The Pre-Raphaelites and their Extremities - Asides (VII)

One of many annoying habits that I have is to take swift, half-educated guesses at questions on University Challenge. If I were actually on one of the teams for real, and if it was a 'starter question', Jeremy Paxman would not hesitate in docking me and my teammates five points. I'm very prone to doing this regarding visual questions about the Pre-Raphaelites, blurting out Dante Gabriel Rossetti or Edward Burne-Jones before I've even attempted to process the evidence.

However, after viewing the National Portrait Gallery's Pre-Raphaelite Sisters exhibition today, I may well have come up with a formula to make quick decisions between Burne-Jones and Rossetti. The latter, to my eye, is not very accomplished at hands. Take those in his painting The Day Dream.  

Detail from Dante Gabriel Rossetti's The Day Dream (1880)

     

There's an argument that the model Jane Morris is looking glum because she's stuck halfway up a sycamore tree. But her dismay probably owes much more to the state of her hands, which wouldn't look amiss on the vampire Nosferatu. It's not helped either by the 'undead' hue that is given to the skin in this painting. The draftsmanship improves slightly in Proserpine, but there's still, on close examination, an awkward shape to Morris's right hand. It almost looks as if her pinkie is dislocated. At least the skin-tone looks healthier, although there would have been an excuse here, what with Proserpine recently back from the Underworld.

Detail from Dante Gabriel Rossetti's Proserpine (1880)

Burne-Jones, on the other (ahem!) hand, is just fantastic at extremities. This skill at hands and, in particular, feet, was remarked upon at Tate Britain's retrospective last year (I wrote then about some of the conundrums posed by the Pre-Raphaelites, and I'm still not sure I'm any closer to solving them). The Golden Stair (1880), with its array of descending feet was accomplished and hypnotic. Likewise, and right next door to Proserpine, was The Tree of Forgiveness.  The perfect opportunity, then, to compare.  

Detail from Edward Burne-Jones' The Tree of Forgiveness (1882)

Although there's still that wan and bloodless hue to the skin, everything looks alive, and, more importantly, natural. Movement helps too: not just in the surprise and attempted flight of Demophoön from his dead lover Phyllis, but in the way that the almond blossoms are brushed aside at that exact moment. Finally, there's the composition in this detail. Despite the intricacy - or maybe because of its ambition - it works perfectly. Rather than the slight feeling of repulsion that I get when looking at the hands in The Day Dream, this clasp coupled with fright and flight, draws us right into the dramatic heart of the painting.

You might ask why I have jettisoned John Everett Millais and William Holman-Hunt from my list of possible reflex answers to Paxman's questions. Truth be told, I tend to recognise those two quite easily: the former was one of the first artists to stoke my interest in painting; the latter always seems to me to be quite distinctive. So all will be well and good in any upcoming moments of art trivia? Well, not quite. It would certainly be chauvinistic to write about an exhibition that focuses on the Pre-Raphaelite 'Sisterhood' and only mention those works painted by men. And, indeed, it was actually Evelyn De Morgan and her mad, messy and glorious Queen Eleanor and the Fair Rosamund that turned out to be my pick of the works on show in the exhibition. 

Evelyn De Morgan, Queen Eleanor and the Fair Rosamund (1902)

It may be a tribute to the men at the heart of the movement, but it is mesmerising. It is full of incident and symbolism: phials of poison, strange spirits, lizards and monkeys; cupids and doves; a red thread to guide the jealous Queen Eleanor through a protective maze; outrageous outfits and Rosamund's flame-haired tresses.  And, of course, the skill and execution are superb, not least in those four perfectly depicted hands. The question-setters could do much worse than take in this exhibition and shake up the standard answers (male artist, muse and model) to questions on the Pre-Raphaelites.