeCa_BoEQjxbJQxZG0xRwfPPnv6Ekq57Q/s995/Fig.%20276%20Wye%20from%20Olantigh.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="995" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgXqiO4E7kNsHmk5pH8N5BtUzC-QbgPlqsbujV9G9sKTupPhVclS7I-B0Ulr_hnafsQ2f8UXInL0zWIrMOlhwghG_943jmqQ1al_C4vSxOBCUph6PXeq9mrqug-pgVObvivyKMH2PvcWsXr5mO43moPC_zMmeCa_BoEQjxbJQxZG0xRwfPPnv6Ekq57Q/w400-h309/Fig.%20276%20Wye%20from%20Olantigh.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i> Wye from Olantigh</i> (summer) Oil on canvas 1953 Private collection</b></span></span></span><br /></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">This version was the subject of a fairly full essay <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2013/01/wye-from-olantigh-1953_20.html" target="_blank">here</a>. It came as a very pleasant surprise to learn that Evelyn had painted two versions of the same scene. The summer version has been in the same family since 1960, the autumn version similarly but unknown to me until recently. It is as though these beatific visions of English landscape keep pace with our age.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">Many thanks to Anne Skilbeck for her assistance.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2022. All rights reserved.</span><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></span></span><br /></p><div class="MsoNormal">
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div></div>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-74230211338841799352022-10-23T17:00:00.178+01:002023-07-30T16:00:29.964+01:00Women's Auxiliary Air Force Store (1944)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBCN3TD9JB6DzheOdyb8jiyd4xPowY845yEihZMCPzNTaY2_EW-OyiOjRO3kIP_aGh_9gomyrOZg5uEkOEYDgVVDlF_AZ9-cZCQ9n6iOZ9ayAQyzmjHxNUqyiZhgKEZJe0JoWhZvqRE5bF4XaYIZIqzZ0lSmSkGw_qxf3W2YGP0thdoEnNcNeIKlBF5Q/s3072/WAAF%20Store%20Kelvingrove%20hr.tif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2544" data-original-width="3072" height="530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBCN3TD9JB6DzheOdyb8jiyd4xPowY845yEihZMCPzNTaY2_EW-OyiOjRO3kIP_aGh_9gomyrOZg5uEkOEYDgVVDlF_AZ9-cZCQ9n6iOZ9ayAQyzmjHxNUqyiZhgKEZJe0JoWhZvqRE5bF4XaYIZIqzZ0lSmSkGw_qxf3W2YGP0thdoEnNcNeIKlBF5Q/w640-h530/WAAF%20Store%20Kelvingrove%20hr.tif" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="color: #660000; font-size: small;"><b><span><i> <br /></i></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-size: small;"><b><span><i> </i></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000; font-size: small;"><b><span><i> Women's Auxiliary Air Force Store</i> 1944 Oil on canvas (1' 4" x 1' 8": 40.6 x 50.8 cm) <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kelvingrove_Art_Gallery_and_Museum">Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum, Glasgow</a></span></b></span></div><span style="font-size: small;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the summer of 1944, while Allied troops were fighting furiously to drive the Germans out of Normandy, Evelyn spent some weeks carrying out a commission by her employers, the War Artists' Advisory Committee, to record the activities of the Women's Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF). Perhaps with some intervention from her RAF officer husband Roger Folley, then serving with 488 (NZ) Squadron at RAF Colerne, in Wiltshire, she set up her easel at nearby RAF South Cerney. Her visit was not a success. Despite the WAAF being popularly, and proudly, presented as working on equal terms (apart from combat) with the men of the RAF, she was barred from access to operational areas. Her experience was thus restricted to observing and recording ancillary activity centres, the canteen, the sick bay and - as here - the clothing store. Neverthless it was here that she found, or was directed towards, something quite extraordinary, something unexpectedly potent in her promotion of women's interests and improvement of their status.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * *<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">
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Evelyn has taken her stepladder to give a top-down view of a WAAF clothing store. The central figure is especially interesting. Her single-strip epaulette slide shows she holds a commissioned WAAAF (three As, please note) rank, that of Section Officer, while her shoulder flash reads, unexpectedly, AUSTRALIA. What is she doing here, on the other side of the world from her home, in a clothing store?</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj-WSJrAuv7xv5KufhmLmCSepleKgUt5GWx4RgsY-i8JGf_VL8zKiYxQPjt7a-Flnnr6jIr_alGEa4Ua8VRao3STDkuA2XdVZ5Cer4wtVeICF62QuaVZf3tVz74PRqFjEzh9MD8CZFJW2lkuZqnjfcP3EYx71h9Svij77On93mxQW4akp_WJD4Wo5vOg/s849/WAAF%20Store%20Australia%20shoulder%20flash.tif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="849" data-original-width="581" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj-WSJrAuv7xv5KufhmLmCSepleKgUt5GWx4RgsY-i8JGf_VL8zKiYxQPjt7a-Flnnr6jIr_alGEa4Ua8VRao3STDkuA2XdVZ5Cer4wtVeICF62QuaVZf3tVz74PRqFjEzh9MD8CZFJW2lkuZqnjfcP3EYx71h9Svij77On93mxQW4akp_WJD4Wo5vOg/w274-h400/WAAF%20Store%20Australia%20shoulder%20flash.tif" width="274" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="color: #741b47;"><b><i>Women's Auxiliary Air Force Store</i>: Detail showing 'AUSTRALIA' shoulder flash</b></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">She would have volunteered for the WAAAF, possibly in response to the threat from Japan, some time after March 1941. The WAAAF training centre in Melbourne, to which she would have been posted, instructed aircraft maintenance staff, munitions workers, electricians, telegraphists, radar operatives and staff in many other areas requiring high levels of technical and scientific skill. She would have been paid at least one third less than RAAF male staff in equivalent positions.We don't know in what technical or scientific skill our WAAAF officer has been trained, but it's unlikely to have been the supervision of a clothing store in southern England. As far as is known, she is the only Australian WAAAF officer to have been painted by a British war artist. We don't know who she was.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Let's look more closely at this clothing store. It has an air of desperation about it, as though the clothing store at RAF South Cerney was the only place in which a married, female civilian artist with slightly bohemian leanings might safely be let loose. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's a gloomy, prison-like place. It's not certain where the light comes from; certainly not from the tiny windows set high in the walls. Maybe we have one of Evelyn's visual puns, a particularly powerful one: the light comes from Evelyn herself, from the direction in which she, the artist, is casting light - as we shall see in a moment - on a contentious problem most keenly evident in a clothing store. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">There are three theatres of action: on the extreme centre left a WAAF is trying on a tunic that appears to be too large for her. She bears some resemblance to a WAAF whose portrait Evelyn painted while at RAF South Cerney, entitling it <i>Portrait of an Airwoman</i>, which now hangs in the RAF Museum, Hendon. It's not the best portrait she ever painted, but perhaps in this also Evelyn was making a point: her tunic is just as lumpy as in the clothing store picture (if indeed she is the subject), we can be happy for her Airwoman that her rosebud lips pass muster and that her engagement ring points to a brighter future, but that forearm chevron, denoting Good Conduct...well, we are not very far from Brownie badges and certain top-down attitudes that did not exist in the parent service, the all-male RAF.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhirnL6iwMVyMEjmyw-W9mEcyjikWKzgn9wWdd1NEdHelFTMH0Odub3Of_4yMD70Vp-h0Y-nL-9eqz-usJiqT8QMXh-dtFDWQ_lPLuMB0RnzAMKyfpxrJZ4mxn4xpvTPQL8A6iuDckognM-s-NMw9R7Nyl8wXACznW5U0GV5eDeBZUetBM6gicJGEUDlQ/s544/Fig.%20241%20Airwoman.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="403" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhirnL6iwMVyMEjmyw-W9mEcyjikWKzgn9wWdd1NEdHelFTMH0Odub3Of_4yMD70Vp-h0Y-nL-9eqz-usJiqT8QMXh-dtFDWQ_lPLuMB0RnzAMKyfpxrJZ4mxn4xpvTPQL8A6iuDckognM-s-NMw9R7Nyl8wXACznW5U0GV5eDeBZUetBM6gicJGEUDlQ/s320/Fig.%20241%20Airwoman.jpg" width="237" /></a></div></span><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="color: #741b47;"><i> Portrait of an Airwoman</i> 1944 RAF Museum, Hendon</span></b></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">The second theatre of action concentrates on the extreme right, where a trousered figure, maybe indicating a change of attitudes to women's wear at institutional level, is poking disconsolately at discarded clothing which World War 2 RAF uniform buffs may be better able to identify than I, though similarly baffled by the pink strips.<br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />We're led into the third and principal theatre of action by one of Evelyn's SW-NE diagonals, in this case a queue of WAAFs. The queue leader, whose neckwear is ambiguous, is pointing very obviously at the collar of her blouse or shirt, while the Australian Section Officer looks on rather blankly. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">As well she might. She is dealing with a recurring problem, legendary at the time among British WAAFs; that Evelyn has chosen to paint it is authentication in itself. The pale blue uniform shirts, to which separate collars were attached by means of studs, were cut to men's sizes and shapes. This meant that a shirt with a chest measurement generous enough to accommodate WAAF busts had a collar measurement correspondingly larger than the female neck it was supposed to enclose, so that it was impossible to do up the black uniform necktie without leaving an ugly and draughty gap between throat and collar stud. To combat this unthinking chauvinism many WAAFs preferred to buy their own blouses privately, trusting to a colour match acceptable to Section Officers and suchlike. We are not told how our Australian dealt with the problem. It's enough that we should be made aware of it.<br />
<br />Evelyn didn't enjoy her time at RAF South Cerney. She complained to E.C.Gregory, then secretary of the War Artists' Advisory Committee, that despite official security clearance she wasn't allowed to record WAAF activities in operational areas. This restricted her activities to such an extent that her only output from the time she spent at RAF South Cerney was <i>Women's Auxiliary Air Force Store</i> and several portraits of WAAFs and nurses associated with the RAF. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">I think Evelyn felt diffident about this picture. Maybe signing it 'E.D.' instead of her usual 'Evelyn Dunbar' points to this uncertainty. The problem over gender-sizing, prevalent in the earlier 1940s, had largely gone away by the time she finished painting it. With a non-existent problem to highlight the picture had lost its point and its impact. In fact <i>Women's Auxiliary Air Force Store</i> was the last of Evelyn's war paintings to be submitted: painted in the early autumn of 1944, it was not handed in until January 1946. But she hasn't wasted her time: of all her wartime images (except perhaps <i><a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2012/12/a-land-girl-and-bail-bull-1945.html" target="_blank">A Land Girl and the Bail Bull</a></i>) <i>Women's Auxiliary Air Force Store</i> carries the strongest messages of the inferior status of women.</span> <br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">With thanks to Penny Summerfield for her contribution.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>
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(Text © Christopher Campbell-Howes 2022. All rights reserved.)<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"> <b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"> by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br /> is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank"> Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br /> 448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br /><br /></b></span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div></div></div>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-53490581070792206912022-10-21T14:58:00.061+01:002024-03-08T11:23:12.855+00:00Why is the dresser wearing trousers? (1940)<div><div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX55VHWayXNGuDbsQanGpdyCZ_LPLRKLWIpdjTwNyiUYqcBaUMSD0hrswz1JlT0Xk_ujiBXbxk4GE4YGcPFuRYHVBxOwaRvCftLQF-C_6DIZ5t8-cfbBlY5ylQiCApAx90tLqTCoEuFN8JvsZVzLpCR131JD54lJekcE-Z1lX4ejkeyhLyn4o7-IYgKA/s250/Fig.%20196%20Anti-gas%20Protective%20Clothing.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="201" data-original-width="250" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX55VHWayXNGuDbsQanGpdyCZ_LPLRKLWIpdjTwNyiUYqcBaUMSD0hrswz1JlT0Xk_ujiBXbxk4GE4YGcPFuRYHVBxOwaRvCftLQF-C_6DIZ5t8-cfbBlY5ylQiCApAx90tLqTCoEuFN8JvsZVzLpCR131JD54lJekcE-Z1lX4ejkeyhLyn4o7-IYgKA/w400-h322/Fig.%20196%20Anti-gas%20Protective%20Clothing.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Putting on Anti-gas Protective Clothing</i> 1940 Imperial War Museum, London</span></b></span><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">We've seen this before, the first of Evelyn's war paintings, looked at in some detail <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2012/07/putting-on-anti-gas-protective-clothing.html" target="_blank">here</a>. That commentary wasn't entirely exhaustive, however, because there was one element that I didn't explore: the first indication that I think Evelyn gave of a deep and significant personal message evident in some of her war painting. It's in this context that I want to look more closely at the secondary figure in <i>Putting on Anti-Gas Protective Clothing</i>, that of the dresser. But first, a glance behind the scenes.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * *<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Two days after her 33rd birthday, in December 1939, Evelyn applied to be considered for appointment as a war artist at the suggestion of Sir William Rothenstein, former Principal of the Royal College of Art. Rothenstein had been impressed with Evelyn's gifts and promise since she started studying at the RCA in 1929. Known for looking after his former students, he remained on friendly terms with Evelyn until his death in 1945; he's likely to have been a smiling presence in the wings when her candidature came up for discussion by the War Artists' Advisory Committee (WAAC) in the early months of 1940.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">The 11-strong, all male WAAC, whose average age in 1940 was just under 60, can't have known very much about Evelyn. The chairman, Kenneth Clark, had come across <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/1862227915870262056/430352270891840085" target="_blank">her work once</a> (but scroll down), and had hardly warmed to it. Percy Jowett, current RCA Principal and another WAAC member, to whom Evelyn applied, appeared to know of her work: on her application letter he wrote '...a very fine artist who has done excellent decorations as well as drawings', a perceptive and welcome commendation without being particularly illuminating.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">For the WAAC the months between Evelyn's application and her acceptance (and that of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dorothy_Coke" target="_blank">Dorothy Coke</a> and <a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-d&q=ethel+gabain" target="_blank">Ethel Gabain</a>, together with Evelyn the first women war artists to be appointed) were marked by a certain non-commitment in coming to terms with the employment of women artists. Pressure on the WAAC to do so came notably from Lady Florence Norman, a founder trustee of the Imperial War Museum. For Evelyn those months, December 1939 - April 1940, were rather different.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * *</span><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj76EHZ6hHMptdvnazlyfePnhM2ratiJEIGW9kuHQqGTr99XsceVtZuoTPZxt4tyI0qSVfHdf4tSgbDM9B2SCmhq9ila-BhSLqLFZHfNZTMbvJhIzdp-w8kvyktvNKl93riKKo0KEmFq6chKM3QKhyMeCup0JgQ04iuF0LStMA8YwJbSu0vizKvkeM4hQ/s2432/168%20High%20St%20Rochester.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2432" data-original-width="1872" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj76EHZ6hHMptdvnazlyfePnhM2ratiJEIGW9kuHQqGTr99XsceVtZuoTPZxt4tyI0qSVfHdf4tSgbDM9B2SCmhq9ila-BhSLqLFZHfNZTMbvJhIzdp-w8kvyktvNKl93riKKo0KEmFq6chKM3QKhyMeCup0JgQ04iuF0LStMA8YwJbSu0vizKvkeM4hQ/s320/168%20High%20St%20Rochester.jpg" width="246" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"> 168, High Street, Rochester, in a later incarnation, c.1952. The first floor windows illuminated Evelyn's The Blue Gallery. </span></b></span></span><br /></div></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">On
the floor above The Fancy Shop, her sisters' haberdashery shop at 168
High Street, Rochester, was a large, handsome, blue-panelled room
running the frontage length of the shop below. A year earlier, in
February 1939, Evelyn opened what she called The Blue Gallery in this
room with an exhibition of local artists' work together with work by
leading contemporary artists of the time, some now better known than
others: Edward Bawden, Barnett Freedman, Allan Gwynne-Jones, Kenneth
Rowntree...and Charles Mahoney.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">That Mahoney
was asked to contribute was perhaps typical of Evelyn's generosity of spirit. He and Evelyn had had a disastrous relationship, one that in terms of her career brought few benefits. In 1932-33, her
postgraduate year at the RCA, Mahoney had been her mural tutor, partly as a
result of which she volunteered to join his team to decorate <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2012/05/evelyn-dunbar-brockley-murals-1933-36.html" target="_blank">Brockley School for Boys</a> (now Prendergast - Hilly Fields School) in south-east
London. To start with no one else volunteered. Maybe it was hardly surprising: remuneration was suspiciously vague, and the locus being a school the viewing public would be limited to pupils and staff. Nor could the finished work go on display elsewhere. For young artists at the start of their careers it was a dead end. However late in 1933 two other recent graduates joined in for a limited period, and discovered that in the meantime Evelyn and Mahoney had fallen in love. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">However promising at first, their relationship was blighted by each having very different characters and backgrounds, Evelyn a cheerfully committed Christian Scientist from a bourgeois merchant background, Mahoney a disputatious atheist leaning far to the left politically. Both however shared a deep love of plants and gardening. Evelyn's self-effacing attempts to form a personal and professional unity with Mahoney failed, all except one: their joint production,<i> <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2012/06/gardeners-choice-1937.html" target="_blank">Gardeners' Choice</a></i>. They separated in 1937. A miscarriage marked the end of their relationship. Evelyn retreated to the bosom of her family. Her commitment to Mahoney, which included burying herself in the obscurity of Brockley for three years, had hardly enabled her career to get into second gear. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Evelyn's return to The Cedars led her to think of herself as a cuckoo in the family nest. She refers to herself as such in the autobiographical <i><a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2017/01/april-193738.html" target="_blank">April</a></i> of 1938. Kindly people though the Dunbars were, there were certain understandable tensions within the family: her siblings had left school years before - the eldest, Ronald, had fought through World War 1 in a kilted regiment - and had since become hard-working shopkeepers and entrepreneurs, all contributing to the household expenses; Evelyn had had some 7 years'-worth of further education, with nothing material to show for it. And no money. <i>April</i> is the earliest of a short series of boxed images, as though Evelyn wanted to build protective walls round herself. <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2017/05/josephs-dream-1938-42.html" target="_blank"><i>Joseph's Dream</i></a><i> </i>of 1938 is another. To ease family tensions she agreed to work behind the counter in her sisters' shop, selling ribbons and buttons and contributing to occasional window displays. Her final effort to restore her career as an artist was The Blue Gallery. It was a dismal failure. It closed two months later without a single work having been sold. Well might Evelyn call this period her 'crisis' years. She returned to the haberdashery counter. Upstairs The Blue Gallery remained unvisited, except by Evelyn herself, who occasionally used it as a studio. It may well be that during the next few years some of her war paintings were produced there.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Her appointment as a war artist was met with delight, relief and determination to give the best value for money. The letters held in the Imperial War Museum to Ted Dickey, the WAAC secretary, in this context are deferential, almost servile. For the moment she had no money at all and had to apply to Dickey for an advance for travel and materials to undertake her first commission. For this she had to travel to Marlow, in Buckinghamshire, where at Bisham Abbey there was a training centre given over to the Women's Voluntary Service, at that time given some Civil Defence responsibility for organising anti-gas precautions. