Artifice

by Patrick Gooch

  “Very much so, sir. There is a constant vigil.”

  “Good. If there has been no interest by anyone, I must assume it will be safe for the next delivery. You concur?”

  “I do, sir. It will be perfectly safe.”

  “Anything else to report? What about the beach and the jungle?”

  The jungle will reach its destination shortly. The beach will also soon be travelling in the right direction.”

  Engel was alive to the implicit messages.

  “Even better, Mr Nicholls. We shall finalise the deliveries when we meet tomorrow.”

  As the last word was uttered, the line went dead.

  He mentioned my name, thought Nicholls. Good thing we were conversing by satellite phone.

  Chapter 22

  The weather was fine, though cold the following day when we filmed various locations in the village and by the harbour.

  Although it appeared I was extemporising, I had carefully planned the route. As soon as it was light that morning, I had walked around the streets of Newlyn. Nothing had been left to chance. I would eventually finish up at the harbour wall overlooking the shoreline, where I would interview the Penlee House director. At least, that was what I intended.

  Jack, the cameraman was using a walking harness to capture my progress. A microphone was attached to the lapel of my suede jacket: the commentary relayed to the sound recordist, a pace behind Jack.

  I was going to halt at the dwellings occupied by artists a century ago, and in the edited version of the documentary, show examples of their paintings as I narrated their profiles. The first location was Belle Vue House, formerly occupied by the Bramleys.

  “This was once the home of Frank Bramley and his wife Katherine,” I said, turning to look at the house.

  “While other painters delighted in the outdoor scenes, Frank specialised in interior scenes. However, he came to fame, and confirmed the celebrity status of the Newlyn School, when his painting, A Hopeless Dawn, was lauded at the Royal Academy and now resides in Tate Britain in London

  “Interestingly, the painting is one of the few Bramley painted in the open air. It has a compelling emotional content, and its aesthetic appeal makes it one of the most admired Newlyn School works to this day.”

  We moved on.

  Again, the call `we`re off` had the camera whirring. The reflected light from the white screen gave me a more natural appearance rather than the stark image of direct lighting. For this sequence, the sound recordist was holding a shotgun microphone just below waist level, to isolate the sounds of the villagers and vehicles.

  “This grand house, close to the harbour, was the residence of another well-known Newlyn inhabitant, Alfred Munnings. The loss of sight in his right eye in an accident in 1898 did not deflect from his determination to paint, and in the following year two of his pictures were shown at the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition.

  Later, in 1944, he was elected President of the Royal Academy of Art; and in the same year, made a Knight Bachelor, then appointed a Knight Commander of the Royal Victorian Order in 1947.

  “It was at Newlyn he acquired two things: a passion for painting gypsies and horses, and a wife, Florence Carter-Wood. She was a young horsewoman, painter, and unfortunately, a manic depressive. They married early in 1912. However, even while they were on honeymoon she tried to commit suicide. Unfortunately, she managed the deed more successfully two years later.”

  This sequence needed five takes.

  On two occasions passers-by peered over my shoulder, another saw me and turned to stare into the camera lens. The oddest halt, when in full flow and speaking to camera, was by a fellow who walked up to me and asked the directions to Park Road.

  At the next location, Melville, the crew and I gathered in Gwavas Road, high above the harbour.

  The sequence opened with me leaning against a stone wall. Behind it stood a square two up, two down house, the sort children draw in their early years.

  “We`re off!”

  “After their arrival in Newlyn, the Knights, Laura and Harold, found very agreeable accommodation at Penzer House, or Beer House as they called it, for their landlady was the delightfully eccentric and warm-hearted Mrs Beer.

  “Apparently, once she took to you there was no end to the trouble she would take, or endure. For there were many evenings when the couple entertained their friends, and music and loud conversation would go on into the small hours.

  “When Laura Knight rented a studio room in Primrose Court, she discovered that the previous occupant had smeared the residue of excess oil paints on the rafters. Still useable, Laura made full use of the gift, particularly the cadmium yellow, which was an expensive item.

  “The studio suited her, for she could finish works largely painted en plein air. She was often to be seen hauling large canvases up hillsides around Newlyn to capture the more dramatic views of the area. Laura was made a Dame in 1929, and was the first woman elected to the Royal Academy.”

  In this sequence we would feature some of the paintings of Dame Laura, and also dwell on those of Harold Knight. However, we wanted to show the painting that caused her the fiercest criticism, when it went on show to the press and public in 1913.

  “The painting that first drew attention to Laura Knight, was simply entitled, Self Portrait. An innocuous term which led to widespread condemnation. It was painted in the studio room at Primrose Court.

  “It portrayed Laura in profile, looking slightly over her shoulder. Acceptable if that was all it depicted. However, centre-stage was a nude woman posing for the artist.

  “What really shocked the establishment was that Knight had dared to show herself in the process of painting a nude figure. It made no difference that the model, Ella Naper, was female and a friend. Critics derided Self Portrait as 'vulgar’, `regrettable`, and `outrageous`.

  “Yet, for many, it was a breath of fresh air. A graphic declaration that women artists were entitled to paint on the same terms as men. It certainly made Laura Knight a name to remember. In contrast, though a gifted painter, it did push Harold, her husband, further into the background.”

  *

  Another take that morning, was on the far side of the Newlyn valley.

  “We`re off!”

  “Harold Harvey was a local man, born in Penzance, who married fellow artist Gertrude Bodinnar. They met when Gertrude posed for him. Thereafter, she discovered that she had considerable talent, and became an artist in her own right.

  “The married couple lived here, high on the hill at Maen Cottage, with the village of Newlyn laid out below them. Each day they would walk down the hill, carrying their art equipment to paint landscapes and life settings.

