This Dark Country: Women Artists, Still Life and Intimacy in the Early Twentieth Century

by Rebecca Birrell

Lemons gleam in a bowl. Flowers fan out softly in a vase. A door swings open in a sparsely furnished room. What is contained in a still life – and what falls out of the frame?

For women artists in the early twentieth century, including Ethel Sands, Nina Hamnett, Vanessa Bell and Gwen John, who lived in and around the Bloomsbury Group, this art form was a conduit for their lives, their rebellions, their quiet loves for men and women. Gluck, who challenged the framing of her gender and her art, painted flowers arranged by the woman she loved; Dora Carrington, a Slade School graduate, recorded eggs on a table at Tidmarsh Mill, where she built a richly fulfilling if delicate life with Lytton Strachey.

But for every artist we remember, there is one we have forgotten; who leaves only elusive traces; whose art was replaced by being a mother or wife; whose remaining artworks lie dusty in archives or attics.

In this boldly original blend of group biography and art criticism, Rebecca Birrell brings these shadowy figures into the light and conducts a dazzling investigation into the structures of intimacy that make – and dismantle – our worlds.

Genres: Nonfiction, Art, Art History, History, Biography, Feminism, British Literature

383 pages, Hardcover

Published August 19, 2021

About the author

Rebecca Birrell grew up in Southport, and currently lives in Cambridge. She studied English Literature at UCL, followed by Women’s Studies at the University of Oxford. She has occupied curatorial positions at the Jewish Museum London, the Department of Prints and Drawing at the British Museum and at the Charleston Trust. In 2018 she undertook a fellowship at the Yale Centre for British Art. She recently completed her PhD at the Edinburgh College of Art. For the next year she will be Assistant Keeper of Paintings, Prints and Drawings at the Fitzwilliam Museum.

Reviews

[Christina Dongowski · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm currrently reading a lot of feminist art history books or books about women artists respectively, and this is the best I've read so far. I was a bit apprehensive about Birrells use of the artists' first names (except with Carrington and Gluck), but this is the only quibble I really have about the book. Birrell makes domesticity and how the / a domestic life that was expected of them impacted their art, the centre of her portraits of ten English women painters of the first third of the 20th century. She shows how deeply impacted even single paintings are by the way these women tried to navigate the expectations, demands and above all restraints a still highly patriarchal society put on them, mainly through their families, lovers and partner, but also by a lack of access to professional art institutions like art schools and galleries, child care arrangements etc. Birrell takes the typical denigration of genres like still lives and interiors as female seriously and makes it the center of her argument: Still lives and interiors as the genres that allowed women and queer artists to fashion an artistic self that incorporates being a women / femininity, as a way to become a woman or/and queer painter / an artist. I learned a lot about the absolutely infuriating circumstances even privileged women like Vanessa Bell or Ethel Sands had to contend with, and what lengths men did go to denigrate, obscure, destroy, forget and discourage female artists. I found especially illuminating and touching that Birrell includes four women artists that didn't "make it": Stopped painting because they were eaten up by family live or like Roger Fry's wife Helen Coombe became mentally ill after the birth of their second child (out of rage, boredom, exhaustion and despondency). The book closes with Helen's story, who possessed "a mind of singular distinction, and produced art that was akin to Manet in his late phase. One of the truly great "might have beens of English art" (Birrell quotes an article by the art historian Tancredo Borenius from 1940). No work of Helen Coombe seems to have survived, so Birrell ascribes to her in a very touching and beautiful act of recognition on of Manets late paintings, The Lemon. This must be the first book on art history that made me cry.

[Helen McClory · Rating 5 out of 5]

Experimental, brilliant, poetic and illuminating. I am going to add this to a class I'll be teaching next semester I think. It really is very very good

[Katy Wheatley · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was an interesting book. I learned more about artists I knew a little about. I learned about artists I had never heard of, some of whom it turns out, I love. I found the premise challenging at times. I'm very interested in fresh perspectives on what has traditionally been a white, male arena and this queer reading of women artists was very welcome, but as the author herself acknowledges, the secretive nature of the women's sexuality, their effective erasing from the canon and the passage of time since their work was being made often leads to a paucity of material by which to assess the work. Some of it read rather like the yearning of the author herself rather than anything else. There was lots to commend in this book, but some areas were disappointingly thin, not through lack of work by the author herself. It speaks more of the world in which the painters themselves were operating, but it's melancholy all the same.