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * *<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Why is Evelyn's dresser wearing trousers? <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">No identities are given to the two women in <i>Putting on Anti-Gas Protective Clothing </i>(which, maybe significantly, continues the boxed presentation which marks some of her work during her 'crisis' years). The dresser is very simply drawn. By box 4, however, we notice something curious, presumably included deliberately by Evelyn: she is wearing the colours, slightly muted, of the Union Jack. She stands for the women of Britain, about to be protected by the dressee. The simplicity of her dress contrasts strongly with the ferociously awkward folds and creases she is helping the anti-gas nurse or ambulance driver to get into. The dresser is wearing trousers, which she probably called slacks, and this is really quite surprising, because even in 1940 it was far from universal for women to wear trousers. Indeed the wearing of them was widely mocked and disparaged.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the 9-frame set of preparatory sketches below for <i>Putting on Anti-Gas Protective Clothing</i> the dresser is wearing some kind of dress or overall. Certainly not slacks. Why has Evelyn changed her mind? <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgodfQtNQvIGzNtge7lyZwcHGyDMqA44YSTlEDMl8R16AMiCybgJCcdX_wWQSu2Ff0nYuqdrh9l439Qxkbzw6w0QsRplmWMKpZ0SmSRhmh6Hu8--2SvKazOckzYbvU077rHjo7Yb7wsq_tPz3ql1bDVa4wIb0MWQYZYcaBNSNS5hIGIkuc4D9nHpCyRPg/s268/Study%20for%20Putting%20on%20Protective%20Clothing%20(detail).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="268" data-original-width="236" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgodfQtNQvIGzNtge7lyZwcHGyDMqA44YSTlEDMl8R16AMiCybgJCcdX_wWQSu2Ff0nYuqdrh9l439Qxkbzw6w0QsRplmWMKpZ0SmSRhmh6Hu8--2SvKazOckzYbvU077rHjo7Yb7wsq_tPz3ql1bDVa4wIb0MWQYZYcaBNSNS5hIGIkuc4D9nHpCyRPg/s1600/Study%20for%20Putting%20on%20Protective%20Clothing%20(detail).jpg" width="236" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b>Sketch for <i>Putting on Anti-Gas Protective Clothing</i> (detail) Pencil 1940 Photograph ©LissLlewellyn</b></span><br /></div></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">By the late 1930s the wearing of trousers tended to be limited to younger middle class women, as leisure wear primarily. It's perhaps noteworthy that the women's fashion magazine <i>Vogue</i> first featured slacks in 1939. As a random sample record, the wartime diarist Nella Last noted the trend and what it might indicate: a little later she wrote 'I suddenly thought tonight, "I know why a lot of women have gone into pants [i.e. slacks, trousers] - it's a sign that they are asserting themselves in some way." I feel pants are more a sign of the times than I realised.' So is Evelyn's maybe last-minute presentation of her slacks-wearing dresser intentional or unintentional?</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Evelyn herself frequently wore slacks, although her slacks-wearing iconography is meagre:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoN5VM_7yF1s6ApyH4vI03l8AyssVVenMgVFL30e4qY4c0wINBdEJmPAkh1U-O3W9VRnoNHsKX8W6wwpafF9UIuiCLkG1YoUHsL-O_nrj07w28sAZaZnvp69wmJDcXsBGwD8VScTdqWLsHvJMGE-nG0U88n43tTEKo3ZazCPDr2DZX0Ds6VZpjh77z0Q/s732/Feb.%201936.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="732" data-original-width="247" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoN5VM_7yF1s6ApyH4vI03l8AyssVVenMgVFL30e4qY4c0wINBdEJmPAkh1U-O3W9VRnoNHsKX8W6wwpafF9UIuiCLkG1YoUHsL-O_nrj07w28sAZaZnvp69wmJDcXsBGwD8VScTdqWLsHvJMGE-nG0U88n43tTEKo3ZazCPDr2DZX0Ds6VZpjh77z0Q/s320/Feb.%201936.jpg" width="108" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here she is posing for <i>The Morning Post</i> (later incorporated in <i>The Daily Telegraph</i>) in February 1936, standing on a scaffold pretending to paint a Brockley Mural image completed three years earlier... </span><br /></div></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgowF3FPoRRaOzTS0yxJJYX5i36pA9g6pa05eYNj7p5mjbr6zZD94e6bjVxpRrGHmhWTfaGtnnHcsH-3Uk6Uv0ehqG-8HR8-p4oT3GF9vtJEvC0zA3SNzxlzayNF_hOZI4ppoJxdQ-Kg-AXXdkmmcetxa0EvcfcO1JH1fuc4QFTQEYLhiE8fdLvaF3gKw/s404/Brockley%20plan.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="372" data-original-width="404" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgowF3FPoRRaOzTS0yxJJYX5i36pA9g6pa05eYNj7p5mjbr6zZD94e6bjVxpRrGHmhWTfaGtnnHcsH-3Uk6Uv0ehqG-8HR8-p4oT3GF9vtJEvC0zA3SNzxlzayNF_hOZI4ppoJxdQ-Kg-AXXdkmmcetxa0EvcfcO1JH1fuc4QFTQEYLhiE8fdLvaF3gKw/s320/Brockley%20plan.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">...and here she is again in the persona of a mouse (she frequently did this as a young woman) in a June 1933 letter to Mahoney. Dressed in painting smock and slacks she is carrying plans for an extension of the Brockley Mural scheme.<span style="color: #4c1130;"> <span style="color: black;">(Detail from a letter held in the Tate Archive.)</span></span> <br /></span></div><div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is not for one moment intended to suggest that the slack-wearing, ever-modest Evelyn brazenly styled <i>herself</i> as the dresser in <i>Putting on Anti-gas Protective Clothing</i> - far from it; she had only been in post a few weeks - but that she had come up with something much more subtly powerful: through her image of the unobtrusive dresser she had enlisted into the national effort that entire cohort of younger women to which she herself belonged. No mean feat for her first commission as a war artist.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2022. All rights reserved.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><div class="MsoNormal">
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br /><br /></b></span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><p></p><p></p></div>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-53244983914856644632022-08-11T11:07:00.004+01:002022-08-17T09:17:42.349+01:00Sidelands (1959)<br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9nVQzXH3B73RdmCO1JqN5IrEk5Bd1uLJPE_RxTF22lRFzEyFyhNu8GtR2mwk9p398BA76IhfjtWnOfzzNjejvL-qiNHgrHd569E1BHJnpwoq4W_BUtLoYrwfs1KMghCbEEaq-ZuoYru1rCuRilwWDPifslUKqgjV0Uti7qXnbwinm_kDxs8jp7ysGSw/s875/evelyn-dunbar-sidelands-(section).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="590" data-original-width="875" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9nVQzXH3B73RdmCO1JqN5IrEk5Bd1uLJPE_RxTF22lRFzEyFyhNu8GtR2mwk9p398BA76IhfjtWnOfzzNjejvL-qiNHgrHd569E1BHJnpwoq4W_BUtLoYrwfs1KMghCbEEaq-ZuoYru1rCuRilwWDPifslUKqgjV0Uti7qXnbwinm_kDxs8jp7ysGSw/w400-h270/evelyn-dunbar-sidelands-(section).jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Sidelands</i> Oil on canvas 1960 Location unknown</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">There's a certain pathos about this incomplete image. 'Sidelands' is the name of a farm at the foot of the North Downs a mile or two to the east of the village of Wye, in Kent. It would have been well known to Evelyn, whose husband Roger Folley lectured on horticultural economics at Wye College.</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">To sketch it prior to painting Evelyn would have had to drive the few miles down the road to Wye from Hastingleigh, where she and Roger lived at Staple Farm. She may have cycled, but while the downhill run is easy, it's a stiffish climb back up to Staple Farm, and in 1959 Evelyn's heart wasn't in a very good condition. </span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Sidelands</i> stood on an easel in Evelyn's studio when she died, in May 1960. Its studio neighbours were <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2013/05/jacobs-dream-1960.html" target="_blank"><i>Jacob's Dream</i></a>, which also incorporates local landscape, and <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2013/05/autumn-and-poet-1960.html"><i>Autumn and the Poet</i></a>. To me the season - always a vital element in Evelyn's paintings - suggests late summer or early autumn, so it's possible that she was painting <i>Sidelands</i> in September or October 1959.</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">After Evelyn's death Roger Folley collected her residual studio together, packed it in boxes and portfolios and consigned most of it to Alec Dunbar, the younger of her two brothers and the only Dunbar sibling with room to house it. But Roger Folley kept back a handful, maybe more, of Evelyn's paintings, some for sale (like <i>Jacob's Dream</i>), some <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2013/02/portrait-1954.html">family portraits</a> and some local landscapes (like <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2013/01/wye-from-olantigh-1953_20.html"><i>Wye from Olantigh</i></a>) including the unfinished <i>Sidelands</i>. </span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the early 2000s Roger made a gift of several of Evelyn's paintings still in his care, particularly any with an agricultural or horticultural context, to Wye College Senior Common Room. I don't know the terms of the gift, if any, but they hung in corridors and lecturing staff offices for several years, until Wye College closed down in 2009. Imperial College, London, of which Wye College had been the agricultural campus, assumed ownership of Evelyn's paintings, among them the magnificent <i><a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2017/01/an-english-calendar-1938.html">An English Calendar</a></i>, and transferred them to its London premises. Not all of them made it: Evelyn's little <i>Land Girl Milking</i> was reported by the <i>Kensington and Chelsea Gazette</i> as having been stolen from a private address in May 2010.<br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHB6CU67lEu53J88LuzQp6MisFXP_uM3iJ6aiV8NSB28ZxjylOQQ23wUXaH--aRbSmRjuXFstl8zK83CtdTjAmZo918HdESxWxlhShuSXaunbRVNcxaA6jTr5RdD6Y1fNCOdKEVPEKk9SfZ8islNgMl5hjGgRMm4eJKmnXERkxWXfBc2ddFX9m2b5FpQ/s145/Fig.%20199%20Land%20Girl%20Milking.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="145" data-original-width="110" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHB6CU67lEu53J88LuzQp6MisFXP_uM3iJ6aiV8NSB28ZxjylOQQ23wUXaH--aRbSmRjuXFstl8zK83CtdTjAmZo918HdESxWxlhShuSXaunbRVNcxaA6jTr5RdD6Y1fNCOdKEVPEKk9SfZ8islNgMl5hjGgRMm4eJKmnXERkxWXfBc2ddFX9m2b5FpQ/w151-h200/Fig.%20199%20Land%20Girl%20Milking.jpg" width="151" /></a></div><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Land Girl Milking</i> Oil on canvas 1940 Location unknown</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>Before making the donations to Wye College Senior Common Room, Roger Folley had photographs taken of the pictures he intended to give. These included <i>Land Girl Milking</i>, above, and (very suitably) <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2013/02/market-garden-in-holland-1956.html" target="_blank"><i>Market Garden at Naaldwijk</i></a>, the only painting Evelyn completed outside of the United Kingdom. I believe, although I'm happily open to correction, that <i>Market Garden at Naaldwijk</i> was shown at the 2006 Evelyn Dunbar exhibition at the St Barbe Museum and Art Gallery, Lymington, curated by Dr Gill Clarke and timed to coincide with publication of her biography <i>Evelyn Dunbar: War and Country</i>.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> <img border="0" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Thr_v212FUU/USZatEAFsrI/AAAAAAAAB5s/zkgXidal1NI/s400/evelyn-dunbar-market-garden-in-holland.jpg.jpg" width="400" /><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Market Garden at Naaldwijk</i> 1957 Oil on canvas Location unknown</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div> <p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">But what of <i>Sidelands</i>? Roger Folley himself took the photo at the top of this essay. He was approaching 90 and almost blind. The picture was taken outside, propped on a dustbin or similar and photographed. He could not see that he had inadvertently missed maybe three-quarters of the painting. Satisfied that he had kept a record of something that was about to pass out of his stewardship, he put his photo in a folder, along with the other images mentioned here, which subsequently came to me.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Until it comes to light, this is all we have of <i>Sidelands</i>. Maybe accidentally we have the essence of Evelyn's message: the gate is open, wide open, for us to pass through into the organised and productive land beyond; the land, the creator's gift (capital C optional) to mankind, is being looked after on the terms in which the gift was made. There is no exclusion: the gift is for all mankind, on condition that it is looked after with industry, intelligence and love. Suppose she had painted <i>Sidelands</i> with the gate shut? What a different, negative message that would have carried. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2022<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /></p><div class="MsoNormal">
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br /><br /></b></span></div></div>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-43941975498202902232022-08-09T13:49:00.001+01:002022-08-10T14:49:49.018+01:00Autumn and the Poet (1960)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l119l_0Rme0/UYuexMZgN7I/AAAAAAAACC4/3UFBAPyGMi8/s1600/evelyn-dunbar-autumn-and-the-poet.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l119l_0Rme0/UYuexMZgN7I/AAAAAAAACC4/3UFBAPyGMi8/w640-h424/evelyn-dunbar-autumn-and-the-poet.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">Evelyn Dunbar <i>Autumn and the Poet</i> (1960) <a href="http://www.museum.maidstone.gov.uk/">Maidstone Museum & Bentlif Art Gallery, Maidstone, Kent</a></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Evelyn worked sporadically on <i>Autumn and the Poet</i> for the best part of 12 years. She began it when she and her husband Roger were living in Enstone, a village in Oxfordshire. It was on one of the easels in her studio at Staple Farm, Hastingleigh, in Kent, when she died in May, 1960, shortly after signing it 'ED' in the lower left hand corner. </span></div><span style="font-size: large;">
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She made several preliminary attempts for this painting, one of the greatest to come out of the 20th century. Here is one, dating from Evelyn's Enstone days:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">Evelyn Dunbar <i>The Poet Surprised by Autumn</i> (?1949) Private collection</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Evelyn gave this version to her friend Mary Landale, whom she taught at the Ruskin School, Oxford, in the years immediately after World War 2. The evolution speaks for itself.<br />
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<i>Autumn and the Poet</i> is a statement of everything Evelyn believed in, a sort of testament. She had strong beliefs, partly inherited from her mother Florence, partly worked out for herself through the perspective of her Christian Science. They were confirmed largely by her husband Roger, in his time a leading horticultural economist. She held her beliefs to be self-evident and easy to adhere to. The only doubts she had concerned the readiness of humankind to play its part in the Covenant.<br />
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The Covenant - my term, not Evelyn's: she had no particular name for it - was, as she conceived it, the promise given by the Creator to the human race of a fertile and eternally abundant land, in return for mankind's promise to cherish it, to appreciate it and to care for it through intelligent and devoted husbandry. For Evelyn the 'Creator' was the Old Testament God, probably because she found the clearest expression of her beliefs in Genesis, in the great family saga of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Joseph, a history studded with reminders that 'the Lord will provide.' The symbol of what the Lord had originally provided was the Garden of Eden.<br />
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She acknowledged freely that her ideas were by no means the monopoly of Christianity. Mother Earth, Gaia, Mother Nature and their like were all expressions of the same ideas. So were more particularised deities, Isis, Juno, Ceres, Persephone. The Old Testament God, and the scriptural apparatus around him, was her preferred hook to hang her beliefs on. She was in no way a Creationist: her horizons were far wider. But she rarely spoke about these things, except through her painting.<br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">She loved the land with a quiet energy and a private passion that separated her from her colleagues, and which makes it difficult to label her, for those - chiefly Americans - who draw strength and reassurance from classification. Evelyn resisted any attribution to this school or connection with that movement. Maybe we begin to see why if we look closely at the more distant landscape in <i>Autumn and the Poet</i>.<br />
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Fields bordered with hedges stretch away into the distance until they become indistinguishable from low hills on the horizon. The fields are in harrowed stubble from the late summer's harvest, or pasture, or maybe fallow, or already ploughed, this last Evelyn's unfailing metaphor for promise. There's nothing specially beautiful or picturesque about this landscape. It's an everyday countryside view, common throughout most of England, especially in the south. It's unassuming, unsentimental - and fashioned by the hand of man.<br />
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The hand of man has levelled this land, drained it, ploughed it, manured it, sown it, harvested it, set his herds and flocks to graze on it. In maintaining it, it has maintained him. It's the Covenant in action. All Evelyn's landscapes are the same, not just her many landscapes <i>per se</i>, but the backdrop against which many of her wartime Women's Land Army paintings are set.<br />
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(For this reason she was never particularly interested in landscapes in which the hand of man wasn't evident. Only once, to my knowledge, did Evelyn paint a landscape for its perceived aesthetic beauty: <a href="http://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.fr/2013/01/wye-from-olantigh-1953_20.html"><i>Wye from Olantigh</i></a> of 1953. Mountains, moorland, cloudscapes - with one notable exception, in <a href="http://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.fr/2012/12/a-land-girl-and-bail-bull-1945.html"><i>A Land Girl and the Bail Bull</i></a> - snow scenes, urban landscapes, forests, deserts, lakes, didn't interest her. No sketches are known from her reasonably extensive overseas travel. Even in <a href="http://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.fr/2012/12/dorset-1946-47.html"><i>Dorset</i></a>, the one important painting in which the sea could be expected to feature, the viewer is directed inland, away from the sea.)<br />
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Having established the stage set, as it were, of the Covenant, Evelyn now starts on the main drama. As in so much of her work, <i>Autumn and the Poet</i> has a left-to-right travel, from the figure of Autumn towards the Poet. Autumn is an apparition: we don't know where she has come from nor where she's going. Nor do we know if Autumn is speaking because her head is turned away, facing downwards to the Poet, who is clearly Roger, and who indeed did model the figure. Autumn has an authoritative message to deliver, one that maybe needs no speech: the Poet, with a blank sheet of paper, is ready to take in what Autumn has to convey to him<br />
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Significantly, we've seen the same positioning of figures, with the same left-to-right travel, for six hundred years and more, since the dawn of the Renaissance:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">Simone Martini <i>The Annunciation with SS Margaret and Ansanus</i> 1333 Uffizi, Florence </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">Fra Angelico <i>Annunciation</i> c.1450 Museo di San Marco, Florence</span></b></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bl8ieEnaQuc/UYuV9vF2tXI/AAAAAAAACCU/5dg3AL7uKyA/s1600/Annunciation3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bl8ieEnaQuc/UYuV9vF2tXI/AAAAAAAACCU/5dg3AL7uKyA/s320/Annunciation3.jpg" width="138" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">Edward Burne-Jones <i>Annunciation</i> 1879 Lady Lever Gallery, Port Sunlight, Merseyside</span></b></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fMU7kKLMKfE/UYuV9v3MlWI/AAAAAAAACCc/u92eqzyIJjU/s1600/Annunciation+1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fMU7kKLMKfE/UYuV9v3MlWI/AAAAAAAACCc/u92eqzyIJjU/s1600/Annunciation+1.jpeg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">Henry Ossawa Tanner <i>Annunciation</i> 1896 Philadelphia Museum of Art</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This isn't, of course, to equate Roger with the Virgin Mary nor Evelyn with the archangel Gabriel. But Evelyn has used a recognised pictorial formula to carry the idea of an important message being passed from a figure of authority to another, who at the very least is perplexed - indeed Simone Martini's 1333 Virgin reacts with revulsion - at being chosen to receive it. In the earlier version, Roger, almost grovelling on all fours, is 'surprised' by the apparition of Autumn: in the finished version, his expression displays a certain puzzled gravity.<br />
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This is an Annunciation, of a kind. Evelyn has reversed the genders of Annunciator and Annunciatee, and in all humility I think it would be a misreading of her character to make any assumptions of feminism. We're breaking into a dream, one of those dreams that sometimes frame Evelyn's more important allegorical paintings, as in <a href="http://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.fr/2012/05/josephs-dreams-1938-1942.html"><i>Joseph's Dream</i></a>, completed in 1943, and as in <a href="http://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.fr/2013/05/jacobs-dream-1960.html"><i>Jacob's Dream</i></a>, her farewell painting, and there may be others. Roger, the poet, the interpreter of ideas, is dreaming a dream made for him by the figure of Autumn. Autumn's head has some resemblances to Evelyn with her hair pinned back. Autumn is a figure of some majesty, full-breasted, the latest and most mature in a series of long-bodied, small-headed female types that Evelyn made her own. Her predecessors, from the post-war years 1946-49, when I think Evelyn was experimenting to find the female shape that she found most expressive, are <a href="http://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.fr/2013/01/oxford-1948.html"><i>Oxford</i></a> and <a href="http://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.fr/2012/12/dorset-1946-47.html"><i>Dorset</i></a>.<br />
