Hogarth’s House

Some time ago (last year) when we were in England, I visited Hogarth's House in Chiswick. This house, built between 1713 and 1717 was the home of William Hogarth, painter, engraver and satirist from 1749 until his death in 1764. In 1900, the House was put up for sale for re-development. A preservation campaign by artists and writers could not raise the purchase price but Lieutenant-Colonel Shipway of Grove House in Chiswick bought and restored it, opening it to visitors from 1904. The House survived serious war-time damage in 1940 and a fire in 2009; a careful refurbishment was completed in 2011. For most of its life, Hogarth's House has displayed a collection of Hogarth's prints.

A statue of Hogarth was commissioned for the Millennium by the Chiswick Traders Association. This was the model which was submitted by Jim Mathieson, the sculptor who won the commission. It was completed in a modified form, with the addition of a pug dog at the artist's heels, and has become a local landmark. The statue was unveiled by Ian Hislop and David Hockney in 2001.

Maquette for Hogarth sculpture, 1999, by Jim Mathieson

Hogarth is remembered today as the 'Father of British Painting'. He hated injustice and would use his art to draw attention to the issues he cared about. Hogarth highlighted not only poverty but political corruption, moral depravity and cruelty to animals. he was also active in tackling the issues he hated about serving as a founder Governor of the Foundling Hospital and producing two of his most famous works, Beer Street and Gin Lane as part of a campaign to reform laws on gin production. Hogarth was also involved in promoting the first copyright legislation for artists in 1735.

The Distrest Poet, 1737

In an untidy garret the poet in his dressing gown works on a poem entitled Riches - the milkmaid confronts his wife, who is darning a pile of clothes, at the door holding a lengthy tally of their debts and demanding payment. The baby in the bed is crying, the cat is nursing kittens, and the dog eats the meat from a plate on a chair. Above the poet's head a map labelled A View of the Gold Mines in Peru suggests his unrealistic dreams of wealth. Meanwhile, indications such as his pipe and tobacco on the window sill, the mug of ale on the chair in the back of the room, the lace cuffs drying by the fire, his ill-fitting wig, and gentleman's sword lying at his feet may point to his self-interest and refusal to deny himself personal pleasures.

The Enraged Musician, 1741

In 1740 Hogarth advertised The Enraged Musician as a companion to The Distrest Poet. The scene may be near St Martin's-in-the-Fields. The musician at an open window is covering his ears against the typical noises of the street. A ballad-seller chants, her baby cries, a milkmaid and other street-traders cry their wares, a small boy plays a drum and another urinates under the startled gaze of a small girl with a rattle, an itinerant oboist plays, a knife grinder sharpens a cleaver, and cats screech on a roof. This is ostensibly a comic scene as the violinist attempts to rehearse while the noisiest inhabitants of London pass by his window.

Some of the Principal Inhabitants of the Moon, as They Were Perfectly Discovered by a Telescope, 1745

The circular form of the print is designed to suggest the field of vision offered by a telescope. On an elevated structure sits a king bearing a sceptre and orb, he has a coin for a head. A bishop is resting his limbs on a luxurious plie of cushions; his head, a Jew's harp, operates a money-making machine by means of a prayerbook tied to a crank. The machine, shaped like a church steeple, is topped by a weather vane, which like the moons on the king's orb and sceptre, is a symbol of inconstancy.

Emblematic Print on the South Sea Scheme, 1721

This print caricatures the financial speculation, corrupton and credulity that caused the South Sea Bubble in England in 1720-1721. After the South Sea Company's shares rose rapidly in price from around £100 to over £1,000, many investors were ruined when the bubble burst and the value of stock in the South Sea Company crashed. Political scandal ensued when fraud among the company's directors and corruption of cabinet ministers became clear. 

The print shows a London scene, with the Guildhall and its monumental statue of the giant Gog (or Magog) to the left, a classical column based on The Monument to the Great Fire of London to the right, and the dome of St Paul's Cathedral rising behind the buildings in the background. The base of the column bears an inscription which reads, 'This Monument was erected in memory of the destruction of this city by the South Sea in 1720,' while foxes fight above. It is deliberate that the monument, a symbol of the City's greed, dwarfs St Paul's, a symbol of Christian charity.

The centre of the print is dominated by a financial wheel of fortune, ridden by stock figures including a whore, a clergyman, a housewife, a hunchback and a Scottish nobleman on a fat-faced horse. To the front of the crowd a short pickpocket (representing Alexander Pope who profited from the scheme) rifles through the pockets of a larger gentleman (possibly John Gay who lost his investment and all his imagined profits). Women line a balcony to the upper left, queuing to enter a building surmounted by stag's antlers, under a sign which offers 'Raffleing for Husbands with Lottery Fortunes in Here.'

