Class Blog

In the Illman Brothers’ “Expectation,” the female subject’s clothing loses shape the further away from her face you go, making it clear that her visage is the main focus of the work. Looking expectant is hard to visualize, in my opinion. It’s a trait you see in domesticated pets or in children who are waiting for gifts or fun outings. Maybe the woman is waiting patiently for the artist illustrating her to be finished more than anything else. Though, it’s not hard to deduce that Victorian women lead less active lifestyles than their male counterparts, especially those belonging to a higher class. The background appears almost amorphous; I interpret a sun surrounding the top of her head, either sky or clouds going down to her shoulders, a muted horizon to the right of her, and reflecting water. She must be waiting for her significant other to return from somewhere, as she has her hands (or at least her left hand) placed over her chest.

At the Trout Gallery, we briefly discussed the intricate ornamentation framing the portrait. The ovular shape of the frame suggests a mirror, highlighting the motif of the “woman as object” aesthetic that male artists go gaga for. And this one in particular is a sensual plaything, a fantasy. Grapes and cherubs (or whatever those angel babies are called) holding what looks like martini glasses only enhance the mood. I am of course reminded of Walter falling in love with Laura while making her his muse in the beginning of The Woman in White, as well as a more fragile Laura hoping for him to return from his errands when she loses her memory. The image also reminds me of a couple of lines from Christina Rossetti’s “In an Artist’s Studio”: “We found her hidden just behind those screens, / That mirror gave back all her loveliness” (3-4). The man who gazes at this etching is meant to siphon that loveliness (longing, yet perfectly poised) to feed his desire, to spurn him on.

When initially looking at the chaos and crude happenings in the engraving titled “Mixing A Recipe for Corns”, I could not help but think of the main character in the image as a strange reflection of our dear Count Fosco in The Woman in White. Just as Count Fosco keeps a constant flurry of animals around him at all times, the woman in the engraving is surrounded by an uncomfortable number of little animals or animal references (such as peacock feathers). There even appears to be a cockatoo in the image, just as Count Fosco had a cockatoo, “a most vicious and treacherous bird towards towards every one else” (219). In the photo the wild animals add to the sense of frenzy and lack of control this woman has in her declining youth, whereas in The Woman in White, Count Fosco’s animals serve to show his desire for control, which highlights how a multitude of animals could be seen in contrasting lights based on the gender of who is controlling them.

I also noticed a similarity to Count Fosco in the subject of the engraving. The declining prostitute, who is wildly stirring a cauldron with one hand, is a bit gender ambiguous. I, at first, mistook the subject for a man, as the hair is tied away and the facial features err on the more manly side. Count Fosco also seems to have more feminine traits at times, such as his elaborate clothing and how he moves about a room, “he is as noiseless in a room as any of us woman” (219). In regards to the engraving, the prostitute is also the most colorful, and the viewer’s eyes are drawn to her and her activities instantly. This hearkens to the characters in the story, even Marian, who are inevitably drawn to this figure of Count Fosco. We discussed in the Trout Gallery that the prostitute seems almost witch-like, with her cauldron on the fire and bottles of potions thrown on the table and around her feet. This relates to Count Fosco’s obsession with alternative medicine, and all the references we have to his likeness for poison. Thus like the woman in the etching, it’s easy to picture Count Fosco deviously mixing a concoction of flowers and herbs to use against the other characters in the book.

Why did I spend so long pointing out the strange similarities between the prostitute in “Mixing A Recipe for Corns” and Count Fosco’s character in The Woman in White? I find it interesting that while these two people have many similar qualities, habits, and affinities, one is a withering prostitute who will spend her life teaching other women to learn how to degrade themselves to men and the other is a formidable man who has an immense amount of authority and respect. This just seems to highlight the influence of gender within the time period, and how males can flourish while holding the same characteristics of females, or in this case, a frumpy, old prostitute.

Cruikshank, George. Mixing a Recipe for Corns. 1835. Trout Gallery, Carisle. http://collections.troutgallery.org/Obj22845?sid=59379&x=621534. Web. 11 Oct 2016.

The etching  “Looking into the Future” by the Illman brothers depicts a woman kneeling by a window with her hands clasped, face turned up and out towards the sun, which presumably is the source of light bathing her clothing and face. The pose is strongly reminiscent of kneeling to pray, which would suggest that she is not only looking to the future but hoping to better her future by making requests of God. The specific future she imagines is unknown to the viewer and must, therefore, be assumed or imposed upon her, which relates to ideas described in the article “Gender roles in the 19th century” by Kathryn Hughes. In the article, Hughes discusses the stigma against women displaying their desires, sexual or for activities outside of the usual realm of women’s duties. The female subject of the etching, therefore, has no agency to display her own desires. Even the title, “Looking into the future,” is so vague as to say nothing whatsoever to differentiate this woman from any other. No one else should know her specific desires for the future because anything outside of the home would be considered deviant.

Because of the strict gender roles during the Victorian era, all that was left for women was to dream of a future, with no agency to decide their own lives. The expectation was to marry and have children, and few alternatives were considered legitimate, as is exemplified by Florence Nightingale’s outbursts because of her unrealized desires to be useful. The only option in the limited world of a woman was to gaze outward and upward to God, dreaming of a future beyond a contained life like the one shown visually by the walls of the woman’s home.

