
Cambridge blogger discovers story of painting on Fake or Fortune
"The painting came up for sale as some of the less important works from the Hertfordshire Council Pictures for Schools Scheme in 2019," said Mr Cantus."I went on a bit of a trolly-dash buying the works, as many where not expensive and there were many items in each lot."Mr Cantus needed illustrations for a book he has since written on Pictures for Schools.This was a 20th Century project, the brainchild of Nan Youngman, which bought modern British art to lend to schools and "give children artwork that was inspiring to look at". The council made more than £440,000 from its initial sale of the artworks. A council spokesperson said the sell-off followed a review of its collection and a public consultation. "We sold a number of works judged to have little or no significance to Hertfordshire at auction in 2019... with the money raised being invested in local services," they said."One of our aims in selling these works was to find them a better home than our storerooms where they could be properly displayed and appreciated, so whilst it may turn out that this specific painting was worth more, we are pleased that it has found a good home with a new owner."
Who was Frances Hodgkins?
Born in New Zealand, she left in 1901 and spent the rest of her life in EuropeA breakthrough in public recognition came in 1929 when her friend and fellow artist Cedric Morris suggested she should be selected for the Seven & Five Society, exhibiting alongside Barbara Hepworth, Ben Nicholson and Henry MooreBy the 1940s, her work was being lauded in the British pressToday, she is little known outside her native New Zealand, where the galleries have been "very active in buying and repatriating the works", said Mr CantusSource: Art UK
Mr Cantus admitted he did not even want the picture, but he did want to acquire works by Vera Cunningham - and it was sold as a pair attributed to Cunningham."The Fake or Fortune picture had been put in a horrid 1970s frame, when the original frame was damaged," he said.The original labels on its back were lost and "then it is likely someone guessed it was a Vera Cunningham and wrote it on the back". Mr Cantus put a photograph of it on his blog and thought no more about it until 2021, when someone got in touch to suggest it might be by Ms Hodgkins.Taking it out of the frame, he discovered another painting on the other side of the canvas.
Having done as much investigating as he could, he got in touch with Fake or Fortune because "it gives members of the public the chance to get a painting validated"."I enjoyed what happened off the camera as much as on," he said."Then you have an out-of-body experience: 'Why am I up a hill, in Wales, with Fiona Bruce, looking at a Roman goldmine?'."The outcome of the investigation is not being revealed until the programme goes out."I stopped thinking of the painting when I cycled back from London with it in a Primark bag," he added.Fake or Fortune is on BBC One at 21:00 BST on Monday.
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The Sun
3 hours ago
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‘Woe is you' – Luke Littler savaged by announcer for interview after winning Australian Darts Masters
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Times
12 hours ago
- Times
The great art master who vanished …
There's an Amédée Ozenfant-shaped hole in art history. Which is extraordinary given that the French painter and writer was supposedly as famous as Picasso in the 1920s. With Le Corbusier he founded a movement they called purism. He starred in the first television programme of art made live on air. He opened an art school that welcomed through its doors Leonora Carrington and Henry Moore, who taught there. So, why the disappearing act? That's the question ricocheting through Charles Darwent's new book, Monsieur Ozenfant's Academy, which according to the author is 'both a microhistory and a story with surprisingly broad reach'. Darwent doesn't have an easy time of it: there's a dearth of sources, and the few surviving accounts are peppered with inconsistencies. Still, he paints a portrait of Ozenfant the man, the artist, the cultural emissary that's quietly illuminating. The story begins in 1918 with a pair of plucky young men — Ozenfant and Le Corbusier laying claim to classicism. (Ozenfant suggested to Charles-Édouard Jeanneret that he take the family name Le Corbusier, which sounded stately and could therefore prove useful for their joint venture.) After the mayhem of the First World War, they were canvassing for a new sense of restraint — the opposite reaction to that of their 'Parisian coeval and nemesis', André Breton. While surrealism would deal with destructive energy by embracing it, purism was all about resurrecting 'the clean-limbed, Platonic world of Attic Greece'. Pictorially speaking, there would be an emphasis on line over colour, with objects reduced to simple, reproducible types. Ozenfant had his first experience of teaching — and of the British — at the Académie Moderne, a free art school founded by Fernand Léger (a fellow purist) in 1920 in Montparnasse. But it wasn't until spring 1936 that he opened the academy at the heart of Darwent's book. In 1934, encouraged by a group of affluent students he had taught in Paris — among them Ursula Blackwell, heiress to the Crosse & Blackwell food fortune — Ozenfant and his wife, Marthe, moved to London. There he established a modest school in a pair of adjoining mews houses on Warwick Road in West Kensington. Among the few sources at Darwent's fingertips are student testimonies, which bring a splash of colour. 