Edmund Ashfield (1640-1678)

I’m always looking to add new names to my list of 17th century artists, so I was particularly excited to stumble across the works of Edmund Ashfield, a late 17th century talent who, unusually, did not have paint-stained fingers like most of his contemporaries, but specialised in portraits using pastels.

Edmund Ashfield Charles II

This beautiful picture of King Charles II was completed on paper over canvas, somewhere around 1675. The quality of the execution is such that, on first glance, the viewer could easily believe this to be a painted work by an artist with access to the King himself, or at the very least high quality images of him (in this case, by Peter Lely).

It would seem that Ashfield did indeed have a reach other artists might not, having allegedly worked in the studio of the painter John Michael Wright, and later operating from his own studio near the home of the restorer of the King’s Pictures, who may have been his way in to viewing the Royal Collection.

More on the above portrait can be found here.  If you’re interested in Ashfield himself, read this blog entry by art historian Neil Jeffares, who has conducted extensive research into the pastellist and his origins.

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Anne Killigrew Discovery

Readers may remember an entry from 2016 about the remarkable Anne Killigrew, one of several members of a successful 17th century family that were, among other things, courtiers, dramatists, poets and artists during the reigns of both Charles I and Charles II.

At a time when autonomy and independence for women was still a rare and suspiciously-received aspiration, nevertheless several names have come down through the centuries as females who refused to yield to accepted conventions, and carved their own path as cultured, educated and talented women in their own right.

Anne Killigrew was one such pioneer, remembered as a poet, artist and, most importantly for us, a portraitist. Very few of her paintings are known to survive, and we looked at them in the earlier post, but a previously unknown work has come to light after it was identified last year in a minor Italian auction.

Anne Killigrew new

Labelled “Portrait of a Lady”, and thought likely to be the artist herself, this lovely picture was apparently painted in the 1680s, shortly before she died of smallpox in 1685.  It’s a fascinating composition, from the bare foot peeking out from under her dress, to the tilted urn full of fruit, and the tiny (tiny!) little dog almost hidden beneath her right knee.

I can’t help but contrast this with other British portraits of women from the mid to late 17th century, in particular, and most obviously, with those of the superstar court painter of the age, Sir Peter Lely. Most of us will have seen at least a few of Lely’s ‘Painted Ladies’, and will recognise the standard look of the women he captured on canvas: the loose, low-cut gowns that often left little to the imagination, the rich, shimmering silks, and the trademark sultry expressions. While beautifully produced, they can often appear formulaic and by rote, beautiful women painted to a specific and rather repetitive order. This is understandable, given that Lely was painting for the court of King Charles II, a man notorious for his pursuit of the fairer sex, and a man who would hardly have wanted warts-and-all likenesses in his royal apartments.

Our sitter here is quite different. She still wears beautiful drapery, and her expression challenges the viewer as much as Lely’s ladies’ do, but here, Anne (if it is indeed her) is no mistress or sultry courtier. She seems demure to the point of boredom, sitting in an unidentified, allegorical landscape, with a slim, boyish figure one imagines Lely would certainly have enhanced with extra curves in the most strategic of places.

Is this really how she looked? Was she aiming for a more ‘real’, less fantastical, idealised image of herself than a man such as Lely would have painted? Her scenery is fantasy,  yes, but was the likeness her true self, or was it how she wanted or believed herself to be? It’s a shame there are so few surviving paintings from the time, of women, by women, as we could learn much about the public and private attitudes surrounding the female image as interpreted by women themselves. Most of what remains is by men, giving unequal emphasis on the male viewpoint, as was ever the case.

Can readers suggest any other female portraitists from the late 1600s? I only know of Mary Beale and Joan Carlile. Let me know in the comments section below.

Lyon and Turnbull exhibition

Is this Sir Walter Raleigh?

At an auction in Dorchester last month, a painting bought by an amateur art historian on eBay was sold for £7000. It had been auctioned before by Bonhams, in 2012, selling for a few thousands pounds as an unidentified cleric.

This time it went to the block (pun intended), as a lost portrait of Sir Walter Raleigh, the ill-fated explorer and favourite of Queen Elizabeth I, who was executed in 1618 for plotting against her successor, King James I.

WalterRalegh

Said to have been painted in 1613 while Raleigh was a prisoner in the Tower of London, there are several facts that support the identification of the sitter as Sir Walter.

