The untold story of the artistic battle between James Abbot MacNeill Whistler and John Ruskin over Whistler’s controversial, ground-breaking Nocturne in Black and The Falling Rocket.
In November 1878, America’s greatest painter sued England’s greatest critic for a bad review. The painter won—but ruined himself in the process. The James Abbot MacNeill Whistler, whose combination of incredible talent, unflagging energy, and relentless self-promotion had by that time brought him to the very edge of artistic preeminence. The John Ruskin, Slade Professor of Art at Oxford University, whose four-decades’ worth of prolific and highly respected literary output on aesthetics had made him England’s unchallenged and seemingly unchallengeable arbiter of art.
Though Whistler and Ruskin both lived in London and moved in the same artistic world, they had, until June, 1877, managed to remain entirely clear of one another. This was unusual because Whistler had a mercurial temperament, a belligerent personality, and seemed to thrive on he once challenged a man to a duel because the man accused the painter of sleeping with his wife. (Whistler had, in fact, slept with the man’s wife.)
That November, John Ruskin walked into the Grosvenor Gallery’s new exhibition of art and gazed with horror upon Whistler’s Nocturne in Black and The Falling Rocket. The painting was Whistler’s interpretation of a fireworks display at a local pleasure garden. But to Ruskin it was nothing more than a chaotic, incomprehensible mess of bright spots upon dark not art but its antithesis—a disturbing and disgusting assault upon everything he had ever written or taught on the subject. He quickly channeled that anger into a seething review.
The internationally-reported, widely discussed, and hugely-entertaining trial that followed was a titanic battle between the opposing ideas and ideals of two larger-than-life personalities. For these two protagonists, Whistler v Ruskin was the battle of a lifetime—or more accurately, a battle of their two lifetimes. Paul Thomas Murphy’s Falling Rocket also recounts James Whistler’s turbulent but triumphant development from artistic oblivion in the 1880s to artistic deification in the 1890s, and also Ruskin’s isolated, befogged, silent final years after his public humiliation.
The story of Whistler v Ruskin has a dramatic arc of its own, but this riveting new book also vividly evokes an artistic world in energetic motion, culturally and socially, in the last decades of the nineteenth century.
Paul Thomas Murphy earned his BA from Boston College, his MA from McGill University, and his PhD from the University of Colorado. He teaches interdisciplinary writing on Victorian topics at the University of Colorado and sits on the board of the Victorian Interdisciplinary Studies Association of the Western United States. He currently resides in Boulder, Colorado.
What does art do for the artist? I don’t think that’s the question this riveting book seeks to answer, and yet it’s the painful truth at the heart of so many biographies—the possibility that it does far less for the maker than the viewer. I don’t want that to be true (naively, I’m sure). If art can move and comfort and enlighten the viewer as an individual and a society en masse, then should it not be true that the one who created the art, who had the vision and skill and tenacity, is in possession of the greatest life of all? Lives best? Feels a higher sense of achievement? But no. Not at all. Or hardly ever. Is the artist then the unluckiest of beings?
Ruskin and Whistler come to life in this book, and so does their world, and I think I will be haunted for a long while by what it was like to be so brilliant and ambitious and successful and self-destructive. Perhaps this doesn’t seem like much of a recommendation, but I do mean it as one. When we celebrate works of art and their present eminence (Van Gogh being the most searing example), it seems important to know the circumstances of their creation, how the work was perceived at the time by the maker, the model, the critics, other artists, and the public, large or small. This book does that brilliantly.
I gave up on this 50 pages in. Given I write and read about art a lot, this topic should be right up my street. However, I found the writing dull and hard to get into it and just found myself drifting off so I gave up.
This book is for readers who love art history, Victorian England, and the art that flourished there from 1850 to 1900. That it pits two of the least likable figures from that world in a legal battle will be a plus for many readers. To Murphy’s credit, he was able to evaluate the work and contributions of both Ruskin and Whistler without getting bogged down in the minutia of their unsavory private lives. Further, Murphy has managed to draw parallels between this complex, troubled era and the present day, where frivolous lawsuits abound and numerous bad actors attempt to influence public opinion to support their private agendas.
Beforehand I knew little about Whistler or his art. Now, I feel I know too much about this deeply flawed American painter, although I am curious to see more of his portraits of wealthy patrons. Without having read much Ruskin, I gained my impressions of him from films like Effie Gray and the BBC series “Desperate Romantics.” Ruskin attempted the impossible: to hold back Britain’s entry into the modern age by focusing on beautiful art and architecture from the past. Even so, his influence on art in the twentieth century was profound, certainly as great as Whistler’s.
Murphy’s scholarship in this history is thorough and impressive. Nevertheless, I found about ten instances of proofreading errors. Even the painting in the title was once erroneously referred to as Fallen Rocket. I wonder if Murphy should be blamed for these errors or his publisher, Pegasus. In any event, the book is fabulous.
