British Artists in the First World War
(Sansom and Company £29.99)
Paul Gough
Having written extensively on the various subjects of this book, Professor Gough has now brought together the varied experiences of British war artists in WW1, the actual creation of the War Artists Advisory Committee - the scheme itself; and a potted history of the English art scene of the time including the (literally) short-lived Vorticists, Britain's only entry into the new world of isms'. His persona as a lecturer and broadcaster is very much to the fore, and the book does work like a 'set' text book - although none the less readable for that. Its mixed origins give it a slighty patchwork feel but there is a fair warning in the introduction that the chapters are meant to be read as much as monographs in themselves as much parts of the whole story. It's a considerable pleasure to see that the notes and references are not hidden away to be forgotten at the back, but are right there on the page.
The book describes the plate-spinning act artists had to master: dealing with the trauma of the battle, their painting techniques, army politics, 'pulling strings', the censor, being mistaken for spies, staying alive. And the gradual change in emphasis through time as the government had to ask for less straightforward propaganda and more redemption.
The official war art scheme began at the Foreign Office in late 1914, with the creation of a secret agency to manage and disseminate propaganda. This was strictly literature at first: published in several languages and distributed around the globe, although a pictorial section was established in 1916, producing films, picture cards, calendars, lantern-slides, photos and drawings. But the growing appetite of the agency and then the illustrated newspapers demanded yet more, and more authentic, front-line images. Cash incentives were offered to any soldiers who could draw a bit. The head of the agency became aware of one recent recruit: Muirhead Bone (elder cousin of William, who taught in Glasgow School of Art until the mid 1970s)- although he knew nothing about the art scene, he became persuaded that the Scottish etcher was the man for the job of first Official War Artist.
War art's first public appearance was as little folios of reproductions aimed at 'collectors', for a shilling each - about a fiver now. It was, first, an ultra-realist painting by Eric Kennington of off-duty soldiers; then a Futuristic exhibition by C R Nevinson that encouraged others to take it on to the next stage. At the new Ministry of Information the future newspaper magnate, Lord Beaverbrook, set up a British War Memorial Committee and began encouraging artists to depict war as it was, as a record and a legacy rather than short-term propagandist spin. The irony of this was that it got certain uncomfortable facts past the censors, who still had the more factual newspapers very much under their thumbs until as late as 1945. This is partly due to the artists being given free rein to paint as they chose to paint and not revert to being mere recording machines; but they had to paint what they saw. All the most celebrated, or infamous, pictures are here: John Nash's Over the Top, Paul Nash's We are Making a New World, John Singer Sargent's wide-screen Gassed; and Nevinson had dropped his Futurist style by the time he painted the unequivocally sordid and tragic Paths of Glory.
Coloured with quotes from the artists, many of whom could write as well as they could paint, this is an all-round sensual experience as much as a history book. As Wyndham Lewis said:
"... Those grinning skeletons in field-grey, the skull still protected by the metal helmet: those festoons of mud-caked wire, those miniature mountain-ranges of saffron earth, and trees like gibbets - these were the properties only of those titanic casts of dying and shell-shocked actors, who charged this stage with a romantic electricity."
336pp: Sansom & Company Ltd Bristol, UK
ISBN 978-1-906593-00-1, 2010
(Sansom and Company £29.99)
Paul Gough
Having written extensively on the various subjects of this book, Professor Gough has now brought together the varied experiences of British war artists in WW1, the actual creation of the War Artists Advisory Committee - the scheme itself; and a potted history of the English art scene of the time including the (literally) short-lived Vorticists, Britain's only entry into the new world of isms'. His persona as a lecturer and broadcaster is very much to the fore, and the book does work like a 'set' text book - although none the less readable for that. Its mixed origins give it a slighty patchwork feel but there is a fair warning in the introduction that the chapters are meant to be read as much as monographs in themselves as much parts of the whole story. It's a considerable pleasure to see that the notes and references are not hidden away to be forgotten at the back, but are right there on the page.
The book describes the plate-spinning act artists had to master: dealing with the trauma of the battle, their painting techniques, army politics, 'pulling strings', the censor, being mistaken for spies, staying alive. And the gradual change in emphasis through time as the government had to ask for less straightforward propaganda and more redemption.
The official war art scheme began at the Foreign Office in late 1914, with the creation of a secret agency to manage and disseminate propaganda. This was strictly literature at first: published in several languages and distributed around the globe, although a pictorial section was established in 1916, producing films, picture cards, calendars, lantern-slides, photos and drawings. But the growing appetite of the agency and then the illustrated newspapers demanded yet more, and more authentic, front-line images. Cash incentives were offered to any soldiers who could draw a bit. The head of the agency became aware of one recent recruit: Muirhead Bone (elder cousin of William, who taught in Glasgow School of Art until the mid 1970s)- although he knew nothing about the art scene, he became persuaded that the Scottish etcher was the man for the job of first Official War Artist.
War art's first public appearance was as little folios of reproductions aimed at 'collectors', for a shilling each - about a fiver now. It was, first, an ultra-realist painting by Eric Kennington of off-duty soldiers; then a Futuristic exhibition by C R Nevinson that encouraged others to take it on to the next stage. At the new Ministry of Information the future newspaper magnate, Lord Beaverbrook, set up a British War Memorial Committee and began encouraging artists to depict war as it was, as a record and a legacy rather than short-term propagandist spin. The irony of this was that it got certain uncomfortable facts past the censors, who still had the more factual newspapers very much under their thumbs until as late as 1945. This is partly due to the artists being given free rein to paint as they chose to paint and not revert to being mere recording machines; but they had to paint what they saw. All the most celebrated, or infamous, pictures are here: John Nash's Over the Top, Paul Nash's We are Making a New World, John Singer Sargent's wide-screen Gassed; and Nevinson had dropped his Futurist style by the time he painted the unequivocally sordid and tragic Paths of Glory.
Coloured with quotes from the artists, many of whom could write as well as they could paint, this is an all-round sensual experience as much as a history book. As Wyndham Lewis said:
"... Those grinning skeletons in field-grey, the skull still protected by the metal helmet: those festoons of mud-caked wire, those miniature mountain-ranges of saffron earth, and trees like gibbets - these were the properties only of those titanic casts of dying and shell-shocked actors, who charged this stage with a romantic electricity."
336pp: Sansom & Company Ltd Bristol, UK
ISBN 978-1-906593-00-1, 2010
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