There is no trouble with Hogarth of course but in the view of the current wave of critical race theory sweeping the museums of the UK and its curators, an exhibition of the great artist’s works and life at the Tate Britain in 2021 which should have been a great moment to celebrate one of our most famous artists, became a hate fest of censorious, sour, sneering comments beside the paintings and other exhibits in the exhibition, about the subjects which so preoccupy our social commentators to the exclusion of everything else: race, class and gender. As if Hogarth himself didn’t comment enough about this in his satirical and often savage portrayals of contemporary life during the eighteenth century. Had it not been for the Enlightenment, Hogarth might have found himself clapped in irons in prison instead of achieving celebrity during his lifetime and posthumously.
Let us begin with how the visitor to the exhibition is greeted. It is a sign containing a”trigger warning” that the spectator is about to view images that contains “derogatory representations of race, gender and disability and addresses themes of racial and sexual violence.” What is one to do faced with such a warning? Having shelled out quite a considerable sum of money to view the works (£18), do people of a sensitive disposition simply exit the museum or do they press ahead anyway and ask for some smelling salts and a nice comforting cuppa tea? We wish that the museum had warned us before we bought our expensive entry ticket. At the ticket office there should be a large notice warning people before purchasing their ticket, not after, surely?
So let us begin with the self-portrait of Hogarth sitting on a mahogany chair “Hogarth Painting the Comic Muse.” We are told that “The chair is made from timbers shipped from the colonies, via routes which also shipped enslaved people. Could the chair also stand in for all those unnamed black and brown people enabling the society that supports his vigorous creativity?” This contribution is by Sonia Barrett whom the Tate tells us that her “practice centres on people, place and object-based commodification, performing furniture to explore themes of race and gender.” That clears that up then.
There is plenty of rape, drunkenness, debauchery, foolish human behaviour, greed, racial and class stereotypes on display but Hogarth chronicled what he saw in his own 18th century time in his own satirical manner. All of this, of course, is “problematic” in our more caring and sensitive era but, after all, it was some 250 years ago. The moralising becomes increasingly tiresome as the exhibition goes along. I am not sure what the point of it is except to make viewers feel angry and frustrated, surely not the sort of feelings a museum should be provoking if it wants to get the visitors in back to pre-pandemic levels. In fact, it feels like we are either being trolled or lectured by sanctimonious puritanical texts telling us what a horrid, nasty and dirty man Hogarth and his friends were in what are supposed to be explanatory panels. Even the ultra woke Guardian critic says: “But the longer I stayed, the more the feeling grew in me that I was not really allowed to enjoy what I was seeing, and that if I did, I was a bad or insensitive person.” It certainly reveals that viewing works of art through the narrow lens of post-colonial critical race theory from American campuses is not fit for purpose or for coaxing people back into museums, even enlightened and educated persons such as a Guardian critic.
The paintings on display were breath taking, some in private collections which may never be seen again in public, and the notion of putting them in a European context to see what other contemporary artists of his era were portraying or commenting upon is an interesting one. Except that the hectoring placards provide no real historical information or facts other than white supremacy, the patriarchy, class and race stereotypes. As Waldemar Januzczak commented: “a problem is the collapse here of useful scholarship and its replacement by wokeish drivel. Caption after caption wastes precious explanatory space on a la mode speculations about Hogarth’s intentions that are thunderously unreliable.” The Telegraph critic describes it as “a show in paroxysms of embarrassment about its own subject.” The series Marriage A La Mode is described as being indirectly involved in the atrocities of Atlantic investments as one of the scenes depicts “the outsized expenditures on Asian luxury good racked up by its protagonists, a pair of dissolute white people.” We are already aware that the protagonists are dissolute and Hogarth makes his disapproval quite obvious so there is no need for another sanctimonious layer of comments on top. His notorious boozy scenes are merely an excuse to indulge “laddish behaviour. ” There are artists on display like Cornelis Troot, Pietro Longhi, Chardin and Crespi whose paintings are rarely displayed here and are a wonder to see. What they showed was that the rest of Europe was pretty much the same as England in terms of class and race inequality, debauchery, prostitution, slavery and other sins.
The engraving which earns most disapproval and the equivalent of a social media pile on, is called “The Discovery.” I wasn’t familiar with this work but it takes up an inordinate amount of wall space, almost a room in itself, with another trigger warning placed in front of it. The work was produced as a private joke by Hogarth and depicts a semi naked black prostitute surrounded by four white men.
Hogarth, himself came from a modest family and had considerable obstacles to overcome and knew he would have to “shift for myself.” At age 15, he became an apprentice to a silversmith. It was work he didn’t enjoy very much and at age 23, he began attending a private drawing school in St Martin’s Lane. He quickly discovered a preference for drawing from life rather than copying. In the meantime, he earned his living as a copper engraver. He later said that engraving “did little more than maintain myself in the usual gaieties of life but was in all a punctual paymaster.”
Personally, the most touching and heartfelt work of all was his portrait of his servants, painted in 1750-55 which can be seen in Tate Britain. The servants featured could have been a valet, page, coachman, two maids and a housekeeper. They are painted with affection and dignity, very far from his satirical portrayals of the effete upper class and suggest that he treated his staff well and was cognisant of his own humble beginnings. The curators had little or nothing to say about this.
Anyone interested in learning further about Hogarth without interpretations from critical race theory academics, would be well advised to take a trip to Hogarth’s House in Chiswick, Great West Road, W4 2QN or Sir John Soane’s Museum, 13 Lincoln’s Inn Fields, WC2A 3BP where The Rake’s Progress is on display.
Image one: Pietro Longhi, The Morning Chocolate, 1775. Wikimedia commons.
Image two: Hogarth’s Servants, 1750-55. Wikimedia commons.
February 2024.
Art history Unchained. 