Nicky Charlish
posted 14 July 2006

Constable has suffered for his popularity. No suburban art-shop is complete without its reproduction of 'The Hay Wain', and he has paid a price for this amongst the cognoscenti of the art world. This exhibition gives us a chance to see what makes his work popular, and also to see its dark side, missed by admirers and detractors alike.

Born in 1776 in East Bergholt, Suffolk, to a prosperous mill owner, John Constable was inspired by the luxuriant countryside of his native East Anglia to become a painter, but he had to enter and learn the family trade. However, in 1799, after learning the rudiments of art from a local part-time painter, he finally obtained his father's permission to train professionally, entering the Royal Academy Schools as a probationer. Three years later he exhibited at the Royal Academy for the first time. Constable was a young man on the move, not simply on the make - he wanted to bring a heightened sense of realism to the painting of nature, but simultaneously to capture a sense of the natural world's magic, too. His pencil 'Self-Portrait' (1806), shows him in profile, uncertainty moulding his features as if he's almost holding his breath in anticipation of a professional success which is by no means guaranteed.

Dividing his time between East Bergholt and the capital, Constable began to explore his artistic vision. In 'The Church Porch, East Bergholt' (1810), three pensive figures in the church's graveyard mark the passage of time whilst the sun tries to shine over the church porch. In 'The Ferry' (1814), under cloudy sky a man leans precariously in a boat as he navigates muddy water, his task made no easier by the wind that makes the nearby trees bend under its power. The waterway is lined by a scraggy path and worn vegetation, whilst an angler works intently nearby. The country house setting of 'Wivenhoe Park, Essex' (1816) gives us a deceptively peaceful scene. The artist shows us cattle and swans. The house itself is in the distance, shaded by large trees. But then we see men struggling in a boat that seems in imminent danger of sinking. 'Fen Lane, East Bergholt' (c.1817) is laid-out against the vast, contemplative yet exhilarating flatness of East Anglia. In the foreground, flowers explore in a hedgerow and nearby there's a wicket gate that's been left open - against all country custom. But our vision is led to the children who - partly shielded by the hedgerow - are in a field beyond, presumable working. And in Flatford Mill ('Scene on a Navigable River') (1817), we see a team of children draw a barge across the river. One mounted member of the team has lost his hat - it lies on the ground nearby - and hasn't bothered to recover it, probably in his anxiety to get the work done speedily.

From these scenes of tough country life, it's almost a relief to turn to 'Maria Constable with Two of her Children' (c.1820). This pleasant domestic scene shows the painter's wife as a mother cuddling two children in the family's London home. She seems self-confident, but perhaps expecting childish misbehaviour at any moment. But there was no let-up in Constable's artistic mission. In 'The Hay Wain' (1821), a battered hay wagon that probably wouldn't pass muster in a modern-day heritage re-enactment museum crosses the water whilst a woman bends to collect water, an angler keeps station in the reeds and workers cut hay in the fields beyond. There is more unremitting toil in 'The Lock' (1824). At a section of a waterway where the water level can be raised or lowered for boats by means of sluice-gates, a man struggles with the lock gates to enable a barge to enter the next section of the waterway. There is ever-present danger - one false step could mean ending-up in the churning water. Nearby, a dog glances fiercely. All of this sets the seemingly-tranquil village beyond in proper perspective - in every sense of the word.

Constable wanted to explore other subjects. He felt that Brighton, benefiting from the Prince Regent's favour, amounted to 'Piccadilly…by the seaside'. In 'Chain Pier, Brighton' (1826-7), we're again in a place of contrasts - in the midst of fierce waves, struggling boatmen attempt to control their craft whilst bonetted holidaymakers look on.

Personal tragedy would bring Constable back to his native East Anglia - but not to the lush countryside around East Bergholt. In 1828, his wife died. 'Hadleigh Castle', painted the following year, is a scene of desolation. The decaying remains of the Essex castle's walls and tower play host to a shepherd and his dog, whilst a few cattle graze indifferently nearby. But shafts of light break fitfully through the heavy clouds, perhaps indicative of the devoutly Anglican Constable seeking solace in his loss through the concepts of resurrection and the afterlife. Maybe it was those beliefs that informed his 'Salisbury Cathedral from the Meadows' (1831), with its rainbow over the cathedral that has puzzled commentators ever since. (In 1816 his friend, Archdeacon John Fisher of Salisbury, had officiated at the Constables' marriage.). But even here there is a reminder of the realities of country life, with a cart being worked across a waterway.

But in the following year, the capital beckoned Constable as a subject with 'The Opening of Waterloo Bridge' ('Whitehall Stairs, June 18th, 1817'). At first glance, this seems to owe something to Canaletto's views of Venice, but its exuberant crowds, melee of vessels including the Lord Mayor's barge, and smoking chimneys, contrasts with the set-piece feel of the Italian's work.

Constable died in 1837. His work would be eclipsed by that of Turner with his very different approach to depicting nature. But one aspect of his work was strangely overlooked. Paradoxically, although the countryside he depicted was beautiful, the life of the countryside was anything but. Agricultural life was burdensome, not picturesque, and probably as back-breaking as the work in the dark satanic mills which many country-dwellers - fleeing their villages in search of a better life - would have ended-up performing. This isn't to say that Constable set out to be a political artist. As far as we know, he was no enthusiast for the wave of political unrest that swept the country in his later years. It was accepted that life was severe, and any temptation that might have arisen from the rising tide of Romanticism to brush over this harsh reality was firmly resisted by Constable. The East Anglian motto 'do different' arguably finds an exemplar in his work which is shot through with tough, threatening beauty.

For some, Constable's work has died the death of a thousand post-cards. In this exhibition, it lives again.

Till 28 August 2006.