To the left, a blindfolded Fortune hangs by her hair from the balcony of the Guildhall while a winged devil cuts off parts of her body with a sycthe and throws the bloody chunks into the baying crowd. In the bottom left corner, distinctive clothing identifies a Catholic, a Jew and a Puritan, who are ignoring the tumultuous scene to concentrate on their game of chance. To their right, the naked figure of Honesty is broken on the wheel by Self-interest while an Anglican priest looks on. Further right, Villainy - who has removed his fair mask which now hangs upside down between his legs - scourges Honour beneath the column. Standing nearby is a monkey (a symbol of mimicry or 'aping') who wears a gntleman's sword and a baronial hat, and wraps himself in Honour's cloak. In the lower right corner, the figure of Trade lies asleep or dead, ignored by all. 

The Weighing House, 1763

Frontispiece to John Clubbe's Physiognomy: being a sketch only of a larger work upon the same plan, this features a scene outside an inn with the sign of 'The Weighing House', with nine men being assessed along a scale of gravity to levity. At right a man by the inn door operates a pulley to raise a magnet from the crossbeam of the inn sign; the men are blanced in a semi-circle from 'A', ''absolute Gravity', standing on his head to 'I', 'absolute Levity or Stark Fool' in the middle of the air, just beneath the magnet. At the centre, horizontally balanced and with a nonchalant expression, is E 'good Sence'.

The Shrimp Girl

The work depicts a woman selling shellfish on the streets of London, typically a job for the wives and daughters of fishmongers who owned stalls in markets such as Billingsgate. The subject balances a large basket on her head, bearing shrimps and mussels, together with a half-pint pewter pot as a measure. Its size suggests that it was intended as a portrait, rather than a sketch for a larger work. 

The Battle of the Pictures and Satire on False Perspective

In February 1745, Hogarth auctioned many of the oil paintings on which his prints had been based. Bidding at the auction was by ticket, as usual decorated with a witty Hogarth picture. Here historic paintings are shown marching into battle with Hogarth's works.

Satire on False Perspective was produced by Hogarth in 1735 for his friend John Joshua Kirby's Pamphlet on perspective in art. In the subtitle Hogarth remarks, 'Whoever makes a design without the knowledge of perspective will be liable to such absurdities as are shewn in this frontispiece.' There are some great errors, such as the sign being overlapped by distant trees, both ends of the church being visible at the same time, and the obvious difference in size of various people and animals. On the whole, it offers an Escher-like array of impossible lines and vanishing points. 

The Politician

First published in 1775 after Hogarth's death by Mrs Jane Hogarth, it is reported that the subject of The Politician is Hogarth's shortsighted friend, Ebenezer Forrest. A lacemaker and politician, Forrest is here portrayed reading his newspaper while he inadvertently sets fire to his hat.

Columbus Breaking the Egg, 1972

Issued as a subscription ticket for his treatise on art, The Analysis of Beauty, this engraving depicts an apocryphal tale (the 'Egg of Columbus') concerning Christopher Columbus's response to the dectractors of his discovery of the New World. The story goes that at a meal, several men began to comment that any number of other people could have found their way to the New World and that Columbus's feat was unremarkable because of its simplicity. Columbus replied that it was only easy now that he had demonstrated how it was done, and by way of an example, he challenged anyone present to stand an egg on its end. After all those attempting the feat had admitted defeat, Columbus demonstrated the simplicity of the challenge by crushing one end of the egg against the table which allowed it to remain upright.

The print shows Columbus having just demonstrated the method for making the egg stay upright. His audience look on in amazement and one man behind him beats his forehead in frustration at the simplicity of the solution. At either end of the table are men caught still in the act of attempting to balance the eggs.

Hogarth uses the story as a parallel to what he considered his own discoveries in art. He expected much the same reaction to his book as Columbus had received. Hogarth considered that he too had discovered a 'New World', but one with the sphere of art rather than geography, and just as Columbus's detractors had mocked the navigator's accomplishment as simple and inevitable, Hogarth expected the art connoisseurs to mock his thesis on the serpentine 'Line of Beauty' as self-evident and unimaginative.

To strengthen the connection between himself and the Columbus of the tale, he included two eels in a bowl in the centre of the table, their bodies demonstrating the 'Line of Beauty' as they coiled around a pair of eggs. To further underline the ironic nature of the print, the composition is based on Da Vinci's The Last Supper, with the bowl containing the eggs and the eels replacing the Host.

A Modern Midnight Conversation

Hogarth may have decided to publish this print (which is based on a painting of about a year before) in response to the hubbub in London against a new excise tax being proposed on liquor and tobacco. This satire, where drunken excess is ironically called 'Modern Conversation' was enormously popular and was pirated by other printmakers as well as being reproduced on fans, snuffboxes, and tankards. 

The clock indicates four in the morning and eleven men are shown around a table in different stages of drunkeness, having gathered at midnight. A punchbowl decorated with Chinese figures appears at the centre of the table, and empty bottles piled on the floor and mantlepiece testify to many rounds of punch consumed, as does the overflowing chamber pot at lower right.