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Long after Evelyn died in May 1960, Roger wrote a pamphlet from which I've quoted before, entitled <i>Evelyn Dunbar: The Husband's Narrative</i>. He wrote this pamphlet in two slightly different versions in May and October 2007. He died the following August. He wrote this pamphlet, which is an account of his and Evelyn's marriage, because he felt, rightly or wrongly, that the biography of Evelyn, <a href="http://sansomandcompany.co.uk/shopping/evelyn-dunbar-war-and-country/%E2%80%8E">Gill Clarke's <i>Evelyn Dunbar: War and Country</i></a>, which had been published in 2006, gave a generous weight to Evelyn's pre-war career, and particularly to her very close relationship with <a href="http://www.charlesmahoney.com/%E2%80%8E">Charles Mahoney</a>, but at the expense of her achievements during her marriage to Roger. (They married in 1942.) This is true in the sense that her post-war life is not well documented and that an unknown amount of her post-war work was given away or lost.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The relevant statement in the October 2007 version of Roger's pamphlet is:<br />
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<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">The manner of her death caused much heart-searching. Just once she mentioned "I've never felt quite right since we went to the dance" meaning the All Night Ball at the senate House, in 1958. She was not suffering in any way I could see and I left her to deal with it in her own way: it was not life-threatening. The fatal blood/heart condition is a different matter, but I am told, however, that if I had insisted on a check-up her condition may not have been revealed. Hypertension was not to the fore in 50's as it is today.</span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">
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Leaving aside any suggestion of Roger feeling a need to exonerate himself, <i>Autumn and the Poet</i> takes on a new piquancy and urgency if, when it was nearing completion, Evelyn knew she was going to die. Her Christian Science would have dismissed the symptoms and consequences of high blood pressure as error, a wrong turning on the path to the Perfect Day, a mutant gene in Eden. Who knows the strength, or weakness, of what people really want to believe, who knows what doubts gnaw at their proclaimed beliefs in the face of great pain and adversity? Even Jesus on the cross was heard to exclaim 'My God, why have you forsaken me?'<br />
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I think this is important, because Autumn is going to die. Evelyn has dressed her in the most outlandish garments of any figure in any of her paintings. In fact it's a winding-sheet. At one stage my mother modelled the hang of the drapes. She must have meant individual parts of it, the folds over Autumn's left arm, say, or the plaid-like fall from her left shoulder, because it's hard to see how the garment works as a whole, without falling apart. (To be flippant, it must have been the very devil to iron.) The bare breast is interesting: Evelyn evokes a tradition of bare-breasted maternal figures in Western art, expressing a generalised capacity to feed, and for some reason it's usually the right breast that's displayed, the left concealed behind draperies. And surely Evelyn is alive to a particular subtlety of the death-regeneration theme of the whole painting here too: lactation only occurs immediately before and for a period after birth.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The exquisitely coloured sky echoes the course of Autumn's life: between the trees, in the top right-hand corner, the pale sky is reminiscent of the dawn light on the horizon of <a href="http://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.fr/2012/12/a-land-girl-and-bail-bull-1945.html"><i>A Land Girl and the Bail Bull</i></a>. As the day runs its course, it darkens to the rich pale orange of evening. Presently, as the light starts to fail, Autumn is going to vanish, to thin out and disappear, leaving her fruit behind. <br />
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A short way down the left-hand track there's a looping strand of wild clematis, or old man's beard, one that appears consistently in <i>The Poet Surprised by Autumn</i> and other preliminary sketches. Some have likened this to the letter <b>Ω</b>, Omega, the last letter of the Greek alphabet, a metaphor for a waymark stage in the endlessly turning life cycle of birth, death and regeneration. Evelyn exploited it fully in <a href="http://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.fr/2013/02/alpha-and-omega-1957.html"><i>Alpha and Omega</i></a>, the Bletchley panels of 1957. <br />
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There's no finality about Omega. Its shape resembles a rudimentary womb, suggesting regeneration, birth within death: 'In my end is my beginning', <a href="http://t.s.eliot/">T.S.Eliot</a> wrote in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/East_Coker_(poem)%E2%80%8E"><i>East Coker</i></a> (1940), the second of his <i>Four Quartets</i>, which Evelyn had on her and Roger's bookshelves in the original Faber edition. There are surprisingly strong links between <i>Autumn and the Poet</i> and <i>East Coker</i>. In exploring these links I found it quiveringly exciting to read, a too-good-to-be-true coincidence, about a dozen lines into the first stanza -</span><br />
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<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">In my beginning is my end. Now the light falls<br />Across the open field, leaving the deep lane<br />Shuttered with branches, dark in the afternoon,<br />Where you lean against a bank...</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-size: large;">- where it seemed that these lines might have taken a trembling hold of Evelyn's charcoal in her very first sketches for <i>Autumn and the Poet</i>. And maybe they did, but this is mere superficiality, because the poem veers off immediately afterwards in a different direction, and the true links are much more profound. One interpretation of the elegiac and autumnal <i>East Coker</i> is Eliot's sorrow at the lack of spirituality in mankind's approach to the cycle of life, of birth, death and regeneration, although it's unlikely that any two people will agree over its precise meaning, which might also be said of <i>Autumn and the Poet</i>. Eliot ends the poem with the inversion of its opening line: 'In my end is my beginning.' <br />
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Some critics - not many, because very few people, let alone critics, have ever seen <i>Autumn and the Poet</i> - suggest that the whole painting is about death. Not so. Its meaning is much deeper: it's about rebirth and the continuity of life. Autumn may be wrapped in a winding-sheet, but it's also a cocoon, from which new life will appear. But who is to guarantee it?<br />
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Evelyn's original idea may have had different titles as it passed through its various metamorphoses before arriving at the finished version, but one thing she did not call it was 'Autumn and the Horticultural Economist'. She wouldn't have been wrong: Roger, seen leaning against a bank (actually an Oxfordshire or Warwickshire dry-stone wall) in the painting, was one of Britain's leading horticultural economists, who in due course became a world authority on certain aspects of his domain, notably tomatoes and fruit-farming. In this sense he has invested heavily in the exploitative approach to the changing seasons, the cycle of life, death and regeneration and the Creator's abundance, and in Evelyn's terms he has fulfilled mankind's part of the Covenant, and the Lord will continue to provide. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But it's not enough, and I think this is the basis of Eliot's complaint in <i>East Coker</i>. The land, the landscape of Evelyn's background, the source of the Creator's plenty, is to be loved, and the Creator too. Expressing the spiritual side of the Covenant, if only to say thank you, is a poet's work, and whatever we think of Roger's poetry, via the examples we've met in their Christmas cards, it can't be denied that he had an impressive command of language.<br />
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So the figure of Autumn, maybe assuming Evelyn's voice and persona, is saying to Roger, husband, horticultural expert and poet, 'I am called away: I shall return, maybe not in the form in which you now see me. Tell all the world, through your work and your word, about the Covenant, about the duty mankind owes to the Creator, to care for the land with love and industry in equal measure.'<br />
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She leaves in front of him, on a white sheet, as a gift for the present and a guarantee of the future, the fruits of the earth, in such profusion that they've spilled out of the sheet she has carried them in on to the ground. Whatever they are, potatoes, apples, pears, quinces, onions, they are stylised and generalised, and it's not to be suggested that water-melons necessarily grow in Kent.<br />
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Evelyn's message doesn't stop there. Evelyn was a very positive person: if she could find a positive way of urging someone not to do something, she would. 'Don't' rarely existed in her vocabulary. 'Do' (whatever it might be) would show some positive example or lead to some way of looking at things that meant the hearer did not feel denied or guilty, but instead felt encouraged and glad to please her. Throughout the years when I was close to Evelyn, there was never any argument or difference. It's in the light of this that I want to look at the central thicket in <i>Autumn and the Poet</i>.<br />
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It's a massive thicket, taking up the triangle between the two lanes and the field beyond. It appear to be made up of brambles and more old man's beard. It's impenetrable, flourishing, and a waste of agricultural land, a disordered wilderness in total contrast to the neat and managed plantation of mature trees on the right of the painting. (Is there some suggestion of virility and dissemination associated with the Poet?) What is this thicket doing there? Firstly, I think it's a warning, in a typically Evelynish cautionary style: this is what happens if you disregard the message of Autumn and neglect the Covenant.<br />
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Secondly, there may be a reference to a famous Old Testament story, to be found in Genesis, Chapter 22, towards the beginning of the Abraham-Isaac-Jacob-Joseph story by which Evelyn set such store. To test his faith, God told Abraham to take his son Isaac up into the mountains and sacrifice him, that is presumably to cut his throat, put his body on an altar of wood and burn it. The New English Bible continues:<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">[...] <span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif">So Abraham took the wood for the sacrifice and laid it on his son Isaac's shoulder; he himself carried the fire and the knife, and the two of them went on together. Isaac said to Abraham 'Father', and he answered, 'What is it, my son?' Isaac said, 'Here are the fire and the wood, but where is the young beast for the sacrifice?' Abraham answered, God will provide himself with a young beast for the sacrifice, my son.' And the two of them went on together until they came to the place of which God had spoken. There Abraham built an altar and arranged the wood. He bound his son Isaac and laid him on the altar on top of the wood. Then he stretched out his hand and took the knife to kill his son; but the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven, 'Abraham, Abraham.' He answered, 'Here I am.' The angel of the Lord said, 'Do not raise your hand against the boy; do not touch him. Now I know that you are a God-fearing man. You have not withheld from me your son, your only son.' Abraham looked up, and there he saw a ram caught by its horns in a thicket. So he went and took the ram and offered it as a sacrifice instead of his son.</span></span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">
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I can't be certain about this. I have a vague childhood memory of Evelyn having painted something to do with this story, but nothing more.<br />
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After Evelyn's death in May, 1960, Roger gradually dismantled her studio and the adjacent store, which I remember contained some 30-40 canvases (some may have been blank) and many portfolios of drawings, water colours, pastels and sketches, most of which have since disappeared. Roger re-married in 1961, by which time studio and store had been virtually cleared of any physical memory of Evelyn. <i>Autumn and the Poet</i> was given by Roger to his sister Joan (my mother) as a memento of a very rich and affectionate sister-in-law relationship, maybe particularly because my mother had been closely involved with the inception and progress of the painting since about 1947: much of the information about it here came from her. She kept it until 2004, when it was slightly damaged by smoke in a house fire. Members of the family paid for its restoration in time for its inclusion in the centenary exhibition of Evelyn's work at the <a href="http://www.stbarbe-museum.org.uk/">St Barbe Museum and Art Gallery</a>, in Lymington, Hampshire, in 2006. This exhibition was curated by Dr Gill Clarke, whose biography <a href="http://sansomandcompany.co.uk/shopping/evelyn-dunbar-war-and-country/%E2%80%8E"><i>Evelyn Dunbar: War and Country</i></a> was published simultaneously.</span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kEvGBC_Xa-k/UYuV-_robGI/AAAAAAAACCk/XAnniBUnolk/s1600/Evelyn+Dunbar+exhibition+-++Autumn+and+the+Poet.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kEvGBC_Xa-k/UYuV-_robGI/AAAAAAAACCk/XAnniBUnolk/s320/Evelyn+Dunbar+exhibition+-++Autumn+and+the+Poet.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Autumn and the Poet</i> exhibited at St Barbe Museum and Art Gallery, Lymington, Hampshire, September 2006. Standing next to the painting, with various members of the family, is Roger Folley, then aged 94, who made the inauguration speech. (Author's photograph.)</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After the exhibition it was returned to the family for some years until it was sold recently. In a sense I have lived with <i>Autumn and the Poet</i> for most of my life. For me it represents the culmination of Evelyn's work. All that she believed, all that made her an early protagonist of Green values before the term was applied so widely and loosely, all her many husbandry paintings are summarised and crowned here. I believe this is very great painting which, like many outstanding works of art, is to be interpreted on several levels, as an allegory, as an exaltation of Creation, as a declaration of Evelyn's love and admiration for her husband. Some may see a political statement in it, as in many of Evelyn's paintings, where neatly organised and disciplined fields and plantations are a metaphor for certain types of social control.<br />
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Some may see <i>Autumn and the Poet</i> as the greatest work of an artist whose draughtmanship was exemplary, whose sense of design and colour was consummate, whose vision reached beyond the horizon, whose artistic comportment was unfailingly cheerful, down to earth and unsentimental, whose stance was persuasive rather than coercive and whose work, while never disregarding sometimes painful truths, nevertheless speaks to our better natures, warms us to this world and leaves us feeling glad to part of it. <i>Autumn and the Poet</i> is all these things and more, including a discreet but terrible warning about the abuse, violation and destruction of our planet.</span><br />
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(Original text © Christopher Campbell-Howes 2013. All rights reserved.)<br />
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>
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Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-28238769223497808872022-07-11T15:14:00.470+01:002022-07-12T18:04:37.054+01:00Sketchbooks (1921-45)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx-BMDTMd2qtXlonbH_m5uChV2ThLs2ljlN_oo8Ji-VvCRnSv3TYuwvl8f654xKmt-wv0NsDv3kZdraXB38Mg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">(You might like to turn the sound up before viewing this video)</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Last year I had the wonderful privilege of looking at a collection of Evelyn's sketchbooks. There were 21 of them, covering her entire career, although one or two gaps were evident. Apparently they had been stored, unrecognised for what they were, in a cellar, or a damp outhouse or stable for the best part of sixty years. Some pages fell apart at the least touch. Very few were unstained by water infiltration. Rust attacked spiral bindings and staples. Whatever insects or mites feed on damp paper had enjoyed monstrous feasts, followed by multiple egg-layings and subsequent grub exit-holes through several adjacent sheets.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">The little video clip above - the voice is mine, the hands are my wife Josephine's - gives a rough idea of the original state of these documents. The foxing and staining takes on a certain beauty of its own, through which Evelyn's drawings struggle to show though. The pages in the video were unconnected and were obviously loosely assembled and thrust into a folder. The girl with eyes closed or downcast comes from 1925, coming up for a hundred years ago. I've no idea who she was. The rough pencil drawing of a building entitled 'Mullion Court' probably comes from about 20 years later: it was a hotel a little to the south of Maidstone, in Kent, which Alec Dunbar, the younger of Evelyn's two brothers, and his wife Jill bought shortly after World War 2.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">There are treasures in these sketch books. Students of Evelyn's work can find her working sketches for many well-known canvases. I was able to use several in my account of <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2020/10/a-knitting-party-1940.html" target="_blank"><i>A Knitting Party</i></a>. Here is a small selection. Some have bearings on more developed pictures (e.g. <i>Milking at Sparsholt</i>), others are ephemeral and one-off sketches, and - in this selection - one with an idea so powerful that it can be regretted that Evelyn never took it further.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * *</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie5AE9wag9pxtJ3ynrqJqiXL00K6dnWLjLrVS1oavhxldXe0njP4hdHO5ZZEQkwhWsO29Z3KgaWMBDNQzDiCFd4lswz76g1dITgSkZFH9gmOOgKAXu1qvoOCjkMHqsifZi9VHgn0n7jkuY_0d_mbYHfIhX2WnOcI4Qzex-SyV1LmY75L8didViIDI_xQ/s2117/Mum%20and%20I%20in%20a%20British%20Home%20industry%20shop%20c1920.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2005" data-original-width="2117" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie5AE9wag9pxtJ3ynrqJqiXL00K6dnWLjLrVS1oavhxldXe0njP4hdHO5ZZEQkwhWsO29Z3KgaWMBDNQzDiCFd4lswz76g1dITgSkZFH9gmOOgKAXu1qvoOCjkMHqsifZi9VHgn0n7jkuY_0d_mbYHfIhX2WnOcI4Qzex-SyV1LmY75L8didViIDI_xQ/s320/Mum%20and%20I%20in%20a%20British%20Home%20industry%20shop%20c1920.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <span style="color: #741b47;"><b><i>Mum and I in a British Home Industry Shop</i> c.1921. Evelyn was possibly 15 at the time of this little water-colour, but already confident with her medium, adept at figure drawing, especially with the folds and hang of clothing, and - curiously - awake to the possibilities of drawing figures from behind. There is no clue to what this is about.</b></span></span><br /></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHc9Z3D_jwnZ_68V_HmjxZJ_fmPo0Mo7k5D_pjB6AcYHdoZSlBnxPt5r_YySCXygIal5t-64lkVlDUpi4TUKhA-fjp5eVoNPZ_8rMZyMbew1kM-dqGqVE-0wl89zHjymBt1SAm4SzfPGBq__yJR5Nrr0b6Ks0NmxCiCogy6mMuTghZcSEW3SmgM6Lfmg/s4032/Pomona.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHc9Z3D_jwnZ_68V_HmjxZJ_fmPo0Mo7k5D_pjB6AcYHdoZSlBnxPt5r_YySCXygIal5t-64lkVlDUpi4TUKhA-fjp5eVoNPZ_8rMZyMbew1kM-dqGqVE-0wl89zHjymBt1SAm4SzfPGBq__yJR5Nrr0b6Ks0NmxCiCogy6mMuTghZcSEW3SmgM6Lfmg/s320/Pomona.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <span style="color: #741b47;"><b><i>Pomona</i>,c.1945. Named after the Roman demi-goddess of fruits, especially apples, Evelyn conceived the idea of a dancing female figure with a hat laden with fruit as the principal motif for her 1946 Christmas card. Her model was her sister-in-law Joan, my mother. In another Pomona sketch (not in the sketch books) less than careful movement has caused all the fruit to tumble to the ground.</b></span></span><br /></div></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9WsCwgy62nN3BMZenDJJzI8TmKCc3KB5BJkxFtULYsyg05LmRGehA9rhBVKm62kTCSN9prlMkflPA9TT4e6NfKmpkGN_AZ7DoIU3ejFToYZWDM0Ea4aLLwM4821aKyQA8-51eGXE9qoxeyDglVXRQibdq4EQaJ7uhftF7B_NpM_N2sF2pTWoXktuuZQ/s3513/Rochester%20Cathedral%20June%201929.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3513" data-original-width="2625" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9WsCwgy62nN3BMZenDJJzI8TmKCc3KB5BJkxFtULYsyg05LmRGehA9rhBVKm62kTCSN9prlMkflPA9TT4e6NfKmpkGN_AZ7DoIU3ejFToYZWDM0Ea4aLLwM4821aKyQA8-51eGXE9qoxeyDglVXRQibdq4EQaJ7uhftF7B_NpM_N2sF2pTWoXktuuZQ/s320/Rochester%20Cathedral%20June%201929.