The Whitworth - Turner: In Light and Shade - Review

Mere minutes away from where I currently live sits the Whitworth. After spending plenty of time there already, I was excited to visit their new exhibition, so set the morning that it opened to take it all in. I was not alone in this want, as, by 10:30, it was already pleasantly busy. A very skilfully curated and executed exhibition, 'Turner: In Light and Shade' is on display between Feb 7 - Nov 2 and is free to enter. 

Image via Author

Conclusions first, this time: The exhibition constantly plays the line between showcasing an impressive and engrossing body of work - through a comprehensive display of all 71 published mezzotint prints - and building a shrine to brilliance, which at times comes across as sycophantic. Perhaps sycophantic is too strong, yet, when approached critically, Turner is reified in his skill both as an artist and as a taskmaster. Nevertheless, the insight provided by both the breadth of the art displayed, and the manner in which it has been structured, secure this exhibition as a triumph. Well worth any amount of time one would care to sink into it. 

As for context: 'Turner: In Light and Shade' exhibits J.M.W. Turner's work Liber Studiorum. First printed between 1807-19 in 14 volumes, it consists of mezzotint landscapes created in collaboration with engravers. The Whitworth - being the proud owner of the biggest Turner collection outside of London - last exhibited these 100 years ago. Indeed, there is a sense of occasion and arguably privilege here. Heightening this sense are the sounds of Stravinsky, being played for a baby-parent group that is held in the next gallery. Compounding the prim and proper atmosphere is the presence of a photographer. Whether it is because of the nature of the Friday morning art crowd, or because of the possibility of being photographed contemplating art, there is an air of performance around people's viewing habits. Conversations are quiet and complimentary of the art. People stand, bent at the waist, and admire the paintings and prints for a respectable amount of time. I imagine that, later on - without a photographer - the visitors may be a touch more relaxed. Of course, with pencil tucked behind my ear, scrawling my notes onto a folded piece of a4, I am only adding to and echoing the assemblage. 

The exhibition consists of the two central rooms of the 1st floor of the Whitworth. It is larger and grander than I expected. This first room engages in the curatorial art of comparison, to great success. Watercolours are paired with prints, often built out of the same sketchbook or episode in Turner's life. Their visual comparisons are spot on - to the point that it is a surprise when differences in the images are pointed out. Mountainous scenes are replicated. Great swathes of ocean. Idyllic brooks. Within all, the presence of the human - or even the animal - is dwarfed, made small in the face of an unflinching, sublime, nature. 

Beyond the visual comparisons, thematic parallels between watercolour and print are quite apparent, even without the gentle aid of the label texts. Here, there is an interesting exercise in teasing out the emotional impact of the different medium. The Watercolours are more grand and - arguably - evocative of the nature they capture, but the chiaroscuro - the stark contrast between light and dark - is more intense in the mezzotint prints, giving them a new sense of depth. The Liber prints do not feel like a footnote to the watercolours but compliment them and engage them in conversation. The skill of the curators is evident in the pitch-perfect pairing of images. From such a large body of work, each pairing speaks to a different facet of Turner's work. The work that has gone into pairing these images is admirable. 

As for the text, it holds an interesting dual role. And there is a lot of text. Each pairing, or set, in this first room is accompanied by a good two to four paragraphs. Labels are employed to firstly contextualise, historicise or explain the image - or the pair - before suggesting connections between them on multiple levels. The voice is authoritative but insightful. They allow the reader greater appreciation. Yet, at the same time, they subtly prompt reverence. 

Take, for example, the label pertaining to St Agatha's Abbey, Easby, 1798-9: "the artists command of watercolour, together with his ability to render light, atmosphere and tone in his medium meant that these works rivalled the oil paintings on display [at the Royal Academy of Arts]"

I don't disagree. The works are wonderful, and Turner is - quite rightfully - regarded as a skilful painter. However, I got the sense that I was being sold something. I don't need convincing of Turner's talent - without (today) going down the rabbit hole of the concept of talent and creativity in the art world - but something in the expressly laudatory terms - "command", "rivalled" - feel somewhat leading. Perhaps, if you swapped "command" for "use", and "rivalled" for "sat alongside", it would change the tone. But then, perhaps, it wouldn't do justice to the unavoidable command and brilliance evident in Turner's works.

Taking this quote alone, I am tripping over myself. So I would like to introduce an element from the second room. This room, solely concerning the prints, contains a section on Turner as engraver.

Quote: "it has been suggested that those prints produced after his death or not under his supervision fail to translate the atmosphere and quality of his artistic vision". 

Inverary Pier, Loch Fyne, Morning

Granted, what follows is a selection of Liber engraved by Turner himself, and they are wonderful. Only, for an exhibition that successfully elevates and includes the role of the engravers with whom Turner worked - their names included as co-creators in label text - it keeps returning to Turner as an individual genius. On the label for Inverary Pier, Loch Fyne, Morning, we read that "drawn, etched and engraved by Turner, this is regarded as one of the Liber's most elegant plates". Time and time again, the gallery tests the waters of reifying or singling Turner out as a sole genius to be not appreciated but worshipped. In all fairness, the print is particularly elegant. Perhaps the shrine-like nature of the exhibition is warranted.

One of Lake Thun, Switzerland 

Returning to the concrete aspects of the exhibition, I must note a few stand out features. Firstly, the presence of magnifying glasses, to be used by visitors. I couldn't see anyone using them, but they were a fun inclusion, especially in an exhibition of finely detailed but relatively small prints. Secondly, the rightmost wall in the first room displayed a wonderful array of the same image - Lake Thun, Switzerland - in different mediums, exploring the disappearance and re-appearance of parts of the work across the various versions. Thirdly, four books sat on a table allow a visitor to spend even more time here. And finally, the obligatory inclusion of a set of the painter's brushes was a nice, object-based interruption from the two-dimensionality of the physical works on display. 

Ultimately, this is a brilliant exhibition, and one I would highly recommend visiting. Yet, the content of labels and the presence of the photographer transformed the space into one of reverence and a very particular mode of art appreciation.

'Turner: In Light and Shade' is on at The Whitworth between Feb 7 - Nov 2, and admission is free.