[Caspar "moved to storygraph" Bryant]

an incredible work of biography, art history, and women's lives, one of my absolute favourite articulations/studies of queerness that I've encountered. I had high hopes & they were entirely met I feel, such joy at being able to read this book. It's a gift & it feels essential to the study of art history going forwards I think anybody looking to take the study of early 20th century painting seriously is making a mistake the longer they go without reading this

Birrell's scholarship is, I think it is fair to say, cutting edge for the sometimes-backwards (I.e., conservative) field of art history. It's no shock to say that queerness and painters have never been far apart, and as I mentioned, This Dark Country, through Eve Sedgwick, extracts the genuinely beautiful from murky lives. I'm also kind of in awe of the rhetorical move during the chapter on Vanessa Bell, Virginia Woolf's sister, where Birrell takes time aside to name the many many servants the Woolfs and Bells had who effectively orchestrated, conditioned, created, enabled the art they produced. Birrell takes this further even and in wonderful ways

Also on the note of Woolf, it's interesting how almost all of the women who form the subject of the book's chapters are at some point or another subject to fairly vituperative sniping from the diary of Virginia. For a book that takes its title from VW, one doesn't gather an altogether charming light of her - her cruelty against the insufficiently queer, boyish, clumsy, poor, domestic, wild women becomes a kind of tragic motif. I do think it's worth lingering on this because we're somehow still stuck with this 'porcelain' image of Woolf, an impeccable, delicate, faerylike virgo-madonna. I love how Birrell, without any particular agenda to undermine the brilliance of Woolf (which I don't for one minute deny), manages to draw out her -phobic tendencies.

I didn't know so many of these lives. I'm grateful that I do now
I like learning about lives completely new to me, like the mononymic Gluck, who appears to have been nonbinary. Gluck's work is familiar all the same. Edna Waugh too - Birrell pulls on the strings of the what-could-have-been a few times, in entirely justified fashions. The last chapter is a good (cheeky) example of that. But Edna, oh , dear

dora carrington - ,, wow
the lesbian domesticity of Ethel Sands and Nan Hudson was an extraordinarily warm moment. Also one of the rare occasions in which Woolf seems to have approved of a person (grudgingly all the same)
Nina Hamnett! Now there was a busy lady and what an overflowing life! and glass! if you really must be one of those to fetishise the Parisian 1910s and the 1920s then at least look at nina

I really loved this book I am, elated

amused by the review that reads 'sometimes a still life is just a still life'

[Kate Foster · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really well researched and written. I liked the blend of factual and imaginative writing. So sad that several of these talented artists never achieved their early potential due to their marriages. Birrell focuses a lot on gender restrictions and definitions as she analyses their still life paintings, trying to bring these women off the page and give them back their identity and talent. I loved the part about Carrington’s woman on a horse. It was just a shame that the publisher didn’t properly reproduce each picture - the tiny black and white ones aren’t very effective.

[Mattea Gernentz · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of my top books of 2024. A visionary text bringing art history to life.

This book had been my radar for ages, but I finally encountered the right push. I met Rebecca Birrell and rushed to a bookshop to buy this right afterwards because, well, she is a genius.

This compelling text highlights the artistic practices, loves, and life stories of women creatives I confidently knew and had never heard of alike. I really enjoyed the insight into Gwen John's notebooks and mantras and the refreshing paradigm shift away from centring Rodin. The treatment was similar for Vanessa Bell—looking at all that she gained from the unconventionality of Bloomsbury, rather than how other exhibitions/books have framed her as "pining away" for a gay man [Duncan].

I felt seen on many levels—in the struggles of the women artists (and their deep need to carve out an identity outside of the demands of marriage and to do so through renting a room of their own) and in the scholastic pursuit of Birrell crafting such a daring and important book.

[Ore · Rating 4 out of 5]

There is life behind the inanimate, the humble and the every-day. The act of taking paint to brush and brush to canvas is to act out a string of conscious choices, informed by actions made in the heat of the moment, and by the culmination of a whole, complex existence. 'This Dark Country' shed light on the souls and the intellect behind the vases, jugs, lemons, tulips, armchairs, pinecones and pots painted by women in twentieth-century Britain. Those canvases an instrument to mask their queerness, and to voice their unmistakeable presence.

