On 23 August 2021, we lost the artist that is Elizabeth Blackadder (1931-2021).
She was represented for many decades by Scotland’s oldest commercial art gallery, the Scottish Gallery in Edinburgh. This gallery has an impressive & illustrious reputation & indeed even has Samuel John Peploe’s grandson Guy as its director. They also represented John Houston, the painter & Elizabeth Blackadder’s husband. What has been good about the Scottish Gallery, especially during lockdown is that they have engaged very well with the public, providing free Zoom talks & live tours of current exhibitions. Things that certain large, well-funded art galleries did not provide…
Salute in a Thunderstorm, date unknown
When the gallery announced Blackadder’s death, it was the first I knew of it. They emailed out little film clips they had made with her, discussing her art, process & practice. I sat watching one clip, sad but pleased that these things existed & that we live in a time when we can hear the words of an artist straight from her lips, see her smile & hear her voice. As she cheerfully but shyly showed the interviewer round her studio, she stated that many people gave her objects – she had started collecting things when her father would travel & bring her souvenirs home. She later travelled herself, collecting over time. As she & the interviewer moved about, she began picking up items & talking about them as they went. Dolls, fans, textiles, baskets, One of these objects was a little wooden box with a lid & red felt lining, which she opened up & said she thought was Spanish. It contained tiny chess pieces. “I just liked the box & the design on it.” At this point I had to stop the clip & smile to myself.
When my mother-in-law died earlier this year, one of the things I was given from her personal effects was a box almost exactly the same as the one in the clip - including the red felt lining - only larger & without the chess pieces. This is just a cute & lucky aside but in the future it will give me another memory of both women.
Elizabeth was fortunate to have a mother who wanted a better life for her daughter than she’d had so was encouraged & given as much opportunity as possible. Her mother’s attitude was downright revolutionary for the time. She had a lifelong interest in botany & this was evident in her later works in particular.
After winning a Carnegie scholarship she travelled & this broadened her artistic horizons. The influences of other European artists such as Matisse began to emerge. Further travels took her to Japan, where the Zen Gardens had an impact on her use of space within her works. Japanese Garden of 2005 is a beautiful example piece showing her flair for composition.
This interest in space & its importance seems to me to have been most effectively utilised in her printmaking. Perhaps it is the nature of the medium; although her still life paintings show an awareness of space & tend to avoid the clutter of her studio her prints seem more concerned with this. Some works are very spare. It seems to me many of her compositions are almost architectural in philosophy, in that the importance of space matches the importance of line & form. What strikes me time after time looking at her works is the necessity of drawing ability. Even a piece such as Garden, Venice (1966) is effectively a drawing with a brush.
Her 1988 portrait of Mollie Hunter, 1922-2012 also feels like a drawing in paint. It is gentle & although the shapes & forms are clear & strong, there is an essential sensitivity brought out by the lack of detail. The eye is immediately drawn to the figure. It manages to say much about the writer despite its almost sketchy treatment.
In Margaret Swain, 1909-2002. Textile Historian Elizabeth manages to beautifully convey the sitter’s character & determination in a few broad strokes.
The colour lithograph Still Life With Fan (1980) offers an insight into her treatment of space with objects relating to each other only through their position on the paper. They appear flat & viewed from above. She tinkers with ideas about perspective & composition.
Vase of Flowers, Auratum Lilies & Mixed Flowers & Jug are instantly recognisable as her work, not only for the recognisable styles but also for the obvious care she takes in rendering plants. She puts them centre stage as worthy candidates for portrayal in themselves. Unlike her predecessors in botanical painting such as Ambrosius Bosschaert or Jan Davidzs de Heem, she doesn’t feel the need to explain, to propose a meaning or a theme. Love & beauty is the message, if there is one.
Naturally, I feel compelled to mention her cat paintings. There are dozens of cat works by Elizabeth Blackadder & again they are thoroughly recognisable. They are perhaps the least challenging of her works (provided you like cats of course) & as such find their way onto much art gallery merchandise (cat tat). Cat shapes are cat shapes & are instantly identifiable, however her paintings of cats are again, less about the detail & more about the character, the disposition, the demeanour. They’re a treatment of cats in a holistic sense. You willingly take the bad with the good as a cat owner & you get a sense of this in her feline images. Cats on a Kelim, Abyssinian Cat, Black & White Cat, Kikko on a Rug – even the titles are general, vague & as if you are only there to serve them.
In later life, Elizabeth focused much of her work on her garden & her cats. Throughout her life she worked on places & objects she enjoyed. Her whole career is a celebration of the simple things we love. What a wonderful stage to get to: you’re admired & awarded for your work, you can continue to work & still have that drive & you can pour that work into the things you love most.
Elizabeth Blackadder, we salute you.
No comments:
Post a Comment