Cycling and the Arts

 

There are rather few people in the Western world who cannot ride a bicycle and I’m one of them. Both my older brothers had second-hand bicycles and used them to get around the town and also venture further afield. As a boy, I had a hand-me-down scooter (with wooden handlebar grips and a replacement plywood deck) and I enjoyed zooming around on that to see friends and to see how fast I could go on a local hill, but I never progressed to a bike for some reason.

Perhaps that is one reason why I like watching cycle racing on road and track and I’ve twice seen a stage of the Tour of Britain go past, impressed with the speed of the riders. Television used to allow whole stages to be followed and a mountain stage of one of the major races emphasises an attribute of “climbers” – the ability to continue grinding up long, steep hills through walls of spectators (see above), aided by lightweight bicycles with a wide selection of gears. Elite riders are, of course, dependent on their equipment and the bicycles that they use are designed for either road or track, road bikes being different for time trials and for the rest of stage races, whether flat, hilly, or mountain (to use definitions in Le Tour). Then there are the bicycles used for off-road races and these are different again, with sophisticated suspensions and fat tyres.

All modern bicycles are developments of the original invention by Baron Karl Drais in 1817 (see above),  designed as a means of convenient transport that was faster than walking and didn’t need horses, mules, or other animals. It should be mentioned that the invention of the bicycle has also been claimed by the prolific polymath Joseph Crabtree and in 1818 “Crabtree’s Contraption” was demonstrated in Chipping Sodbury. As Peter Armour tells us [1], the project was abandoned, as it caused too much pain to riders. 

An early bicycle, called the Northumberland Eagle Mail was that of William Martin [2], a form of “dandy horse” that didn’t (apparently) create pain in the rider. Invented in the late 1820s, Martin stated: “It is the only Travelling Machine that ever was invented in the World to work from the Centre of Gravity, without Aid of Horse or Steam.”. Unfortunately, while demonstrating this early bicycle, William became “excessively hot propelling it over rough ground and was pelted with mud by the spectators.” [2]. This account is no doubt accurate, while that of Joseph Crabtree is intentionally fictitious, but the bicycle became a common means of travelling from place to place and for visits to the countryside.

The first commercially successful bicycle driven by a chain to the rear wheel was produced in 1885 by John Kemp Starley and this led to an explosion of interest in cycling, exemplified in paintings (shown above in chronological order, from the top). The works are by Burdett Frost (1896), Béraud (ca.1900), Comerre (1903), and Fischer (early 1900s) and show the types of bicycles used for local touring, either alone or in groups, making a ride a social event. The paintings by Béraud and Comerre show the ladies’ costume of blouse and bloomers or culottes (“Rational Dress”), making cycling much easier than with voluminous skirts that could potentially become trapped in the spokes of the wheels and throw the rider off. In the 1890s and early 1900s, cycling became an important way of showing one’s status, and riding in groups became all the rage. It’s no wonder that many paintings of bicycles, come from this period.

The renowned artist, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, had an accident in 1897 while out cycling. At the time, he was working on Luncheon of the Boating Party (see above) and, as his right arm was broken and he was right-handed, Renoir had to switch to paint with his left hand [3]: 

Having to work in the new way seems to have inspired him. Writing to a patron, he said, “[I]t’s even better than what I did with the right. I think that was a good thing that I broke my arm. It allows me to make progress”. 

Later, Renoir was crippled by arthritis in both hands and he still continued to paint, so the ability to adapt, and carry on with his passion, may have been boosted by this earlier triumph aver adversity.

There is another well-known cyclist/painter. Maurice de Vlaminck used a fauvist palette for much of his career, and was influenced by Van Gogh and Cézanne, although he only became a serious painter in 1900 at the age of 24. Before that he had been a professional cyclist, making sufficient money to support his young family, but a bout of typhoid fever put paid to that [4]. His friendship with André Derain, one of the founders of Fauvism, was important in encouraging him as an artist (his painting La Route Nationale - that includes a bicycle - is shown above) and Derain also provided illustrations for two books that de Vlaminck published. His move from being a professional cyclist to being a professional artist is almost certainly unique.