'We used well-sharpened charcoal pencils, building slow compositions with small ticks and much thought, no dashing quick sketches allowed,' recalled Ozenfant's most loyal student, Stella Snead. The future actress Dulcie Gray, who enrolled after seeing an ad in The Times, described the technique the Frenchman imposed on them as 'rigid'; they had to work so methodically, she said, that the life model 'posed problems to painters in the winter by becoming scarlet on the side nearest the stove, and remaining blue with cold on the other'. The arrival of Carrington — the best-known name, unless the rumours are true that Francis Bacon attended anonymously — coincided with the opening in 1936 of the first International Surrealist Exhibition in Mayfair. (Her departure came about when she and Max Ernst — married and 26 years her senior — became lovers and fled from her enraged father to Cornwall with Roland Penrose and Lee Miller.) Like Carrington, most of Ozenfant's students would become surrealists, whether he liked it or not. But the painting to emerge from the academy would have a particular look: 'For all the Surrealist weirdness of its subjects, it tended to be well drawn, clearly composed; spontaneity with a Purist edge.' • The 10 best biographies and memoirs of the past year to read next The Ozenfant Academy of Fine Arts was unique: unlike the existing offerings in London, it offered atelier-style teaching, with a single tutor working alongside a small number of students. Within its walls was an unmistakable sense of camaraderie, and beyond them Ozenfant hoped to foster friendship on an international scale. Back in France, the Blum administration needed a representative in London whose cultural and political aims matched its own. 'Ozenfant, as a socialist and modernist, was to be the Front Populaire's man, flown back and forth to Paris at government expense and his school supported by an official grant,' writes Darwent. By spring 1939, the threat of war led Ozenfant to close Warwick Road and move with Marthe to New York, where he continued teaching. During the London academy's final months, the director of studies was its former instructor in clay sculpting, Moore. Ozenfant stayed in New York for 16 years, which partly explains his absence in art history: he was away from Paris at a crucial moment in French museology, when the Musée National d'Art Moderne was in the final stages of planning. 'Its collection would define for a generation what was canonical in modern French art and what was not,' writes Darwent. 'Ozenfant was left out of the equation.' The final quarter of the book comprises pages from the diary Ozenfant kept during the three and a half years he spent in London. Originally published in his Mémoires in 1968, it's deftly translated by Darwent, who describes it as 'a unique record, England and the English seen through French eyes at a moment when British history was becoming all too interesting'. Ozenfant is witty and droll as he muses on British culture, politics, society. 'The English, ah! How their way of life and good manners help one to live!' he marvels. 'It is, in England, aristocratic to yawn, this shows that you don't belong to the working classes, that you have nothing to do and are always bored. Are we less bored when we yawn all together?' he wonders. 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Times
14 hours ago
- Times
Inside Picasso's studios: the secrets of the places where he lived and loved
Life is art. There are few artists for whom that's more true than for Picasso. You can chart the ups and downs of his romances through his canvases — and establish overlapping timelines; you can assess his emotional state; you can estimate his affluence (consistently increasing) or the size of the space he's working in (ditto). Even his interior scenes function as a kind of self-portrait. It's interior spaces that form the backbone of the forthcoming exhibition at the National Gallery of Ireland (NGI), Picasso: From the Studio. Curated with the Musée Picasso in Paris, with a large number of loans from that elegant institution, it takes a chronological journey through the Spanish artist's career, via the key locations in France in which he worked. It will look at how the artist's environment influenced his output, from soon after his arrival in Paris from Barcelona at the start of the 20th century