Birrell curates an exhibition of women artists, through a meticulately-researched and vividly written biographies of their lives, written works, and their still-life paintings. From the beginning, it is clear that these still lifes were not the 'memento mori' of the Dutch Golden Age, but statements of social and cultural rebellion. Domesticity, motherhood, intrigue, intellectualism and class underpin the collective experiences of the artists Birrell discusses. Each grappling with disillusionment toward rigid patriarchal norms, what Birrell best captures is their impassioned love to other men (queer and otherwise) and to other women, and how their intense feelings were reduced to a plain symbolism that would not scandalise the average viewer, but which were steeped in the language of sexual progress that prevailed amongst these groups.

It is feminine curves and breasts alluded to by the flowers of Gluck's 'Convolvulus', the idyll surroundings of Carrington's 'The Mill at Tidmarsh', and the radio-silent and harrowing portraits of Gwen John, so static they become no different to the plants, utensils and landmarks that crop up throughout the book. It is these snippets of the artist's life, ones that would decorate the corridor of a gallery, or gather dust in the storeroom, that are masterfully stretched out and examined as primary sources of a lost time for queer and female autonomy over one hundred years ago, and the stories those images can tell us today.

Toward the latter half of the book, the charm of unique stories and crafted biography was slowly lost. Each entry became more encyclopaedic, and where paintings and sketches were lacking, or excerpts from Virginia Woolf's diaries were insufficient, Birrell began fluffing her narratives with very little to back them up. The book's final entry, a fellow Bloomsbury Group artist by the name of Helen Coombe, has such a small oeuvre that more time is spent comparing her style to Manet, whose painting is pressed onto the last page as the last remark we have. For shorter entries, where Birrell claims there is little to write on, it is perhaps best to avoid altogther, particularly where other art historians have made a much more diligent effort to recount their stories. However, it should not dissuade anyone from dipping into this lesser-known world, and engaging with a sparkling analysis of works, people and societies whose stories are only just reappearing on the walls of our national galleries.

[Tass · Rating 5 out of 5]

never found still lifes very exciting but am now unable to waltz past them as i previously did. book has changed my entire engagement with the genre

marvellously written, well-thought and deeply embedded in critical/queer theory without reading like a dense piece of academia. fantastic level of depth, consideration of class/privilege & a genuinely interesting re-approach to collective biography (hope charlie porter takes notes).

includes some i am already fascinated by, as well as many artists i have yet to explore - some that it isn’t really possible to explore any further as they weren’t considered important enough for their work to be preserved in their time or ours. but how beautiful that we can read of them here <3



would benefit from better quality & colour illustrations - not such an issue in a world where you can easily look each up online, but those included definitely made reading clunkier

[sasha · Rating 5 out of 5]

Birrell masterfully weaves together a narration which delicately mediates between biography, art and womanhood.

This book is thoughtful and beautiful - I am in awe!!

[A J HOOPER · Rating 2 out of 5]

Disappointing over interpretation of the lives of women artists in the 20th century. Sometimes a still life is just a still life!
I take the point that women in these early decades needed to be unmarried in order to have the time for work. But I thought that Birrell's selection of characters over emphasised their queerness .
Admittedly her version of queerness doesn't just describe sexual preference. It fairly makes the point that these women were trying to break through the norms of society to create alternative ways of living.
The reproductions of the artists' paintings was abysmal and since they were key to the text this was a huge mistake, not the author's fault. I'm interested and probably influenced by people like Dora Carrington and Vanessa Bell, where lifestyle is concerned. But attitudes towards people other than upper crust English were abysmal. With exceptions, most of the women here were not very emotionally bright.

[Pragya · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book tells about what it felt to not be a straight man in the 19th century. It makes you question a lot of institutions that our society enrolls us to without any thought even in today's date. This is a must read for anyone who wants to understand feminism and its roots. It is filled with people who want to live a life with lesser hypermasculine ideologies. Loved each character. A bit lengthy though. 🥲

[Karl · Rating 4 out of 5]

--- "All of the autonomy Vanessa would subsequently enjoy would be facilitated by the availability and cheapness of female domestic servants, and her inherited entitlement to their presence and service. These women are rarely acknowledged as creating the conditions in which Vanessa conducted her successful art career." (Birrell: 203)
--- "A collection of Winifred's larger watercolours, rolled up for storage purposes, are now fixed in place as cylinders of coloured paper, each one impossible to lay flat, their laboriously produced images inaccesible." (Birrell: 184)

This book talks about ten British women artists from the early twentieh century. The book's title promises a focus on still lifes but I felt that wasn't always the case.

