A putti bonanza in a limited palette
A set of ten large paintings, displayed in one of the most recently redecorated rooms of Dublin Castle, has always made me gaze up with wonder because of the painting technique by which they were executed, but also the considerable (some one may say excessive) number of putti depicted.
Peter de Gree (1751-1789), (from left) Bacchus, Ceres, Neptune, Allegory of the Elements – Fire, ca. 1785–1789. Office of Public Works, Dublin Castle.
Painted entirely in shades of grey in imitation of bas-reliefs, the ten panels are referred to as grisailles, from the French gris meaning grey. They were executed by Peter de Gree no longer after 1785, the year the artist moved to Dublin from his native Antwerp. After being dismantled and removed from their original setting at 52 (or was it 51?) St Stephen’s Green in the early nineteenth century, the ensemble changed hands several times before being acquired by the State in the 1980s.
Peter de Gree (1751-1789), Allegory of the Elements – Water, ca. 1785–1789. Office of Public Works, Dublin Castle.
The paintings depict six Olympian deities and the four classical elements from which, according to the ancient Greeks, everything was made. Besides painting putti busying themselves around the gods and goddesses, the Flemish artist also chose putti to represent Earth, Air, Fire and Water, breaking with the classical tradition of representing the Elements as gods.
Peter de Gree (1751-1789), Venus (left) and Diana (right), ca. 1785–1789. Office of Public Works, Dublin Castle.
Hence, the mix of putti’s playful antics: lounging under a tree and carrying baskets filled with fruit (Earth); spearfishing and pouring water from a pot while reclining on the bank of a river (Water); fanning a fire and labouring at an anvil (Fire); blowing bubbles with a straw into a basin and catching birds (Air). But also, trying to remove Diana’s sandal as the goddess is otherwise occupied with her hunting dog; hovering around Venus who, leaning on her chariot, receives an apple from the putto par excellence, Cupid; ‘jamming’ with Apollo; getting into a scuffle and disturbing Neptune’s peace; minding Ceres’s scythe; eating grapes while holding Bacchus’s thyrsus.
Peter de Gree (1751-1789), Diana (detail), ca. 1785–1789. Office of Public Works, Dublin Castle.
At the time of his death, in 1789, Peter de Gree was working on a series of four grisailles of the seasons for the Presence Chamber, now Throne Room, in Dublin Castle. The whereabouts of the only one finished, Autumn, are unknown (at least to me). Although quite a few contemporary commentators praised the allegory for its monochrome technique, none of them took the time to describe it. And yet, it is safe to assume the lost Autumn featured putti and looked similar to the grisailles below. They are by Jacob de Wit (1695-1754) and Marten Jozef Geeraerts (1707-1791) who, together with Peter de Gree, are considered among the most important proponents of the practise of painting putti at play in imitation of basso-reliefs in marble.
Considering the swings of fashion in the appreciation of the genre, one would hope Autumn went up to someone’s attic and not into a nineteenth-century equivalent of a skip!
Jacob De Wit (1695-1754), Allegory of the Four Seasons – Autumn, 1751. Staatliche Museen, Kassel.
Martinus Josephus Geeraerts (1707-1791), Allegory of Autumn, 1750. The Mauritshuis, The Hague.
The use of works realised in tones of grey in imitation of basso-reliefs for mural decoration has a long history.
In Southern Europe, the tradition of painting site-specific fresco decorations in monochrome to imitate sculpture started with Giotto and continued well into the eighteenth century to decorate palaces and villas. However, in Northern Europe such large-scale decorations were rare most likely because true fresco has never been a technique suitable for damp weather. Therefore, by the mid seventeenth century, artists had already turned to oil painting, a more enduring medium for painting on plaster or wood.
During the eighteenth century, following a renewed interest in classical antiquity and a wide taste for interior decorations in grisaille both in Southern and Northern Europe, the practise of imitating sculpture developed into highly illusionistic works of trompe l’oeil. However, as one would expect, artists adopted and implemented the technique accordingly to their own different painting traditions.
In this instance, de Gree’s putti and deities, floating as they do in mid-air, are an example of the Netherlandish variant which is characterised by a rather non-sculptural quality. And yet, the previously discussed Autumn was praised for being "strikingly designed and rendered so seemingly independent of the canvas that to the nicest eye they are the deception of relief highly finished by the sculptor's chisel.” ("The Dublin Chronicle," 29th Nov., 1788, and 7th Jan., 1789).
Assuming de Gree’s grisailles of putti and deities were similarly received, and admitting it is quite difficult to establish to which extent eighteenth-century beholders were really fooled, there are a few contributing elements to consider. To begin with, grisailles in general would have been only one element of a more elaborate decorative scheme and, therefore, the plasterwork originally surrounding the paintings currently displayed in Dublin Castle may have enhanced the sculptural illusion. What’s more, it is not unreasonable to imagine the artist paying attention to the position and arrangement of the paintings in order to take full advantage of the natural light in their original setting.
And while we are on the theme of light, I cannot think of anything better than candlelight to help de Gree’s fictive low reliefs to be mistaken for real carvings and, as it’s said, do the trick.