Though the print's caption claims that it contains no portraits, this may be disingenous since the people in the print are variously guessed at. The parson ladling punch is often identified as the Reverend Ford or Orator Henley, and the man on the floor is believed to be bare-knuckle boxer James Figg. Some critics even contend that the likeness of the man seated in the left of the picture and staring directly at the viewer with a bored and grumpy expression is a self-portrait of Hogarth.

Strolling Actresses Dressing in a Barn, 1738

A travelling company of nine actresses and four child actors, all dressed as classical deities, prepare to perform at the George Inn. The troupe are preparing for the play The Devil to Pay in Heaven, a fiction that was probably intended as a satire on the mystery plays which were heavily controlled by the church. Hogarth contrasts the roles of gods and goddesses that appear in the play with the mortal reality at every turn. The leaky, draughty barn stands in for the heavens in which they will shortly be play acting. The bill on the bed introduces the cast and aids the viewer in identifying the figures portrayed: Diana, Flora, Night, Siren, Aurora, Eagle, Cupid, two Devils, a Ghost and attendants.

Diana, identifiable by her crescent moon headdress, takes centre stage in the print, practising her pose. She imitates the Diana of Versailles, but she looks foolish as she has neither quivers nor arrows. Her hooped petticoat has fallen to her feet, exposing her thighs, and the low neckline of her shirt reveals her breats; she is anything but the chaste goddess. She acknowledges the attention of the viewer with a slight smile. To her left Flora is dusting her hair with a flour shaker in front of a broken mirror propped up by a candle, in an effort to prepare herself for the role of the fertility goddess.

Cupid 'floats' above then with the aid of a ladder, fetching two stockings for Apollo, identifiable from the sun on his head, who points out with the aid of a bow their hanging place on a cloud beneath a dragon. Next to the actress playing Diana, two children dressed as devils help themselves to a mug of beer left on the altar like a sacrifice. A woman next to them is shocked by their behaviour but she has her hands full assisting the 'ghost' to bleed a cat from its tail ( due to an old wives' tale that condoned animal cruelty as a cure for human ailments).

Above the women in this corner, a face peers down through the opening in the barn roof. Here a low mortal looks down on the gods from heaven, rather than the other way round. He fills the role of Actaeon, who accidentally saw Diana naked and was changed into a stag and torn apart by his own hounds as punishment. Here though the viewing of Diana is intentional. In the right foreground Juno practises her lines, while Night (star-spangled headdress) darns a hole in her stocking.

In front of Night and Juno is Hogarth's take on a vanitas, but here the symbols of death are replaced by comic figures; a monkey wearing a cloak urinates into a helmet; one kitten plays with an orb while another plays with a lyre. The animals presumably fill the roles of attendants mentioned in the playbill; their play acting as human serves to highlight further the discrepancy between acting and reality.

To the left of the picture, Ganymede, who is not yet fully dressed, accepts a drink of gin to ease the stabbing pain of his toothache from the Siren, who is being attended to by Aurora (morning star on her headdress). In the foreground a woman costumed as Jove's eagle feeds her child; the food rests on a crown with a small folded paper bearing the title The Act against Strolling Players. Next to her, Ganymede's breeches lie on the small bed adjacent to the playbill, which is slipping perilously close to the chamberpot.

It would be their last performance before the 1737 Licensing Act cracked down on theatres, closing all but Drury Lane and Covent Garden. The Act was brought in as a result of John Gay's Beggar's Opera of 1728, which had linked Robert Walpole with the notorious criminal Johnathan Wild. Henceforth, all new plays had to be approved by the Lord Chamberlain and all non-patent theatres were closed.

A Chorus of Singers

Hogarth first used this image as a subscription ticket but later issued it as one of a set of Four Groups of Heads along with The Laughing Audience, Scholars at a Lecture, and The Company of Undertakers. The choir is rehearsing Judith, an oratorio by Hogarth's friend William Huggins, but they are ignoring the conductor, despite him being so animated that he has lost his wig. Hogarth contrasts the groups of singers - cherubic shool boy sopranos, cheerful altos, labouring tenors and pained bass singers. 

The Laughing Audience

Hogarth painted Southwark Fair and The Rake's Progress and advertised the prints together. He used The Laughing Audience as the subscription ticket. He issued The Fair in 1734 but delayed selling The Rake's Progress until it was portected by the new copyright law for which he had campaigned.

The Laughing Audience shows three different groups - the earnest orchestra playing in the pit, the common audience enjoying the performance and foppish gents paying more attention to the orange girls than the play.

The Heir and The Levee

A Rake's Progress is probably Hogarth's most famous work. The series of eight paintings were produced in 1732-1734, then engraved in 1734 and published in print form in 1735. The series shows the decline and fall of Tom Rakewell, the spendthrift son and heir of a rich merchant who comes to London, wastes all his money on luxurious living, prostitutes and gambling, and as a consequence is imprisoned in the Fleet Prison (a debtor's prison) and ultimately Bethlem Hospital (Bedlam).