This interpretation, however, would not have been the assumed one at the time. The well-covered woman has soft lines forming her face and a brightness in her face and clothes, showing her chastity and respectability. She appears gentle and feminine. Likely, the interpretation at the time would have been that she hopefully awaits her life in the home, or prays for the future health and prosperity of her family. What, we might wonder, would this etching look like were a man the subject, looking to his own future? Would the title even remain the same, or would a man’s entire approach to the future be so radically different that he would take action rather than passively anticipating his life? Would he be making decisions, assertively, with a range of possibilities available?

The article initially announced itself as describing gender roles during the time period and then, to my surprise, devoted itself almost entirely to the role of women, with only a few sentences in comparison devoted men. This idea that describing gender roles can be accomplished only through looking at women reminded me of the concept that men are a blank slate, the norm, whereas women are the deviation from the norm that inherently must be imbued with meaning, instead of merely describing each as normal though distinct in the context of a limited gender binary. I should acknowledge, then, that either my interpretation of the etching or the etching itself conforms to this belief as well, saying that the meaning is inherently altered by virtue of the gender of the subject. I have to wonder whether the message of a gender-flipped version of the etching could have been the same in that era, or if the assumption of male normalcy was so ingrained that it would never be possible.

There are many objects not immediately noticed in the piece of artwork, Debut in the Studio. Through an examination of this work, and a couple of poems read in class, I have come to see the way in which male dominance was accepted as a cultural normality during the Victorian Era. A man’s desire of a nice, virginal woman is suggested in this etching. A couple of objects in the work resemble angels. Angels generally represent purity, they can represent the dead, and they can represent holiness and faith. When looking at the etching, I noticed that at the top left there is what appears to be a doll hanging from the curtains (I’m not actually sure what this is supposed to really be). This doll is a stark white color which reiterates much of what we have talked about in class about the symbolism of this bright, however, quite eerie, color.

I see another angel towards the middle of the picture though looking at the picture in a literal sense, one sees that this purported angel is actually just the curtains and the tie that holds them together. Christina Rossetti’s poem, “In an Artist’s Studio” relates greatly to this piece of artwork. The word angel is included in this poem; Rossetti writes, “A saint, an angel — every canvas means / The same one meaning, neither more or less.”  Earlier in the poem the author writes, “One face looks out from all of his canvases.” In the etching, one can see that the focal point is the half clothed woman who is in the middle of the left side of the work. Everyone is looking at her, including the male artist. When one examines the man’s sketch though, he or she sees that a different woman is drawn. The ‘one face’ that Rossetti has written about is collective, it is woman’s face. There is significance in the fact that the artist is looking at one woman while drawing another, even though, both of these women look strangely similar. Their cherubic faces and shockingly white skin exemplify all that a woman of the Victorian Era should be. The angelic features make them desirable character’s in this man’s story. By creating an image where the man is focusing on two very similar-looking women, it is as if he is lusting over their similar features. These attributes are the women’s purity, and heavenly bodies. The man focuses more on those rather than the distinguishable traits that make each woman herself. This man allows himself, whether he realizes it or not, to see the woman as less than human thus asserting and displaying the control he (and other males in the Victorian era) have, and has over females.

A second observation of this work that demonstrates man’s great power over women is shown through the placement of subjects in the artwork. Despite there being five women (including the angels) and only one man, the man has the whole right side of the work for himself and his sketch. The man has so much space all for himself, while the women are cramped! The power that these men believe that they posses is further displayed in Robert Browning’s poem “My Last Duchess.” In this poem the main subject, a man takes control over his now former wife by hiding a picture of her behind a curtain. He is the one who draws the curtain, but only when he pleases. Browning writes, “ […] since none puts by / The curtain I have drawn for you, but I […]” The man has control over who sees the painting of his wife, and the man in the etching has control over what he wants his women to look like as he is the artist (although I’m not sure that the women in this work can get any more white and similar-looking than they already are.)

Both poems and this artwork demonstrate the interesting gender power dynamics of this era. The fact that none of these works blatantly tells readers or viewers that men are in charge, shows that that role a man has, one of power, is just accepted. No one is repudiating the assumptions that these poems, and this etching are making.

Ramus, Edmond. “Debut in the Studio.” Trout Gallery, http://www.troutgallery.org/

The Feeding the Motherless etching by the Illman Brothers was one of my favorites that we saw on Monday.  I like that it was more focused on what the woman is doing than on how she looks. The artist did not go out of their way to make the woman strikingly beautiful either and gave the woman more depth than that. She has a plain face and therefore the eye is free to travel to the intricately etched nest and baby birds.

Both the woman in the etching and Marian seem to have been forced into mothering roles; the etching woman by the kindness of her heart in taking in helpless birds and Marian by her affections for her sister. The woman in the etching to me seems to be tired by her role as mother because of the shading around and under her eyes, which suggests to me that this role assignment is taxing on her. This also mirrors the burden Marian’s role as mother to Laura places on her as shown through the loss of freedom Marian has in going into hiding.

The etching’s focus on the woman’s actions rather than her looks also reminds me of Marian. Marian is described as “ugly” by Walter and while the woman in the etching is not ugly, she is not as glamorous as the other woman in the other etchings (Collins 34). I feel like because these are not woman who are praised for their looks the people portraying them use their actions in order to give them some value in the Victorian society.

This reminds me of William Rathbone Greg’s essay. He discusses how woman are redundant unless they are married or serving others and that these are their greatest purposes in life. Using Greg’s point of view it can be assumed that in serving, Marian and the etching woman are being fulfilled through their roles as mothers, despite the fact that the act itself is very draining on both women.

While I appreciate that the viewer gets to admire the woman through her work and not her look, the Feeding of the Motherless etching is still not the ideal portrayal of a woman given its Victorian context.