No one liked Victorian art in the 1960s, when Sir Frederic Leighton’s masterpiece ‘Flaming June’ couldn’t reach its ultra-low estimate at auction. No one cared about it except for Puerto Rican industrialist Luis Ferré, who spotted it in a Mayfair gallery and snapped it up for just £2,000. He then whisked it away to the brilliantly named Museo de Arte de Ponce in his home country.
But when it was first painted in 1895 and shown along with five other works, Sir Fred was a big deal. And now, all but one of those original pieces have been brought back together. There’s ‘Twixt Hope and Fear’, with the best eyebrows in art history. Then there’s ‘Candida’ and ‘The Maid with the Golden Hair’, both quiet, gentle, English paintings of quiet, gentle, English girls. Then there’s ‘Lachrymae’, all forlorn and grumpy.
But the obvious star of this exhibition is ‘Flaming June’. It’s such an oddly shaped work, its perspective folded towards you: it looks like it should extend forever but it’s all scrunched up in the foreground. She’s a crumpled pile of fabric and fiery hair, flesh peeking through or hiding in the folds of her dress.
It’s a seriously sexual image, the vivid orange fabric making her into a metaphorical satsuma for Victorian viewers to peel with their eyes. Leighton turns you into a voyeur. If it wasn’t so beautiful, and so strikingly composed, it would make you feel dirty. But it’s a Victorian masterpiece – a classical, calm, thoughtful work of vulnerable beauty. It’s only in town for five months, so go say ‘buenos dias’ before it gets shipped backed to Puerto Rico.
@eddyfrankel