In the first print, The Heir, Tom has come into his fortune on the death of his miserly father. While the servants mourn, he is measured for new clothes. Although he has had a common-law marriage with her, he now rejects the hand of his pregnant fincee, Sarah Young, whom he had promised to marry. She holds his ring and her mother holds his love letters. He pays her off with a handful of coins while behind him, the administrator of the estate steals a coin from the money bag.

Evidence of the father's miserliness abounds: his portrait above the fireplace shows him counting money; symbols of hospitality (a roasting jack and a spit) have been locked up at upper left; the coat of arms shows three clamped vises with the motto 'Beware'; a half-starved cat reveals the father kept little food in the house; while a stack of ashes in the fireplace demonstrates that he spent even less money on wood to heat his home. A servant hanging mourning crepe accidentally uncovers a cache of gold coins, and there is evidence that the father went so far as to resole his shoes with a piece of leather cut from a Bible cover.

The second image shows Tom at his morning levee in his new London home, attended by musicians and other hangers on, all dressed in expensive costumes. Surrounding Tom from left to right: a music master at a harpsichord; a fencing master; a quarterstaff instructor (possibly James Figg); a dancing master with a violin; a landscape gardener; an ex-soldier offering to be a bodyguard; and a bugler of a fox hunt club. The quarterstaff instructor looks disapprovingly on both the fencing and dancing masters. Both masters appear to be in the 'French' style, which was a subject Hogarth loathed. At lower right is a jockey with a silver trophy showing Tom's racehorse, 'Silly Tom'. 

In the background left are more hangers-on including a poet, a wig maker and a hat maker. Upon the wall, between paintings of roosters (emblems of cockfighting), there is a painting of the Judgement of Paris.

Six of the eight prints of A Rake's Progress

The third print, The Orgy, depicts a wild party at a brothel, where prostitutes are stealing Tom's watch, and several of them have black spots on their faces to cover syphilitic sores. In the fourth, The Arrest, Tom narrowly escapes arrest for debt by Welsh bailiffs (as signified by the leeks in their hats) as he travels in a sedan chair. He is saved by the intervention of Sarah Young who pays the bill, while a young thief steals his cane. Tom attempts to salvage his fortune in the fifth print, The Marriage, by marrying a wealthy but old and ugly spinster while Sarah arrives in the background, holding their child. In The Gaming House Tom pleads for assistance in a gambling den after losing his reacquired wealth, and none present appear to notice the fire breaking out behind them.

All is lost by the seventh print, The Prison, in which Tom is incarcerated in the notorious Fleet debtor's prison, ignoring the distress of both his angry new wife and the faithful Sarah, while the beer-boy and the gaoler demand money from him. The Madhouse completes the series as Tom ends his days in Bedlam, the mental asylum, continuing to ignore Sarah who is still trying to comfort him. Fashionably-dressed women have come to the asylum to be entertained by the antics of the inmates. 

Four Times of Day, 1738

Unlike many of Hogarth's series, Four Times of Day does not depict the story of an individual. The four prints do not form a consecutive narrative, and none of the characters appear in more than one scene. Hogarth conceived of the series as 'representing in a humorous manner, morning, noon, evening and night'.

Morning

In Morning, a lady makes her way to church, shielding herself with her fan from the shocking view of two men pawing at market girls. The scene is the west side of the piazza at Covent Garden, indicated by a part of the Palladian portico of Inigo Jones's Church of St Paul visible behind Tom's Coffee House, a notorious venue celebrated in pamphlets of the time. Some revellers are ending their evening, a fight has broken out in the coffee house, causing a wig to fly out of the door. Stallholders set out their wares for the day ahead and two children, who should be making their way to school, have stopped to gaze at the market's activities.

Hogarth replicates all the features of the pastoral scene in an urban landscape. The shepherds and shepherdesses become the beggars and prostitutes, the sun overhead is replaced by the clock on the church, the snow-capped mountains become the snowy rooftops, and the Covent Garden setting with piles of fruit and vegetables echoes the country scene. 

In the centre of the picture the icy goddess of the dawn in the form of the prim churchgoer is followed by her shivering pageboy, mirroring Hesperus, the dawn bearer. The woman is the only one who seems unaffected by the cold, suggesting it may be her element. She is considered to be a hypocrite, ostentatiously attending church and carrying a fashionable ermine muff while displaying no charity to the freezing pageboy or the beggar before her.

Noon

The scene takes place in Hog Lane, part of the slum district of St Giles with the church of St Giles in the Fields in the background, as the Huguenots leave the French church. Hogarth contrasts their fussiness and high fashion with the slovenliness of the group on the other side of the road. On the left of the print a man fondles a woman, distracting her from a work, and a boy has set down his pie to rest but the plate has broken spilling the pie onto the ground where it is being rapidly consumed by an urchin. The man, woman and bawling boy fill the roles of Mars, Venus and Cupid, which would have appeared in the pastoral scenes that Hogarth is aping.

