In the misty beauty of Gwen John The Chamber on the Court (1907-8) we see a solitary and contemplative woman seated in a small room, a cat curled up on a wicker chair in front of her. Interior scenes were all the rage at the time, with French artists like Édouard Vuillard and Pierre Bonnard among the leading practitioners. But John has done something very unique with the genre, speaking of a woman’s experience and needs rather than a description of the domestic life in which contemporary society would like to see her confined.
John was a woman who consistently refused to conform to the standards expected of her. Courageous and bohemian, she moved between London and Paris where she immersed herself in art and thinking of her time. Yet, due to her gender and subsequent conversion to Catholicism, her subject matter has been used to define her as a shy, insular woman, too devout or afraid to engage with the world around her.
“It’s quite an attractive image, the archetypal artist in a garret,” says art historian Alicia Foster, author of a new biography of John and curator of a accompanying exhibition at the Pallant House Gallery in Chichester, England, both of which aim to challenge the myths that have accumulated around her. However, as Foster laughs, “if you want to be a recluse, there are better places to go than London in the 1890s or Paris in 1904.”
Gwen John, The Room On The Court (c.1907–08), oil on canvas. Photo: © Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection.
Spending most of her youth in Pembrokeshire, Wales, John followed her famous brother Augustus to London to study at the Slade School of Art in 1895. A lack of funds meant she had to survive in a series of bedrooms rented at low cost. , but she relished her newfound independence, embracing life as one of the “new women” then defying societal norms. She excelled at the Slade, winning two prizes, and in 1898 she made her first stay in Paris. There, she studied with American painter James Abbott Whistler and reveled in the heady sense of freedom the city gave her.
In the years immediately following, John painted his first major works, two self-portraits (neither of which unfortunately could be loaned for the Pallant House exhibition). In the first, painted around 1899, John stands with his hand on his hip, haughtily meeting the gaze of the viewer, an uncompromising take on the Grand Manner style. The second, painted around 1902, sees her portrayed with the intensity of an Ibsen heroine. “The fact that she was so sure of herself and played with these ideas of who she was so early on is fascinating,” Foster said. “I think these are statements of presence and intent.”
That intention was always to be a great artist, and to that end John knew she had to move to Paris, settling there in 1904. It was here that she began to focus on interiors with with which she would become so closely associated. While her male peers have painted rooms as part of the domestic sphere, for John they have always been “a woman’s space for work and reflection”, says Foster.
Gwen John, A corner of the artist’s room in Paris (c.1907–09), oil on canvas. Photo: © Sheffield Museums Trust.
As always, money was tight, and to make ends meet John worked as an artist’s model, a career choice that would have been unthinkable in London and which, even in Paris, required considerable courage. Yet John ended up working for the most famous sculptor of the time, Rodin, becoming not only a favored model, but also his lover.
The huge power differential has often seen John seen as a victim at the end of the affair, but Foster doesn’t think she ever yearned for a conventional domestic setup. “A relationship with someone both beautiful was what she wanted,” she says. “And it’s no coincidence that I think that when the relationship with Rodin ended, there was God.”
John converted to Catholicism in 1913, but rather than signaling the end of her career, it was the spur to another creative leap. In France there was a tendency to establish a modern art movement that was also religious, in which techniques and methods were as important as the subject. Like Cézanne, “she extends her pictorial practice in a rather risky way. She reduces her palette and paints in blocks, leaving paint brushes visible,” says Foster. The results can be seen in the cold serenity of a work like The nun (c. 1915–21).
Gwen John, Literally self-portrait, (Self-poutraged with a letter) (c.1907–09), pencil and watercolour. Photo: © Rodin Museum
The patronage of wealthy American John Quinn had already enabled John’s work to be shown at the 1913 Armory Show in New York, and after World War I his simple but radiant style was perfectly in tune with the times. Works such as the “Convalescent” series, which Foster says alludes to France’s post-war recovery, achieved significant success in Parisian salons.
However, in 1925, she abruptly stopped exhibiting. For someone so sure of her talent, it seems like an inexplicable decision, but perhaps it was a fit of spite being made salon associate only to be disqualified later when it was discovered that she was not French.
Despite this disappointment, the following year John had a solo exhibition at the New Chenil Galleries in London. It was a big hit, but that’s where the myths around her started. Art historian and curator Mary Chamot describes her as an “elusive personality” who must be “in demand for years before she will consent to show anything”. It was a somewhat mystifying comment given its success in America and France, but the idea stuck. When her work appeared in a Tate exhibition in 1952, a catalog entry described her as “by nature a recluse, devoid of ambition”.
Gwen John, Young woman holding a black cat (c. 1920–25), oil on canvas. Photo: © Tate: Purchased in 1946.
Whether it’s starring in misogynistic mythos or a shrewd attempt to manipulate the art market, the idea of John as reclusive and unambitious just doesn’t hold water. “For a woman to have built such a sustained career in this time is very rare, it’s a huge achievement,” says Foster. John herself has always been aware of the value of her work. In 1910 she wrote to her friend Ursula Tyrwhitt: “I cannot imagine why my work will have any value in the world – and yet I know it will.”
Visitors to the Pallant House show are likely to agree. “There’s a brilliance to the artwork that is quite shocking when seen face to face, it cannot be replicated,” says Foster. And how should we now think of John herself? “Intensely courageous, self-confident to the point of being ruthless, driven and deeply gifted,” she concludes.
“Gwen John: Art and Life in London and Paris”, Pallant House Gallery, 8-9 North Pallant, Chichester, UK, until October 8, 2023.
Gwen John: Art and Life in London and Paris by Alicia Foster is published by Thames & Hudson. It will be released in the United States on July 25.
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