Another famous cyclist during the heyday of cycling was the great English composer Edward Elgar of whom Michael Kennedy [5] writes: 

“For relaxation he and Alice [his wife] had been learning to ride bicycles. He went for rides in company with Rosa Burley who remembered that ‘he was very difficult and one never knew quite what would be the mood of the afternoon … I found that he was particularly touched by birdsong and that he loved and knew all the little creatures that darted in and out of the hedges.’” 

Alice was not an enthusiastic cyclist, but Elgar and Rosa Burley rode extensively in the Malvern area of Worcestershire, especially important to the composer. During rides, he sometimes went into periods of silence, Rosa Burley recognising these as times when tunes were being composed in his head, the stimulation of the lanes and the hills providing the creative impulse. In 1900 Elgar had bought a Sunbeam cycle and this was christened Mr Phoebus, a pun on the name Sunbeam (see above, with EE – this image being from the collection of the Elgar Birthplace). This bicycle was given to A.J.Jaeger (“Nimrod” of the Enigma Variations) and replaced with another Sunbeam that then inherited the name Mr Phoebus. For Elgar, cycling was not only a pleasurable form of exercise, but a means of visiting places that provided inspiration.

In addition to providing a source of pleasure, bicycles became almost a standard mode of travel to, and from, the workplace (see above) and, even in the age of the car, there are some that prefer to use bicycles to commute to work. And then there is the modern expansion of interest in cycling clubs, Lycra uniforms, and going for long rides, often with a competitive element. 

Perhaps I made a mistake in not learning to ride a bicycle? But then, I enjoy walking and there is a much lower risk of injury with that mode of transport. However, there could still be time. After all, Tolstoy only learned to ride a bicycle when he was 67 [6], but that was in 1895, during the boom in leisure cycling, when cars were rare indeed. I think it is too late for me...

[1] Peter Armour(1992) Crabtree’s Vision: Ambivalence, Angst, Apocalypse. Oration published in Bryan Bennett and Negley Harte (1997) The Crabtree Orations. London, The Crabtree Foundation

[2] Thomas Balston (1945) The Life of Jonathan Martin, Incendiary of York Minster, with some account of William and Richard Martin. London, Macmillan & Co.

[3] https://news.artnet.com/art-world/renoirs-luncheon-of-the-boating-three-things-you-might-not-know-1900119

[4] https://www.museothyssen.org/en/collection/artists/vlaminck-maurice

[5] Michael Kennedy (2004) The Life of Elgar. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.

[6] https://archive.nytimes.com/6thfloor.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/09/14/how-tolstoy-learned-to-ride-a-bike-and-other-tales-of-late-life-learning/

 

Picking blackberries

Yesterday, I picked blackberries for the first time this year and there will be further occasions as the fruits ripen. This foraging is always something I look forward to and I’ve often thought about why I enjoy the activity so much. 

My first memory of brambling comes from childhood, just as in the paintings above by Elizabeth Adela Forbes [(1912) Blackberry Gathering oil on canvas (84x100cm) Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool] and Walter Bonner Gash [(1905/15) Two Girls Picking Blackberries oil on board (18x24cm) Alfred East Art Gallery, Kettering], The hanging branches in the work by Gash are a reminder of the ability of brambles to “strike back” and I was careful when reaching for those really juicy-looking berries that were just beyond my reach, for fear of over-balancing and becoming “entrapped” by thorns. Of course, there will always be scratches and my grandfather had the excellent idea of taking a walking stick with him when we ambled along lanes, so that fruit-bearing branches could be pulled down to allow much easier capture by us children. I don’t carry a walking stick now, but I respect the defence mechanism of the plant – the thorns being also a means of allowing the plant to climb and to extend its growth laterally. They are good at competition. 

Those childhood adventures stick in the mind and their joy is described by Seamus Heaney in his poem “Blackberry Picking”: 

“Late August, given heavy rain and sun

For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.

At first, just one, a glossy purple clot

Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.

You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet

Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it

Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for

Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger

Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots

Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.

Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills

We trekked and picked until the cans were full…” 

One of the pleasures of picking blackberries for me is that I am able to linger alone in nature and take a close look at what is around me. From when I was young, I always preferred being on my own; not, I hope, because I am anti-social, more that it was a form of escape from difficult times [1]. In that, I unknowingly copied Jean-Jacques Rousseau, and possibly for similar reasons. Russell Goulbourne writes in his Introduction to Reveries of the Solitary Walker [2]: 

“From the demands of corrupt society Rousseau turns to the world of nature. Walking alone in nature guarantees and even intensifies his sense of self.. ..His happiness comes in part from his being at one with nature, which was a refuge for Rousseau from the anxieties of life, providing him with relative solitude and a rich source of distractions, both of which offer him peace of mind.” 