The pie shop is advertised by the head of John the Baptist on a platter and the words 'Good Eating'. The man reduced to a head on the sign, in what is assumed to be the woman's fantasy, is mirrored by the 'Good Woman' pictured on the board behind who has only her body with her head removed to create the man's ideal of female perfection.

Evening

Evening takes place slightly outside the built-up area of the city with views of rolling hills, wide evening skies, and cows at milking. The image is opressed by the heat of the summer as a pregnant woman and her husband attempt to escape from the claustrophobic city by journeying out to the fashionable Sadler's Wells Theatre, which was satirised as being frequented by tradesmen and their pretentious wives.

The husband looks harried as he carries his exhausted youngest child, while the placement of the cow's horns behind his head represent him as a cuckold and suggest that the children are not his. Behind the couple, their other children replay the scene; the father's cane protruding from the son's legs, doubling as a hobby horse, while the daughter is clearly in charge, demanding that he hand over his gingerbread.

The heat is made tangible by the flustered appearance of the woman as she fans herself, the sluggish pregnant dog that looks longingly towards the water (with an expression reflecting that of its master), and the vigorous vine growing up the side of the tavern. The family pass the New River (an artificial waterway opened in 1613 to supply fresh drinking water to London) and a tavern with a sign showing Sir Hugh Myddleton, who nearly bankrupted himself financing the scheme (a wooden pipe lies by the side of the watercourse).

Through the open window other refugees from the city can be seen sheltering from the oppressive heat in the bar. While they appear more jolly than the family group, Hogarth mocks these peope escaping to the country for fresh air only to reproduce the smoky atmosphere and crowded conditions of the city by huddling in the busy tavern with their pipes.

Night

The final picture in the series shows disorderly activities under cover of night in the Charing Cross Road (identified by the equestrian statue of Charles I and the two pubs) in an area which is now Whitehall. In the background, the passing cartload of furniture suggest tenants escaping from the landlord in a moonlight flit.

Charing Cross was a central staging post for coaches, but the congested narrow road was a frequent scene of accidents; here, a bonfire has caused the Salisbury Flying Coach to overturn. Festive bonfires were usual but risky; a house fire lights the sky in the distance; a link-boy (a boy who carried flaming torches for pedestrians at night before the introduction of street lamps) blows on his torch; street urchins are playing with fire and one of their fireworks is falling in at the coach window.

On one side of the road is a barber surgeon whose sign advertises 'Shaving, bleeding, and teeth drawn with a touch. Ecce signum!'. Inside the shop, the barber haphazardly shaves a customer holding his nose while spots of blood drip onto a cloth beneath his chin. Surgeons and barbers had been a single profession since 1540 and did not separate until 1745 when the surgeons broke away to form the Comany of Surgeons.

In the foreground a drunken freemason (identifiable by his apron and set square medallion as the Worshipful Master of a lodge) is being helped home by his Tyler (the name of the office of outer guard of a masonic lodge) as the contents of a chamber pot are emptied onto his head from a window. Pubs and brothers are all around: The Earl of Cardigan tavern is on one side of the street, and opposite is the Rummer, whose sign shows a short wide-brimmed glass of that name with a bunch of grapes on the pole, where the publican is adulterating a hogshead of wine  - Masonic lodges met in both taverns during the 1730s.

The Humours of an Election I: An Election Entertainment

The Humours of an Election comprises four prints and is one of Hogarth's Modern Moral Subjects depicting the corruption endemic in the eighteenth-century electoral process. At this time each constituency elected two MPs, and there was a property qualification for voters, so only a minority of the male population was enfranchised. There was no secret ballot, so bribery and intimidation were rife.

An inn in the fictional town of Guzzledown is the setting for the first scene, An Election Entertainment, which Hogarth displayed in his studio just days before the General Election in April 1754. It is a complex, densely populated scene full of absurdity, chaos, coercion, greed and violence. The painting depicts a tavern dinner organised by the Whig candidates, while the Tories protest outside. The Tories are carrying an antisemitic caricature of a Jew, a reference to Jewish Naturalisation Act 1753, recently passed by the Whig government. A Tory banner containing the words 'Give us our Eleven Days', a protest against the Calendar (New Style) Act 1975, is on the tavern floor.

In the tavern the two Whig candidates are ingratiating themselves with supporters. One candidate is kissing a 'conventionally unattractive woman' (read 'fat'), while a girl tries to steal his ring; another is listening to a drunken bore. At the other end of the table the mayor is collapsing from over indulgence in oysters, while the election agent is knocked out by a brick thrown through the window by the Tory mob. Other supporters throw furniture at the Tories. A banner bearing the words 'Liberty and Loyalty' stands in the corner, while outside the window the Tories carry a banner with the words 'Liberty and Property'.

