Mr. Turner, a new film, and the Varnishing Day Incident

England’s greatest painter, J.M.W. Turner, is the subject of a new film by Mike Leigh. On May 15th, Mr. Turner premiered  at the Cannes film festival and received rave reviews.  Its star Timothy Spall won the best actor award for his portrayal of the artist. [Spall is best known in the U.S. as Peter Pettigrew or Wormtail in the Harry Potter films.]

The film covers the last twenty-five years of Turner’s life.  The trailer includes a famous incident from life of the eccentric and notoriously competitive artist — when he took advantage of the Royal Academy of Art’s ‘Varnishing Day.’  In the 1800s, the Academy was the center of the British artistic world.  No artist could truly succeed without being a member and no exhibition was more important for one’s reputation than the annual Summer Exhibition.

Joseph Mallord William Turner was one of the few child prodigies in the history of art. One year after he began classes at the Academy, he was made a member of the Academy. He was only 15. By the time he was 17 he could support himself with the sale of his pictures.   In comparison, the great landscape painter, John Constable, who was about the same age as Turner, struggled financially his entire life and didn’t earn membership until he was 53.

Varnishing Day at the Royal Academy, Punch magazine 1877.

Varnishing Day at the Royal Academy, Punch magazine 1877.

The Varnishing Day incident concerns both painters.  The day was a tradition at the Royal Academy.  Each year after the Summer Exhibition was hung by the jurors, artists were allowed inside to put the final protective varnish on their paintings before the show opened. This was not just a necessary stage in finishing a work but a bit of a social event.  The tradition continues to this day and the entrance of the artists includes a parade, a religious service, canapes and champagne.  Once inside, the painters chat amongst themselves as they apply their varnish and a few last touches.

Just as important as putting a protective layer on a painting, Varnishing Day allowed the artists to preview the exhibition before it opened to the public and to learn whether their pictures had been hung in a good location and discover whose work was hung nearby.  While it was an honor to be chosen,  if your picture was put very high up or to the side of a doorway, it meant the jurors did not consider it an important picture, which could damage your reputation.

In 1832, both Turner and Constable’s pictures were hung in good positions, but unfortunately next to each other. Constable’s Opening of Waterloo Bridge was the largest painting he had ever painted for an exhibition, nearly seven feet long.  He had worked on it for thirteen years. When Turner arrived on Varnishing Day and saw his painting next to Constable’s, he began pacing, disturbed not only by its commanding size but by how exciting and colorful the Constable painting was.

John Constable, The Opening of Waterloo Bridge, 1832 (Tate Gallery)

John Constable, The Opening of Waterloo Bridge, 1832 (Tate Gallery)

As a fellow member of the Academy, Charles Robert Leslie personally observed:

Constable’s Waterloo seemed as if painted with liquid gold and silver, and Turner came several times into the room while [Constable] was heightening with vermilion and lake the decorations and flags of the city barges.  Turner stood behind him, looking from the Waterloo to his own picture, and at last brought his palette from the great room where he was touching another picture, and putting a round daub of red lead, somewhat bigger than a shilling, on his grey sea, went away without saying a word.  The intensity of the red lead, made more vivid by the coolness of his picture, caused even the vermilion and lake of Constable to look weak.

 

William Parrott, Turner on Varnishing Day, 1846 (Museums Sheffield)

William Parrott, Turner on Varnishing Day, 1846 (Museums Sheffield)

Constable was horrified at this breach of Varnishing Day etiquette and said to Leslie after Turner left,  ‘He has been here…and fired a gun.’  He knew the damage had been done. Turner’s painting and its bold red spot at the center would command the attention of anyone walking into the Painting Gallery.  Turner returned to the room later. With a swipe of a rag, he trimmed the red ‘gob’ and declared it a buoy.

This flourish was greeted with applause by his fellow artists.  At least, according to the movie.  Mr. Turner opens October 31st in the U.K. and December 19th in the U.S.

