Turner blind eye

A huge proportion of art inevitably includes an element of imitation. However, for the illustrious British artist Joseph Mallord William Turner (1775-1851), imitation and replication of other works was a defining element of his paintings.

The ambitious six-room exhibition Turner and The Masters, staged at the Tate Britain (October 2009-January 2010), showcased the best and most poignant examples of Turner’s skills of appropriation and pastiche.

Wandering around the rooms of the exhibition, one is faced with row upon row of classic artworks from legendary names like Claude, Poussin and Titian; accompanied by Turner’s own reinterpretation of the scenes. These range from the almost identical mirror-image (Van de Velde’s Ships in a Stormy Sea and Turner’s Bridgewater Seapiece), to the very loosely inspired (Rembrandt’s Christ and the Woman Taken in Adultery which provoked Turner’s Pilate Washing his Hands).

Initially these two examples may seem incomparable, however looking a little closer one notices Turner’s close adherence to the jewel-like colour palette of Rembrandt’s work, with its shimmering gold and reds; his impressionistic style giving them an even more luminous, glowing effect. Turner has also used the same lighting effect as Rembrandt to highlight from above the central figure of a kneeling woman. Turner also parodies and competes with some of Titain’s artworks.

I particularly enjoyed the pairing of Constable’s Opening of Waterloo Bridge alongside Turner’s Helvoetsluys. The paintings at first glance bear absolutely no similarity with one another; however they are accompanied by a short anecdote.The story goes that, as the works were hung in the Royal Academy for an exhibition, the artists had a final day to make any adjustments before it was to be opened to the public.

{{ quote Turner has used the same lighting effect as Rembrandt to highlight from above the central figure of a kneeling woman }}

Turner, seeing the weight of his competition, took the opportunity to add a tiny blob of red paint to the foreground of his canvas, which he fashioned into a buoy. This made a clear link between the two; instantly making Constable’s piece, with its flurries of red pigment, seem fussy and overdone compared with Turner’s bright, fresh seascape.

On the whole, the exhibition seemed to go down extremely well with the majority of visitors, undoubtedly worth its hefty entrance price. To my dismay, not many people seemed to spend long contemplating the works in the last room. This was a great shame as masterpieces such as Claude’s Embarkation of the Queen of Sheba, and Turner’s own Snow Storm; Steam Boat off a Harbour’s Mouth were displayed therein. The room also included Canaletto’s Bacino di San Marco on Ascension Day alongside first-class example of Turner’s Venetian paintings, which as an art history student recently returned from a term in Venice, I particularly enjoyed.

All in all this was a triumphant showcase and a fabulous opportunity to see so many celebrated artworks brought together. The exhibition effectively highlighted Turner’s attempts to reproduce and improve upon masterpieces of the past in an effort to write himself into the history books.

It remains up to the viewer to decide whether or not his reinterpretations in each case are successful, however it cannot be denied that over his lifetime, Turner succeeded in creating an unrivalled infamy for himself within the canon of British art.