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b> <i>Rochester Cathedral, June 1929</i>. The Dunbar family lived in Strood, that part of Rochester which lies across the river Medway to the west. It is not known how prominent the cathedral was in Evelyn's life (probably not in the least, given that the family were committed Christian Scientists), but in some senses it was central to the life of Rochester. I included this sketch, foxed and stained though it is, because it's one of the very few architectural drawings from Evelyn's pen. Buildings seldom figure in her output.</b></span> </span><br /></div></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUOdv_myXqaunj0jYCjSemA8yObDmTyGqfvnBWxNtyQgdQ2ahRfgc9f3gxyLYWPa1AlzR2P1NWOpPbMy09kNKxPbwo4vhu3pNQhZl7nisgR2D8rGtsis_eHpfJwvWMHU8VIgjZSrywqgVfXdlf5H0IdDv9uadniyuVS-pl1sbpByFfk6N7sRZLhDxdzA/s3601/Rochester%20fairground%203%20c1929.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2729" data-original-width="3601" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUOdv_myXqaunj0jYCjSemA8yObDmTyGqfvnBWxNtyQgdQ2ahRfgc9f3gxyLYWPa1AlzR2P1NWOpPbMy09kNKxPbwo4vhu3pNQhZl7nisgR2D8rGtsis_eHpfJwvWMHU8VIgjZSrywqgVfXdlf5H0IdDv9uadniyuVS-pl1sbpByFfk6N7sRZLhDxdzA/s320/Rochester%20fairground%203%20c1929.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i> <span style="color: #741b47;"><b>Fairground at Rochester</b></span></i><span style="color: #741b47;"><b>, c.1924. Travelling shows in Rochester, installing themselves probably on extended rising ground fairly close to the city centre called The Lines, in which there appears to be an outline of the distant cathedral and other buildings in the background.</b></span> </span><br /></div></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUBIfyxqS89TMjpZzd4fPJWoleqbFgwFNWZiarR6TdX6qeBa37dsBpvD9B66XGZGzf1tQ3UCwBYSZQTDAJuI9KsPasYGqBKNSEndnpn6UvMY0mMkV4TGppPfwM5IgVgQ_4aqOr-ASAwIQiZHYd85Vz7BoJa2vcyMpDtAWZcTlubwgAoZUPYV6ple7iFw/s2673/Sparsholt%20Milking%203.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2673" data-original-width="2633" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUBIfyxqS89TMjpZzd4fPJWoleqbFgwFNWZiarR6TdX6qeBa37dsBpvD9B66XGZGzf1tQ3UCwBYSZQTDAJuI9KsPasYGqBKNSEndnpn6UvMY0mMkV4TGppPfwM5IgVgQ_4aqOr-ASAwIQiZHYd85Vz7BoJa2vcyMpDtAWZcTlubwgAoZUPYV6ple7iFw/s320/Sparsholt%20Milking%203.jpg" width="315" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <span style="color: #741b47;"><b><i>Milking at Sparsholt Agricultural Institute</i>, 1940. As a newly-appointed war artist Evelyn was posted to Sparsholt in the summer of 1940. Many of her best-known war paintings featuring the Women's Land Army come from this period. Her technique was to sketch her subject and then to write in pencil, as she has done here, directions for shades of colour and other modifications (e.g. 'bigger' on the cow's rump) to be implemented on her return to her studio in Rochester. The milkmaid is possibly Anne Fountain, who was the subject of a fully worked oil canvas, now lost. We are fortunate to have this account, even though foxed and stained.</b></span></span><br /></div></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3cZdwxcOHK7f1xZ3Zcn5FsLY2ctWU3uzAgVEwVUTsaqAmwrLKXLoo7pz-BYQRqSHmUrKQh2jJACjbxuh2F75TPh22UlmuF0dGF7Dj6x4QLqR2d8gtgMPT9xVH2kvloCfH_ibKyUM_P8IUwVAlruQRLO9wWRGWe_WxgH6hSb_UR67_Ot1UKD8OYjpWQg/s2589/Story%20illustration%20c1922.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2433" data-original-width="2589" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3cZdwxcOHK7f1xZ3Zcn5FsLY2ctWU3uzAgVEwVUTsaqAmwrLKXLoo7pz-BYQRqSHmUrKQh2jJACjbxuh2F75TPh22UlmuF0dGF7Dj6x4QLqR2d8gtgMPT9xVH2kvloCfH_ibKyUM_P8IUwVAlruQRLO9wWRGWe_WxgH6hSb_UR67_Ot1UKD8OYjpWQg/s320/Story%20illustration%20c1922.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"> <i>Off to School</i>, c 1925. After leaving Rochester Grammar School for Girls in 1925 Evelyn spent a year at home writing and illustrating children's stories. Some, published by Dean and Son, sold reasonably well. The sketch books have several very carefully worked water-colour sketches of children - as in this example - and incidents for her children's books. It is not known in which of them 'Off to School' features.</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><br /></div></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhef-k5SDgKxNRiNN_7_lmYGnlxaIGTho_DRhjbO0WtUK1FGvxEww0AE3Lp4osRm3bgzIaGzvOQ7F59T64Dykmd8TMNavLA3sCIQzUXVh71iu3EZFNRG1dNSuEcCX7RK3x_sLbe7CxaY0j-O3cSs-aYm_mCGMu-mAQff8VDhYKiJE4yUaR2k2DpkfUKXA/s2977/Phallic%20bud.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2977" data-original-width="2145" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhef-k5SDgKxNRiNN_7_lmYGnlxaIGTho_DRhjbO0WtUK1FGvxEww0AE3Lp4osRm3bgzIaGzvOQ7F59T64Dykmd8TMNavLA3sCIQzUXVh71iu3EZFNRG1dNSuEcCX7RK3x_sLbe7CxaY0j-O3cSs-aYm_mCGMu-mAQff8VDhYKiJE4yUaR2k2DpkfUKXA/s320/Phallic%20bud.heic" width="231" /></a><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><i>Phallic Bud</i>, c.1936. I have left this quite extraordinary image, of which at least one version exists elsewhere, until last, because it illustrates Evelyn's state of mind at a time when it appeared that her lover, the artist Charles Mahoney, was not going to commit himself to the partnership, personal and professional, she so ardently wanted. As the possibility</span> waned, she upped the ante, as it were, in various ways, and finally in the possibility of starting a family. Mahoney wasn't interested, and said so: children would blight their individual careers.</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"> Undeterred, Evelyn sent him drawings suggesting raising a family together. She had already done so once with a series of drawings and paintings called<i> <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2021/11/opportunity-1936.html" target="_blank">Opportunity</a></i>. Now, in <i>Phallic Bud</i> (my title) there are hints of Mahoney in the sunflower (upper left), almost his trademark, and the peacocks below, probably a reference to one of Mahoney's contributions to the <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2013/03/the-brockley-murals-1933-36-part-2_31.html" target="_blank">Brockley Murals</a>. Most significant, however, is that Evelyn and Mahoney were working together, uniquely, in the partnership Evelyn had envisaged, in writing and illustrating <i><a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2012/06/gardeners-choice-1937.html" target="_blank">Gardeners' Choice</a></i>, at the time a fairly revolutionary gardening book. Evelyn has contrived, inside a Mahoneyan enclosure, to invent a bud about to burst open with children. It is not recorded what Mahoney thought of this, but they separated as soon as <i>Gardeners' Choice</i> was complete. The separation was so precipitous that a Foreword commissioned from Edward Bawden was lost in its onrush.<br /></span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * *</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">The sketch books were acquired by a subsidiary of Oxford Brookes University, the Oxford Centre for Methodism and Church History (OCMCH), where at the time of writing they are being prepared for eventual public viewing and study, a huge undertaking. It's very good to be able to report a happy ending and a bright future for what at one time appeared to be a story of surely unintentional neglect.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2022</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /></p><div class="MsoNormal">
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><!--[if !mso]>
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<![endif]--><br /></p><p></p></div>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-53591566257658577962022-07-02T17:33:00.024+01:002022-11-18T09:44:26.909+00:00Roger Folley (1944)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5YcbycJEsY49RtUnBUxWwJXD4TYjDCa0JHZo5MDqLHccZB5l_XfRiQrbh6AIFBqW_pjZ5NKCy8BgraHz77kZResTy7lYPs8YFVdp7mUOIsDzvEP5AA1zILSUWbLKJcaiM-8gxhNNeen2fp2Nn6Vgk1EGBONH6Y3DGtYkawma1M30Y42LmKvG33QVWcQ/s3321/Roger%20Folley%201944.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3321" data-original-width="2201" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5YcbycJEsY49RtUnBUxWwJXD4TYjDCa0JHZo5MDqLHccZB5l_XfRiQrbh6AIFBqW_pjZ5NKCy8BgraHz77kZResTy7lYPs8YFVdp7mUOIsDzvEP5AA1zILSUWbLKJcaiM-8gxhNNeen2fp2Nn6Vgk1EGBONH6Y3DGtYkawma1M30Y42LmKvG33QVWcQ/w424-h640/Roger%20Folley%201944.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><i>Roger Folley</i> 1944 Pen, ink and wash on paper 37 x 57cm (14½ x 22in) Signed ' ED 44 ' Private collection</b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's a wonderful moment when something of Evelyn's turns up out of the blue, something in good condition and of impeccable provenance, something previously unknown and undocumented. And (though I shouldn't say so) flattering to my vanity, because there can't be too many people in a position to recognise it and to give it a bit of a back story. Evelyn's subject is Roger Folley: to give him his full style and title, Flight Lieutenant RRW Folley, RAF, BSc., BCom. They had been married for two years when she made this unusual and distinguished pen, ink and wash portrait of him.<br /></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">I</span><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">n 1944 Roger Folley was serving in 488 (NZ) Squadron as a navigator. (488 Sqn. was made up mainly of New Zealanders, with some British - hence Roger Folley - and Dutch members.) Here he is, slightly to the right of centre, with his colleagues in an off-duty moment. The man standing on the right is Roger's pilot, Squadron Leader Ron Watts, in civil life a New Zealand sheep farmer:</span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoihuW83RkNr-_TN8Y7ibeOfA34saDsubuOHk1RzmBPF4PuOb1ZR-BhrLmZrjFcfzUioWY0x9ww_CXrq9hnIotmvfXqB6SgUSIiX6agvXzldcwfktEOtVh5apOORXXs8PEM8VESctqhHIGBfxUkPPwLc-KMitvdSPGyoWb5OYLN6JHIh1IOqc6txHvVA/s1620/Fig.%20237%20488%20(NZ)%20Sqn.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="1620" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoihuW83RkNr-_TN8Y7ibeOfA34saDsubuOHk1RzmBPF4PuOb1ZR-BhrLmZrjFcfzUioWY0x9ww_CXrq9hnIotmvfXqB6SgUSIiX6agvXzldcwfktEOtVh5apOORXXs8PEM8VESctqhHIGBfxUkPPwLc-KMitvdSPGyoWb5OYLN6JHIh1IOqc6txHvVA/w400-h259/Fig.%20237%20488%20(NZ)%20Sqn.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Members of 488 (NZ) Squadron off duty, probably at RAF Bradwell Bay, 1944. Photo: Dunbar family archive</span></b></span></span></span></span></span><br /></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">To the best of my knowledge Evelyn's portrait is unique. I know of no other serious portrait in pen, ink and wash. She has shown Roger here wearing his sheepskin flying jacket and carrying a rather curious walking stick, one with a hooked hand grip. It is as he might have looked when walking in the North Country hills, which he loved and brought Evelyn, hitherto unfamiliar with the Yorkshire and Cumbrian hills and fells, to love as well.</span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's probable that this is the first serious portrait Evelyn made of Roger. I regret that it wasn't available at the time I was analysing <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2020/03/evelyn-dunbar-her-husband-roger-folley.html" target="_blank">Evelyn's portraits of Roger</a>, because it compares well with, say, <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2013/01/roger-folley-cerebrant-1948.html" target="_blank"><i>The Cerebrant</i></a> in showing him as an introspective, deep-thinking man. I wonder if she made it as a present, perhaps for Roger's parents, Eb - for Ebenezer - and Sarah Folley? Maybe this thesis, that it was intended as a present, is supported by instructions she wrote in the top margin, as though for a framer. It never was mounted, however, nor do I think it was ever presented. Perhaps on reflection Evelyn thought it was too dark, too sombre a representation of a man who, although often quietly reflective, nevertheless loved life with a cheerful and energetic affection.</span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2022</span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #c00000; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 107%;">Further reading...<br /><br /></span></i></b></div>
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span><br /></span></p></div>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-20658144939178939042022-06-17T18:54:00.321+01:002023-08-29T16:52:15.690+01:00Some letters to Charles Mahoney (1933-37)<div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAle45vo0Yvs1iJWNukNULMahPqwdj-avYGyKVu8WvFAX2MfYncc63MKfQ8qrIqMIKQyddKRJo3WJWIWSPuge4mG6YxCEHhEjx41yvVNURAfePZkC38GQGMsMlxfbW5-nlsH2knrw8-QvCEA5v3tKkUK546LqXY-FoFX43HnlI2DAqHK3CgchO6TQCpg/s2329/1aad.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1849" data-original-width="2329" height="509" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAle45vo0Yvs1iJWNukNULMahPqwdj-avYGyKVu8WvFAX2MfYncc63MKfQ8qrIqMIKQyddKRJo3WJWIWSPuge4mG6YxCEHhEjx41yvVNURAfePZkC38GQGMsMlxfbW5-nlsH2knrw8-QvCEA5v3tKkUK546LqXY-FoFX43HnlI2DAqHK3CgchO6TQCpg/w640-h509/1aad.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Letter to Charles Mahoney, summer 1935. Original in Tate Britain, ©Estate of Evelyn Dunbar. Unless otherwise stated, all illustrations are from the same source<br /></span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">Trellis? <i>Trellis</i>? What can Eve(lyn) mean? Certainly, there are trellises here, blown hither and thither by this mighty creature from the heavens: houses look on in astonishment, a small Mahoney-like figure raises his arms in consternation (or surrender?), chimneys are blown away, the text is littered with flying bits of trellis. Whatever is going on?</span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * * <br /></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">Charles Mahoney (1904-1968) lectured at the Royal College of Art from 1928 until after World War 2. His given name was Cyril, but he found himself nicknamed 'Charlie' by his RCA colleague Barnett Freedman, probably for the rhythm and euphony of 'Charlie Mahoney' and the agreeable if impertinent rhymes that might be got from it. Evelyn knew him mostly as 'Chas'.</span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">They met in 1932, while Evelyn was pursuing a postgraduate year at the Royal College of Art. Mural painting, taught by Mahoney, was a principal element in her course. A year earlier the RCA Principal, William Rothenstein (later Sir William) urged, via the BBC, the nation's public authorities to encourage and enable mural painting in public buildings, partly to provide employment for young artists struck by the Depression. Mahoney could hardly avoid implication. The outcome was a <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2012/05/evelyn-dunbar-brockley-murals-1933-36.html" target="_blank">commission to decorate the school hall at Brockley County School for Boys</a>, now Prendergast - Hilly Fields School, in SE London. He tried to put a team of recent RCA graduates together, but only one answered the call: Evelyn Dunbar. (Later two other recent graduates signed on: Violet Martin and Mildred 'Elsi' Eldridge.)</span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">From the spring of 1933 Mahoney and Evelyn worked at Brockley, sometimes together but often apart. They fell in love, and so began a correspondence as remarkable for an emotional intensity often expressed more in drawing than in words, for its frequency (Evelyn wrote several times a week), for its almost total absence of dates, and especially for its one-sidedness: none of Mahoney's letters survives. </span><span style="font-size: large;">However to start with all went merry as a marriage bell. Here is Evelyn in impish, 1934 mood:</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO8KGDaZ67aSd27fEI8KyiTf5phfIRmm3UQuxXpTCbYRpoN1OIXKSjdXoekG2BIllH1Nfs_6r1Td0kr43Vl6YhntmnJkg90RACjD7w7c0KvWKQLJBVai-cihAoNoZfc4ON0Kr78qa6FLPISSwHU2e430fU_fLKncwgvrKXJ-EJDXVBp3ufRLWPNC5XnA/s3872/DSC_4821.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="3872" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO8KGDaZ67aSd27fEI8KyiTf5phfIRmm3UQuxXpTCbYRpoN1OIXKSjdXoekG2BIllH1Nfs_6r1Td0kr43Vl6YhntmnJkg90RACjD7w7c0KvWKQLJBVai-cihAoNoZfc4ON0Kr78qa6FLPISSwHU2e430fU_fLKncwgvrKXJ-EJDXVBp3ufRLWPNC5XnA/w640-h428/DSC_4821.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Evelyn
enjoyed quite complex pictogram puzzles from time to time. Writing from her
aunt Clara Cowling's house in Ticehurst, East Sussex, she appears to be
saying 'The truly <u>gorgeous</u> [gourds + 'geous'?] epistle delighted my <u>heart</u> <u>!</u> Glad you are feeling <u>fighting fit</u>
again' Then there are little cameos of a girl saying HOORAY and
skipping with delight, and finally, complete with apple and grinning snake,
Evelyn as Eve the temptress, whose figleaf appears to have fallen off.
Aha.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Like all lovers they concocted their code-words. 'Trellis' was one. Which of the two first likened the rows of Xs that trellis consists of to kisses - XXXX - no amount of latter-day playing gooseberry will reveal. So the letter above is a whirlwind, an elemental hurricane of kisses.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgREsqtaVXW32j8sbLIlsVubXjDjAdYBE2YKAybC9VldGsMA711pRzcl_xI04-fpWrIkZbu6uTIwB9f8RVPccBZxBjFnh3zWfLEmldONTAHQ6Mx15n06uWdnWN735i0h0zWpl6_1EWqhbGTEJ3eIh6DjfMy40UxGMSl2b_YjI8FjVwiqTwR8GJOMepqCg/s3210/DSC_4917a.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3210" data-original-width="2290" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgREsqtaVXW32j8sbLIlsVubXjDjAdYBE2YKAybC9VldGsMA711pRzcl_xI04-fpWrIkZbu6uTIwB9f8RVPccBZxBjFnh3zWfLEmldONTAHQ6Mx15n06uWdnWN735i0h0zWpl6_1EWqhbGTEJ3eIh6DjfMy40UxGMSl2b_YjI8FjVwiqTwR8GJOMepqCg/w456-h640/DSC_4917a.JPG" width="456" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">However only one kiss, and only one mini-zephyr, in this letter from the summer of 1935, in the same blue-ink and fountain-pen style as the whirlwind letter above. As usual, no date, but the address - 95 Ermine Rd, Brockley - is of the lodgings Evelyn took while working on the murals at nearby Brockley school. Or 'Broiley', as she calls it, mirroring 'Stew-dio' where Mahoney was also working in the heat of a summer's day. This shared studio was the one Evelyn rented for £13 a quarter from Noël Carrington - the Noël mentioned in the text - in Hampstead. Incidentally, 95 Ermine Road no longer exists, according to my informant <a href="http://www.nicholassackphotos.com/" target="_blank">Nicholas Sack</a>, the eminent urban photographer. Where it stood there are now council flats.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju0O1yTgp4PHXMuAzMkSsDNajB77WZEb49PlLzmdY6JgtydJ0-cb5g-Bla2EsaiC4hIgu-Amh2O-wQ33SpWNkiY-9Vl9T5N7qMpu3luVuYVmcD4sWiIzo1W2kouppJBskG_IfgtdJucjKndScFpHMI60Bks3AqriRJf0IgCO0ohVklZIge5vBEPUKVOg/s3305/2016-06-19%20242.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3305" data-original-width="2105" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju0O1yTgp4PHXMuAzMkSsDNajB77WZEb49PlLzmdY6JgtydJ0-cb5g-Bla2EsaiC4hIgu-Amh2O-wQ33SpWNkiY-9Vl9T5N7qMpu3luVuYVmcD4sWiIzo1W2kouppJBskG_IfgtdJucjKndScFpHMI60Bks3AqriRJf0IgCO0ohVklZIge5vBEPUKVOg/w408-h640/2016-06-19%20242.jpg" width="408" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">More trellis on this letter, and it would be interesting to know what Mahoney had written to evoke such enthusiastic thanks from Evelyn, if only to discover what the 'boardlet' was. We can stab a guess at 'J & G': were they <b>J</b>oan and <b>G</b>eoff Rhoades, artist friends of Mahoney? And even if we're right, their cushion remains a mystery despite Evelyn's little drawing of it and the accompanying workbox. Happy days.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNodIV5iicyKFDa6WPQPPVSxs5VavHAbDNdKgzujJX_Yt8q70CZQGuwNwDRE0G2zfTEy6QtS1vMymor3mmB_rTva_HD9sxLw2zRCXTl2ctEDVUWGgbc1ByRcRF6VNIykVCpeo6Cm9CgW0xZVGHZuVce8NW6cOZuSqcbfst_3UC_i5UpX-r0wGb0k4opQ/s3381/2016-06-19%20245.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3381" data-original-width="2173" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNodIV5iicyKFDa6WPQPPVSxs5VavHAbDNdKgzujJX_Yt8q70CZQGuwNwDRE0G2zfTEy6QtS1vMymor3mmB_rTva_HD9sxLw2zRCXTl2ctEDVUWGgbc1ByRcRF6VNIykVCpeo6Cm9CgW0xZVGHZuVce8NW6cOZuSqcbfst_3UC_i5UpX-r0wGb0k4opQ/w412-h640/2016-06-19%20245.jpg" width="412" /></a></div> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dating Evelyn's letters needs a panoply of little strategies. In this hearts-and-flowers letter there's very little to go on. Ladywell is an area of Brockley, so it can be assumed she was working on the murals and writing from her lodgings at 95 Ermine Road; Jessie was Evelyn's sister, who would hardly have written to Evelyn if she had been at home in Strood. Spring flowers are in evidence, perhaps a pointer to April or May. Evelyn used blue ink fairly consistently throughout 1935. The tone is of someone happily in love. Put all this together and we arrive at a Wednesday, probably in May 1935. But does it matter all that much when it was written?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Occasionally Evelyn allowed herself - and Mahoney - the luxury of some water-colour:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKLNfc4jT3sUT7PsOwt2yUU9Wz12dnq9Wk8G3T1UM_6hE7ikVscTSfgcvrH3n1Ov9ahTNtM-WRIiMGUa6kO0emS3xbQSX8yENveRK1ZL4avLh_MZfIphuEMkOvpy3a5_ajB73KD-8Wnspc5N8pdJFAYGrfXNZYu3vpB4TbcmCaSdpbNjas8rJNuyM7mg/s2879/2016-06-19%20135.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2879" data-original-width="1799" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKLNfc4jT3sUT7PsOwt2yUU9Wz12dnq9Wk8G3T1UM_6hE7ikVscTSfgcvrH3n1Ov9ahTNtM-WRIiMGUa6kO0emS3xbQSX8yENveRK1ZL4avLh_MZfIphuEMkOvpy3a5_ajB73KD-8Wnspc5N8pdJFAYGrfXNZYu3vpB4TbcmCaSdpbNjas8rJNuyM7mg/w400-h640/2016-06-19%20135.