In the foreground a maimed soldier sits on the floor while a patron pours gin into his head wound. Sir John Parnell, 1st Baronet is seen seated below the window, using his hand and a napkin as a puppet. The composition of the scene parodies traditional images of the Last Supper and other Biblical feasts.

Humours of an Election II: Canvassing for Votes

The second scene. Canvassing for Votes, shows individuals in the countryside to be just as avaricious and unprincipled as the crowd in the towns. There are three inns depicted, representing the electorate's three broad affiliations. The Whigs, the challengers in the 1754 Oxfordshire election, are represented by the inn furthest away. Called The Crown, it is intended to reflect the Whig's frequent association with the 'court' interest. A panel labelled 'The Excise Office', a reference to the Whig party's taxation policy and its possible joint purpose as a temporary tax office has been hung underneath the inn sign.

On the margins of the composition a soldier (right) and two old sailors (left) represent uncorrupted patriotism. The soldier peeps out from behind a now-impotently decorative figurehead depicting the British lion devouring the French fleur-de-lis. A woman sits on it looking at her bribes. The sailors on the left are re-enacting a naval victory using pieces of broken clay pipe.

Humours of an Election III: The Polling

The third scene in the series, The Polling, takes place on the day of the election and depicts the polling booth, a rough wooden construction to which all the electors are coming to publicly cast their votes. The booth is set against the backdrop of an expertly executed landscape, the background and foreground perfectly unified, the atmosphere that of an idyllic spring day, the deep blue sky, white clouds and warm sunlight caressing the group of houses and church in the middle distance and evoking a sense of calm, peace and control that is completely at odds with the scene in the foreground at the poll and background on the bridge. A woman in a carriage with a broken axle stands for Britannia. Her coachmen are gambling, ignoring the fact that the carriage is broken.

In the fourth print Chairing the Member, one of the victorious Tory candidates is being carried through the streets on a chair in a traditional ceremony. This was usually part of a day of feasting and celebration, but often an occasion for mob violence or protest if the winning candidates were considered unpopular or corrupt. He is about to be tumbled down because one of his carriers has just been accidentally hit on the head by a flail carried by a Tory-supporting rural labourer who is attempting to fight off a Whig supporter (an old sailor with a bear). 

The setting is the main street of a small market town which bridges a large stream and is almost enclosed by three buildings. Each building alludes to one of the three pillars of the state, and each is revealed to be corrupted or weakened in some way. Meanwhile, a group of frightened pigs run across the scene in a reference to the story of the Gadarene swine.

I found this sequence particularly interesting as we studied this period of history at school, and much of the primary source material came from Hogarth's paintings, engravings and prints. The layout of the artwork was very busy and a little overwhelming, so I took some images of the clutter of content with the hope of re-examining some of the items at a later date, such as the series of prints that comprise A Harlot's Progress and Marriage A-la-Mode.

Hogarth's Roundabout by Martin Rowson, 1997

Martin Rowson is a great Hogarth enthusiast and created this fine image for the 300th anniversary of Hogarth's birth. He has taken the chaos and dirt of the traffic at the Hogarth Roundabout down the road, and embellished it with extracts from Hogarth's prints.

Meanwhile, despite all this bustle of images and ideas, and the rush of the populace in the centre of London, there is still a perfect little walled garden outside the window, reminding us that, according to William Blake's 1794 poem, we can 'build a Heaven in  Hell's despair'.

Friday Five: Turtle Time Cross Stitch

Some of the cross-stitch kits I do are random and unusual. They are always fun, however, such as this set featuring turtles.

