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Lot Essay
Admiration for the interconnecting threads that Mrs. Getty wove through the collection at Temple of Wings grows when considering this picture. Not only was it reproduced adjacent to an illustration of Alma-Tadema’s A Coign of Vantage in Jeremy Maas’s seminal survey of Victorian Pictures, but it was executed a stone’s throw from Leighton House, by Albert Joseph Moore, albeit under very different circumstances.
Moore was a loner, and deemed eccentric. He chose as his residence an unobtrusive studio wedged between a pub and a dairy, that he declined to decorate. Visitors complained of there being not one chair in the sitting room. Instead, Moore lived in his imagination, where he conjured up palaces even more sumptuous than those of his neighbors, and even more beautifully populated. As Robyn Asleson has noted: 'Within the narrow constraints of this tiny painting, Moore envisioned a lavishly appointed interior featuring a painted and upholstered screen with carved pillar supports, along with latticed windows, and an elaborate ceiling of Moorish design. The only item in the painting that probably existed in reality is the pansy-patterned fabric draped behind the figure, which has already been noted in several other pictures. Suggestive of a seraglio, the setting of Forget-Me-Nots provides the first example of deliberate Orientalism in Moore’s art since Dancing Girl Resting of 1864 and was possibly inspired by his newfound enthusiasm for Turkish and Persian fabrics'. These were supplied to the artist by Arthur Lazenby Liberty, founder of the eponymous firm.
The picture inspired a long notice from the critic of the London Times, who detailed Moore’s mastery on the 'secrets' of ancient Greek drapery, which made his art superior to that of his contemporaries.
'[The painting is] worked in the faintest and most delicate tones of yellow, white and blue, and gains all its beauty by the skillful management of painting of the drapery, and the perfect science with which the little flashes of color are introduced into the composition. If any of our readers care to know what it is that constitutes the great charm of Mr. Albert Moore’s work – and there is no doubt that the charm is considerable – they can discover it by comparing any of his picture with the fragments of Grecian drapery to be seen in the sculpture-room at the British Museum. They will find that the same elements exist in both – service to clothe the limbs they cover; beauty, to reveal the main lines of the form beneath the robes; action, expressive of what the body is doing; flow and continuity of line, subordinated to the above necessities, but kept clearly in view throughout. And, perhaps, to these there should be a added perfect lightness, so that however numerous or involved the folds, they never seem to weigh the body down or impede its action' (The Times, 30 May 1881, p. 6).
The picture was shown at The Grosvenor Gallery, five years after its inception. W. Graham Robertson’s recollection is pertinent, as it also aptly describes the atmosphere of the drawing room at Temple of Wings. 'The general effect of the great rooms was most beautiful, and quite unlike the ordinary picture gallery. It suggested the interior of some old Venetian palace … I can well remember my first visit … One wall was… softly radiant with the faint, flower-tinted harmonies of Albert Moore … The impression left upon me … was unforgettable … I arrived at the Albert Moores, and so to speak, sat down to rest among them. How lovely they were, what clear color, what perfection of workmanship. The paint was solid, yet light and crumbly as pastel. There seemed to be a delicate bloom on the surface as though they were viewed through a veil of gossamer or pearly mist. They were like flowers; one expected them to smell sweet' (W. Graham Robertson, Life was worth living, the reminisces of W. Graham Robertson, London, 1931).
The picture was later owned by Charles and Lavinia Handley Read, who formed a superb collection of fine and decorative art from the Victorian period, many pieces of which are now in museum collections.
Moore was a loner, and deemed eccentric. He chose as his residence an unobtrusive studio wedged between a pub and a dairy, that he declined to decorate. Visitors complained of there being not one chair in the sitting room. Instead, Moore lived in his imagination, where he conjured up palaces even more sumptuous than those of his neighbors, and even more beautifully populated. As Robyn Asleson has noted: 'Within the narrow constraints of this tiny painting, Moore envisioned a lavishly appointed interior featuring a painted and upholstered screen with carved pillar supports, along with latticed windows, and an elaborate ceiling of Moorish design. The only item in the painting that probably existed in reality is the pansy-patterned fabric draped behind the figure, which has already been noted in several other pictures. Suggestive of a seraglio, the setting of Forget-Me-Nots provides the first example of deliberate Orientalism in Moore’s art since Dancing Girl Resting of 1864 and was possibly inspired by his newfound enthusiasm for Turkish and Persian fabrics'. These were supplied to the artist by Arthur Lazenby Liberty, founder of the eponymous firm.
The picture inspired a long notice from the critic of the London Times, who detailed Moore’s mastery on the 'secrets' of ancient Greek drapery, which made his art superior to that of his contemporaries.
'[The painting is] worked in the faintest and most delicate tones of yellow, white and blue, and gains all its beauty by the skillful management of painting of the drapery, and the perfect science with which the little flashes of color are introduced into the composition. If any of our readers care to know what it is that constitutes the great charm of Mr. Albert Moore’s work – and there is no doubt that the charm is considerable – they can discover it by comparing any of his picture with the fragments of Grecian drapery to be seen in the sculpture-room at the British Museum. They will find that the same elements exist in both – service to clothe the limbs they cover; beauty, to reveal the main lines of the form beneath the robes; action, expressive of what the body is doing; flow and continuity of line, subordinated to the above necessities, but kept clearly in view throughout. And, perhaps, to these there should be a added perfect lightness, so that however numerous or involved the folds, they never seem to weigh the body down or impede its action' (The Times, 30 May 1881, p. 6).
The picture was shown at The Grosvenor Gallery, five years after its inception. W. Graham Robertson’s recollection is pertinent, as it also aptly describes the atmosphere of the drawing room at Temple of Wings. 'The general effect of the great rooms was most beautiful, and quite unlike the ordinary picture gallery. It suggested the interior of some old Venetian palace … I can well remember my first visit … One wall was… softly radiant with the faint, flower-tinted harmonies of Albert Moore … The impression left upon me … was unforgettable … I arrived at the Albert Moores, and so to speak, sat down to rest among them. How lovely they were, what clear color, what perfection of workmanship. The paint was solid, yet light and crumbly as pastel. There seemed to be a delicate bloom on the surface as though they were viewed through a veil of gossamer or pearly mist. They were like flowers; one expected them to smell sweet' (W. Graham Robertson, Life was worth living, the reminisces of W. Graham Robertson, London, 1931).
The picture was later owned by Charles and Lavinia Handley Read, who formed a superb collection of fine and decorative art from the Victorian period, many pieces of which are now in museum collections.