Still life is the lowest form of art. So declared the French Academy when it established the Hierarchy of Species in the 17th century. Historical scenes and portraits were the noblest genres, while landscapes and still lifes were considered lower. According to the art institute, biblical frescoes required a higher level of mastery; A lifeless fruit plate or a bunch of wilted flowers? Anyone can paint these.
This classification shaped the perception of still life as a marginal genre. Four centuries later, the discourse has changed direction. “The careful and meticulous depiction of objects has always been an element of art, but it was usually something you saw in the background of a religious scene or a portrait,” says Melanie Vandenbrouck, chief curator of Pallant House Gallery in Chichester. This month Chichester museum will present a comprehensive survey of around 150 still lifes painted in Britain. Charting its development chronologically, the exhibition presents it as a foundational genre of British art that has historically grappled with universal experiences of love and grief, but also provided a radical commentary on gender inequality, the climate crisis and war.
The genre was first brought to Britain in the 17th century by Dutch golden age painters. At the time, these paintings were generally produced for the wealthy merchant class. They depicted worldly goods, but they also included motifs of memento mori: skulls, clocks, extinguished candles and rotting fruit, all reminders of our mortality. These symbols, inherent in the still life genre, were reimagined by artists in Britain well into the 20th century. Photographer Madame Yevonde lamented the outbreak of the Second World War, wearing a gas mask over the traditional bust in a somber foreshadowing of a brutal conflict that had just begun. In the 1990s, Jo Spence documented the cancer that would eventually kill her through daily photographs of her own belongings.
“Any important aspect of the human condition is treated in still life,” says Vandenbrouck. This is especially true of female artists of the surrealist movement, who used still life to question their place in society. In 1929, photographer Lee Miller witnessed surrealist artist Man Ray undergoing a mastectomy while on assignment. Disturbed, he took a photo of a cut-up breast placed on dinner plates like slices of steak. We then see artists such as Jean Cook and Anna Fox depicting domestic violence using still life. Fox evokes the underlying chaos of everyday objects by placing images of her mother’s organized closets next to her father’s hateful words: “I’ll tear your mother to shreds with an oyster knife.”
Today, contemporary artists are experimenting with new tools and processes, raising questions about some of the most pressing issues of our time. Maisie Cousins’ vibrant images suggest that overconsumption is wasteful, while Gordon Cheung distorts old paintings with digital algorithms to comment on the history of capitalism. “There’s nothing ‘still’ about the way contemporary artists are rethinking the genre. It is extremely dynamic,” says Vandenbrouck.
Centuries ago the genre was condemned as inferior due to its lack of human presence and unpromising storytelling abilities. How wrong they were, for objects are innately endowed with an implied human presence. Close examination can reveal much about the people or societies that once had them, and illuminate the emotional experiences we may all have one day.
The Shape of Things: Still Life in Britain At Pallant House Gallery, Chichester, 11 May until October 20.
I still got it: five pictures from the exhibition
Maisie Cousins – Bumblebee, 2018
In the Garbage series, Cousins creates vibrant, oozing sculptures from household waste. Flies, ants and maggots crawl and nest in the crevices of these sparkling, oozing forms. A conflict between beauty and filth, Cousins’ images encourage us to rethink how we perceive waste.
Gordon Cheung – Still Life with Glass, 2017
Gordon Cheung distorts images of 17th-century paintings from the Dutch golden age using a digital algorithm. These paintings were once a sign of wealth. In offering new visions of these artifacts, Cheung questions the history of capitalism and how technology has shaped today’s economic landscape.
Edward Wadsworth – Bright Intervals, 1928 (Main image)
Wadsworth’s nautical works made a significant contribution to modern art in the interwar years. He was part of the vortex movement, which rejected realism for its hard-edged abstraction. Although he never exhibited with the British surrealists, many of his paintings reflect the movement’s tendency towards exaggeration.
Jean Cooke – Through the Looking Glass, 1960
Cooke was married to the painter John Bratby, who repeatedly beat and locked her up, allowing her to paint only three hours a day. Like many women, she found rest in nature. Here, among the pansies and geraniums, is a miniature self-portrait: a small expression of her presence in her sanctuary.
Wilhelmina Barns-Graham – The Red Table, 1952
In the 1940s, artists including Barbara Hepworth, Bernard Leach, Ben Nicholson and Wilhelmina Barns-Graham began to gather in St Ives, Cornwall. Artists of the St Ives school looked at ordinary objects as vehicles for experimentation with color and composition.