The 17th century writer and antiquarian, John Aubrey, referred to “The Tower Portrait” in his famous book, Brief Lives, and subsequent analysis has shown that the portrait does date to that period. The black clothes might indicate he is in mourning for Prince Henry, the much loved heir to the throne, who had recently died, and the astronomical instrument by his right hand presumably refers to his occupation as a navigator and sailor.

At least one expert on Raleigh believes it to be him, although another argues that as Sir Walter was persona non grata by 1613, a condemned man locked away for treason against the monarch, it would be unlikely that he’d be granted permission to sit for a portrait.

While this may be true, I find it a rather weak argument, and stacked up against the other evidence supporting the identification, it looks like this may be a genuine rare discovery of a lost portrait, shedding a small but important light on the last days of a fallen hero.

“Lost Portrait of Sir Walter Raleigh” (Telegraph)

Dorset Echo

The Flagmen of Lowestoft

I have previously made mention of this series of paintings by Sir Peter Lely, so after a reader request I thought we could take a closer look at the collection, and the men it portrays.

In late 1665, James, Duke of York, brother to King Charles II, commissioned Sir Peter Lely to paint portraits of the naval officers who had commanded the English fleet against the Dutch, during the battle of Lowestoft in June of that year. In total, Lely would paint 13 pictures of the Admirals and senior officers, or ‘Flaggmen’, as they were known.

Samuel Pepys visited Lely’s studio the next year and saw the paintings in various states of completion, noting the event in his diary:

“I to Mr. Lilly’s, the painter; and there saw the heads, some finished and all begun, of the Flaggmen in the late great fight with the Duke of Yorke against the Dutch. The Duke of Yorke hath them done to hang in his chamber, and very finely they are done indeed.”

A more recent critic wrote that:

“Strength, depth of character, and psychological interest characterize these portraits, in which Lely brings forth honest and direct likenesses, dramatic gestures, serious-mindedness, dignity and pride. Each portrait in the series is remarkably individual, with fresh and varied poses, costume, attributes and experiences”. (Brandon Henderson)

These portraits would become part of the Royal Collections, and in 1821, 11 were included in a group of paintings donated to become part of a naval gallery at the Greenwich Hospital, while two canvases, of Prince Rupert and Admiral Sir John Lawson, remained in the Royal Collection. Copies were made, however, and now reside at the National Maritime Museum, successor to the Greenwich Hospital’s collection, completing the set.

Here is the full series, including the two copies:

Flagmen Monck
George Moncke, 1st Duke of Albemarle

 

Flagmen Allin
Sir Thomas Allin, 1st Bt.

 

Flagmen Ayscue
Sir George Ayscue

 

Flagmen Berkeley
Sir William Berkeley

 

Flagmen Jordan
Sir Joseph Jordan

 

Admiral Sir John Harman
Admiral Sir John Harman

 

Flagmen Lawson
Sir John Lawson (copy)

 

Flagmen Myngs
Sir Christopher Myngs

 

Flagmen Penn
Sir William Penn

 

Flagmen Montagu
Edward Montague, 1st Earl of Sandwich

 

Flagmen Smith
Sir Jeremiah Smith

 

Flagmen Teddiman
Sir Thomas Teddeman

 

Flagmen Rupert
Prince Rupert of the Rhine (copy)

You can see all of the paintings in better detail over at the Royal Museums Greenwich website. Just enter ‘flagmen’ in the search box.

There is also a really great article HERE, discussing the  preservation and investigation works carried out on the canvases by the conservators at the museum.

 

 

John Graham, 1st Viscount Dundee

Our first reader favourite is this lovely miniature of  John Graham of Claverhouse, by David Paton.

John_Graham,_visc_Dundee_David_Paton
©National Galleries of Scotland

Born in 1647 or 1648, the future 1st Viscount Dundee was a soldier and nobleman, known mainly for his actions against the Scottish Covenanters during the 1670s and 1680s, and his role as a Jacobite leader during the uprising of 1689.