I empathise with that statement and there’s an added dimension. Brought up as a Christian, I had some belief that everything was created by God and that country walks gave ample opportunities to see His work. The developing atheism of my early teenage years coincided with my learning much more about nature and showing that there was something deeply impressive in the way that different organisms had evolved to be successful in a range of habitats. In that sense, nature replaced God, inducing an equal sense of wonder, making solitary walks a form of “worship” that was never boring. 

Of course, brambles are part of the overall wonder, although that is putting it a bit grandly, as I’m collecting their berries (an excess built-in to the plant’s biology) to then make jelly or crumbles. Bramble jelly is a way of preserving the essence of the fruit for winter months and beyond, and spreading the jelly thickly on toast on a cold day always brings back memories of summer collecting days. 

That blackberries have been harvested as food for centuries has resulted in folklore, examples being provided by Steve Roud [3]: 

“The most widespread belief about blackberries is that the Devil ruins them on a certain date each year. A few other miscellaneous beliefs have been noted, including several medicinal uses. The only one that seems to have been at all widely known is that horses, cats. and babies are often not well when the blackberries are ripe.” 

This negative view of blackberries comes through in Sylvia Plath’s poem “Blackberrying”, perhaps reflecting the pressures of her life: 

“Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries,   
Blackberries on either side, though on the right mainly,
A blackberry alley, going down in hooks, and a sea
Somewhere at the end of it, heaving. Blackberries
Big as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyes
Ebon in the hedges, fat
With blue-red juices. These they squander on my fingers.
I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood; ….” 

Quite different in tone to Seamus Heaney’s poem and both are different again to my own, rather complex, feelings in going out to pick blackberries. 

[1] Roger S Wotton (2020) Walking with Gosse Kindle Edition

[2] Jean-Jacques Rousseau (in 2011 translation by Russell Goulbourne) Reveries of the Solitary Walker. Oxford, Oxford University Press

[3] Steve Roud (2006) The Penguin Guide to the Superstitions of Britain and Ireland. London, Penguin Books

 

 

When a flower painter encountered a Suriname Toad

 

Rachel Ruysch is one of the most well-known painters of flowers in the history of art (one of her paintings is shown above) and exhibitions of her work are held today in major art galleries [1,2,3]. Born in The Hague in 1664, but growing up in Amsterdam, she was the oldest daughter of Frederik Ruysch (1638-1731), a professor of anatomy and botany at the Hortus Medicus in Amsterdam. This famous institution had many rare and exotic plants shipped in from the Dutch colonies and Rachel was fascinated by them - and not just plants, as animals also arrived in shipments.

Clare Bucknell writes [4] : "According to the art historian Marianne Berardi, [Rachel] wanted to impart ‘something about the nature of the nature she was painting’. Her only picture that doesn’t primarily feature flowers or fruit is of a fat Surinam toad, a creature much studied by contemporary scientific societies for its curious reproductive process. Ruysch painted a female of the species with toadlets popping out of its back”. Her illustration is shown below.

The Suriname Toad (Pipa pipa) is a flattened frog (see brlow) that, despite its name, is found widely in the northern part of South America. Living on the bottom of pools, rivers and lake margins where there is much silt and detritus, their flat shape allows them to remain stationary in the muddy substratum and catch passing prey by ambush. Although their appearance has stimulated the curiosity of observers, it is the reproductive strategy of the frog that has provided most interest, as Clare Bucknell [4] points out.

Reproduction in frogs results from external fertilization and that is so in the Suriname Toad. After making clicking calls to attract a female, a male then grips the female in what is called amplexus. This act stimulates the female to lay eggs into the water, where they are fertilised by sperm released the male, but then something extraordinary happens. Aided by the actions of the male frog, fertilised eggs are transferred to the back of the female where they become embedded when the tissue on her back grows to engulf them. When tadpoles emerge from the egg, they utilise reserves from the yolk sac and then feed on particulate material from the surrounding water, while remaining in their individual “pouches” on the female frog’s back. They only leave at the “froglet stage” to lead an independent life (see below).

