Art critics and art historians come in all manner of (dis)guises. They can be patrician figures like the ex-director of the National Gallery in London, Nicholas Penny, who, when his gallery attendants quite reasonably asked for a decent wage, refused to back them, a mistake that a previous gallery director, Kenneth Clark, would never have made. They can be patrician, aloof and elitist, like Sir James Pope-Hennessey, who was quite happy to show off his linguistic abilities by quoting from a variety of languages – but would never dream of translating them for you – the implication being that if you couldn’t read the languages, then you weren’t properly educated. Art criticism and especially art history has no shortage of characters like these: opinionated, often superciliously upper class and, all too often, entirely lacking in the ability to see life and art from any position other than their own. They live in, and jealously guard, their own little fiefdoms.
Fortunately, there are many others who actually want to communicate with you: art historians who can write simply and clearly; who can see the many sides of a story, or a problem; who see art as something that is for everybody, and not just for a leisured, wealthy, upper-class coterie.
One such is Belinda Thomson (b.1953) who studied at the Courtauld Institute, having previously attended the University of East Anglia and the Sorbonne. Crucially, I suspect, she was a research assistant at the Open University from 1977 to 1983 before becoming what is known in the trade as an ‘independent scholar.’ Her specialty is French 19thc and early 20thc art.
The book in question is a small, slim quarto of forty-eight pages which tells the story of Paul Gauguin’s painting Vision of The Sermon, its genesis, its background, and its afterlife.
(l-r) cover details from Thomson's book, Vision of the Sermon by Paul Gaugin (1888), courtesy of National Galleries of Scotland
Now, Gauguin is a complex artist and one difficult to separate from his life story. He was clearly charismatic, attracting many young men as artistic disciples, especially at the Pont-Aven colony in Brittany in the 1880s. As with Van Gogh and Toulouse-Lautrec for instance, the myths about him are plentiful, and as with Picasso, his public persona bore little relationship to the private man. He abandoned his wife and five young children, and when he famously went to Tahiti, he was a sexual predator, having relations with under-age girls.
Thomson is careful to indicate this territory, but leaves us to make up our own minds. She delineates the period, the artistic background, and Gauguin’s relationship with other artists before analysing the painting in question. She does this without recourse to any artistic jargon, writing in a spare and straightforward manner that is a pleasure to read. She really does wear her learning lightly.
If you want an insight into Gauguin’s painting, this short book is an admirable introduction. If only more art historians were like her!
Brian McAvera, January 2025
Thanks to the McAvera & Walker Library, we have a copy of Belinda Thomson’s book in the NI Visual Art Research Library & Archive at the Golden Thread Gallery. NIVARLA will launch formally in February, and items in the rare and special collection will be available to view by appointment. We will share more information on how to access and use NIVARLA soon!
The Northern Ireland Visual Art Research Library & Archive is supported by the Ampersand Foundation, with many books and archive items donated and on loan from the McAvera & Walker Library.
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