Friday Five: Shattering Drama and Comforting Comedy

1. Caligula - Performative Theatre Company, ACT Hub: Albert Camus' absurdist 1944 play explores the existential crisis of the Roman Emperor Caligula following the death of his sister and lover, Drusilla. Convinced that all life is meaningless, he determines to behave exactly how he wants, which is with hedonism that inspires terror, treating those around him as playthings and becoming a conspirator in the plot to end his life (and reign) through a journey into insanity. Mischa Rippon delivers a magnificent performance in the titular role commanding the stage and demonstrating a great rapport with the audience and other characters, managing to portray the switches between charming and chilling that the pyschotic Roman Emperor demands. The fantastically creative use of the space (another triumphant set design by Kathleen Kershaw) - soft benches/tables, shiny screens, and the all-imposing cracked marble bust - hint towards an asylum-esque atmosphere, while the superbly developed costumes (Alex Elwood) are adapted to suit character and tone. Likewise the lighting design (Euan Tregurtha) is an innovative mix of front, back and side lighting with judicious and effective black outs, while the underlying sound (Paris Scharkie) creates tension and segues from external to internal, so the audience feel the constant anguish of the 'mad' protagonist. Despite a couple of technical set issues, this is a sublime performance of a production that can be desperately dull and ponderous. Director Isaiah Pritchard is to be celebrated for the creative vision evident in the cohesion of elements and design from acting, sound, lights, set and costumes. There is evident method in this madness.
2. Kerosene - Off the Ledge Theatre, The Courtyard: This 50-minute solo monodrama (didn't we use to call it a one-person play?) by Benjamin Nichol is a great vehicle for a performer, as they explore themes of love, loneliness, obsession, abuse, and revenge. Winsome Ogilvie has great energy playing Millie as she narrates the events of her deteriorating relationship with her best friend that culminate in a catastrophic cathartic event (the clue is in the title). Her diction and delivery are accomplished and her rapport with the audience is similarly impressive, although there are elements of stasis in which the highs and lows weren't quite high or low enough, leaving the performer with nowhere to go, and a few more pauses would have assisted tension. It is difficult to tell if the limited variation is due to performer or direction. Director Lachlan Houen has set it on a completely bare stage with no props, meaning the lights (Lachlan Houen and Liah Naidoo) and sound have to do a lot of heavy lifting. The lights do indeed highlight mood and intensity through innonative positioning, and there is some astute use of sound (Fergus Mashman), although bearing in mind the lack of other elements, more would have added contrast and points of interest. In general, this is a bold presentation of emotion and storytelling but it is not entirely engaging and drags in places. 
3. 5 Lesbians Eating a Quiche - Everyman Theatre, ACT Hub: In another great vehicle for five female presenting actors to enjoy some solid characterisation, the play centres around the members of the Susan B. Anthony Society for the Sisters of Gertrude Stein - an all-female community group that deeply worships quiche and promotes strict, wholesome 1950s domesticity; trad wives of the middle American kind. During their annual breakfast and quiche-judging competition, atomic sirens sound causing the women to barricade themselves in their basement fallout shelter, where secrets and hidden desires can't help but surface. It's improbable and ridiculous but works, as comedy always does, because the actors are committed to their roles and play the laughs straight, allowing the audience to discover the fun themselves. All of the actors bring strong performances, especially Sian Harrington as Ginny, the newcomer to the group, with intelligent choice of accent (Geordie), expressions and genstures providing excellent individual and ensemble work which is a delight to watch. The others are skilled at the comedy as Steph Roberts plays Wren with just the right level of restraint (although her accent is all over the shop), Ylaria Rogers is brittle and charming as Dale in a fun role for her with an innocent conviction that is almost poignant, and Meaghan Stewart bravely delivers a 'New Yoik' gangster accent (which also wavers a lot) and a can't-go-wrong-with-it Rosie the Riveter stance. As the ostensible leader, Crystal Mahon is slightly overshadowed as Lulie by the other big performances, and appears reluctant to leave the actor behind to become the character, resulting in a relatively monotonous performance. The costumes (Fiona Leach) are a visual treat, being wonderfully evocative of time and character, practically telling a story of their own and Nikki Fitzgerald does solid work with the sound and light gags, as highlighted per script. Director Jarrad West also designed the set, which is well-suited to the piece - functional and aesthetically engaging. He brings out the best in his cast and creatives to honour the intent of the piece without heavy-handed intrustion. Having said that, this is designed as a 75-minute one-act comedy (beloved of fringe festivals), and while I understand the need for bar sales, the introduction of an interval meant the second half drags - the play loses its way a little after the metaphorical bombshell, and the first-half fun, frivolty and engagement seems a little distant towards the end.



4. Izzard: The Tragedy of Hamlet - Bohm Presents, The Playhouse: Eddie Izzard presents a one-person take on Hamlet, with no set or costume changes and very few lighting or sound effects (except for the ghostly battlements and the playing of the ghost of Hamlet's father). As a lover of Shakespeare, I found it intriguing to see how she portrays all the different characters with moderations to voice and expression, drawing on her experience as a street performer. Others, less familiar with the tragedy of the Great Dane, found it extremely difficult to follow. Ophelia's scene of betrayal and bemusement and her bestowing of flowers and herbs is touching, and the fights that Hamlet has with Laertes are amusing as the sight of a person best known for their comedy fighting with themself will by necessity be played for laughs. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are presented as hand puppets, which also adds an element of levity to the drama, although it must be confusing to comprehend Claudius' reaction to the play within the play that Hamlet devises to 'catch the King' without prior knowledge of the plot. It is delighfully restrained and not at all hammy, which would be easier and tempting to produce. I would not recommend this for a newcomer to the play, but for officionados who wish to concentrate on the delivery of the text, there can be few better exercises.
5. The Glass Menagerie - Canberra Repertory Society, Canberra REP Theatre: It is an interesting choice to produce this lesser-known version, which pays off in an engaging production in which the characters feel believable rather than the museum pieces they so often are. The technical aspects add to the vision in a cohesive production which is a pleasure to watch. Rob de Fries plays Tom as an older man looking back on his past, with believable cynicism and superciliousness, although the spell is broke occasionally when the accent drops out. As his mother, Victoria Tyrrell Dixon plays Amanda with a fierce delusion that powers the production, and his sister, Laura, is given a fine portrayal of innocence and lack of ambition by Jamie Johnstone. As Amanda attempts to force her daughter into society (where her sole job is to get a husband and a means of financial support), she cringes back into her fantasy world of glass animals with a hint of guile that makes her intriguingly irritating rather than the simple victim often depicted. Shattering this far-from-peaceful idyll comes Jim (John Whinfield), Tom's work colleague who is set up as a beau for Laura on very little evidence other than that he has a penis and a pulse. Whinfield delivers a strong performance with a loathsome sense of entitlement and mansplaining that makes one want to wipe the smirk off his face. Tennessee Williams is so specific about his lighting that this is often tiresome, but here it heightens the falsity of memory aspect. The highlighting of the menagerie and the portrait of the departed father figure are perfect, and I am a sucker for a mirror ball. I have seen this play many times, but not this version as a 'memory play'. I think this works admirably and is one of the few times I have ever seen the technical specifications of Williams interpreted so well.