One can imagine Rachel Ruysch’s amazement.

[1] https://www.pinakothek.de/en/exhibition/nature-into-art

[2] https://www.mfa.org/exhibition/rachel-ruysch-artist-naturalist-and-pioneer

[3] https://thekleschcollection.com/loans/past-loans/nmwa-washington-dc/

[4] Clare Bucknell (2025) On Rachel Ruysch London Review of Books 47 https://www.lrb.co.uk/the-paper/v47/n17/clare-bucknell/on-rachel-ruysch

 

The remarkable portraits by Giuseppe Arcimboldo

Giuseppe Arcimboldo (1527-1593) was the son of an artist in Milan and worked on the design of stained-glass windows in Milan Cathedral and on frescos and tapestries for the cathedrals in Monza and Como. He moved to Prague in 1562 and for the next twenty-five years was employed by the Holy Roman Emperors Ferdinand I, Maximilian II and Rudolf II, working in both Vienna and Prague and painting portraits of them and their families. An example - Maximilian II, His Wife and Three Children – is shown below (upper). He also painted religious subjects and drew an excellent self-portrait that makes us puzzle about what he might be thinking about (below, lower). 

It is not these works for which Arcimboldo became famous, but his series of portraits that ingeniously, and strangely, used fruits, vegetables and fishes to represent facial features, jewellery and clothing (The Admiral is shown at the head of this article). In Vertumnus [Emperor Leopold II]  of 1591 (below, upper), that was painted two years before Arcimboldo’s death, we see that every feature is made up of vegetables, whereas the earlier portrait of a woman in Water of 1566 (below, lower), is made up of marine organisms. This was one of four paintings of the elements; the others being Air, Earth and Fire. We can assume that, as this style of painting was used by Arcimboldo for so many years, it must have been celebrated by the Court of the Holy Roman Emperors. 

As Kriegeskorte writes [1]:

The documents of the time bear witness to the fact that monarchs and his contemporaries in general were quite enthusiastic about his art. We do not know why there was a sudden turning point.. ..during his time at the Imperial Court, these tendencies were undoubtedly reinforced by his acquaintance with pictures by Bosch, Brueghel, Cranach, [Hans Baldung] Grien and Altdorfer.”

Many fishes in Water are easily identified and beautifully, and accurately, painted, although there is no consistency of scale between them, and we can assume that they were available in fish markets, were known to Arcimboldo from visits to coastal regions, or brought to Prague as curiosities [1]:

Prague had now become a major European cultural centre. But Rudolph II’s interest lay mainly in his Art and Wonder Chambers.. ..[that] contained everything that was regarded as exotic at that time, all sorts of unusual objects and animals:.. ..stuffed birds (from the world as it was known then), gigantic mussels, sword- and saw-fish, precious stones, demons imprisoned in blocks of glass, mummies, objects from the newly discovered continent of America, precious things from India and a whole zoo of exotic animals

If we look closely at Water, there are two animals that capture our attention, a walrus and a spouting fish (below, upper). These are very unlikely to have been seen by Arcimboldo and his inspiration must have come illustrations that he had come across, but what were these? The walrus may have been influenced by Dürer’s (1521) illustration (below, mid), especially in the prominence of the nostrils and the eyes. The jets coming from the partially-hidden spouting fish are very similar to those in the representation of a whale in Olaus Magnus’ (1539) Carta Marina (below, lower). Arcimboldo probably saw copies of both, as they are likely to have been talking points in artistic circles in the decades before he produced Water in 1566. This is my speculation, of course.

There is nothing quite like Arcimboldo’s “still life portraits” in the history of art and their strangeness, and skill of execution, had an influence on Surrealist painters centuries later, Salvador Dali basing his Le grand paranoïaque (below, upper) on paintings by Arcimboldo, after conversations about the artist with Josep Maria Sert, who designed sets for Diaghilev’s Ballet Russe [2]. Perhaps Dali was especially inspired by Eve and the Apple (below, lower)?

[1] Werner Kriegeskorte (2000) Arcimboldo Taschen, Köln

[2] Marijke Peyser: https://www.boijmans.nl/en/collection/artworks/4293/le-grand-paranoiaque