For Brits of a certain age, James McNeill Whistler will always conjure memories of that scene in the Mr Bean film. But while Rowan Atkinson’s 1997 opus was a memorable introduction to the American Gilded Age painter, Tate Britain’s grand new retrospective will properly acquaint you with his work – minus any snot-related hijinks – through his paintings, prints, and a litany of personal effects.
Using decoration from his Chelsea studio, the opening room establishes Whistler as a bohemian and fashionable man, but the contextual statement also foreshadows his fall from social grace later in his career (thanks to a lawsuit that left him penniless – more on that later). Thus, a unique, non-linear curatorial narrative is introduced.
After arriving from New England in Paris in 1855, Whistler prolifically produced moody etchings that express the stoic dinginess of the French capital with dense and dynamic shadows. His first attempts at oil painting also happened here. The medium became an even bigger preoccupation when he moved to an equally morose city: London. Whether it’s choked by smog or cluttered with cargo, the Thames is his muse during his early years in the Big Smoke. The chaotic figuration of ships floating past in Wapping and the spectral abstraction of a frozen river in Chelsea in Ice represent two extremes of how Whistler turns urban ugliness into visual harmony. Conducting tone, colour, and blankness with orchestral balance, he’s acutely aware of the musicality behind painting; hence the recurring titles such as Arrangement, Symphony, and Nocturne.
The brilliance of his portraits lies in their simplicity.
Focussing on portraiture during the 1860s, Whistler’s reputation as an exemplary artist was cemented. Critics and contemporaries raved over At the Piano, the painting of his sister playing the piano to her daughter – and I can see why. The youthful fidgetiness in his niece’s posture and the matronly presence of his sister strikes a tender juxtaposition, pushed further by their white and black dress. And the maroon carpet sings a splendid duet with the deep wooden burgundy of the piano. The brilliance of his portraits lies in their simplicity. Then, of course, there’s Whistler’s famous mother (titled Arrangement in Grey and Black No. 1), intact despite the unfortunate incident with Mr Bean. Her black mourning dress finds its solemn companion in the patterned curtains, which almost blend together. White lace cuffs and cap are rendered with feathery fineness against the suffocating grey walls. A deep well of emotion yawns behind her taciturn face. Like a guilty son, I was made to wonder whether she was mad at me.
The exhibition features usually ignored items like brushes, paintboxes, and sketchbooks, which are complemented by East Asian artefacts that Whistler acquired on the colonial market. Much like his etchings, these ceramics, fans, and cabinets show a direct link to the development of his style.
During the 1870s, you can notice his landscapes veering towards the abstract in his series of Nocturnes. Whistler didn’t believe in painting nature outdoors, instead he painted the nocturnal Thames from ethereal memory in his studio. Bright pinpricks of light pierce through a ghostly fog, bridges and buildings melting into the mist. The dreary warehouses on the opposite banks are suddenly transformed into castles floating in the air. It’s a simple idea but each one is somehow more dazzlingly spiritual than the last. Art critic John Ruskin didn’t seem to think so and lambasted them as an insulting regression. Whistler sued for libel, and won, but was left financially and reputationally bankrupt. Forced out of London society, he spent the last 20 years of his life roaming around Europe, settling in Venice and then Amsterdam, where he made architectural etchings and portraiture.
This lavishly diverse collection of Whistler’s work singles him out as a relentless artist who was ceaselessly receptive to the world around him. His cosmopolitan scenes of London alone are worth the £24 price of entry – just try not to sneeze on them.