to his last home and studio at Mougins, through paintings, sculptures, ceramics and works on paper, photography and rarely seen film. There are more than 150 recorded places that Picasso made art throughout his life, but the exhibition begins around 1912, as Picasso and Georges Braque were egging each other on to develop cubism. Small assemblages and collages from this time, including the gallery's own 1913 collage Bottle and Newspaper, will feature alongside works made of scavenged materials: paper scraps, stencilled letters, canvas, wood, pliable tin, nails, sand and paint. These experiments show how the studio was 'the laboratory of his work', the exhibition's co-curator Joanne Snrech says, but their modest size reflects the ad hoc spaces in which he worked — easier to lug around Paris to the next ramshackle spot. By the Twenties Picasso was a success. He was collaborating with Serge Diaghilev's Ballets Russes, and having married the dancer Olga Khokhlova in 1918 was a darling of society. • Picasso or Goya: who created Spain's most important painting? As he holidayed on the newly fashionable Côte d'Azur, the sea, sunlight and the company of glam pals imbued Picasso's work with a sunny exuberance. These paintings (because Picasso worked everywhere, even on holiday) exude the heat of the Riviera — a rare landscape made at his summer studio in Juan-les-Pins, where he and Olga stayed in 1920, or the jolly Still Life with a Mandolin from 1924, both in the show. During the Thirties, though, all sorts of shifts happened. In 1927 Picasso, aged 45, had met 17-year-old Marie-Thérèse Walter outside a Paris department store, and started a relationship with her. In 1930 he bought a manor house at Boisgeloup in Normandy, about 45 miles from his Paris home, establishing a studio on the light-filled second floor, and began dividing his time between it and Paris. Olga stayed in the city with their son, Paolo, during the week, so the painter was free to have his young mistress visit him often in Boisgeloup. They kept the relationship secret for eight years — goodness knows how, since Walter haunts his work throughout this period, her golden hair and almond-shaped eyes unmistakable even when distorted by cubism. Nearly all the show's works from this studio depict her, including a serene portrait from 1937, two years after the birth of their daughter, Maya, at which time Picasso tried to divorce Olga (she refused; they stayed married until her death in 1955) — and around the time that he met the photographer Dora Maar, of whom, inevitably, more later. Boisgeloup didn't just enable the indulgence of a new muse. A large outbuilding allowed him to more intensely explore sculpture, especially monumental heads and busts. You can guess the dominant subject. His next studio was on the Rue des Grands-Augustins in the Saint-Germain-des-Prés district of Paris. Picasso liked it because the shabby 17th-century townhouse had a connection to Balzac as the residence for the painter Frenhofer, the main character in his novel The Unknown Masterpiece. It is where Picasso painted probably his second most famous work (the first being his 1907 masterpiece Les Demoiselles d'Avignon). Guernica was a commission from the Republican government for the Spanish pavilion at the 1937 Exposition Internationale in Paris. • Read more art reviews, guides and interviews Maar found the vast attic studio for him — partly thanks to it being a meeting place for the resistance group Contre-attaque, of which she had been a member — and secured exclusive rights to document the painting's creation for the magazine Cahiers d'art. Quite different from Walter, whom the co-curator Janet McLean describes as 'dreamy and romantic', Maar was fiery and passionately left-wing, and as she documented his work, 'they were bouncing off each other … it was a meeting of minds for sure,' her political zeal influencing the direction of the painting. Sadly, Guernica doesn't travel, but several works from the period give a sense of the tension and confinement of those difficult years. 'I'm glad we're able to show these quite frugal paintings made in 1938, when there were a lot of refugees coming to France due to the Spanish Civil War,' McLean says. One such is Child with a Lollipop Sitting Under a Chair, donated by Maya to the Musée Picasso a few years ago. Painted in sombre monochrome, 'it's not a pretty picture of a child', McLean says; instead it has a huddled, claustrophobic feel. 