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> <br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * * </span><br /></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Beneath this idyllic surface they were an ill-matched pair: Evelyn something of an artistic cuckoo in the nest of a Christian Scientist family of Rochester shopkeepers, comfortable without being wealthy, bourgeois and centrist in their political outlook; Mahoney, of part-Irish descent, a Londoner, one of four surviving brothers. As a child he had lost an eye in a hardly fraternal struggle for possession of a pair of scissors, which may later have affected his ability to judge depth in his paintings. He was a complex man, strongly drawn to the political left and the utopia Stalin's Russia was then thought to be, uneasy with opposition and not without some streaks of rancour. </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">In some senses plants and gardening were the only unifying factor in their relationship. In their entourage of friends, mostly Mahoney's, and which included several of the <a href="https://artuk.org/discover/curations/artists-and-places-the-great-bardfield-artists-essex" target="_blank">Great Bardfield group of artists</a>, they were nicknamed 'Adam and Eve'. Here is a typical plant letter, written from Evelyn's home address:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghc66wa82sxJPT5hl13LojaKkJqlif8ciFUqPN4M_pGo8QexcvCGpHtz0MVE-FbcxejsbQOa-goVfJQWOCcnHOSHtVnvDqF4TaCANC8FXfe27UC9G8ZArsPqlrBG8b9qQWzuTH4wWd8u2SJRPfu30oskxZTqxY0V6wblGTynTTsTCM-DLp1MwpZSN1_g/s3161/DSC_4940a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3161" data-original-width="2277" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghc66wa82sxJPT5hl13LojaKkJqlif8ciFUqPN4M_pGo8QexcvCGpHtz0MVE-FbcxejsbQOa-goVfJQWOCcnHOSHtVnvDqF4TaCANC8FXfe27UC9G8ZArsPqlrBG8b9qQWzuTH4wWd8u2SJRPfu30oskxZTqxY0V6wblGTynTTsTCM-DLp1MwpZSN1_g/w462-h640/DSC_4940a.jpg" width="462" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is probably from 1935, when Evelyn was working on a commission from her earlier Hampstead neighbours Catherine and Donald Carswell to provide incidental drawings for a book they had edited, <i>The Scots Week-End and Caledonian Vade Mecum for Host, Guest and Wayfarer</i>. Does the frontispiece below owe something to Evelyn's letter, or vice versa? A unifying factor is Paul, the Dunbar's Aberdeen terrier, perched high in the branches/flowers.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8egn4tmwsHG5HkzjX8GPKXW3SqhC4XdRELWjoqblDMLcC_e7FrK92vLdyyOZ-sO2SWk4DmpkO2CKwcXEvahxsBh8jEOmhUzzr-AVRFPC7cnA4i_Sjyf20ZW7M8vJzmZoz9UAVv_QKxXM5bSzoPqW2ab6jQBB9EnyCEso7mzNdo5JJWggrzDG-pk5u5w/s840/Scots%20Weekend%20frontispiece.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="840" data-original-width="606" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8egn4tmwsHG5HkzjX8GPKXW3SqhC4XdRELWjoqblDMLcC_e7FrK92vLdyyOZ-sO2SWk4DmpkO2CKwcXEvahxsBh8jEOmhUzzr-AVRFPC7cnA4i_Sjyf20ZW7M8vJzmZoz9UAVv_QKxXM5bSzoPqW2ab6jQBB9EnyCEso7mzNdo5JJWggrzDG-pk5u5w/w289-h400/Scots%20Weekend%20frontispiece.JPG" width="289" /></a></div></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Frontispiece, <i>The Scots Week-End and Caledonian Vade Mecum for Host, Guest and Wayfarer</i> eds. Carswell D and C, Routledge, London 1936</span></b></span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Behind this commission, which brought Evelyn about £1800 at today's values, lay the Carswells' neighbour and Evelyn's recent landlord, the editor and publisher Noël Carrington, a man Mahoney disliked. This put Evelyn in a quandary: throwing in her lot with Mahoney meant distancing herself from her Hampstead friends. The Brockley murals were completed by Evelyn in February 1936: Mahoney had left the project the previous May at a particularly difficult point, the painting of a ceiling. Even so, months later Evelyn sent him her notion of what it might have been like if Mahoney had contrived to stay on:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzB3zRIekSQ6IiR4m6TVSugXTYZvd9fd2zmQPrrY1GQWhwuSPacdgy61ZRz2uQFtoNLaBQiYyPDm_kFa8XBi8EaTQylt7OvsjywkzMVTaidndPJ2p-nolPY5_zDhgKkhEMxX7aCuPuBlsVc_oXvOl7gPMkDzRCO9mFX3033-qqkknZiSDK8_RXMacOgQ/s2770/DSC_4993a.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2770" data-original-width="2100" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzB3zRIekSQ6IiR4m6TVSugXTYZvd9fd2zmQPrrY1GQWhwuSPacdgy61ZRz2uQFtoNLaBQiYyPDm_kFa8XBi8EaTQylt7OvsjywkzMVTaidndPJ2p-nolPY5_zDhgKkhEMxX7aCuPuBlsVc_oXvOl7gPMkDzRCO9mFX3033-qqkknZiSDK8_RXMacOgQ/w486-h640/DSC_4993a.JPG" width="486" /></a></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Evelyn continued to mask her disappointment, and even designed a tie for Mahoney to wear for the inauguration of the Brockley murals the following February:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFheGqDrnG1STkbhAr60rY-fQOIveyeaq9XmzRuC6Ce7mUQra2d_XZeCOr2xIpmS2IOhACKYT56syMdUv0vWOi8L0BCXb1UALqeXyPwT4w_uKZeCcUh8Zn6KjEh37Ko4KpHunnKyudovsvxlu9bGFafQyw8sShDgmrHZuvddlNxtf-yCkKrZKn9jJoyQ/s2091/1aae.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1133" data-original-width="2091" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFheGqDrnG1STkbhAr60rY-fQOIveyeaq9XmzRuC6Ce7mUQra2d_XZeCOr2xIpmS2IOhACKYT56syMdUv0vWOi8L0BCXb1UALqeXyPwT4w_uKZeCcUh8Zn6KjEh37Ko4KpHunnKyudovsvxlu9bGFafQyw8sShDgmrHZuvddlNxtf-yCkKrZKn9jJoyQ/w640-h346/1aae.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Despite her disappointment over Mahoney's abandonment of the Brockley project, Evelyn saw her future linked privately and professionally with him: what joint projects could they undertake?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Through the Carswells and <i>The Scots Week-End</i> Evelyn now had a presence at the publishers, Routledge, via their commissioning editor, a man called Ragg. Evelyn suggested a book about gardening, a joint production between her and Mahoney. After some badgering Mahoney agreed. The writing and illustration of <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2012/06/gardeners-choice-1937.html" target="_blank"><i>Gardeners' Choice</i></a> kept them together, perhaps somewhat artificially, until the late summer of 1937, when they separated. <i>Gardeners' Choice</i>, which Evelyn hoped would stand as a metaphor for all that had been good in their relationship, appeared in good time for Christmas 1937.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * *<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">The writing on the wall had been evident for some time, perhaps since Mahoney's departure from Brockley. Evelyn's letters continued, ever hopeful of a permanent arrangement, expressed through joint commissions, or a shared garden or home together, or finally through children together.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGJZa0S9c_L6h2sZKSHlL19Z37dlKBdJIc48gON-s2969mvE0QYVE9OYJdaG8kyXWFe0YhTaKT2ESk5qUeS6PEA5ALvU_j4FiJwzAot8JiYQXMOnRV1RXmz5DWzIuOglFvgA62H9keu-25QUi5iatbEFpcZgiTjUoMM1knNccrFig2C35xxJDlU1rYLg/s2857/2016-06-19%20027.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2857" data-original-width="2095" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGJZa0S9c_L6h2sZKSHlL19Z37dlKBdJIc48gON-s2969mvE0QYVE9OYJdaG8kyXWFe0YhTaKT2ESk5qUeS6PEA5ALvU_j4FiJwzAot8JiYQXMOnRV1RXmz5DWzIuOglFvgA62H9keu-25QUi5iatbEFpcZgiTjUoMM1knNccrFig2C35xxJDlU1rYLg/w470-h640/2016-06-19%20027.JPG" width="470" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Trellis again, surrounding a flowery nook in which to spend quality time with Mahoney. 'Eves' - see the text - has to be a play on words on Evelyn's name and the evenings they spent together.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ZCk83-M-qOmnLb0D8sqvmNjjD6mPX2163i6DPub4dFXXFV1azF8M3ItCE0KMuiHAeztsJ1G3c61BgWndfXuErbeOVjx17MoSBhI0TWU0VKNav2jxKTxH2QYodbkt2DnKrdC5VMdevcLRGxhl_35D-2O-1IU416SL_ynMK8DGj-iGoHAz8RJeMnudIA/s2987/2016-06-19%20064.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2987" data-original-width="2231" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ZCk83-M-qOmnLb0D8sqvmNjjD6mPX2163i6DPub4dFXXFV1azF8M3ItCE0KMuiHAeztsJ1G3c61BgWndfXuErbeOVjx17MoSBhI0TWU0VKNav2jxKTxH2QYodbkt2DnKrdC5VMdevcLRGxhl_35D-2O-1IU416SL_ynMK8DGj-iGoHAz8RJeMnudIA/w478-h640/2016-06-19%20064.JPG" width="478" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">February 1936. Evelyn has taken her post, in this case a letter from Mahoney, outside beside the summer house in The Cedars garden for a bit of privacy. But who is the figure lurking behind the wall? There's no obvious answer.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3KSCbKWHL9qQBcHI-NioguSzEC4uqseINKdb-IoIdbRSyClo7typeRl0nTZRJR8XvE5hRglIwGKrQzXLBr6SICzFpmBzdPb_Tv0RbtNCSgFqR8qMmRpkikyJ-bvw_Cfht0SQGD41C3DvxHkMGmrvvACLJ32ek4ej_sV9HyFYSdpC1hw5x_Q8bvQtkZQ/s2797/2016-06-19%20069.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2797" data-original-width="2093" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3KSCbKWHL9qQBcHI-NioguSzEC4uqseINKdb-IoIdbRSyClo7typeRl0nTZRJR8XvE5hRglIwGKrQzXLBr6SICzFpmBzdPb_Tv0RbtNCSgFqR8qMmRpkikyJ-bvw_Cfht0SQGD41C3DvxHkMGmrvvACLJ32ek4ej_sV9HyFYSdpC1hw5x_Q8bvQtkZQ/w478-h640/2016-06-19%20069.JPG" width="478" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">The 'R's and all their social biz' refers to William Rothenstein, the RCA principal. Mahoney was at odds with the direction the RCA was beginning to take, advocating a more commercial approach to art. Not easy for Evelyn, who got on very well with Rothenstein and enjoyed his 'social biz', something she had to abandon in her support of Mahoney.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimSp3GvdtzWbTJBtQwFUM2_QjNpmgwlbfKub3vx3Op-KWf8TgkryRzqgLQcVBlUZSJQ6wYahW6Mhp0cYX1xR17DBBYAXY2n21MKQxek3mI_TiYMayjQVcZ-UML1IBadXRbwtvQv6RhxjE8cBja2zgUhEqp8RVTrWvo4PVlgLGfJMbDtGO_fH4zWaQ_PQ/s2649/2016-06-19%20152.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2649" data-original-width="1641" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimSp3GvdtzWbTJBtQwFUM2_QjNpmgwlbfKub3vx3Op-KWf8TgkryRzqgLQcVBlUZSJQ6wYahW6Mhp0cYX1xR17DBBYAXY2n21MKQxek3mI_TiYMayjQVcZ-UML1IBadXRbwtvQv6RhxjE8cBja2zgUhEqp8RVTrWvo4PVlgLGfJMbDtGO_fH4zWaQ_PQ/w396-h640/2016-06-19%20152.JPG" width="396" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Evelyn occasionally addressed Mahoney by affectionately insulting names. 'Dearest Pig' is typical of this habit. We don't know how Mahoney responded. The figure writhing in agony, pinned to the ground by Imperturbability (as prescribed by Evelyn), is none other than Rothenstein.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Suggestions for activities to keep them together begin to feature heavily in this correspondence. <br /></span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1XfH3Jd118YU6yua2v0wismuKokxfgSwo6S2b9XifskC6Ug9_QWelaSk0EdNCKxBdMaXFy8OeOmaAr3-tAEj2EX73qB3vBUn9M8HYsOp57r7lZBTSYY71hjPV9XXcqjk3XTjiXcNZJv2pShUkZoEoEdD6ogChP199lWIPpOMjwCrcLs6nW9tiWdAWOQ/s3060/2016-06-19%20239.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3060" data-original-width="2180" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1XfH3Jd118YU6yua2v0wismuKokxfgSwo6S2b9XifskC6Ug9_QWelaSk0EdNCKxBdMaXFy8OeOmaAr3-tAEj2EX73qB3vBUn9M8HYsOp57r7lZBTSYY71hjPV9XXcqjk3XTjiXcNZJv2pShUkZoEoEdD6ogChP199lWIPpOMjwCrcLs6nW9tiWdAWOQ/w456-h640/2016-06-19%20239.jpg" width="456" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here they are gardening together (above), and here (below) is Evelyn describing a house she has seen which might suit them both, but without actually saying as much:<br /> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb2YozEWGLvYydLv7xjHpzFr59-5SJboXCLFybjFhDmFWLhdMCyovTBAXtNjV-tOZNZ1_EOiyBsginsgzfnUaltaXVYccKpaKlnQFmKeimrDjc4Url6eHjuH_MsnmR4rWXV8FBiz8pkF4XkKaidNJvwS_CFYFtmdD7_6STfA855DQ9PMs448GwhZK0BQ/s3033/2016-06-19%20246.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3033" data-original-width="1945" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb2YozEWGLvYydLv7xjHpzFr59-5SJboXCLFybjFhDmFWLhdMCyovTBAXtNjV-tOZNZ1_EOiyBsginsgzfnUaltaXVYccKpaKlnQFmKeimrDjc4Url6eHjuH_MsnmR4rWXV8FBiz8pkF4XkKaidNJvwS_CFYFtmdD7_6STfA855DQ9PMs448GwhZK0BQ/w410-h640/2016-06-19%20246.jpg" width="410" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">By 1936 'opportunity' had become a theme-word covering the various projects which Evelyn thought she and Mahoney might envisage together. Apart from <i>Gardeners' Choice </i>they came to nothing. She made various attempts to personify Opportunity, some of which are examined <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2021/11/opportunity-1936.html" target="_blank">in an earlier post</a>, and in her final outpourings in this vein she refers to the children they might have between them -<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwytYwUfXoMceyDfaDzOH-0TdZojkO1PzKvuaNxpZsXqbLI0U81w24FpXYNYZVuedajvPe8CapKeB_Heh24bj8-ELt6MWZp55846zNw2X82wOL5cg5D7YvXS8oLcoUkSX14jiabgm3C2hHHjnQZi138xWhG0TUkHlu8pFMQQppbf9svXZdFIdOM_XrIQ/s2981/2016-06-19%20198.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2981" data-original-width="2313" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwytYwUfXoMceyDfaDzOH-0TdZojkO1PzKvuaNxpZsXqbLI0U81w24FpXYNYZVuedajvPe8CapKeB_Heh24bj8-ELt6MWZp55846zNw2X82wOL5cg5D7YvXS8oLcoUkSX14jiabgm3C2hHHjnQZi138xWhG0TUkHlu8pFMQQppbf9svXZdFIdOM_XrIQ/w496-h640/2016-06-19%20198.JPG" width="496" /></a></div><br /> - not that she necessarily intended to have eight children, as in the drawing above, where half of them are scrumping the fruit from Opportunity's hat. In any case Mahoney wasn't interested, and said so: children would stunt his and Evelyn's careers. In the late summer of 1937 Evelyn miscarried, Mahoney had bought a house without consulting her, and the relationship collapsed. <br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * * </span><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">It says something maybe unexpected about their relationship that Mahoney kept Evelyn's letters, in their entirety and not simply the drawings, which a lesser man might have done. In due course the package, numbering some 80 letters - it's possibly that one or two might have been suppressed - passed to Mahoney's daughter, Elizabeth Bulkeley. Mrs Bulkeley nobly presented them to the Tate Archive, where they are open for anyone to inspect... <br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">...even Evelyn's biographers: in 2016 Josephine and I spent several hours in the Tate Archive photographing this extraordinary collection, only a fraction of which is shown here. One of the saddest was written by Evelyn in blunt pencil on a much-folded piece of paper; it had evidently passed much time in Mahoney's pocket. I could just make out '...why can't you even be bothered to say hello when I pass?' I couldn't bring myself to photograph this desperately sad witness to an ill-judged relationship that had gone horribly wrong. </span><br /></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2022</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /></p><div class="MsoNormal">
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span><b><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b></span><br /></p></div></div>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-77799941813366227632022-06-04T15:09:00.005+01:002023-02-02T16:21:06.735+00:00The Garden (c.1926)<div><p></p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><img alt="The Garden" height="418" src="https://d3d00swyhr67nd.cloudfront.net/w1200h1200/collection/SHEF/MSH/SHEF_MSH_VIS_2776-001.jpg" width="640" /> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><i>The Garden</i> Oil on millboard c.1926 21 x 32.6 cm Museums Sheffield</b></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">It's uncertain when <i>The Garden</i> was painted, nor can we be sure this was the title Evelyn originally gave it. It's one of a pair. Let's start with the pair; it's the same house, but the façade instead of the side. Both measure approximately the same<span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;">.</span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;">Several years ago, during researches in preparation for <i>Evelyn Dunbar: A Life in Painting</i>, I was invited to East Sussex to look at a small collection of Evelyn's work, as fascinating as it was unassuming; a wonderful privilege for the biographer. Among the various paintings and drawings, mostly from Evelyn's late teens and early 20s, was this:</span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwez5PAgrZUBr6FEyTCUl6MaCS9jfCMqtgu5bB4jXs9pVLiy0aW9WQikBMHgj19VnS-pNqyRNkhoxu7EdI_Db8XjCs2RiuUb6U9GiH-fNeNLgmX1IPpDGK4zBRX8UN6EnmEE_8tuZZwD_qBwQx9onKlXXnZuiuCsTEXiEYRvvSjIg_VXqdUPmkW5BEZA/s6152/Gadshill%20House%20cleaned.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4125" data-original-width="6152" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwez5PAgrZUBr6FEyTCUl6MaCS9jfCMqtgu5bB4jXs9pVLiy0aW9WQikBMHgj19VnS-pNqyRNkhoxu7EdI_Db8XjCs2RiuUb6U9GiH-fNeNLgmX1IPpDGK4zBRX8UN6EnmEE_8tuZZwD_qBwQx9onKlXXnZuiuCsTEXiEYRvvSjIg_VXqdUPmkW5BEZA/w640-h430/Gadshill%20House%20cleaned.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #741b47;"><span><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;">'<i>Gadshill House</i>' c.1926 Oil on canvas 20.5 x 30.5 Photograph © LissLlewellyn</span></span></span></span></b></span></div></div><div><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;">The Dunbar family provenance was impeccable. There could be no doubt that Evelyn had painted it. But when? And where? And why, because she rarely painted buildings? Our return route - my and my wife Josephine's - took us from East Sussex to Kent. Armed with photographs, we decided to drive via Ticehurst, the village where Evelyn's uncle and aunt Stead and Clara Cowling had lived during the inter-war years, in a large house called Steellands. Could the painting possibly be of Steellands? Evelyn and Aunt Clara had been very close.</span></span></span></span></span><br /></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;">We stopped in the centre of Ticehurst. We showed our photo to shopkeepers and people in the Post Office: no one recognised it. Yes, they said, there had once been a house called Steellands</span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;">, but it was now called Apsley Court, a red brick building, nothing like the picture. Oh yes, and there was a road called Steellands Rise on the village outskirts. So at least the name lived on. </span></span></span></span></span>Meagre pickings. We retreated into Kent, mystery unsolved. We'd drawn a blank. Back to square 1. <br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;">* * *</span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;">In 1924 the Dunbars left a rather cramped house opposite the old station forecourt in Rochester and moved west across the river Medway to Strood, where Evelyn's father William had bought The Cedars, a much larger house with a 2½ acre garden, fully wandered through <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2021/12/blog-post.html">here</a>. The Cedars lay about a half-mile up London Road from the centre of Strood. (It's still there, its pyramidical tower - once Evelyn's studio - overlooking the press of newer housing.) A mile or two up the hill was - and is - the settlement of Gadshill. Charles Dickens lived at Gadshill Place for the last 15 years of his life, 1855-70, and not far away is Gads Hill House. (Both forms, Gadshill and Gads Hill, appear to be acceptable.)<br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;">We don't know who lived at Gads Hill House a century ago, but fully conscious of the shifting sands and slippery slopes of conjecture, perhaps we can posit that Evelyn, the most outgoing of the Dunbars, got to know them, maybe through a Rochester Girls' Grammar School friend, of whom we have an unwitting but distant image, because the mystery house is surely none other than Gads Hill House -<br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjLK2blim3aDdcsvi9vyH_dX1n4LxKWXXsNAH-qgc6vJMnLetBjbIDGfI0o4xWtuRN0KALQ-lnXrm78Hzj_GhARWZwJtFuqGBfUbv5lZVF9356wReQ3nsdLKoWhjRwjtVLy3lFmotmbXjmUSlPylUNDmiSEQM30URJqUfVOrMJqWKN6aTFb3KCu1SdKQ/s277/Gadshill%20House.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="150" data-original-width="277" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjLK2blim3aDdcsvi9vyH_dX1n4LxKWXXsNAH-qgc6vJMnLetBjbIDGfI0o4xWtuRN0KALQ-lnXrm78Hzj_GhARWZwJtFuqGBfUbv5lZVF9356wReQ3nsdLKoWhjRwjtVLy3lFmotmbXjmUSlPylUNDmiSEQM30URJqUfVOrMJqWKN6aTFb3KCu1SdKQ/w640-h347/Gadshill%20House.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span><span><span><span>Gads Hill House, c.2002. Estate agent's photograph</span></span></span></span></b></span></span></div></div><div><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;">- and the figure in <i>The Garden</i>, standing on the verandah and reaching up to tend a plant, is perhaps none other than Evelyn's friend. The match between Gads Hill House and Evelyn's mystery painting was made, after a Twitter appeal, by Chris Lee, a specialist in such matches whose Twitter address is <a href="https://www.twitter.com/CLeeEsq">https://www.twitter.com/CLeeEsq</a></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;">So Evelyn painted her pictures of Gads Hill House, possibly while she was still at school, stored them in the tower studio at The Cedars and there they remained with other juvenilia for several years.</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;"><span><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;">* * *<br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">In 1929 Evelyn started studying at the Royal College of Art, to which she had won an exhibition. The complement of the full fees was paid by her father William and her uncle Stead Cowling. Initially she travelled daily to Kensington from Strood by train, but tiring of this a few months into her course, she looked for lodgings. She found them in Hampstead, firstly in the ambit of Allan Gwynne-Jones, one of her RCA tutors, and then with Noël Carrington, publisher and book designer, in South End Road, from whom a little later she rented a studio. A near neighbour was the not-yet-knighted William Rothenstein, the RCA principal, who presided over a salon frequented by the great and good of English art, while his nephew Oliver Simon's table at Downshire Hill welcomed artists, especially of the younger generation. This Hampstead coterie, which occasionally rubbed shoulders with Bloomsbury, formed what the art historian and critic Herbert Read called 'a nest of gentle artists'. In the years 1930-32 Evelyn fitted into this world of good company and creative cross-fertilisation very comfortably indeed. A young woman gifted in the arts of friendship, she made lifelong friends in Hampstead. It might be wondered how this student contrived to sit at the high table, as it were. Perhaps it should be remembered that in a sense Evelyn was a mature student, four years older than most of the school leavers of her intake year, and much the same age as some of the young bloods like Eric Ravilious and Edward Bawden, whom Rothenstein had appointed to the RCA to ginger his staff up a little.