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Lot Essay
Originally gifted to William Nicholson’s housekeeper and mistress Marie Laquelle, The Marquess of Wellington Jug went on to become part of the actress Vivien Leigh’s collection for over twenty years. It is a painting that reflects the artist’s virtuosic mastery of the still-life genre. Nicholson grew most deeply engaged with this genre following the First World War, and building upon his success with portraiture, he produced some of his finest work during this time. Executed in 1920, the variety of painterly language, attention to the effects of light, and ceaseless pleasure in colour for its own sake work together to elevate the composition of objects to an altogether enchanting scene.
At this time, Nicholson began to instil a distinct playfulness to his palette and subject. In effervescent contrast with the dark background, a moulded Staffordshire pearlware jug sits atop a marbled green and black book in glowing detail. Painted with over-glaze enamels, the figure represented is Wellington, who was created a Marquess in 1812, and a Duke in 1814, providing a date for the jug itself. It is not unusual for Nicholson’s paintings to tell of times past, although he never veers towards overt vanitas symbols common in the still-life tradition. Rather, considering Wellington’s imminent victory over Napoleon Bonaparte in 1815, making him one of Europe’s most celebrated men, it may be said that the present work traverses between a portrait and a still-life. To Wellington’s right is the Spanish civil ensign of the period, and although not pictured, it was customary to feature General Hill on the other side of the jug. Nicholson’s animated red monogram corresponds with Wellington’s scarlet coat facing and plume as an important element of the design.
Nicholson delighted in the depiction of lustrous surfaces as they allowed him to experiment with reflections of light and shadow and to investigate volume and space. On this subject, Merlin James comments that Nicholson ‘orchestrates highlights with poignancy and mesmeric precision’, and this certainly rings true in The Marquess of Wellington (M. James, Exhibition Catalogue, ‘Words about Painting’, The Art of William Nicholson, 2004, p. 25). Bouncing playfully across the jug’s convexities and the book’s spine, the passage of Nicholson’s brush over the canvas, depositing accents of pure white, effects a startling visual immediacy that is comparable to that of James McNeill Whistler, whose aesthetics he greatly admired. Nicholson is keenly aware of the futility of light itself as a transient phenomenon, and the apparent swiftness of the highlights carries the eye over the picture in a way that satisfies this mutability. The true darkness of the painting’s background is similarly elusive, enrobing the jug in a cavernous depth.
Perhaps seen as an investigation in spatial geometry, the intersection of the undulating forms of the jug, linear angularity of the book-boards, and bisecting shadows result in a topological feat of genius that Nicholson took much delight in conceiving. Particularly in his still lifes, Nicholson often liked to position his subject upon a stage-like support, in this case a book, which further presented him a great variety of angles.
Nicholson did not paint according to the prescription of any movement. Rather, he painted because he loved to paint. This continual sensuous delight, on the part of both artist and viewer, is undeniably felt in The Marquess of Wellington Jug.
At this time, Nicholson began to instil a distinct playfulness to his palette and subject. In effervescent contrast with the dark background, a moulded Staffordshire pearlware jug sits atop a marbled green and black book in glowing detail. Painted with over-glaze enamels, the figure represented is Wellington, who was created a Marquess in 1812, and a Duke in 1814, providing a date for the jug itself. It is not unusual for Nicholson’s paintings to tell of times past, although he never veers towards overt vanitas symbols common in the still-life tradition. Rather, considering Wellington’s imminent victory over Napoleon Bonaparte in 1815, making him one of Europe’s most celebrated men, it may be said that the present work traverses between a portrait and a still-life. To Wellington’s right is the Spanish civil ensign of the period, and although not pictured, it was customary to feature General Hill on the other side of the jug. Nicholson’s animated red monogram corresponds with Wellington’s scarlet coat facing and plume as an important element of the design.
Nicholson delighted in the depiction of lustrous surfaces as they allowed him to experiment with reflections of light and shadow and to investigate volume and space. On this subject, Merlin James comments that Nicholson ‘orchestrates highlights with poignancy and mesmeric precision’, and this certainly rings true in The Marquess of Wellington (M. James, Exhibition Catalogue, ‘Words about Painting’, The Art of William Nicholson, 2004, p. 25). Bouncing playfully across the jug’s convexities and the book’s spine, the passage of Nicholson’s brush over the canvas, depositing accents of pure white, effects a startling visual immediacy that is comparable to that of James McNeill Whistler, whose aesthetics he greatly admired. Nicholson is keenly aware of the futility of light itself as a transient phenomenon, and the apparent swiftness of the highlights carries the eye over the picture in a way that satisfies this mutability. The true darkness of the painting’s background is similarly elusive, enrobing the jug in a cavernous depth.
Perhaps seen as an investigation in spatial geometry, the intersection of the undulating forms of the jug, linear angularity of the book-boards, and bisecting shadows result in a topological feat of genius that Nicholson took much delight in conceiving. Particularly in his still lifes, Nicholson often liked to position his subject upon a stage-like support, in this case a book, which further presented him a great variety of angles.
Nicholson did not paint according to the prescription of any movement. Rather, he painted because he loved to paint. This continual sensuous delight, on the part of both artist and viewer, is undeniably felt in The Marquess of Wellington Jug.