Art and Eye

  Tomás Saraceno's interests in spider webs might seem uncannily odd to some viewers, however, to put aside that arachnophobia is to produce intriguing works of art. Boxed in and spectacularly spot lit, the works are confined by an omnipresent curator and the hand of Saraceno is certainly present, yet there is still room for freedom, for uniqueness. Their display in the round enables a visitor to explore for themselves. Simplistically black and white with no fuss, they are mesmeric displays, ritualistic and quietly captivating.  Saraceno has made a name for himself through 'Arachnophilia', a community of researchers striving to know more about the spider web and its uses. However, the artist has also spoken at the Max Planck Institute in Germany, he has created his own 3D models of webs and he works across both media and scale with incredible ease - for instance, in 2022, he transformed 25,000 square feet in The Shed, New York, into a web stretched at both twelve and fort...

  In 1848, Millais created this work based on various literary sources, producing mixed responses at the time. Criticism was aimed mainly at the artist's disregard for academic convention. However more recently, Julie F. Codell so accurately described Millais' Isabella as a work defined by physiognomy, where facial features and gestures can determine a person's inner, true character.  The foil to Isabella's delicacy, politeness and gentleness is her brother. Sitting opposite her and dressed in menacing red, his face is twisted and contorted in anger at the realisation of this love affair before his eyes. The body is strained and clenched, from the hands that grip the nutcracker to the snarling jaw and bared teeth. Isabella's brother in fact becomes more animalistic than even the calm greyhound that obediently sits at her feet. Most impressive by Millais, however, is his capturing of the straining muscles of Isabella's brother, as he reaches out his right leg to ...

  Depicting an enthroned Virgin and Child in the central panel, flanked by St John on the left with an elongated scroll and the prophet Zacharias on the right, this ivory is richly carved and extensively detailed. The top panel furthers the Christological narrative, bearing two flying angels and a typically Byzantine rendering of Christ encircled, beardless and blessing to convey his position as the judge of humanity, or Pantocractor. It was a common image above doorways to churches and chapels, signifying the crossing of the boundary into the divine realm. As this particular ivory appeared on the front of a book, the image would hold a similar purpose in the traversing of boundaries, as the volume was opened and closed, concealing and revealing material within. The bottom layer of the ivory, meanwhile, shows the Nativity and Annunciation to the Shepherds. It allows the artist to extend the narrative and show off their skill, illustrating architecture, angels and animals alongside ...

  Christopher Wool's Minor Mishap is a huge, abstract work (274.3 x 182.9cm) made up of only two colours, yet it joins a long lineage of Abstract Expressionist producers, which harks all the way back to 1950s New York. Wool's recent, impressive performance on the art market further proves that this movement has not really waned in popularity with collectors, and continues to be a source of artistic inspiration globally.  The messiness, harshness and perhaps even violence of Wool's work may reference de Kooning, whilst the simplicity yet vibrancy of colours recalls Rothko's abstract canvases - admittedly, however, Rothko's linearity is most definitely abandoned by Wool. The artist's ink application, meanwhile, can be connected to the art of splash painting, perfected by Pollock and to a lesser extent, Krasner. However, this twenty-first century work is not a complete copy of that style, for Wool is working with silkscreen on linen, where the ink seeps into the fa...

Backbreaking labour is depicted in Millet's Man with a Hoe, the last of his most controversial peasant paintings which have subsequently been labelled as 'socialist' by a variety of writers. It sits among The Sower, which Robert Hughes referred to as 'the Mona Lisa of socialism', alongside The Gleaners and The Angelus all by the same artist, and some of which will be making an appearance at the upcoming National Gallery exhibition in London. At first glance, this sizeable canvas appears relatively simple in composition - an isolated figure against an earthy palette and limited grey sky, pushed to the very limits of human effort, whilst others labour in the background, secondary to the torturous scene in front of the viewer. Meanings range from political commentary, referencing the age of mass production in the mid nineteenth century, the growth of modern farming techniques and negation of the rural worker, to symbolic suggestions of the Man as a hero for the working...

It is the continued irony of stained glass that despite its public nature in churches around the world, it is still an art form that is neglected in exhibitions and critical scholarship. It is not art available to the public eye. Admittedly, displaying stained glass comes with its difficulties - works are created for their chosen spiritual or secular spaces, and they are not designed to be moved, whilst accompanying archival material is not always abundant. However, there is little excuse to be made for such a lack of scholarship on stained glass, from any exploration of larger London firms such as Lowndes and Drury, to decentralised narratives of art history which detail the schools around Birmingham or Manchester, to include specific artists. One such practitioner was A.J. Davies, whose window in Claverly Church, Shropshire, is an intriguing example of his later style.  Davies' window is complex, yet three main layers can be identified. The perspective is stacked, recalling many ...