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Evelyn's position in this nest of gentle artists was disturbed by the beginning of her association with Charles Mahoney, her mural tutor in her fourth and post-graduate year. (His birthname was Cyril, but he became almost universally known as Charles or Charley after his RCA colleague Barnett Freedman re-christened him, probably for the rhythm and euphony of 'Charlie Mahoney' and the agreeable rhymes that could be conjured out if it.) <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">With Rothenstein's enthusiastic backing Evelyn volunteered to join a team of recent graduates, led by Mahoney, to implement <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2012/05/evelyn-dunbar-brockley-murals-1933-36.html" target="_blank">a mural decoration scheme at Brockley County School for Boys</a>, in south-east London. Almost from the beginning of this project Evelyn and Mahoney fell in love. Predictably, her devotion both to her work and to Mahoney reduced her Hampstead presence. Besides having a reputation for being touchy and difficult, although a competent tutor, politically Mahoney leaned far to the left, not a marked characteristic of the nest of gentle artists.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Brockley scheme lasted three years, 1933-36, during which both her father and her uncle Stead Cowling died, and with them their subsidies. Brockley imprisoned Evelyn to a large extent: during this period she painted very little else. The Brockley remuneration was uncertain and irregular. Part way through Mahoney left - after all, he had his own RCA job to do - and Evelyn was to some extent trapped in a scheme which she herself had greatly enlarged from its original dimensions. She and Mahoney separated in the late summer of 1937. She had no money, no prospects, and she felt excluded from Mahoney's circle of friends. So began what she later called her 'crisis' years.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">* * * </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hampstead and the gentle nest came to the rescue. Perhaps seeing the writing on the wall, in 1936 Rothenstein arranged for the purchase of <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/1862227915870262056/1619860356953026242" target="_blank"><i>Girl and a Birdcage</i></a> (c.1924) and some of Evelyn's Brockley sketches by the Tullie House Museum and Art Gallery, Carlisle, recommending Evelyn as an artist of 'real genius'. Noël Carrington, once Evelyn's Hampstead landlord, arranged several commissions for book illustration, which led subsequently in 1937 to <i>Gardeners' Choice</i>, written and illustrated jointly by Evelyn and Mahoney, in which, curiously, this drawing appears as a vignette:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4O_6kc1FGNrELil09eF8WNu2LudvI8b44pyayMxkt0aK8Kiyoa99dhvAndpc0fw0Z-DPPfxs2bN580roQ9KDfMSsieBrOh_7PxdmmMY2fFJ3XICmeT-IaSMI2HvcSIlq8F-QGghT5uTbdKPPInZzti8Bd3XlzUwQPu1QBN-3QGDPK0MME5xahwErPkg/s413/GC%20Gads%20Hill%20House%20vignette.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="370" data-original-width="413" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4O_6kc1FGNrELil09eF8WNu2LudvI8b44pyayMxkt0aK8Kiyoa99dhvAndpc0fw0Z-DPPfxs2bN580roQ9KDfMSsieBrOh_7PxdmmMY2fFJ3XICmeT-IaSMI2HvcSIlq8F-QGghT5uTbdKPPInZzti8Bd3XlzUwQPu1QBN-3QGDPK0MME5xahwErPkg/s320/GC%20Gads%20Hill%20House%20vignette.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b>Gadshill House? Vignette in <i>Gardeners' Choice</i> (Routledge, London 1937) written and illustrated by Evelyn Dunbar and Cyril Mahoney</b></span></span></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><b> </b><span><span style="font-size: large;">John Rothenstein, William's son, director of the Sheffield City art gallery, asked Evelyn to select a painting from her studio for his gallery to purchase. This maybe put her in a tight spot: the previous years had been spent up ladders and on trestles at Brockley; she had painted very little lately in the way of formal canvases. I can imagine her leafing through the canvases piled in her studio at The Cedars, almost all from her pre-student days</span></span></span></span>. We come full circle: what she chose was <i>The Garden</i>, which now hangs in Sheffield, a witness maybe less to Evelyn's talent as to the kindness - indeed, to the rescue operation - of her Hampstead friends. Was there collusion? We shall never know.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">This benevolence was in evidence a little later. In 1939 Evelyn's first year RCA tutor, Allan Gwynne-Jones, persuaded the Tate to buy two of her canvases via the Knapping Fund, a fund for the purchase of work by living or recently dead artists. Again they come from early days, </span><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2017/05/study-for-decoration-flight-1930.html" target="_blank">Sketch for Decoration: Flight</a> and the very fine <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/1862227915870262056/1007149630520304165" target="_blank">Winter Garden</a>, which heads this blog. Although it exists elsewhere, there is no evidence of Mahoney in any of these works. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Finally, in late 1939, Sir William Rothenstein (by now knighted) suggested to Evelyn that she should apply to the War Artists' Advisory Committee for consideration as a war artist. She did so, and a few months later was appointed. She never looked back. At the time of Rothenstein's suggestion, Evelyn had been at her lowest ebb, working behind the counter in her sisters' Rochester haberdashery shop. Her 'crisis' years were over. She was back in The Garden, the agricultural garden of wartime Britain.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2022.</span></p><div class="MsoNormal">
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <br /></p><p></p></div>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-84941613817961098762022-04-26T15:37:00.040+01:002023-09-24T15:27:12.553+01:00The Old Schoolmistress c.1955<div><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgyFMEltR4cI918mhnC5wPf59m105pMJW20sa5XW1IwgIYJap161jel7C-VkUD8kMxiq5owRDdSEMapbaALOoQI3PbIlxhyp_ICk4Ixq-tVsxCfZ2XdLgMmYkuWbgxeVqIox_ZSgVxLeVJMfd2Z6ntZb9IHR9ZTkNsWeFKHAUMPFKe69JdHnEIRx3mLA/s1170/evelyn-dunbar-'the-old-schoolmistress'.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1170" data-original-width="760" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgyFMEltR4cI918mhnC5wPf59m105pMJW20sa5XW1IwgIYJap161jel7C-VkUD8kMxiq5owRDdSEMapbaALOoQI3PbIlxhyp_ICk4Ixq-tVsxCfZ2XdLgMmYkuWbgxeVqIox_ZSgVxLeVJMfd2Z6ntZb9IHR9ZTkNsWeFKHAUMPFKe69JdHnEIRx3mLA/w416-h640/evelyn-dunbar-'the-old-schoolmistress'.jpg" width="416" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><i> 'The Old Schoolmistress'</i> c.1955 Oil on canvas Photograph ©LissLlewellyn Private collection</b></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b> </b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Who is she? </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">In 1942 Evelyn married Roger Folley, in civilian life a horticultural economist but in wartime an RAF officer. Roger Folley came from Colne, a small town in Lancashire, where his father, Ebenezer Folley (universally known as 'Uncle Eb'), was a retired primary school head teacher. He was also a widower, his wife Sarah - Roger Folley's mother - having died in 1948. He was also my grandfather.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">In 2013 this imposing portrait appeared, among the countless boxes and portfolios of Evelyn's residual work, untouched after being deposited in the cone of a Kentish oast house for some 50 years. Its appearance was a great surprise, because its existence was only known previously through a photograph dating from about 1960, and even then it hadn't been ascribed to Evelyn.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0BNq814Qq2QT1JxsgHG3LrRQUs86Tsda7pSIXo2X2YLa0REClLgeMkpWhAdVaKwUIKP8TrLnp5qVjWz4m0FrDjp0K2pB3WEwZ871dsHRei-4rkeAhYnnw_yZDliCvl2ZZ7NoKXHWBUgLRQVicqNZP3Dr49vO7pwkJHYBnhNnlqkWCisGDjU3ziZ928w/s400/Fig.%20282%20EWF%20and%20friends.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="254" data-original-width="400" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0BNq814Qq2QT1JxsgHG3LrRQUs86Tsda7pSIXo2X2YLa0REClLgeMkpWhAdVaKwUIKP8TrLnp5qVjWz4m0FrDjp0K2pB3WEwZ871dsHRei-4rkeAhYnnw_yZDliCvl2ZZ7NoKXHWBUgLRQVicqNZP3Dr49vO7pwkJHYBnhNnlqkWCisGDjU3ziZ928w/w400-h254/Fig.%20282%20EWF%20and%20friends.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Eb Folley and friends, c.1960</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><b><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">This photograph of my grandfather and some friends was taken in about 1960. It lives in what is fancifully called the family archive, in reality a jumble of old photos and letters stuffed into an envelope. Eb Folley, then rising 90, is on the extreme right in his front room in Colne, and at least one of his friends appears to have closed his eyes the better to concentrate on his discourse.</span></span></span><br /></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sharp-eyed readers will have noticed the painting in the top right-hand corner. (To its left is another portrait from Evelyn's hand: a 1948 study of her husband, Roger Folley. After Evelyn's death he presented this portrait to Manchester Art Galleries, changing the title to <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2013/01/roger-folley-cerebrant-1948.html" target="_blank"><i>The Cerebrant</i></a>, meaning 'the thinker'.)<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">On its first appearance from its oast loft it wasn't clear how this canvas could have anything to do with Evelyn. It wasn't a Folley family portrait, or it would have stayed within the family; yet here it was, with a Folley provenance, a cuckoo in a Dunbar nest. Things became clearer when, on turning the picture over, my grandfather's long-remembered handwriting on the verso revealed that he'd written 'The Old Schoolmistress (by Evelyn Dunbar - unfinished)'. This at least established some kind of authenticity. But what was the back story?</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">We have to conjecture to some extent. Clearly it had been in Eb Folley's possession, but why? And why was it unfinished? Leaving aside any romantic attachment my grandfather had for the lady, a possible reconstruction is that at some time in the 1950s this person, a headmistress in the Colne area, retired. As a retirement presentation gift, it was suggested by the local retired teachers' association (President: E.W.Folley) that a portrait be commissioned of the new retiree. The President suggested that his daughter-in-law, the well-known artist Evelyn Dunbar, might be approached with a view to carrying out the commission. So far, so plausible, but for unknown reasons Evelyn left it unfinished and the portrait was never presented. It reverted to Eb Folley, who hung it proudly in his front room.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBxq2K6_iSv565UYl-ooGtnInQRhrFfS-ASJC9LzzDX0a5l73xoy3ixAEA4XdO0_73YwHlSW6Siz4WKt5oZas0QXNBWmjF7wsn8O5TG4K1NZnKZjC1_cfXMR78c1LLZIcSKth0c8E3I8yCVaGIKjwcIKDhSTPQNmLchlbBaxtCIldZnE4pfy2P_2cSYA/s1280/evelyn-dunbar-'the-%20old-schoolmistress'-verso.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBxq2K6_iSv565UYl-ooGtnInQRhrFfS-ASJC9LzzDX0a5l73xoy3ixAEA4XdO0_73YwHlSW6Siz4WKt5oZas0QXNBWmjF7wsn8O5TG4K1NZnKZjC1_cfXMR78c1LLZIcSKth0c8E3I8yCVaGIKjwcIKDhSTPQNmLchlbBaxtCIldZnE4pfy2P_2cSYA/s320/evelyn-dunbar-'the-%20old-schoolmistress'-verso.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Verso of <i>'The Old Schoolmistress'</i> inscribed 'by Evelyn Dunbar (unfinished)' by E.W.Folley</span></b></span><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Why was it never presented? Why didn't Evelyn finish it? In 2014 attempts were made to answer these and other questions, especially concerning the identity of the lady, via the readership of <i>The Colne Times</i> and its times past correspondent, Geoff Crambie. No sexa- or septuagenarian memories were unlocked. The reach of this blog probably hardly compares with that of <i>The Colne Times</i>, but if any reader has any ideas about the origins of this very fine portrait, please contact me via the comments box below.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">The story perhaps doesn't end there. Evelyn died in 1960, at about the same time as Eb Folley downsized to a small flat, reducing his effects. Among them was <i>'The Old Schoolmistress'</i>, which Roger Folley recovered, took home with him to Kent and included with Evelyn's residual studio. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">This very incomplete and conjectural account might totter to close by adding that, perhaps as a token of thanks, in the summer of 1956 Eb Folley, together with two other unidentified members, sponsored his daughter-in-law for admission as a Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts. It's not recorded that Evelyn ever exercised her Fellowship.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2022</span><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /></p><div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #c00000; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 107%;">Further reading...<br /><br /></span></i></b></div>
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /></p><p> </p></div>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-28273911482164129752022-04-15T15:33:00.041+01:002022-07-15T17:18:24.038+01:00The Cedars and its Garden Part 2 (1924-46)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjTwr2N6a7gdeQ8F-GimBPjjSqZSMaj2qrQQ4LvS5f8Mv-FlbxOxrxffDeL5ExzknOzBAOKUj4LhjtBG2FZFkSVnTRMjG1DrCq5EsIgxuXGwx8NUOp5PwZhrnBWG8SPZuo0E28rQRoahL3ywr9zHZwVetEUxNTw0vwcgTBr4dMmNA_k1zJbytQW9A3Njw=s1502" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1502" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjTwr2N6a7gdeQ8F-GimBPjjSqZSMaj2qrQQ4LvS5f8Mv-FlbxOxrxffDeL5ExzknOzBAOKUj4LhjtBG2FZFkSVnTRMjG1DrCq5EsIgxuXGwx8NUOp5PwZhrnBWG8SPZuo0E28rQRoahL3ywr9zHZwVetEUxNTw0vwcgTBr4dMmNA_k1zJbytQW9A3Njw=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><i>Florence Dunbar in the Garden at The Cedars</i> c.1938 oil on canvas Photograph: ©LissLlewellyn Private collection</b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Dunbar family moved into The Cedars, a 17-roomed mid-Victorian house in Strood (the westernmost area of Rochester, Kent) in 1924. I imagine the family was hugely content with William Dunbar's purchase and their new home. Beforehand they had lived at 244, High Street, Rochester, a 4-storey house opposite the forecourt of the old Rochester railway station. Not many pictures survive of this house, but first impressions suggest that it was cramped and dark, with a very limited garden area.</span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here are the Dunbars soon after moving into The Cedars, all except William, who was presumably the photographer.</span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYp4E7ce6eOQV9AN7j2hCNZBzgeMjVhS2R_na7ziq2m7107tjb2prowyv65iykozGTkbepgGJRYB_-RZSqNY_DCDy67lGvStIrX8pDB71-XZmDK-epVRhjZkw_4Iw_FLVqD8-DzG1aBRn60iz8lo74Nfzl4wODd8eUy6bUAXZ39UtqKPO-mfmwW-IG2w/s3600/Ronald,%20Evelyn,%20Alec,Florence,%20Jessie%20and%20Marjorie%20Dunbar%20in%20The%20Cedars%20garden.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2420" data-original-width="3600" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYp4E7ce6eOQV9AN7j2hCNZBzgeMjVhS2R_na7ziq2m7107tjb2prowyv65iykozGTkbepgGJRYB_-RZSqNY_DCDy67lGvStIrX8pDB71-XZmDK-epVRhjZkw_4Iw_FLVqD8-DzG1aBRn60iz8lo74Nfzl4wODd8eUy6bUAXZ39UtqKPO-mfmwW-IG2w/w400-h269/Ronald,%20Evelyn,%20Alec,Florence,%20Jessie%20and%20Marjorie%20Dunbar%20in%20The%20Cedars%20garden.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span><span><span><span> The Dunbar family in the garden at The Cedars, 1924. Photo: Dunbar family archive.</span></span></span></span></b></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: black;">Left to right they are: Ronald, the oldest of the siblings; Evelyn, the youngest, who would be 16 the following December; Felbridge, a sort of lurcher; Alec; Florence, their mother; Jessie and finally Marjorie (usually known as 'Midge'), born so close together in 1897/98 as to be almost twins. The family seems to me to express a dynamic of energetic unity, and it's this, for what it's worth, that encourages me to think that this photo was very probably taken on the day they moved into The Cedars...that, and the length and quality of the grass. Florence, a gardener to her green fingertips, would in normal circumstances never have allowed a lawn to grow to such a length, nor to have so many alien plants colonising it. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: black;">A background feature of this family photograph is the brick wall, which features in so many of Evelyn's garden images. Here's one of them: <br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbznNDNNY5O9wDn-cBh3yYXv15T8YaZ4g8uf2IctctzrLZWOiOP8pOBVMIsylpZBqlm03ozpSQ-lvbb5-Jf8pPYeUtyyA5Efw9bJPflPEedBDMIQ4t77kLD3WJEOoKBXlaRFacxdCtWWYrwLjG128zsWs_q-eYRogycuj7hYReU1c7HvkzoxwILcfvFw/s668/Herbaceous%20border%20at%20The%20Cedars.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="657" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbznNDNNY5O9wDn-cBh3yYXv15T8YaZ4g8uf2IctctzrLZWOiOP8pOBVMIsylpZBqlm03ozpSQ-lvbb5-Jf8pPYeUtyyA5Efw9bJPflPEedBDMIQ4t77kLD3WJEOoKBXlaRFacxdCtWWYrwLjG128zsWs_q-eYRogycuj7hYReU1c7HvkzoxwILcfvFw/w630-h640/Herbaceous%20border%20at%20The%20Cedars.jpg" width="630" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><i> Herbaceous Border at The Cedars</i> c.1934 pen and wash on paper. Signed 'E.Dunbar'. Photograph ©LissLlewellyn (The date, c.1934, may be debatable: the garden path has not yet received its diagonally-laid brick edging. C.1926 might be a better estimate.)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></b></span><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: black;">Here the garden, or that part of it lying against the brick wall, appears to be well established, no doubt due to the efforts of its handmaidens, maybe Evelyn herself in the foreground and Florence, almost hidden by the greenery just slightly right of centre in the middle ground. The diagonally-laid brick edging evident in later images was probably the work of a rather shadowy pair of gardeners, Alf and/or Bert. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3E2NTzK2g6Ckzx-kWN6CDK9NV5sLmPA2I0lRDJq9Tn0mogvsQYSQXQJbmC0_sokg24hUS7rXFiqBKfJVvZJSWaSZvb3n4Cve05TTJkoepQCq1arr_-qemfF3DoKIcxydTmfkkVaggvt0ksGtNOeVRk3jpnpvqs-vYKMF3qdbPLCXhscICbLxFs2Vdug/s2980/Fig.%20159%20Alf%20and%20Bert%20puppets.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2980" data-original-width="2300" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3E2NTzK2g6Ckzx-kWN6CDK9NV5sLmPA2I0lRDJq9Tn0mogvsQYSQXQJbmC0_sokg24hUS7rXFiqBKfJVvZJSWaSZvb3n4Cve05TTJkoepQCq1arr_-qemfF3DoKIcxydTmfkkVaggvt0ksGtNOeVRk3jpnpvqs-vYKMF3qdbPLCXhscICbLxFs2Vdug/w309-h400/Fig.%20159%20Alf%20and%20Bert%20puppets.JPG" width="309" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: black;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span><span><span><span><span>Alf and Bert: from letter to Charles Mahoney ('Darling Matey'), 20th October 1936. Tate Archive: ©Estate of Evelyn Dunbar</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></b></span><br /></div></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: black;">Which was Alf and which was Bert we shall probably never know, and we can only guess at the significance of the marionette strings. One, surnamed Clarke, was a fixture when William Dunbar bought The Cedars. In another letter to Mahoney, dated March 1936, Evelyn wrote '[...] we have another man in the garden to do an 8-hour day on Saturdays [...] He has been very highly recommended & is quite young and strong.' Pausing to note some Evelynish touches, the small change of her <i>esprit</i>, like the patches on Clarke's knees and the spotted handkerchief peeping out of his jacket pocket, we can perhaps assume that Alf and Bert occupied themselves mostly with the fruit and vegetables while Florence, and occasionally her daughters, looked after the ornamental garden.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: black;">Florence Dunbar was really the guiding spirit in the development of The Cedars garden. <span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;">Here - for reference - she is again, as painted by Evelyn, waiting for spring to happen:</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8DhDYxQ5MXyS5utnpraDsZ-0ea32cKWqJQxXc6jeD8C-r2kwnw6_OTy998NFDhdhEZttZbEKWNzCrzTtzyPQkXCXkmPTlDrlVM7KUmdx2eRP2EXD7WJN-Zr9GLnt4uGoF7kL321gKWX-ydcOlNw5iFuMX34ixL9mNDeYfHnTNk0AiyQbEkck2p3naKA/s1502/Florence%20Dunbar%20in%20the%20Garden%20at%20The%20Cedars.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1502" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8DhDYxQ5MXyS5utnpraDsZ-0ea32cKWqJQxXc6jeD8C-r2kwnw6_OTy998NFDhdhEZttZbEKWNzCrzTtzyPQkXCXkmPTlDrlVM7KUmdx2eRP2EXD7WJN-Zr9GLnt4uGoF7kL321gKWX-ydcOlNw5iFuMX34ixL9mNDeYfHnTNk0AiyQbEkck2p3naKA/w400-h266/Florence%20Dunbar%20in%20the%20Garden%20at%20The%20Cedars.