How King’s Dream was born

The Dreamer Dreams. Washington DC. 1963. Photo: Bob Adelman

The Dreamer Dreams. Washington DC. 1963. Photo: Bob Adelman

The speech was good, the speaker nervous.  Mahalia Jackson, behind Martin Luther King on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, heard him hesitating.  She yelled out, “tell them about the Dream, Martin!”  King came alive and started adlibbing from his prepared text.  It grew from its planned seven minutes to become one of the greatest speeches in American history.

Jackson, an internationally known gospel singer who had been with the movement through its most difficult days, was the only woman seated in the podium party.  King, who had invited her, was the final speaker, a spot no one else wanted because they assumed that news reporters would have already left after a long day of speeches and song.  But the press and the crowd of nearly 250,000 did wait and were rewarded by a thrilling moment of inspiration that climaxed the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom.  Fittingly, after King’s speech was finished, Mahalia Jackson returned to the podium and closed the event with a final song, “How I got over.”

“I’m surprised that of all that pain, some beauty came.”  – See more at: http://www.laborarts.org/collections/item.cfm?itemid=347#sthash.AILwy2r9.dpuf
Martin Luther King, Jr. and Coretta Scott King outside Montgomery on the Fourth Day of the March, Alabama Route 80, 1965. Photo:  Bob Adelman.

Martin Luther King, Jr. and Coretta Scott King outside Montgomery on the Fourth Day of the March, Alabama Route 80, 1965.
Photo: Bob Adelman.

I learned about this day and much more at a memorable exhibition of photographs called The Movement at the Museum of Art in Fort Lauderdale.  The photographs were all by Bob Adelman and follow the Civil Rights Movement and King from 1961 to the leader’s death in 1968.  According to the curator, between 1963 and 1968, Adelman was a photographer for the Congress of Racial Equality, the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee, the NAACP Legal Defense Fund, and other civil rights organizations. Among the many magazines that have published his work are Esquire, Time, Life, New York, Harper’s, The New York Times Magazine, and Paris Match.
On August 28, 1963, Adelman was known not as a photographer but as a young activist in the movement.  Since he wasn’t considered a member of the press, he had unusual access to the podium during the March of Washington.   He was there to “see all my heroes, the people who were on the front lines.”  At the exhibition, a blow up of his contact sheet of podium shots puts you up there along with Adelman as the speech unfolds.

 

Protestors attacked with hoses by police.  Photo: Bob Adelman

Protestors attacked with hoses by police, 1963. Photo: Bob Adelman

Not only do his images bring you inside the Civil Rights movement, but they are tremendous photographs. According to Adelman, after King saw his images of protestors being sprayed by police hoses in Birmingham, he said, “I’m surprised that of all that pain, beauty came.”

“I’m surprised that of all that pain, some beauty came.”  – See more at: http://www.laborarts.org/collections/item.cfm?itemid=347#sthash.AILwy2r9.dpuf
“I’m surprised that of all that pain, some beauty came.”  – See more at: http://www.laborarts.org/collections/item.cfm?itemid=347#sthash.AILwy2r9.dpuf
“I’m surprised that of all that pain, some beauty came.”  – See more at: http://www.laborarts.org/collections/item.cfm?itemid=347#sthash.AILwy2r9.dpuf

The last room is devoted to King’s funeral ceremony at Morehouse College and is heart-breaking.  His casket was carried in a procession from KIng’s Ebenezer Baptist Church in a simple mule drawn cart, like one you might see on a share-cropper’s farm.  In what I believe are never published photographs, Adelman shows us the faces of the King’s family and other mourners as they pass in front of his open casket.  We learn that Rosa Parks cried through the whole ceremony.

It is hard to calculate how much impact King’s speech had on the nation.  President John F. Kennedy had never heard King give a speech before the March on Washington.  Later that day, he invited King and the other organizers to the White House.   When King entered the Oval Office, Kennedy shook his hand up and down, repeating, “I have a dream.”