The author has done a great job here by going through the archives trying to gather new information that can shed new light on these women's lives and artworks. The book is for the most part the author's own interpretation, which uses biography as the main way to understand a painting or drawing. But this method of analysis is not recommended by many art historians, as it can lead to wrong conclusions similar to those for Edvard Munch or Artemisia Gentileschi.

Pictures were in my opinion of a extremely poor quality. There was too much biographical details, especially regarding the love life of these ten artists, which sometimes made me feel as if I was reading a novel instead of an art book. But it was good to see a queer reading being applied to some of the paintings and drawings.

All in all, the author needs to be praised for the effort she put into researching these artists and gathering new documentation. That is enough for me to award this book a 4 stars review instead of my initial 3 one.

[Erika Notarianni · Rating 4 out of 5]

Overall I enjoyed Birrell’s analysis of the women artists and their work and lives BUT I do have a few gripes with this book.

I have a paperback copy and was disappointed with the lack of images to accompany the really interesting analysis. The images that were provided were small, low quality and all black and white which made for a frustrating reading experience at times. I Googled most of the work to get a visual reference.

I also wasn’t a fan of the repeated assertions of ‘patriarchy’ this or ‘male oppression’ that, without supporting evidence in many cases. It became a lazy buzzword to slap on to every man and institution that the women encountered, and although it some cases it was justified, in others it wasn’t. Birrell’s commentary on the men lacked the nuanced analysis that the women received, yet she constantly reiterated how much oppression they exerted on women.

Also, the phrase ‘people who menstruate’. I’ll say no more on that.

I give it 4 stars - because I enjoyed learning about the women, their fascinating lives and work.

[Lynne · Rating 2 out of 5]

Strange mixture of semi-biography and art criticism/history discussing a range of familiar and unfamiliar female artists loosely labelled as Bloomsbury. The author's narrative style is at times, mildly irritating and pretentious but she is not well served by the publishers in that her discussions of the works are illustrated by very small greyscale photographs which do to enhance her analysis at all. The biographical elements are sketchy to say the least and provide snapshots of most of the women, particularly Vanessa Bell (and as someone relatively familiar with her life, nothing new was learnt) and there seems to be a determination to label each as 'queer' regardless of sexual orientation.

Disappointing.

[George Millership · Rating 5 out of 5]

Finding the truth in speculation, this is an incredibly well-researched series of full lives of women artists - some swept under the carpet, some warped by historical readings. The prose is just fantastic - incredibly engaging, living in the moments of the women's lives. A must read for art historians, for the style as much as the subjects. I've never cared much for domestic still lives. I adore their power now.

[Jennifer · Rating 4 out of 5]

"More than anything, what the diaries from the time introduce is a young woman finally achieving a measure of self-knowledge. Gwen was at once curious about and frustrated by her own limits, self-reflexive almost to a fault, and filled with a sincere hope that if enough work was done to her character, all her thoughts set on the appropriate course, her weaknesses gone, then something great might come of her ambitions." (p.240)

[B · Rating 3 out of 5]

An interesting take, but reads work like a work of fiction, rather romanticised, than a series of biographies. I’d like to see more evidence of the interpretations and artists intent of the work and perhaps less speaking on behalf of the artists. Still a very readable book with engaging stories.

[Emily · Rating 4 out of 5]

A beautifully written account of a group of women artists who pushed artistic, domestic and personal boundaries in the early twentieth century - it has already made me look at still life paintings in a new way.

[Helena · Rating 4 out of 5]

I like the way it was written. the reproductions of the paintings were not good quality though, and I'd like to have known what they were actually called. i think this style of art history is interesting and atmospheric, but I would have liked more solid facts.

[Meg · Rating 4 out of 5]

Feel like non-fiction always takes me way longer to read but I did really enjoy this, really interesting portrait of womxn artists in the 20th century - including some new to me! Great stuff!

[Stephanie · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5

[laurel · Rating 5 out of 5]

basically copy and pasted this book for a uni essay on ethel sands. BRILLIANT BOOK! women are so smart x

[Esmee · Rating 4 out of 5]

Less specifically about still lifes than I thought, it was a beautifully written, meditative take on women artists's lives, interiorities and romances and I look forward to reading more by her

[mel · Rating 4 out of 5]

it went on a LITTLE BIT at some points howEVER HERE QUEER YES

[Lindsey · Rating 5 out of 5]

Can tell I will read this multiple times in the future. Really breathes life and narrative into the women artists featured in beautiful musings that keep the reader invested in their stories. Easy for historical books like this to be a bit dry and dusty but this was quite unique and poetic.