The Edinburgh artist, David Paton (active c.1660-1700), is less well-known than his near-contemporary, Samuel Cooper, and I think this is a shame. His work was brought to my attention by reader Susanne, with whom I agree that his work deserves a much bigger spotlight. Despite being considered one of the best draughtsmen of the 17th century, it is  Cooper’s name that first jumps to mind when we mention miniatures, even with Paton producing works such as these:

William Murray
William Murray, 1st Earl Dysart (©National Trust)

 

Catherine Bruce
Catherine Bruce, Mrs William Murray (©National Trust)

 

unknown by Paton
An unknown man, drawn 1674, graphite on vellum (©V&A)
Archibald Campbell by Paton
Archibald Campbell, 1st Duke of Argyll, Indian ink on vellum (©National Trust)

 

Charles II Paton
King Charles II, 1688, Indian ink on vellum (©National Trust)

This last image is, to my mind, superb. It’s dimensions are only 175mm x 153mm x 20mm, yet Paton has captured the King perfectly, in a way many other artists would struggle to do even on a full-sized canvas.

Thanks to Susanne for suggesting her favourite picture of Graham, and I share her wish for Paton’s name and works to become better known. Hopefully this post will help!

 

*If others readers would like to see a special portrait featured here, please see the previous blog entry for details.

Over To You!

Do you have a favourite 17th century portrait that you’ve been wanting to see featured here? I’d like to dedicate the next few posts to pictures that are special to our readers.

They can be by any artist and of any sitter, as long as they were painted in the 17th century in Britain or Ireland.  If you can provide an image (preferably jpeg) and are happy to send a copy by email, you can forward it to the blog’s address below and I’ll be in touch. Alternatively,  if you can point me towards a website that has a copy,  let me know in the comments section at the bottom of the page.

Eplain why it is your favourite picture. Is it the sitter, the artist, or a particular theme that caught your eye? I know we have readers who are experts in period fashion, the military, etc. Do you know anything about the history or provenance that can help tell its story? If you’re feeling particularly literary, you could even write your own entry around it and feature as a guest blogger.  Just get in touch!

You can send your suggestions to the site email below:

thekingspainter@gmail.com

I hope to hear from you!

A Ceremonial Conundrum

As much as I enjoy finding portraits with fully-identified sitters, and learning all about their lives and histories, it can be just as fascinating when the person depicted is enigmatic and unnamed. In the case of the gentleman below, dated 1657 and labelled only as a portrait of a gentleman in ceremonial costume, the mystery is a particularly intriguing one.

Uniddmanincercos

Produced by an artist of the English School, our man is surrounded by clues to his identity, but not quite enough to pin him down. His ceremonial costume is impressive, but there’s no indication as to its purpose.

The main clue is the coat-of-arms in the upper right-hand corner. When this went to auction in 2017, the seller noted that the right side of the shield, which represents the female/wife, is apparently that of the Shrigley family in Cheshire. Frustratingly, the male side could refer to numerous English families, so unless the truth has been unravelled since the auction, we are left with a bit of a knotty problem!

What does his outfit represent? Is the staff significant? What appears to be a hat or headdress sits on a plinth or table by his left arm. It’s hard to make out its exact design, but do any other portraits have similar items to compare it with? The whole canvas seems a little grubby, and I wonder if anything relevant has been obscured by dirt or overpainting, particularly in the area behind his right shoulder. It does look like something is covered up at the top left – perhaps the edge of a door or screen.

Although we have an inscription for 1657 (which  in full reads ‘Etatis: 40/ Anno: 1657), to my mind the ruff seems a little dated. I’m no expert in the period’s fashions, but I feel it fits the earlier 1600s better than a time just a few years off the Restoration. Could one of our clothing-guru readers help here?

I’m sure this is a puzzle that could be solved, with a little creative research!

View on auction site

Black, White and Blue

Whatever century you study, some themes are threaded throughout human history, their prominence rising or falling according to the political or social conditions of the day. Women and religious groups, for example, have suffered both persecution and subjugation, but also moments of enlightenment and hope. In our time we are, thankfully, facing issues of equality and human rights head on, and making encouraging progress, despite many setbacks.

It is the subject of racial equality, however, that I wanted to look at today. In particular, the treatment of black and white individuals in 17th century British art. I saw an article this week about a contemporary artist who had copied a painting of two white men and a black slave child (I’m not sure of the date). The artist then crumpled it up, obscuring the men and highlighting the child instead, labelling the picture “Enough About You“.  It reminded me of the works I’d seen in English portraiture, portraying white nobles in privileged focus, being attended by black servants who are invariably kneeling at the side and gazing attentively at the sitter, who in turn is looking the viewer straight in the eye, in the full knowledge that the moment is all about them.

girl in blue silk dress

This picture, for example, dating from c.1650,  is by an artist of the British School and labelled “Portrait of a young girl in a blue silk dress with white trim, with her servant”. Although her expression is a little dull and characterless, the silks of her dress are beautifully painted. The clothing of the servant is less vibrant and delicate in its execution, the muted brown tones almost blending with the wall behind the unidentified girl. Her skin-tone is almost unnaturally white, contrasting starkly with the dark skin of her companion, all of which serve to keep our attention focussed on her, while he blends into the background.