Friday Five: Books Read in July

Flesh by David Szalay (Vintage) - Some people love prose that is 'brilliantly spare' as it depicts the vicisitudes of life as they occur to a central figure with very little passion, emotion, or even dialogue - a grunted assent being about the height of the mains character's communicative powers. Others find the austere minimalism limiting and tedious, as in this novel of István. Our protagonist is a Hungarian émigré living in London to whom adventures happen (largely incorporating sex and violence), from which he learns nothing until he ends up back in the place where he started living with his mother and staring at the television. It is a wheel of fortune narrative through social and economic strata from the army to security work, drug deals, riches and temporary acceptance, and while some may claim his is a masculine tragedy, his determined lack of personal development undermines any sympathy for his individual odyssey. 

Thirteen Steps Down by Ruth Rendell (Hutchinson) - This novel is dedicated to P.D. James, “with affection and admiration”, which serves as an introduction to a style of thriller that is equally reassuring to read and disturbing to consider. Written in 2004, this stand-alone novel features delusional people haunted by the spectre of Rillington Place and John Christie. Michael (Mix) Cellini is obsessed with Christie and chats to him as a friend. He also fixates on Nerissa Nash, a model whom he stalks while imaging their future life together. She, meanwhile, dreams about a neighbour, Darel, who disregards her as flighty; in Ruth Rendel’s world, we all want attention and don’t really know each other. Fame or infamy are interchangeable to Mix as he reads about the serial killer and rapist, admiring his notoriety. He admits that he wants Nerissa, “For herself, of course, but also for the fame she’d bring him.” Noting that neither man sees Nerissa as a person but rather as an object or a symbol of something, the opposing attitude is encapsulated by Darel’s view of her. “Someone belonging in that so-called elite must be empty-headed, ignorant, tasteless and shallow.” Meanwhile, Mix’s landlady is a cantankerous old woman lost in reveries of the past in which a doctor came to care for her mother many years ago, and Nerissa visits a clairvoyant who peddles spells and crystals. The novel is full of pretence and self-delusion in a world where, “thousands of people disappear every year and are never found.” This is very isolating and a sad comment about the loneliness and insular world of the individual rather than the richness and fulfilling aspect of belonging to a community.

Homecoming: Voices of the Windrush Generation by Colin Grant (Vintage) - Colin Grant interviewed about 100 people and transcribes their words verbatim, with a little bit of editing into themed sections. He held writing workshops with Caribbean people through an Arts Council England project, Writing Everyday Stories of Diverse Britain, in Manchester, Leeds and Birmingham. Due to this method, it can often seem like a dissertation or the raw data waiting to be shaped into something more interesting. Naturally not all the voices are the same and they can feel quite differently about their experiences. "There are as many accounts of the generosity of the British population as there were of insincerity". Topics covered include employment, racism, parenting styles, colonialism, American influence and feelings of displacement. When they arrived, they found it cold, grey, cramped and bland – especially the food and the clothes; and the houses were damp and dark – they brought colour, spice, music and style (including hair), making noise at the cricket rather than sitting and applauding politely, and dancing through the streets in carnivals. “Almost everyone I interviewed was disappointed by the blandness of what was on offer when they came to the UK, especially the food.” Some were nostalgic for home and even tried to return but they realised there were more opportunities for them in Britain and that they were often unwelcome or the victims of violence back in the Caribbean. Grant concludes, “The Caribbean world did come to Britain and forced a realignment of the culture. The achievements of the Windrush generation are many. But the afterglow of their presence is found in their children and grandchildren who have ‘stopped talking tripe’ and have moved from the margins to the centre. Along the way they redefined the very notion of what it is to be British.”