Why History?

In 1976 I arrived from my country grammar school at the Historical shrine of Peterhouse. At the time, although the smallest of the colleges of Cambridge, it had the highest number of History dons.

The study of History was taken seriously and the effect on me was to be lifelong. The key people for me were Maurice Cowling and Brian Wormald. Sitting in front of these strange, intense men reading an undergraduate essay was profoundly challenging. Historical writing involved seeking to understand the reality behind why men acted in the way they did; and that reality was hugely complex and not to be confused with the descriptions of it in the work of historians. For those writing about the past always have an agenda. The identification and evaluation of that agenda is part of the reader’s challenge. The effort to abandon – or at least admit to – that agenda is part of the historian’s challenge.

The Henry Moore altar in St Stephen, Walbrook

I sometimes go into this church, tucked behind the Mansion House, when I am passing on the way to or from a meeting. Its site, like that of all the City churches now, has become an odd one. Rothschilds’ new building now looms over it from behind, although that has at least opened up views of the church from St Swithin’s Lane, which is a busy thoroughfare during rush hour as people come and go to Cannon Street. But the back of the Mansion House has never been an attractive neighbour and otherwise the church has building going on in its vicinity much of the time.

It has certain claims to fame. Sir Christopher Wren designed it and practised his dome-designing skills before he needed them for his rebuilding of St Paul’s Cathedral. So it has a large central dome, which was highly original in an English context when built. Bombed in 1941, it acquired the famous Chad Varah as its Rector and he founded the Samaritans. It was then blessed with Peter Palumbo as a churchwarden and it seems to have been his idea in around 1967 to set in train the long saga of the Henry Moore altar.

Moore was not a religious artist. There is his well-known piece of the Madonna and Child in St Matthew’s, Northampton, commissioned by the great Dean Hussey before he moved to Chichester, and he did little things like putting small stone heads on the church in Much Hadham in Hertfordshire, near where he lived, but generally he was not commissioned to make pieces for churches.

Here he seems not to have been briefed about the tremendous liturgical controversy he was stepping into. For the commissioned piece was to be a stone altar (rather than the usual wooden table) and it was to be under the dome rather than at the East end of the church, where Wren had placed the original altar table in its normal position. The result was a 20 year wait between original concept and final, legal certainty that the altar could stay. There were 2 court cases about the altar, no doubt costing the church a huge amount of money.

The first case (reported at 1986 2 All ER 705) was heard before Chancellor GH Newsom QC over an extraordinary 8 days in the London Consistory Court. This sat for the occasion just down the road in the church of St Mary le Bow in Cheapside in the Court of Arches. A hearing of that length would indicate a case of great complexity. Witnesses included Sir Roy Strong, who was reported as having to admit under cross-examination that he was no expert on Wren’s work, and Professor Kerry Downes, who was such an expert. All accepted that Moore was a great sculptor and that the huge carved lump of Travertine stone now sitting in the middle of the church pending judgment on its fate was a thing of beauty. But art was not the point. The liturgical question was whether a lump of stone could be a “holy table” within the meaning of the relevant ecclesiastical requirements. If it could be a table, could such a thing be placed in the middle of one of the greatest small churches in the country, completely breaking with all tradition?

Chancellor Newsom found that the stone was not, in any normal meaning of the word, a table. He also found that the Rector and the churchwarden had not established to his satisfaction that the new altar was appropriate.

There was an appeal, to an even more obscure ecclesiastical court, the Court of Ecclesiastical Causes Reserved. This is a very rare beast indeed. Since its creation in 1963, it has only sat twice. It has to have 5 judges sitting and can only consider cases involving questions of doctrine, ritual or ceremonial. Three judges have to be past or present bishops and the other two have to be senior judges from the High Court. In the case held over another 4 days in late 1986 and early 1987 (subsequently reported as 1987 2 All ER 578), the bishops were those of Rochester and Chichester , together with the former bishop of Oxford. How they must all have enjoyed themselves, considering the arcana of ecclesiastical law! More distinguished witnesses appeared. The Right Hon Norman St John Stevas was wheeled out in favour of the new altar. In the end, the weight behind the modernity of Henry Moore won the day and the Chancellor’s decision was reversed.

Today, many City churches have had funny things done to them and St Stephen’s is another example. The altar looks odd and out of place. It completely dominates the interior of the Wren church. It looks like what it is: the whim of some strong personalities. It epitomises the difficulty faced by the Church of England, as an established, State church, in trying to decide what relevance modernity has to its message. As the Chancellor rightly pointed out, tastes change and one day some new Rector would perhaps like to move the altar or even jettison it altogether. That will be difficult as it won’t  fit through the doors. It only got in because building works at the time had left a large gap in the walls. It is also very heavy. One day someone like me will walk in there and it will be in a forgotten corner gathering dust (or perhaps in the Vestry, that repository in many churches of something no longer wanted in the body of the church itself. A new rector will be using it to support his kettle, showing that it was a “table” all along) or the church will be applying for a faculty to take down a wall of the church and sell it at Christie’s against an estimate of £2 million. It will be a tempting morsel of value when the church next needs expensive restoration and there is no wealthy churchwarden to help it.

William Gear

This is the centenary of Gear’s birth and there are some activities which reflect that. The great Redfern Gallery in Cork Street has a splendid show, which I have just visited. Then there is going to be a show at the Towner Gallery in Eastbourne, which I am going to in August, and a new book by Andrew Lambirth.