One could argue this scene is repeated in many portraits in which the servant is white, and that the format is the same regardless of the colour of the attendant, but it is the boy’s identity that matters here. Was he a real person at all? Or was he imagined, added merely as a fictional prop to show off the girl? If the figure was based on someone real, who was he? Where did he come from? What was his status? How did he come to be in service? Sadly we can tell nothing for certain about his story from this one picture, we can only guess. How do our readers interpret the scene?

Many such portraits have survived, such as John Byron by William Dobson, and Elizabeth Murray by Sir Peter Lely, but are there any of non-white sitters from the period, who are themselves the subject of their own painting, rather than a support act for someone else? Or is it too early in British history for such artistic autonomy? Let me know of any and I’ll add them here. I’d love to see one, staring us in the eye and demanding our attention, as if to say, “Enough about you. Look at me instead.”

Sir Edward Villiers

Happy New Year! Thank you to all our readers who have visited or commented over the last 12 months. It’s really encouraging to know that people are interested in this little corner of art history, and I hope to bring you more 17th century faces and their stories over the next year. As always, if anyone has an idea for a theme, sitter or artist, can offer further information on any of the featured paintings, or perhaps let us know about upcoming exhibitions that may be of interest, please do get in touch via the comments section below.

***

Our first sitter of 2019 is Sir Edward Villiers (c.1585 -7 September 1626).

edward villiers

This portrait was painted c.1625 by an artist we haven’t featured before. George Geldorp (alternatively Georg or Jorge) was a Flemish painter working in England during the mid-17th century, known mainly for his portraits and history works. Having trained and worked in Cologne, he moved to London in 1623, where among his notable sitters was William Cecil, 2nd Earl of Salisbury. When not painting his own pictures, he became something of a fixer for Dutch or Flemish artists like Rubens, Van Dyck and Lely, assisting them in securing commissions of work in England. After the Restoration and the settling of Charles II on the throne, Geldorp played an important part in the restitution of the royal art collection and family possessions that had been dispersed after the English Civil Wars.

Sir Edward, meanwhile, although part of the infamous and powerful Villiers family, is perhaps less well known than his half-brother, Sir George Villiers, 1st Duke of Buckingham, who had been a controversional and troublesome favourite of both King James I and King Charles before being assassinated in 1628. A diplomat and politician, Sir Edward was also Master of the Mint and Lord President of Munster, before his death in 1626. Through his eldest son, Sir William Villiers, 2nd Viscount Grandison, Sir Edward was grandfather to Barbara Villiers, Duchess of Cleveland, the famed mistress of Charles II.

More information on both Geldorp and Villiers can be found HERE.

A clean for the Queen?

I found this neglected and shabby lady lurking in an online auction site, on a sale page from 2017.

Unknown lady

It is labelled simply as “Portrait of a Woman, half-length, in blue dress”, and painted by the English School of the late 17th century. Despite her untidy state and the scratched and faded paintwork, the name that immediately jumped out at me was Henrietta Maria. Was this another forgotten portrait of Charles I’s controversial Catholic queen? Something about the pinched mouth (anecdotally to hide her unfortunate teeth),  pearl jewels and dark eyes seemed very familiar.

A quick internet search here produced the below painting, attributed to the circle of Van Dyck, and said to be styled on a lost original by Sir Anthony, of which there are several known variants:

Lot-122-Portrait-of-Queen-Henrietta-Maria

It is frustrating when an auction site gives only the barest information on its sale items, and in this case the only additional detail is that the provenance was Rathescar House, co. Louth. As noted in previous posts,  sellers aren’t always in a position to thoroughly research their works, either through lack of time or just limited expertise in the subject, so it’s understandable that what may be a well-known figure to some may pass through a sale unnamed. I wonder where our faded lady ended up? Wherever she is, I hope the buyer who paid just 600 Euros for her was in a position to give her a good clean.  I’m certain that beneath the centuries of dirt, scratches and faded colouring there lies something a lot more appealing and accomplished than appears at first glance.

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