'It's interesting to show Picasso connected to the world, because he really was.' It's not known why Picasso elected to remain in Paris as the Second World War intensified — he was unable to exhibit, the Nazi regime considered his work 'degenerate' — but he kept working away in his attic, photographed there in 1944 by Brassaï. A shot from this series will be in the exhibition, alongside Bust of a Woman with a Blue Hat, a portrait of Maar made the same year, just after their not-quite-definitive break-up (they continued to see each other intermittently until 1946). One of the aims of the exhibition, McLean says, is to show 'Picasso's versatility as an artist. While he considered himself primarily a painter, he was exceptional in his ability to turn his hand to any medium.' A wonderful example of this is his playful ceramics, influenced by the studio he took from 1948-55 at Vallauris, a small town on the Côte d'Azur. It was home to a number of ceramic factories, depicted in Picasso's 1951 canvas Smoke in Vallauris, where thick black puffs pump urgently into the sky from the wood-burning kilns. Inspired by Georges and Suzanne Ramié, the owners of the Madoura Pottery, he bought a villa nearby and set about learning from Suzanne, saying: 'I don't think I'm a ceramicist, next to ceramicists who are real ceramicists, I'm just […] an unfortunate amateur and an ignoramus. I try, I listen, I look, I try to pass my time.' He produced more than 3,600 pieces in just a few years, several of which will be on display, including a dove modelled ingeniously out of a few flops of folded clay. He got so into it that an American newspaper referred to him as 'left-wing ceramicist artist Picasso'. He was, at the time, active as part of the Movement for Peace and the French Communist Party. He enjoyed collaborating with his fellow artisans, and was active in the community, attending local bullfights and openings of pottery exhibitions, for which he designed the posters (free of charge), and portrayed his family life in pictures as part of a simple creative ideal. • My journey through the French region most famous for its artists A touching example of this is the 1954 canvas Claude drawing, Françoise and Paloma, a harmonious image depicting his two youngest children with their mother, the painter Françoise Gilot, whom he had met in 1943 (he 61, she 21) — except that Gilot is shown oddly only as an outline, curved protectively around her children. She had left him and returned to Paris with them the year before. Still, his time in Vallauris was transformative for his output and for the town. In 1949 he donated his sculpture L'Homme au mouton (Man with a sheep) — it's still on the market square — and in 1951 he created the War and Peace cycle in a local chapel. His presence, McLean says, 'revitalised the ceramics industry in that region'. Man of the people he may have been, but he was also very rich, and in 1955 he acquired La Californie, a des res in Cannes, where for the first time he lived and worked in the same space, which must have been inconvenient for his family (he had met his new partner, Jacqueline Roque, in 1952, when she was 26 and he was 70), given the rapid accumulation of artworks that filled every inch. The three adjoining rooms on the ground floor served as studio and living area, with rounded windows that opened onto a lush garden into which his sculpture spilled (the show features a great 1960-61 photograph of him there by André Sonine). He seems to have seen La Californie as a sort of extension of himself, judging by the vigour with which he depicts it in his art. 'This was the first time he had paid so much attention to his studio,' Snrech writes in the catalogue, 'to the extent that these works can be seen almost as self-portraits.' Several will be on display, including a magnificent 1956 canvas made in homage to Henri Matisse, who had died in 1954. The room is empty of people, but the painter's presence is suggested by paintings and objects, and in the centre a blank canvas sits expectantly on an easel. Picasso called these paintings 'interior landscapes'. Eventually the lack of privacy in fast-developing Cannes drove him out. In 1961 — the year that he married Jacqueline at the town hall in Vallauris — he moved to his final studio, the Notre Dame de Vie farmhouse in the nearby town of Mougins. Surrounded by work from across his life (an entire wing was dedicated to the display of his sculptures), this was the scene of a final flowering, a period of insane productivity. He produced about 200 paintings between September 1970 and June 1972, and he created more portraits of Jacqueline than of any of his other partners. In contrast to the hurly-burly of La Californie, he worked in relative solitude, assailed by memory — in a series of etchings, La Suite 347, created when he was 86, he returns to motifs such as bullfighters, circus performers, artists and models, mythology and literature, musketeers and animals — and by an urgent need to innovate, seen in the free, gestural brushstrokes of paintings such as Reclining Nude, 1967. It was here that he died, in April 1973, probably from a heart attack. According to Paris Match, Jacqueline called his doctor in the early hours of the morning; he died a few hours later, at 11.45am, at the age of 91. There was no will, of course (not his problem), and more than 45,000 unsold works strewn across his various studios. An artist, first, foremost and only, to the last. Picasso: From the Studio is at the National Gallery of Ireland, October 9 to February 22,