I find Gear’s work increasingly attractive as the years pass. I often see the works on paper; whereas the oils are less common. The Redfern has a number of large (and expensive) oils, as well as smaller pieces on paper. It also has a well-illustrated accompanying catalogue.

For those of us who are well used to English work of the mid-century, Gear’s largely Continental European outlook comes as a change. There can be no claim on him by the Scottish art establishment, except based upon the accident of his birth there. He was surely primarily a French artist, his work unlike that of anyone else of note practising in England that I can think of. He used colour in bold and adventurous ways, often to great effect. I am unable to analyse why it works; why I like it. It is somehow effective, to use the hackneyed formulation, on the nervous system, intuitively suggesting the mood of a moment and even the feeling of some sort of landscape. How it does that is not susceptible of analysis by me, except for the occasional juxtaposition of title and colour (the sea in the title reflected in the blue paint for example). Such analytical shortcomings may well be mine; maybe it is sufficient that the radiant pictures affect me in some way.

Peter Watson and Massimo Campigli

When the Ensatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg (ERR) raided Watson’s flat at 44 Rue du Bac on 9th December 1940, one of the pictures that subsequently found its way to the repository of stolen art at the Jeu de Paume was by Campigli. The Germans gave it the title “Ruckenfigur einer Frau und zwei Akte”. It was an oil on canvas from 1928. It was one of a number of Watson’s pictures which found its way onto the famous last train of looted goods which attempted to leave Paris in August 1944 on its way to Germany, but which never left Paris because of the delaying activities of the French as the Allies approached to liberate the City. As a result the Allies captured the train and all its contents and Watson got his share back in December 1945.

In Venice recently I was reminded of this when I saw my first picture by Campigli. I suspect there are not many in English collections, apart from the great Estorick Collection of Italian Art in Islington. He was born in Berlin in 1895 with the name Max Ihlenfeldt, but is treated as an Italian artist as he moved to Florence at an early age and then to Paris. He died in 1971.

Did Watson know him in Paris? He almost certainly bought his picture there, between 1928 and 1939. Campigli’s first wife was Rumanian. Was there a link with Sherban Sidery, whom Watson left looking after his flat at the beginning of the War and who was also a Paris-based Rumanian?

George Campbell and the Belfast Boys

Very pleased to receive a copy of Karen Reihill’s latest work, this time focussed on the fascinating Irish artist, George Campbell. Previously Karen has written a tremendous book on Gerard Dillon. These books are very welcome, as they give some proper weight to these important artists. Although he was born in Arklow, Campbell grew up in Belfast, where Dillon was from, and they knew each other from an early age. I personally prefer Dillon’s work, but Campbell’s became increasingly artistically sophisticated as he went to live and work in Spain.

As with the Dillon book, there is an accompanying exhibition at the Ava Gallery at Clandeboye in Northern Ireland , ancestral home of the Marquess of Dufferin and Ava. (The 4th Marquess was an Eton contemporary of Peter Watson and died in the War.)

I will be looking forward to visiting the show in August.

John Craxton in Dorset

A new show has opened at the Museum in Dorchester of Craxton’s pictures of Dorset. I have lent a picture of the ruined Knowlton Church, inscribed by the artist to the opthalmic surgeon, Pat Trevor-Roper, brother of the academic Hugh. These early, pre-Greece pictures by the young artist are very much influenced by John Piper.

knowlton church by john craxton
Museum in Dorchester John Craxton exhibition

Jean Dubuffet: Soul of the Underground

At MOMA last week, I caught the above show on the 3rd floor, in the Drawing Galleries. It is a varied show of smaller pieces in various media. I had never seen a group of Dubuffet pieces together and, rather against my expectations, found them fascinating. A very nice show, carefully and attractively presented.

Of particular interest to me was a charcoal statue, entitled “Cursed Gossip” and dating from June 1954. It reminded me of a charcoal statue which Peter Watson owned in London and which got mysteriously stolen from his flat in Palace Gate and returned broken to him. He probably acquired it around that time.

Peter Watson and Andre Bauchant

In the Tate Archive today looking at the files of ICA exhibitions held whilst Watson was actively involved I came across a loan by him of a picture by Andre Bauchant (1873-1958). I hadn’t heard of him before (nor of the fact that Watson owned a picture by him). His picture was “The Fifth Day of Creation” and there was a photograph of it in the file. He lent it to the exhibition called Sunday Painters in September 1954. Bauchant’s style is revealed on the internet as what one might term super-realist. Watson’s taste occasionally extended to the mildly quirky: 2 pictures by another extraordinary artist, Walter Spies, attest to that.

The Zinkeisen sisters

Over the years one has seen some fairly awful pictures coming through the salerooms by Doris and Anna Zinkeisen. Doris (1898-1991) developed a reputation as a stage and costume designer and one can see that facility in her art work. Anna (1901-1976) painted in a variety of styles. I was therefore surprised to find myself buying a beautiful work by Anna about a year ago. It was a highly stylised landscape, resembling in some ways the work of Harry Epworth Allen. I was even more surprised at the weekend to see a splendid self-portrait by Doris used as an illustration of a review of a show at the Turner Contemporary Gallery at Ramsgate of self-portraits.

A bit of work on the internet soon showed me how wrong I had been to judge their work by their occasional saleroom pieces. Both painted all sorts of things and both were clearly prodigiously talented. There is a book about them by Philip Kelleway, but too expensive for a casual purchase.