J W Waterhouse at the Royal Academy

J W Waterhouse at the Royal Academy

27 July, 2009
by: Gina Louise

The news that I am to review the world's largest collection of JW Waterhouse paintings, though incredibly welcome, leads me to acknowledge that I have long been residing shamefully amongst the culturally ignorant. I decide some rigorous research is in order, and make sure to watch an informative documentary about Pre-Raphaelite art (read: BBC2's new sultry drama Desperate Romantics), managing to gather a smattering of knowledge about the Pre-Raphaelite ethos. However my newly acquired (minimal) knowledge is not compulsory to the enjoyment of his work.

Despite the monumental amount of cider I consumed last night, I arrive at the Royal Academy with a childish impatience to see the exhibition. As I enter, I see the myriad of topics that Waterhouse depicted in his works, from the mysterious culture of the nineteenth century Far East, through Greek and Roman mythology to playful faeries and nymphs. I am not overly keen on his exotic portrayals of life abroad, and am instead seduced by the effortless and alluring beauty of the female figures with pastoral backdrops.

The attention to detail is remarkable, and I find myself unable to believe that there is enough collective talent in the world to paint so accurately, let alone contained in the hands of one John William Waterhouse. The feet and hands in particular are immaculate, and in many cases these intricate details are more perfectly executed than the remainder of the painting. His inclusion of birds in almost every picture is equally as impressive, with individual feathers painted with painstaking dedication. I am truly awed by the huge canvas that lies before me and I find it hard to drag my attention to the accompanying portrait descriptions, though I am glad I do.

Upon reading the often poetical inspirations for Waterhouse's paintings my perceptions are entirely altered and I view the pictures in a new light. An ordinary painting of a nymph involved in a mundane task is transformed into a woeful tale of heartbreak and eternal punishment. In Waterhouse's perhaps most famous portrait The Lady of Shalott, the beautiful scene is tainted with the knowledge that she is heading to her death.

Searching for some justified criticism on which to report back to avid Spooners I find myself scrutinising each picture. I become entranced by the eyes of Waterhouse's subjects, finding behind them a blank abyss where emotion should be. Yet as I smugly tick the box of 'criticism' I find myself unable to tear myself away; it seems their lack of emotion is in fact an intrinsic melancholy that leaves their expression disconcertingly absent. In each of Waterhouse's paintings I see the same: women who have been subjected to horrific sadness and are unable to remember what happiness is. The trivial tasks that most are performing allow their looks to be easily misconstrued as boredom, yet something about their demeanour is devastatingly sad.

I leave the gallery feeling a little more art literate, with a new appreciation for the incomprehensible talent of one man. Today has cheered my view of art somewhat: art is not just for culturally elite circles; it is for the hungover too.


JW Waterhouse - The Modern Pre-Raphaelite is at the Royal Academy until 13th September 2009.

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Gina Louise