This review is not an endorsement of amazon.com or any business owned by Jeff Bezos. Books for my reviews were checked out from a public library, purchased from a local brick-and-mortar book shop, or ordered from my favorite website for rare and out-of-print books.
“Falling Rocket” is enthralling; it never becomes tedious even though, now and then, it becomes too detailed, as when it lists the paintings that Whistler shows at particular exhibitions.
Despite its title, the book is essentially a dual biography of Whistler and Ruskin, but its title is justifiable because it devotes more space to Whistler’s libel suit against Ruskin than most biographies would. Whistler sued Ruskin for his harsh opinion of Whistler’s painting “Nocturne in Black and Gold – The Falling Rocket,” a painting that approaches abstraction. Murphy writes that Whistler “tended always to abstraction, and although he never got there, he certainly pointed the way.”
Even Whistler’s most famous painting, of his mother, he titled “Arrangement in Grey and Black No. 1.” Whistler wrote, “it is interesting as a picture of my mother; but what can or ought the public to care about the identity of the portrait?” The public ought to care about how Whistler arranged the grey and the black. He advocated art for art’s sake.
Ruskin, by contrast, believed, “Art revealed God by reflecting nature.” Art, however, “entailed far more than simply imitating nature…. Great artists … in painting a tree, captured its spirit…. The great artists mirrored God; their works bore the stamp of the divine.” Whistler’s painting “Falling Rocket,” did not, as Ruskin saw it. He wrote that the painting amounted to Whistler’s "flinging a pot of paint in the public's face," and Whistler sued him for libel. Today, at least in the United States, an opinion, no matter how harsh, cannot constitute libel; only a false statement of fact can.
I have only one minor complaint about the book. In addition to fifty pages of endnotes, it has occasional footnotes at the bottom of the page, and it indicates these notes with an asterisk in the text. The asterisks were so small that I didn't notice most of them as I read, so, when I reached a footnote at the bottom of the page, I had to go back to search for the asterisk to find out on what the footnote was commenting.
Murphy has crafted an art history/social history monograph around the story of the feud between john Ruskin and James MacNeil Whistler and the slander trial Whistler won. The story of Whistler, his friends in the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, his flirtation with Impressionism and his role in the birth of Modernism in Britain. The section on Whistler's redoubtable mother and her escape through a Civil War blockade from Richmond to the London home of her younger son is delightful. It will make you look at the lady in the rocking chair in an entirely different way. Reminiscent of the books of Ross King, Murphy presents a rich portrait of the last thirty years og of the nineteenth century in British artistic life.
I chose the book because like Beatrix Potter and William Wadsworth, Ruskin loved the Lake District. I may see his home Brantwood. The book included essential biographical information for each, but the focus was on Ruskin’s extreme criticism of Whistler’s art and Whistler’s subsequent lawsuit accusing Ruskin of defamation. I admit to skimming the middle section which described the trial in detail. In fact, I do not like Whistler’s paintings, but Ruskin had such a grandiose opinion of his own opinions that I definitely found myself in the camp of Whistler. Both men had their problems. Whistler could not control his spending, and Ruskin was emotionally, I would almost say, perverted.
An insightful look at how the inflated egos of two gifted gentlemen led to an ugly public dispute, a libel lawsuit, and the subsequent demise of their lives. I found myself sighing through most of the story, watching anger, envy, and retribution slowly dismantle their formidable talent. Well told story. I can’t help but see it as a warning to artists who put more value in their own reputation than they do in their actual work.
I am fascinated with the topic - but there are already books out there that have covered this. Murphy's writing is unfortunately too sensationalist and does not cover well what actually happened. Apart from the many mistakes in the research and evidence, and lack of footnotes, this book was a disappointment.
An extraordinary telling of a tale I’ve held dear all my adult life, but only envisioned as an anecdote of importance. Paul Thomas Murphy unfolds it as a screen: dividing rooms, containing people, and decorating our lives with aesthetic and intellectual provocations that define and improve our lived experience.
Fascinating book about the art critic, John Ruskin, and artist James Whistler. I didn’t know much about either one of them before reading this very entertaining account of their lives. Two men with huge egos who couldn’t get out of their own way, but managed to influence art and art criticism for a long time. Great read!
Fascinating story, didn't quite read like a novel, but the story did make me want to keep reading at find out what happened next. Not a surprise ending in any way, but a really interesting set of events that say a lot about the evolution of art and artistic sensibilities. Definitely recommend.
3 1/2 stars Well written but very detailed. Covers both Whistler and Ruskin's live,s pretty much from beginning to end, with a detailed rendering of the slander trial. I love Whistler paintings although based on this writing he definitely had his personality issues. Ruskin - well, I wouldn't let him within 1000 feet of any female under 25 yr. old. I haven't read any of his works so can't comment on that aspect. I read the book on Kindle so now I need to go to the internet to view paintings and artists discussed in the book. This is a book that could spur a deep dive into that era. Also, after reading this it is time to rewatch the movie on Turner who was Ruskin's idol.