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Lot Essay
'A picture which is really good I think', so the artist described this work to one of his severest critics, his son Ben, in an illustrated letter of 13 February 1918. The accompanying sketch gives an insight into this most interesting work - one of the few in Nicholson's oeuvre that seems to lend itself to symbolic interpretation.
In February 1918, when the Zeppelin raids on London began, air raids were still something of a novelty: a spectacle to watch from the roof tops, as the artist and many others did. The idea that the civilian population might be subject to aerial bombardment had never been considered in 1914, so when the first air raids had occurred in 1917 there was no provision for underground shelters. People had to find refuge where they could. The Piccadilly Hotel (now Le Meridien, Piccadilly), a few minutes walk from the artist's studio in Apple Tree Yard, was a good choice as it was one of the first steel-framed buildings in London with 12 metre foundations and three underground floors.
As Nicholson wrote to Ben, 'the last raid we took old Mrs Carie down to the Ballroom of the Piccadilly Hotel, and as there was lots of time I made notes for a picture which is really good I think, although there may be something unimportant in some far corner of which you would disapprove'. In the accompanying sketch the figures dominate the space and those in the foreground are identified - 'mother and child - baby - red carpet half rolled up - more babies'. (see A. Nicholson, op. cit., illustrated p. 165). An alert dog is also visible in both sketch and painting. In the latter the room has opened out into the distance below the overhanging ceiling, which now fills more than a third of the canvas. Spatial questions and reflected light are more important, while the diversity of people trapped by chance is more apparent. A little still life group of a hat with a glass and a bottle beside it has been interpreted as evidence that the artist is part of the scene (see S. Schwartz, loc. cit.).
A striking feature in the restricted palette is the red carpet snaking away into the distance. Richard Cork has called it 'alarming', likening it to 'a rivulet of blood' - the feeling 'claustrophobic' and the figures 'isolated' (see R. Cork, loc. cit). Another writer finds the carpet a pictorial device, not symbolic, linking it with an early work that Nicholson had just sold, The Old Kitchen at Blenheim, 1902 (private collection) where a red carpet is the central feature in a cavernous space. Whether on a large scale or small, reflected light was always of interest to the artist as this painting amply demonstrates - even the floor gives off reflected light while the great expanse of shimmering ceiling poses many questions. Is it 'claustrophobic' or 'protective'? Are the figures 'isolated' or companionable? Should the babies and children be seen as hope for the future, or the orphans of war? There is general agreement that the painting highlights the breakdown of social barriers that this new kind of warfare brought. For Schwartz the painting 'presents a sweet recess from the pressures of everyday life courtesy of war', while an interesting comparison can be made with the figures in air raid shelters during the Second World War by Henry Moore.
It has been observed that there are very few pictures about waiting, and that this is one of them. So much of war is about waiting, for combatants and civilians: waiting for the battle to start, waiting for the bombing to end. Nicholson's monumental painting for the Canadian Headquarters staff (Canadian War Museum, Ottowa) which he was working on at this time, also with a similar restricted palette, gives the impression that the generals too are waiting.
When first exhibited at the Goupil Gallery in the summer of 1918 in Nicholson's one-man show, the high asking price reflected the importance attached to the work. Frederick Wedmore reviewing the exhibition in The Studio agreed. With regard to the painting he wrote, 'It is not melodramatic in the least. It is veracious, not sensational. It is as clever as it is surprising'.
P.R.
In February 1918, when the Zeppelin raids on London began, air raids were still something of a novelty: a spectacle to watch from the roof tops, as the artist and many others did. The idea that the civilian population might be subject to aerial bombardment had never been considered in 1914, so when the first air raids had occurred in 1917 there was no provision for underground shelters. People had to find refuge where they could. The Piccadilly Hotel (now Le Meridien, Piccadilly), a few minutes walk from the artist's studio in Apple Tree Yard, was a good choice as it was one of the first steel-framed buildings in London with 12 metre foundations and three underground floors.
As Nicholson wrote to Ben, 'the last raid we took old Mrs Carie down to the Ballroom of the Piccadilly Hotel, and as there was lots of time I made notes for a picture which is really good I think, although there may be something unimportant in some far corner of which you would disapprove'. In the accompanying sketch the figures dominate the space and those in the foreground are identified - 'mother and child - baby - red carpet half rolled up - more babies'. (see A. Nicholson, op. cit., illustrated p. 165). An alert dog is also visible in both sketch and painting. In the latter the room has opened out into the distance below the overhanging ceiling, which now fills more than a third of the canvas. Spatial questions and reflected light are more important, while the diversity of people trapped by chance is more apparent. A little still life group of a hat with a glass and a bottle beside it has been interpreted as evidence that the artist is part of the scene (see S. Schwartz, loc. cit.).
A striking feature in the restricted palette is the red carpet snaking away into the distance. Richard Cork has called it 'alarming', likening it to 'a rivulet of blood' - the feeling 'claustrophobic' and the figures 'isolated' (see R. Cork, loc. cit). Another writer finds the carpet a pictorial device, not symbolic, linking it with an early work that Nicholson had just sold, The Old Kitchen at Blenheim, 1902 (private collection) where a red carpet is the central feature in a cavernous space. Whether on a large scale or small, reflected light was always of interest to the artist as this painting amply demonstrates - even the floor gives off reflected light while the great expanse of shimmering ceiling poses many questions. Is it 'claustrophobic' or 'protective'? Are the figures 'isolated' or companionable? Should the babies and children be seen as hope for the future, or the orphans of war? There is general agreement that the painting highlights the breakdown of social barriers that this new kind of warfare brought. For Schwartz the painting 'presents a sweet recess from the pressures of everyday life courtesy of war', while an interesting comparison can be made with the figures in air raid shelters during the Second World War by Henry Moore.
It has been observed that there are very few pictures about waiting, and that this is one of them. So much of war is about waiting, for combatants and civilians: waiting for the battle to start, waiting for the bombing to end. Nicholson's monumental painting for the Canadian Headquarters staff (Canadian War Museum, Ottowa) which he was working on at this time, also with a similar restricted palette, gives the impression that the generals too are waiting.
When first exhibited at the Goupil Gallery in the summer of 1918 in Nicholson's one-man show, the high asking price reflected the importance attached to the work. Frederick Wedmore reviewing the exhibition in The Studio agreed. With regard to the painting he wrote, 'It is not melodramatic in the least. It is veracious, not sensational. It is as clever as it is surprising'.
P.R.