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><i>Florence Dunbar in the Garden at The Cedars</i> c.1938 oil on canvas Photograph: ©LissLlewellyn Private collection</b></span></span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><b><span><span><span><span> </span></span></span></span></b></span></span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's a cold day in March or April. The first daffodils are flowering, more will follow. Beyond Florence, well wrapped under a plaid blanket and wearing her preferred gardening jacket, some beds of bare earth await her attentions. It's as though she can't wait to get started. Her vigil is shared by what is at first sight an inexplicable black lump in the left foreground, but which on closer examination turns out to be Paul, the Dunbar's Aberdeen terrier, the successor to Felbridge. </span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">Under the green-fingered Florence's guidance The Cedars garden quickly became Evelyn's abiding source of inspiration. For her it became a metaphor for the Bible-specified interaction between mankind and creator, a notion encapsulated in the story of the Garden of Eden. This garden concept fitted comfortably with Evelyn's - and her mother's - Christian Science, and continued to do so, greatly amplified, with the onset of World War 2; her employment as a war artist recording the agricultural work of the Women's Land Army extended her horizons far beyond an obscure garden in north Kent.</span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">As if in tribute to Florence's influence, Evelyn includes her mother in several of her garden paintings.</span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 107%;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0fFYq5RvB3Z2awKTlJ9L7h7TDypp4jEqKzPyepWO1rRusqci9nV-k4sPWb4H44DelpSkjmOBTm-IpCntavi-sMMqOHe5eckI7vhqAy5Ce-zC2M7kxVNSsG2XuEuR3O7RlHv756pzUE3m0_IxsVMUP9CIO1Llp87OTy1QjG7X5H6pG_og6lJcCGlzjOA/s1024/Fig.%20163%20Garden%20at%20The%20Cedars.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="459" data-original-width="1024" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0fFYq5RvB3Z2awKTlJ9L7h7TDypp4jEqKzPyepWO1rRusqci9nV-k4sPWb4H44DelpSkjmOBTm-IpCntavi-sMMqOHe5eckI7vhqAy5Ce-zC2M7kxVNSsG2XuEuR3O7RlHv756pzUE3m0_IxsVMUP9CIO1Llp87OTy1QjG7X5H6pG_og6lJcCGlzjOA/w640-h286/Fig.%20163%20Garden%20at%20The%20Cedars.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 107%;"> </span></span><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i> </i></span></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 107%;"><i>The Garden at The Cedars</i> oil on canvas c.1938 Photograph ©LissLlewellyn. Private collection</span></span></b></span><br /></div><div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>The Garden at The Cedars</i> might also be the continuation of <i>Florence Dunbar in the Garden at The Cedars</i>, indeed it might record the very next day. Spring has sprung, Florence has abandoned her plaid for her fork, and is getting on with her devotions. We see her again on the extreme right in <i>The Shed</i>, in early summer mode.</span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <br /></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioIi6QHCZ9Z7Jw2bvQlh1yEKFIox3qJ_qMJmtJpoTOma-np12O7Ejqu2z9Zo7qBMBOh1nm81cpiCBIdx9ScLcq_Z-sxq1NS8lSgPfeZ2RhmpX9FoBqp_Lud_0TkxvX6HcOgjJFQETWODxTyzFewQwQ7_4YSltlQsT96mO_mH_0NUN6guyoapUR-sigMg/s1995/evelyn-dunbar-shed-at-the-cedars.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="1995" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioIi6QHCZ9Z7Jw2bvQlh1yEKFIox3qJ_qMJmtJpoTOma-np12O7Ejqu2z9Zo7qBMBOh1nm81cpiCBIdx9ScLcq_Z-sxq1NS8lSgPfeZ2RhmpX9FoBqp_Lud_0TkxvX6HcOgjJFQETWODxTyzFewQwQ7_4YSltlQsT96mO_mH_0NUN6guyoapUR-sigMg/w400-h299/evelyn-dunbar-shed-at-the-cedars.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>The Shed</i> oil on canvas c.1937. Private collection</span></b></span><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">And we find her again in <i><a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2017/05/apple-blossom-at-cedars-19389.html" target="_blank">Apple Blossom at The Cedars</a></i>, still on the extreme right, still busy. (Follow the link for a fuller discussion.)</span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKztB3A93UU8qLmYncttsucS8-iuCdCs1splajadJkwke2gsoQZhK5XInqL1xiomHiBockK0MxdHRAFMKkPtdufRlOQ2jHJIvs5i3y3sNqtGJP9B2Ot5ttDn7cfYUWVfIFxKvBaXM5GQHfsWTzY1D31-GpVqasW1oqSC1Qsm4Ec_7Xi8WTxUeLIgLrrA/s768/Apple%20blossom%20at%20The%20Cedars.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="531" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKztB3A93UU8qLmYncttsucS8-iuCdCs1splajadJkwke2gsoQZhK5XInqL1xiomHiBockK0MxdHRAFMKkPtdufRlOQ2jHJIvs5i3y3sNqtGJP9B2Ot5ttDn7cfYUWVfIFxKvBaXM5GQHfsWTzY1D31-GpVqasW1oqSC1Qsm4Ec_7Xi8WTxUeLIgLrrA/w276-h400/Apple%20blossom%20at%20The%20Cedars.jpg" width="276" /></a></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b> </b></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><i>Apple Blossom at The Cedars</i> c.1939 Photograph Bert Janssen ©Christopher Campbell-Howes. Private collection.</b></span></span></span></span><br /></div></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">The most extensive of Evelyn's garden images is surely <i><a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2012/05/winter-garden.html" target="_blank">Winter Garden</a></i>, which I analysed (with some risk of repeat here) almost exactly 10 years ago. The orientation is such that she might have painted it sitting in the open doorway of <i>The Shed</i>. Everything is there - the buttressed brick wall, the diagonally-laid brick path-edgings, the neatly trimmed lawn, the apple trees and of course The Cedars with its tower in the distance. No human figures, though. All gardens have their own personality, not necessarily reflecting the people who created them. Maybe Evelyn's rendering of The Cedars garden captures its own personality, rather than that of the dedicated people who dressed it and kept it. <br /></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjYEypsxAVamvBEprGrcTC9gXg2SE_dKUlhfC2pNIZBRGiMhxYyhDcKWVXdorqpnt_g-UT78x0fDHM24sanDrviQH3cMICcanMpp8n0rbmXLINqM1ux2fMPZ1JRn7IrGiyrSTrs5xxAcGOrdmR7_wp1iqGdHrcyqjmXl_FjIRCEa4N9kPYXr8lGAHqbA/s3626/Winter%20Garden%20-%20Tate%20hr.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1181" data-original-width="3626" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjYEypsxAVamvBEprGrcTC9gXg2SE_dKUlhfC2pNIZBRGiMhxYyhDcKWVXdorqpnt_g-UT78x0fDHM24sanDrviQH3cMICcanMpp8n0rbmXLINqM1ux2fMPZ1JRn7IrGiyrSTrs5xxAcGOrdmR7_wp1iqGdHrcyqjmXl_FjIRCEa4N9kPYXr8lGAHqbA/w640-h208/Winter%20Garden%20-%20Tate%20hr.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b> </b></span></span><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><i>Winter Garden</i> 1927-38. Signed 'Evelyn Dunbar'. Purchased by the Tate from the artist in 1939. Photograph ©Tate, London 2016</b></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b> </b></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">And just as well. These images are the only records we have of it. The Cedars garden has disappeared. William Dunbar died in 1932, Alec Dunbar left home in 1936, Florence died in 1944. Evelyn left in 1945, to set up their first married home with her husband Roger Folley in Warwickshire. By the end of 1946 there was no longer a Dunbar presence at The Cedars. It was sold, and for a while became a hotel. In due course the garden ground was laid to rest beneath the foundations, drains and infrastructure of an overcrowded housing estate. The garden lives on only through Evelyn's images of it.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Warmest thanks to Paul Liss and Sarah Hill for their contributions. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2022.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /></p><div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #c00000; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 107%;">Further reading...<br /><br /></span></i></b></div>
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div></div>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-69929253418681139512022-03-05T08:00:00.104+00:002024-03-04T09:58:36.641+00:00Singling Turnips (1943)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgToMr8jR3QVLZWURwXAZUc2hzFuRrvz1svOTt5SKmHnO7nBSysj5XsYwA3grvlMvIrtCLUUnXGoL8xmcWixJ5PX4oEsBUyLRejSIPrbTyVHQyQq40mD2sSVDhROEXkjcNYsJFl6tbN0JLpPDqm3_GDh0Za-2FBux7-JSpc7bQPZ7uaG3Po3C0ZEw5LvQ=s469" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="469" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgToMr8jR3QVLZWURwXAZUc2hzFuRrvz1svOTt5SKmHnO7nBSysj5XsYwA3grvlMvIrtCLUUnXGoL8xmcWixJ5PX4oEsBUyLRejSIPrbTyVHQyQq40mD2sSVDhROEXkjcNYsJFl6tbN0JLpPDqm3_GDh0Za-2FBux7-JSpc7bQPZ7uaG3Po3C0ZEw5LvQ=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="color: #660000;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><i>Singling Turnips</i> 1943 Private collection Photo © Christopher Campbell-Howes</span></span></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There's a curious anomaly (and, later, a little surprise) about <i>Singling Turnips</i>. In the summer of 1940, Evelyn met Michael Greenhill, chief instructor at Sparsholt Farm Institute, near Winchester in Hampshire, where many Land Girls went for their training, and where Evelyn spent several wartime periods recording their activities. This first encounter resulted in <i>A Book of Farmcraft</i>, written by Greenhill, illustrated by Evelyn and published by Longmans the following year.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
Below is Evelyn's drawing from <i>A Book of Farmcraft</i> showing the right way and the wrong way to single, or thin out, plants, that is to hoe out surplus seedlings in order to leave space for those left to grow to their full size without being crowded, and for ease of weeding.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-size: small;"><b><span>Evelyn Dunbar: Illustration from <i>A Book of Farmcraft</i> (Longmans, London, 1942)</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If the correct method of singling, of team hoeing, is on the left in Evelyn's drawing, and the incorrect method is on the right, Evelyn has got it wrong and <i>Singling Turnips</i> (another candidate, by the way, for the most bizarre title for an Evelyn Dunbar painting) is the wrong way round. Michael Greenhill's recommendations in <i>A Book of Farmcraft</i> read:<br />
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif"><blockquote>In the diagram we show you the position which should be taken up by a gang of hoers. Notice how the first hoer in the RIGHT [i.e. correct] picture is working behind the second and the second behind the third. In this way Number One's weeds and discarded plants are not being thrown back on to the row which Number Two is singling, and so on. If the hoers work in a reverse position, as in the WRONG picture, each hoer is confused by the throw-outs of the man preceding him.</blockquote></span>
It's most improbable that Evelyn could have made such a technical mistake in <i>Singling Turnips</i> after having been so decided about the process in <i>A Book of Farmcraft</i>. Could there be other reasons for her to have painted it as she did?<br />
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I think there are, and I think it's to do with impact. Evelyn has come up with, yet again, a stunning design, one that seems to me to be trying to burst out of its frame. This is an immense field of turnips, the ridges disappear to a vanishing point somewhere over the horizon, as though to suggest, as Evelyn so often reminds us, that there are no limits to the earth's abundance if mankind, here significantly represented by womankind, keeps the bargain of the Covenant. The central ridges sweep forward out of the far distance to frame, define and emphasise these Land Girls and their extraordinarily intensive labour. They could hardly be more closely involved with the soil than if they went on hands and knees thinning manually.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When fully grown the turnips will be harvested, stored in clamps and used for animal feed over the winter. (Turnips for human consumption, smaller and tastier, will have a much shorter growing season.) Turnip seed is minute. It's practically impossible to sow the seeds individually, so they're sown in ridges by seed-drill. So far, so mechanical. A few weeks after sowing the seedlings will have grown in profusion, and so will the weeds. Left to themselves, the turnip seedlings, already overcrowded, will be choked with weeds. At this point they have to be thinned - 'singled' in Evelyn's title - leaving one seedling every 9 inches (23cm) or so. <br />
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There's no mechanical way of singling, or at least there wasn't in the 1940s, so it has to be done by hand, a task at least as unpopular as the back-breaking picking of Brussels sprouts featured in <a href="http://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.fr/2012/09/sprout-picking-monmouthshire-1943.html"><i>Sprout Picking, Monmouthshire</i></a>. The turnips here, grown for winter animal feed on the limitless scale Evelyn's painting suggests, will have been sown in early spring. They have 7-8 weeks' growth on them, indicating that these Land Girls are working in early May, which ties in with what we know of Evelyn's movements in 1943. The women have their sleeves rolled up, maybe a suggestion of determination to get on with the job and stick at it until it's finished. There's possibly a stiffish breeze blowing. They've all got some form of headgear: the foremost is wearing a snood of the type popular in the earlier 1940s, thought by some to be a symbol of commitment to the war effort; the other three are wearing headscarves, one with the end of the tie blowing in the wind, like the flap of the coat which the foremost Land Girl has knotted by the sleeves round her waist. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">A little surprise? As frequently happens with Evelyn's war paintings, there's an obscure secondary commentary: what does she mean by the line of ten people at least - the line appears to extend over and beyond the right-hand horizon - all apparently singling? Who are they? Are they as limitless as the field itself? They seem to be men: where on earth were farm labour gangs available from in 1943, at a time of universal male conscription? <br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">And of course there was an ever-growing source of such labour, an apparently never-ending supply of fit young men available for employment for such hands-on tasks as singling. Is this Evelyn's comment on the progress of the war that is slowly being won? The men in her line are far from home, they've come from North Africa, they're prisoners of war, they're Germans from Rommel's <i>Afrika Korps</i> or their Italian allies, captured by Montgomery's Eighth Army and transferred to prisoner-of-war camps in Britain. There were several prisoner-of-war camps in the Borders: as it happens, there was just such a camp, mainly for Italian prisoners-of-war, at Wooler, a small town in Northumberland a few miles south of the Tweed. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Their inclusion is surely a matter of balance in an picture with which I think Evelyn had problems, or she wouldn't have played fast and loose with the accepted singling practice: the prisoners of war - all trustworthy volunteers, incidentally, who were paid a small amount by the day - define the depth of the canvas and the sense of vastness of the field. But that's not all. Evelyn has another point to make, and a bold one, especially in wartime: according to her beliefs, the land and its produce is guaranteed to anyone, friend, foe, woman, man, Briton, German, Italian, who engages to look after it with industry, intelligence and love; nature is indiscriminate in such matters. <br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Singling Turnips</i> is the fourth of a set of paintings set in the Borders, either Northumberland or Berwickshire, which Evelyn completed after her 1943 stay in a rented cottage near Greenlaw, close to RAF Charter Hall, where her husband Roger Folley was undergoing the final stages of his night-fighter navigation training. (The others in this group are <i>Potato Sorting, Berwick</i>, <i>Women's Land Army Hostel</i> and<i> Land Army Girls Going to Bed</i>.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The back of <i>Singling Turnips</i> shows, very faintly, Evelyn's name and address in her own handwriting on the frame. The title has been added by another hand. The upper canvas overlap seems of very indifferent quality: at some time earlier she had complained of the difficulty of obtaining good materials. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="color: #660000;"><span>Back of Evelyn Dunbar <i>Singling Turnips</i> (1944?) Photo © Christopher Campbell-Howes</span></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">After 1945, in a general distribution of its war art following the dissolution of the War Artists' Advisory Committee, <i>Singling Turnips</i> was acquired by the Government of Australia. After many years of exhibition in Castlemaine and Bendigo Art Galleries it was decommissioned and sold. I wonder if Castlemaine and Bendigo Art Galleries really knew what <i>Singling Turnips</i> was about?<br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am very grateful to <a href="http://www.englandgallery.com/about.htm">Jane England </a>for help with this commentary and to Carol Whinnom, of Berwick Museum and Art Gallery, for her contribution.</span><br /></div>
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(Original text © Christopher Campbell-Howes 2012 and 2022. All rights reserved.)<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #c00000; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 107%;">Further reading...<br /><br /></span></i></b></div>
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div>
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<br />Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-75766010511864516472022-02-28T10:30:00.000+00:002022-02-28T11:26:16.606+00:00Some self-portraits, 1922-1958<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z0QyZ8NEGsc/WRQ0hnOL6WI/AAAAAAAACm4/D-kRTCMP7zsdlq_y5-o7BEJgi2JV7KcXgCLcB/s1600/Fig.%2B1%2BSelf-portrait%2B%2528Frontispiece%2529.jpg.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z0QyZ8NEGsc/WRQ0hnOL6WI/AAAAAAAACm4/D-kRTCMP7zsdlq_y5-o7BEJgi2JV7KcXgCLcB/s640/Fig.%2B1%2BSelf-portrait%2B%2528Frontispiece%2529.jpg.jpg" width="380" /></a></div>
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<![endif]--><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Self-portrait 1958 Oil on canvas (1'8" x 12": 49.5 x
29.4cm) Photograph: Petra van der Wal ©Christopher Campbell-Howes. Private collection.</span></span></span></b></span></div>
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<span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;"><span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: x-small;"><span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">There's often a slight mystery about artists' self-portraits. Something undefinable, something not quite right about the sitter, especially if you've known him or her personally. It may take a little time before it clicks, like an optical illusion falling into place. In Evelyn's case above, painted when she was a little over 50, she has dressed maybe a little less informally than she would have done for a day to be spent in her studio, but all the same there's something not quite faithful to Evelyn's image. For one thing, the balance and ensemble of her facial features - no one's face is exactly symmetrical - has been changed. Nor was she left-handed. The explanation is simple. Evelyn is painting what she sees in the full length mirror she has brought into her studio. Left and right are reversed.</span></div>
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<span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">Evelyn is in her new studio. In the autumn of 1958 she and her husband Roger Folley moved into Staple Farm, a farmhouse on the west-facing slopes of the North Downs near Hastingleigh, a village some miles south of Canterbury. She has not long moved in. There have been alterations, among them the addition of an upstairs studio, the first more than makeshift studio she has had since 1945. (How ironic that she should have only 18 months to enjoy it: she died in May 1960.) In a sense she is christening her studio with a self-portrait, the first for many years. In her youth she made several, but she lost the habit after leaving the Royal College of Art in 1933.</span></div>
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<span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">As always composition is paramount. Her image is based on an isosceles triangle which rises from a slew of legs - nine altogether, hers, the stool's and the easel's - to direct us to the head and the eye and the imagination of this remarkable artist.</span></div>
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<span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">Evelyn's first known self-portrait, with the same mirror-image reversal, dates from 1922, when she was 15. Here, among her palette and easel, she is maybe dreaming of her future as an artist. Her hand is extraordinarily assured for a 15-year-old.</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Shqf0c2q31g/WRRFCSCyBmI/AAAAAAAACnI/kRquHNhh7tUv-4oqQsn1Y9YmIE4KKBC6gCLcB/s1600/Fig.%2B40%2BSelf-portrait%2B1922.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Shqf0c2q31g/WRRFCSCyBmI/AAAAAAAACnI/kRquHNhh7tUv-4oqQsn1Y9YmIE4KKBC6gCLcB/s400/Fig.%2B40%2BSelf-portrait%2B1922.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Self-portrait 1922 Pencil. Ashmolean Museum, Oxford</span></span></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">Evelyn was in her late teens when she produced a self-portrait in a different vein:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KO_MHacA2pU/WRRTAJuXczI/AAAAAAAACnk/9zv0ZxhPyG4xPGYbJp-lvxR3USzsC8qdgCLcB/s1600/Fig.%2B37%2BSelf-portrait%2Bwith%2Bbanjolele.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KO_MHacA2pU/WRRTAJuXczI/AAAAAAAACnk/9zv0ZxhPyG4xPGYbJp-lvxR3USzsC8qdgCLcB/s640/Fig.%2B37%2BSelf-portrait%2Bwith%2Bbanjolele.jpg" width="370" /></a></span></div>
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<![endif]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> <span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span>'<i>Girl
with banjo</i>': self-portrait playing the banjolele c.1925 Water-colour and charcoal Photograph ©Christopher Campbell-Howes.
Private collection.</span></span></b></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;">
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<span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;"><span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span>This probably refers to the housewarming party the Dunbar family gave to celebrate William Dunbar's (Evelyn's father) purchase of The Cedars, the family house in Strood. Two at least of the five Dunbar siblings played in a band for the occasion, Evelyn on banjolele (a cross between banjo and ukulele) and her older sister Marjorie on piano. Studies survive of several other band members, including a violinist and a concertina player. Here is Evelyn, who had a wide repertoire of the dance tunes and popular songs of the day, in full exuberance with the Charleston or Foxtrot or the Black Bottom, complete with period kiss curl. What fun.</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span>At 21 she produced one of the very few female nude self-portraits in the history of art. At the time she was casting about for an art college to suit her, having had one or two false starts and subsequent drop-outs in Rochester and Chelsea. In 1929 she won an exhibition to the Royal College of Art, but it's unlikely that she submitted this self-portrait as part of her entry application portfolio.</span></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;">
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<![endif]--><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Nude self-portrait Pencil and water-colour 1928
Inscribed '<s>May</s> June/28' Photograph: Petra van der Wal ©<a href="http://www.lissfineart.com/"> Liss LlewellynFine Art</a>. Private collection.</span></span></b></span></div><span style="color: #741b47;"><b>
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<span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">We assume that this delicate water-colour is indeed a self-portrait because the inscription is in Evelyn's handwriting at that period, because she kept it all her life and because the provenance is impeccable. The modest <i>rondeurs</i> and texture of the buttocks are echoed in several mid-1930s letters to her fellow-artist and lover Charles Mahoney, who compared this feature to a peach, and vice versa. It came to light in a portfolio of other juvenilia - she was 21, nevertheless - in 2013, bundled up separately from the substantial quantity of Royal College of Art life school studies from a year or two later. Why did she paint it? In the summer of 1928 she was living at home, writing and illustrating children's books, not having found much satisfaction in the art college courses she had abandoned. In the absence of life classes, and maybe conscious of the louche reputation sometimes attaching itself to models, did Evelyn try to explore one of the great imperatives of figure drawing unofficially, in the comfort of her own bedroom? Perhaps we should ask no further questions, but simply enjoy this delicate water-colour essay into the nude with the subtly tinted flesh of an attractive 21-year-old woman.</span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgT6CzxIK_sVOb-S2T0dmXBBxkNlhyKHh2AquatWbCErUjn9yNKMMzagCku_IecPKKcH2OQP9OX5OMFR-egDzkmx7YLd8eaycBSQQjnhtWMErgRrUGp9cimpWlYqSqYRBGXyn4Kdl_iGLPFDwXCqVfu8k8lcNWDlkUQz51RpwD6ZQADnVOr75NNTpN08Q=s2000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgT6CzxIK_sVOb-S2T0dmXBBxkNlhyKHh2AquatWbCErUjn9yNKMMzagCku_IecPKKcH2OQP9OX5OMFR-egDzkmx7YLd8eaycBSQQjnhtWMErgRrUGp9cimpWlYqSqYRBGXyn4Kdl_iGLPFDwXCqVfu8k8lcNWDlkUQz51RpwD6ZQADnVOr75NNTpN08Q=w256-h400" width="256" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b>Self portrait, c.1927 oil on canvas board. Photograph ©Liss Llewellyn</b></span><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: large;">Here is Evelyn in her early 20s, at her easel, carefully observing herself in a mirror. Her floppy hat adds a hint of Bohemian style to her otherwise earnest expression. As the artist Tom Phillips noted, 'If self-portraits have a tendency to look glum it should not be surprising. As Rembrandt discovered, it is difficult to laugh and paint at the same time: the laugh or smile is acted and the eyes fail to join in, being themselves otherwise engaged.' As mentioned above the other dilemma is (since a mirror in usually involved) that the image an artist makes is the wrong way round.</span><br /></span></div>
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<span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">Finally, from 1930 comes this rather severe self-portrait, in all probability submitted to her Royal College of Art tutors as part of a mid-course portfolio. Evelyn has grown up.</span></div>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
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Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
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Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 5"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]--><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10pt;"> <span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">'<i>Self
Portrait Drawing</i>' Watercolour, damaged with orange/brown stain. ?1930
(22" x 15": 56 x 38cm) Photograph: ©Christopher Campbell-Howes. Private collection.</span></span></b></span></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Many thanks to Paul Liss for his contribution to this essay.</span><br />
<br />
Text ©Christopher Campbell-Howes 2022<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #c00000; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 107%;">Further reading...<br /><br /></span></i></b></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tqrybpc2n4Y/WHpnQuyuPRI/AAAAAAAACik/5yAzmUHHi8cM75Yx83WPo3m_dyQQNo7cgCLcB/s1600/ED%2BCOVER.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tqrybpc2n4Y/WHpnQuyuPRI/AAAAAAAACik/5yAzmUHHi8cM75Yx83WPo3m_dyQQNo7cgCLcB/s320/ED%2BCOVER.jpg" width="236" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>
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Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-89103171069818639572022-02-27T09:41:00.003+00:002022-07-15T17:17:37.474+01:00The Cedars and its Garden Part 1 (1924-46)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_ABq4ZyS3dXI0LHsyZRRFVw9THZb4R-N4N5F3X1jlGT3zu7zsX1sjpHpZjGn76Iz-894WYg5aH_Iz4eRwC33DkeIgIaZttG7oU_vfK_iTJo9FGQmuTPkcUX8vb6fOxt9SqkXrmzr1KiNmbDGh64Ohr2C3DBrykrsZGRtyCMoikg1-ITUfrVj6nSLOpQ=s3540" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3540" data-original-width="2850" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_ABq4ZyS3dXI0LHsyZRRFVw9THZb4R-N4N5F3X1jlGT3zu7zsX1sjpHpZjGn76Iz-894WYg5aH_Iz4eRwC33DkeIgIaZttG7oU_vfK_iTJo9FGQmuTPkcUX8vb6fOxt9SqkXrmzr1KiNmbDGh64Ohr2C3DBrykrsZGRtyCMoikg1-ITUfrVj6nSLOpQ=w323-h400" width="323" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>The Cedars</i> Oil on canvas c.1924 Photograph ©<a href="https://lissllewellyn.com/">Liss Llewellyn</a>. Private collection</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;"><b> </b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span>This is The Cedars, the Dunbar family home from 1924-46, most likely painted when Evelyn was 17. It's maybe not the most engaging painting to emerge from her juvenile studio, even from one who never showed much interest in painting buildings for their own sake, but it's an honest and workaday account of her new home. She kept it for the rest of her life, the only formal painting of any house she ever lived in. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span> </span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgwnOpDw7wqm1L0FkA54MvoUdX19Fk0oO0b_zeL69OYjwr4kznGxH6NxmjLBgC5SeNa7MMO7W8i-uK76fgJfC0aTYIC-XJ7-RkQJ7tCvF7zRX4n4r__JhRt4WzxkspxZndywuKc0kXdGWEe84e2TEQdqQRN0hrvdURG6Ie0igpduokM-mxKguoAK6XeRQ=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgwnOpDw7wqm1L0FkA54MvoUdX19Fk0oO0b_zeL69OYjwr4kznGxH6NxmjLBgC5SeNa7MMO7W8i-uK76fgJfC0aTYIC-XJ7-RkQJ7tCvF7zRX4n4r__JhRt4WzxkspxZndywuKc0kXdGWEe84e2TEQdqQRN0hrvdURG6Ie0igpduokM-mxKguoAK6XeRQ=w200-h150" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span> </span></span></span><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span><b><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Cedars, surely photographed some years before the exterior embellishments in Evelyn's rendering above.</span></span></b></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span> T</span></span></span>he Cedars stood - and still stands - on rising ground in Strood, westernmost of the Medway Towns, across the river from Rochester. It was built some time after 1860 on the site of a windmill. </span></span></span><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span>Evelyn's
father William Dunbar bought it in 1924 for £1800, a knockdown price,
according to Alec Dunbar, which equates roughly to £110,000 today. Alec,
the younger of Evelyn's two brothers, recorded this and other early
insights into the Dunbar family in a racily breathless manuscript memoir
entitled <i>Never a Dull Moment</i>.</span></span></span></span></span></span> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span>The tower, and the possibility of converting it into a studio, initially for his wife Florence and in due course for Evelyn, was probably a powerful factor in William Dunbar's decision to buy the property. It was high time: Florence's studio, improvised in the 'snug', a sort of fore-kitchen in the previous family house at 244, High Street, Rochester, was hardly conducive to serious painting, as an early drawing of Evelyn's shows:</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhd4Kxk4OOlbiFHbzDR6hlz4dJ2lHPHcuFvxEVMaiIGzpDh18t5j2wMvF9VMWBoluSDMsQQJ-Dl2H7ukv4EWjxphhGnDdX7kKgu_yLL0Adj9vi9aH28bI1P52rDzecM9xdEAjvarvttSepCaQR1gUZeLhHDoPlxv29HLCtGQ58j8DdhalBPsDFO45X-eg=s200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="198" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhd4Kxk4OOlbiFHbzDR6hlz4dJ2lHPHcuFvxEVMaiIGzpDh18t5j2wMvF9VMWBoluSDMsQQJ-Dl2H7ukv4EWjxphhGnDdX7kKgu_yLL0Adj9vi9aH28bI1P52rDzecM9xdEAjvarvttSepCaQR1gUZeLhHDoPlxv29HLCtGQ58j8DdhalBPsDFO45X-eg=w198-h200" width="198" /></a></div><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><i>The Artist and her Mother in the 'Snug'</i> c.1922 pen and ink on paper Photograph ©<a href="https://lissllewellyn.com/">LissLlewellyn</a></span></b></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It's difficult to gauge the 'feel' of the interior of The Cedars from Evelyn's brush or pencil. She was never very interested in interiors. The people in them, yes, certainly, but rarely do we have an interior for its own sake. Our closest glimpse inside The Cedars comes perhaps in <a href="https://www.blogger.com/#">A Knitting Party</a>, a 1940 painting for the War Artists' Advisory Committee, and even then Evelyn has enlarged the room with non-existent walls and bays in order to cram all the knitters in without jeopardising the balance of the painting.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWdQVM43lobpnVXUqYD1uqYHYHob8VN7u0pCBY80gBNxUTj2kWEpBkQWLIEUdyubnpJhDg-16KqYS2I5SSLzdOOtqVTz-M_DuT7O3XagvHzqLDLJJb0hMAvHZA8YZ4eMROm-_qPEd4osEWiZF5cH9uNdDvd1466WVsKRJYCMiQmWCyaR6OqmHCi-4QTw=s1200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1086" data-original-width="1200" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWdQVM43lobpnVXUqYD1uqYHYHob8VN7u0pCBY80gBNxUTj2kWEpBkQWLIEUdyubnpJhDg-16KqYS2I5SSLzdOOtqVTz-M_DuT7O3XagvHzqLDLJJb0hMAvHZA8YZ4eMROm-_qPEd4osEWiZF5cH9uNdDvd1466WVsKRJYCMiQmWCyaR6OqmHCi-4QTw=s320" width="320" /></a></div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>A Knitting Party</i> 1940 oil on canvas Imperial War Museum</span></span></b></span><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Occasional images amplify the interior of The Cedars, but so little that I hesitate to include any. Here are two of several:<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyYF1TTCqsRVd1eXQPzxYA_Uc9_4BJNHSUQkbF7_9espjev4URE2O5xaf0KkWhT71oiMbjcxijnvzQGgKayhYk65FyohqEFmdzNY2iNLnzdUyUfIJ28z8jhlTgX5rZkrp2sC-D8Bu0mA6hA8bsOoVdmO0dPmaXWyUZ0-0FT9214aaKjlWxA3vLPvde_A=s2941" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1949" data-original-width="2941" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyYF1TTCqsRVd1eXQPzxYA_Uc9_4BJNHSUQkbF7_9espjev4URE2O5xaf0KkWhT71oiMbjcxijnvzQGgKayhYk65FyohqEFmdzNY2iNLnzdUyUfIJ28z8jhlTgX5rZkrp2sC-D8Bu0mA6hA8bsOoVdmO0dPmaXWyUZ0-0FT9214aaKjlWxA3vLPvde_A=s320" width="320" /></a></div></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"> <i>Interior at The Cedars</i> c. 1925 pen, ink and wash. Photograph©Liss Llewellyn</span></b></span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjMMrznF-VnTSHAQyIFFE4DAohzDs6Y1kG6JGx2QKNQeH3QBJz1Vad3Kzg98ICi7Ifb_9-ZWFNP6A4oJUX01fecTU7yhJDrxRzDPlwQ-besgZBhwx6wLbciyaHlpbxevxIHxOV98U1SlpHMltSfM4jjWl5pOC2v8C_tQO0ZefhLldVE74ulEfMRgPxqcQ=s200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="156" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjMMrznF-VnTSHAQyIFFE4DAohzDs6Y1kG6JGx2QKNQeH3QBJz1Vad3Kzg98ICi7Ifb_9-ZWFNP6A4oJUX01fecTU7yhJDrxRzDPlwQ-besgZBhwx6wLbciyaHlpbxevxIHxOV98U1SlpHMltSfM4jjWl5pOC2v8C_tQO0ZefhLldVE74ulEfMRgPxqcQ=w250-h320" width="250" /></a></div></span></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span><span><i>The Conservatory at The Cedars</i> c.1929 water colour. Photograph©Liss Llewellyn</span></span></span></b></span><br /></div></div><div><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sharp-eyed Dunbar aficionados may recognise this as the setting for Evelyn's 1930 <i><a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2017/05/study-for-decoration-flight-1930.html" target="_blank">Sketch for Decoration: Flight</a> </i>now (with the addition of Jessie Dunbar playing solo badminton) in Tate Britain.<br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">* * * <br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">William Dunbar died aged 70 in 1932. The rest of the family continued to live there until Alec left on his marriage in 1936. Florence died in 1944, Evelyn, the youngest of the siblings, left to live in Warwickshire with her husband Roger Folley in 1945. The three survivors, Ronald, Jessie and Marjorie, all unmarried, sold The Cedars in 1946 and went to live across the river in nearby Rochester.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">For a while, and before it was converted into flats, The Cedars became a hotel, and indeed for a long time afterwards an exterior bracket lamp, visible from the road outside, carried - and maybe still carries - the legend 'The Cedars Hotel', the only remaining glimpse into its past.</span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As for the garden, not the slightest trace remains. It was laid to rest beneath the foundations, drains and infrastructure of an overcrowded, cheek-by-jowl housing estate. It only lives on through Evelyn's images of it, subject of the next post in this series.<br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span><br /><div><div style="text-align: justify;">
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(Text © Christopher Campbell-Howes 2019. All rights reserved.) </div>
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>
</div></div></div>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1862227915870262056.post-61779375646235388082022-02-26T09:23:00.008+00:002023-11-12T17:13:55.963+00:00Land Army Girls going to Bed & Women's Land Army Hostel (1943)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O1W_n27EzsM/UKIXRLG-9NI/AAAAAAAABnY/JfOK8LYyS1w/s1600/evelyn-dunbar-land-army-girls-going-to-bed1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O1W_n27EzsM/UKIXRLG-9NI/AAAAAAAABnY/JfOK8LYyS1w/w400-h264/evelyn-dunbar-land-army-girls-going-to-bed1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div> <span style="color: #660000; font-size: small;"><b><span><i>Land Army Girls going to Bed</i> 1943 (1'8" x 2' 6": 51 x 76cm) Imperial War Museum, London</span></b></span></div><span style="font-size: small;">
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<span style="color: #660000; font-size: small;"><b><span><i>Women's Land Army Hostel</i> 1943 (9" x 9": 22.5 x 22.5cm) Russell-Cotes Art Gallery and Museum, Bournemouth</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">In the spring of 1943 Roger Folley, Evelyn's husband, was posted for training in night navigation and the use of in-flight radar to RAF Charterhall, in Berwickshire, Scotland. As usual Evelyn did her best to follow his postings, and for a few May weeks they lived in a rented cottage on a farm called Edington Mains, near the Borders village of Greenlaw. (The farmer's name was Clark: his son James, then a 7-year-old known as Jim, was later to win two World Formula 1 championships.)<br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Four Women's Land Army paintings ensued from Evelyn's stay in the Borders. Two are exteriors: <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2012/11/potato-sorting-berwick-1943.html"><i>Potato Sorting, Berwick</i></a> and <a href="https://evelyn-dunbar.blogspot.com/2012/11/singling-turnips-1944.html"><i>Singling Turnips</i></a>. The two interiors above are set just south of the Border: Of the two above, <i>Land Army Girls going to Bed</i> is probably set in Surrey House, near Wooler, and <i>Women's Land Army Hostel</i> is very likely to have been set in a purpose-built hostel (now the youth hostel) in Wooler. These interiors are unusual in that they show Land Girls off duty and not actually engaged in agricultural activities.<br />
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Before setting off for the Borders Evelyn had contacted the secretary of the Northumberland branch of the Women's Land Army, via Lady Gertrude Denham, Director of the WLA.. Evelyn was warmly welcomed, according to a letter she wrote to Elmslie Owen, secretary of the War Artists' Advisory Committee: 'She [the Northumberland secretary] was very pleased to hear that I thought of going there, some of the best work is apparently done up there, and people hear and see little of it.' It's maybe a little ironic that the paintings shown here should be of Land Girls preparing to sleep or eat, but in fact the other two of the Borders quartet, <i>Potato Sorting, Berwick</i> and <i>Singling Turnips</i> show them engaged in uncomfortable and demanding work.<br />
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Having been given her credentials, Evelyn settled down to sketch and paint them. Who were these Land Girls?<br />
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By 1943, when Evelyn was painting these pictures, the Women's Land Army had largely overcome the strong opposition to employing Land Girls initially voiced by many farmers. Founded by Lady Denman in 1938 as war clouds gathered on the horizon, and based on a similar organisation in the 1914-18 war, the Women's Land Army gathered strength as the war progressed. There are many individual memoirs of service in the WLA, and Dr Gill Clarke, also Evelyn's biographer, has written a concise and readable account of it in her <i>The Women's Land Army: A Portrait</i> <span style="color: black;"></span>(Sansom & Co., Bristol, 2008).<br />
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At first the WLA was staffed by volunteers, but by December 1941 the shortage of manpower led the UK Government to conscript women. To be accepted for the WLA recruits had to be between 17 and 40, to be strong and healthy, fond of country life, not afraid of hard work, and prepared to serve for the duration of the war wherever they might be posted.<br />
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They came from all backgrounds, Wales, Scotland, Northern Ireland and England, rural and urban, and from all levels of a British society maybe more, or at least differently, class-stratified than today. Gill Clarke quotes Vita Sackville-West's (an acquaintance of Evelyn in her later years) account of the background of recuits: 'She has been a shop assistant, a manicurist, a hair-dresser, a short-hand typist, a ballet-dancer, a milliner, a mannequin, a saleswoman, an insurance clerk...' <br />
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Their first names, all taken from the many former Land Girls who have recorded their experiences, give a sense of period: there are Gwens, Sheilas, Dorothys, Margarets, Joys and Joyces, Eileens, Audreys, Clarices, Muriels, Fredas, Maureens, Gladyses, Doreens, Queenies, Irises and Graces, Veras and Hildas. This isn't the place to discuss the outcomes of the social mixing the WLA gave rise to, and the affirmation by the WLA - and other organisations like the Auxiliary Territorial Service (ATS, the women's branch of the British army) and the Women's Royal Naval Service (WRNS) - of the future place of women in British society would be a digression from Evelyn's painting. Even so, some months after Evelyn's Border expedition, she was commissioned to record the activities of the Women's Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF).<br />
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The majority of Land Girls lived in purpose-built hostels, otherwise large country houses put at their disposal for the duration of the war. Evelyn has chosen a bedroom probably on the first floor - note the size of the window - of a Northumberland country house for <i>Land Army Girls going to Bed</i>, a room spacious enough for at least 4 bunk beds. There's a girls' dormitory atmosphere about it - at least, I suppose so: I have to declare a working ignorance of girls' dormitories. As in several of her interiors it's difficult to work out exactly where Evelyn has placed herself to record this scene and make it into a viable and striking composition. <br />
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Many viewers will have problems with the perspective, and as many will say that it's mere cavilling to observe that the lower of the left-hand bunks doesn't match the one above it; and the joint between the foot and the side rail is conveniently obscured by what some might call a chairdrobe, hung with a pair of shoulder-strapped regulation khaki dungarees and a camisole. There's another possibility: has there been some larking about? Has Evelyn deliberately hidden the wonky joint, because in an access of high spirits one of the Land Girls shown here has bust it by jumping on it? Has Evelyn been sworn not to tell? <br />
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Never mind, there are other unsuspected accuracies. These hostels were very strictly run, with a curfew requiring Land Girls to be indoors by 10pm. Presumably, then, this scene must be taking place after curfew, say 10.30-11.00pm. But it's still light: how can this be, even allowing for the fact that the further north you go in the summer months, the shorter the nights become? In order to tally with what we know of Evelyn's movements in the Borders, the month is probably May, 1943. Suddenly the light dawns: throughout the war years Double British Summer Time was in operation, and the time by the clock is two hours in advance of Greenwich Mean Time. What is 8.30pm by the sun is 10.30pm by Big Ben and the hostel clock.<br />
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No one has drawn the curtains, so presumably the bedroom isn't overlooked. Corner posts are hung with greatcoats, maybe a reminder that summer hasn't entirely arrived and that on the East Coast the wind coming in off the sea can be cruel, even in spring. Draw-string bags slung from the bed posts presumably hold shoes. The girl in the lower bunk is applying cold cream to her face, a common practice at the time, before settling down.</span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The exact centre of the painting is occupied by a pair of fleece-lined slippers, and this is curious: Evelyn herself often wore slippers just of this type. I'm not of course suggesting that it's deliberate, but bedroom slippers also lead us, with Evelyn's usual left-to-right directionality, into <i>Women's Land Army Hostel</i>. Worn by the Land Girl at the end of the canteen queue, they're bright blue, and this little painting, only 9" by 9", is possibly the most colourful of all Evelyn's WAAC paintings. She evokes a most lively sense of cheerfulness and camaraderie. The Land Girls, queueing for their evening meal, are not long off duty: few, if any, have changed out of their working uniform, although we can imagine a back room somewhere full of muddy boots. The supply of full Women's Land Army uniform was notoriously erratic, and many of the girls here have improvised their own tops, which adds to the colour, along with the peonies on top of the radio (almost universally called the wireless in 1943) in the top left hand corner.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
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It doesn't take much imagination to hear the surround sound, the chatter, the laughter, the retelling of the day's events, the clatter from the kitchen, the banter between Land Girls and canteen staff as they dish up what appears to be a staple of canteen food, sausage and mashed potatoes. Or it might be another standby, spam fritters, slices of supposedly pork luncheon meat fried in its own fat. Nor should we forget the horseshoe, hung from the ceiling at an angle, so that the luck it's supposed to hold doesn't spill out.<br /></span>
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Given my occasional attempts in these commentaries to associate, rightly or wrongly, Evelyn's war paintings with the progress of the war, it's not hard to link the ambience of <i>Women's Land Army Hostel</i> with what was going on in the wider world. Within the tumultuous week May 12th - 19th, 1943, the famous RAF Dambusters raid had taken place, destroying the water supply to Germany's industrial heartland, the Ruhr. The surrender of 150,000 German and Italian troops in Tunisia marked the end of the North African campaign. The encouraging end-of-the-month statistics of merchant ship losses showed the U-boat menace was being mastered. In a wary and circumspect way, there was much to be cheerful about.</span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">
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</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Many thanks to Carol Whinnom, of Berwick Museum and Art Gallery, for her help.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><br /></div>
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(Text © Christopher Campbell-Howes 2022. All rights reserved.)<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tqrybpc2n4Y/WHpnQuyuPRI/AAAAAAAACik/5yAzmUHHi8cM75Yx83WPo3m_dyQQNo7cgCLcB/s1600/ED%2BCOVER.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tqrybpc2n4Y/WHpnQuyuPRI/AAAAAAAACik/5yAzmUHHi8cM75Yx83WPo3m_dyQQNo7cgCLcB/s320/ED%2BCOVER.jpg" width="236" /></a></div>
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<b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #c00000; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">EVELYN DUNBAR : A
LIFE IN PAINTING <br /></span></b><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">by Christopher Campbell-Howes<br /><br />
is available to order online from:</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.casematepublishing.co.uk/index.php/evelyn-dunbar-10523.html" target="_blank">Casemate Publishing</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Evelyn-Dunbar-Painting-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evelyn-Rosanna-Eckersley-Christopher-Campbell-Howes/dp/152620584X/" target="_blank">Amazon US</a><br /></span></b><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br />
448 pages, 301 illustrations. RRP £30</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="color: #385723; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>
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</div></div></div>Christopherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14227767014123557100noreply@blogger.com0