  “After their day`s efforts, they would join others in the Tolcarne Inn. Often leaving their easels, canvases, paints, stalls and numerous items in the care of the landlord while they staggered uphill to their home.”

  Just two attempts this time.

  We were doing well, filming three other properties that once housed the Irishman, Norman Garstin; one of the School`s founders, Walter Langley; and Robert Hughes, one of the second generation of Newlyn School artists, more properly known as the Lamorna group. Like fellow artists and friends, the Garniers and the Heaths, met while studying at the Forbes' school in Newlyn.

  “Right, Alan, let`s break for lunch,” Melville said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Afterwards, we`ll film the site of the Laura Knight work, A Dark Pool. That`s just along the shoreline. Then, it`s the interview on the seafront with the director of the Penlee Gallery and Museum. If the light holds, we`ll head for one or two other locations. Ralph and his cohorts have charge of the paintings, and they`ll stand guard while we eat. OK?”

  *

  The weather and the light were kind to us.

  Louise Connell, the Director of Penlee House Gallery and Museum, had come over from Penzance, and at lunch we briefly discussed the line of questioning I would adopt.

  After shooting the site where Dame Laur
a painted A Dark Pool, we moved to the harbour wall. Both Louise and I were wearing lapel microphones. The sound recordist checked the levels, Jack readied the camera. Everyone was waiting for Melville to utter his own brand of `action`. . .when it happened.

  For this sequence, the seagulls had been ushered away from what must have been their favoured spot from which to glare at locals and tourists.

  The stillness of the moment was suddenly punctuated by the cry of a low-flying bird, which showed his annoyance by defecating all down my left shoulder. Silence. Then uncontrollable laughter. Everyone fell about in amusement… except me.

  “For Chrissake, how do I clean this seagull shit off suede?” I said, irritated by the total lack of concern being shown.

  Jack looked up from the camera.

  “Herring Gull shit, Alan. The species is Herring Gull.”

  Which brought on a fresh bout of laughter.

  Melville was the first to calm down, and to apologise to Miss Connell.

  “Look, I`m sorry, but Alan`s jacket is an essential part of this sequence. He was wearing it during our walkabout in the village and for the sake of continuity, he should have it on when speaking with you. Can we rearrange the interview, after we have had it cleaned?”

  In any event, I doubted Louise Connell would have been in a fit state to interview through her tears of amusement.

  *

  So we continued with plan B. Seeking out the artists` locations. In these sequences, it would be my `voice over` commentary in the studio.

  The aim was to film the paintings in close up, then dissolve the images to show the original settings the painters had chosen. We even had adults and children, dressed in the clothes of the period, adopting the same poses portrayed on the canvases.

  To my mind, seeing the models in costume, would bring life to many of the scenes, and create the most telling effect of the whole documentary.

  Chapter 23

  Within minutes of Engel`s plane touching down at Baxterley, he was met by Nicholls, who led him to the car.

  “So, you are satisfied they have made a perfect copy of a Travers Fine Art vehicle, are you?”

  “I found several features that needed attention when I was there a week ago, and I am confident they`ll have put them right by today.”

  “Good.” Engel lapsed into silence. Nothing more was said until they turned off the motorway, and headed for the Handsworth district of Birmingham. Trevor Nicholls used his hands-free telephone.

  “We`re three minutes away... right, the doors will be open. Good.”

  They drove through the side streets, turned a corner, crossed an oil-stained forecourt and came to a halt in a cavernous warehouse. A man in well-used overalls came over to greet them.

  “This way,” he murmured.

  Through another set of doors which were quickly and quietly shut. For a brief moment they were in total darkness. Suddenly, the overhead lights blazed brightly. Shielding their eyes momentarily, they were opened to behold the vehicle.

  “Let me introduce you to Mr…”said the British agent.

  “Not my name, Mr Nicholls, if you please. I will shake your hand, sir, but I don`t want to know who you are. Neither do I expect you to want to know me.”

  Engel stepped forward and clasped his hand. Turning he exclaimed, “Now, let me see if my investment has been worthwhile.”

  He stood in silence appraising the vehicle. He walked slowly around it, before asking to inspect the driving compartment.

  Ten minutes later he climbed down and asked for the rear doors to be opened and tail-lift operated. He spent another twenty minutes checking every aspect of the interior.

  When he had finished, he went to the car and removed a case. Walking back, he released the catches. He turned the open case towards the man.

  “Thirty thousand British pounds as agreed. Check it, and you will find I have included a bonus of five thousand pounds for a job well done, and on time. Thank you. I expect my men to collect the vehicle within the next few days.”

  *

  When they were in the car, Engel turned to Nicholls.

  “Now, what is the latest situation regarding our other acquisition?”

  “All in hand, Herr Engel. After a revision to the plan, I expect collection and delivery to take place within the next six days.”

  Engel nodded.

  “Good. And now to the airfield if you please.”

  Chapter 24

  I was enjoying breakfast in my room when there was an urgent knocking at the door. I walked across the room, opened it, and Melville bounded in.

  “Alan, do you know who used to live here, in this very hotel, well before it was a hotel?”

  I finished my mouthful of toast. “No idea, Roger.”

  “Only Stanhope Forbes, one of the founding fathers and luminary of the Newlyn School!”

  “Funnily enough, I wondered where he lived when he settled down in this part of the world. He ran a painting school with his wife, that`s how it all started.”

  “Well, you`ve got to do a piece to camera about him. Now, where can we get hold of a couple of his paintings?”

  ”From the Penlee House Gallery,” I replied. “They`ve got a number of originals there. They might be prepared to release one of them for a brief while. I`ll speak to the director. It will give me a chance to apologise for my behaviour when that blasted bird crapped on my coat. Perhaps we could do the interview at the same time as they loan one of the paintings.”

  *

  Louise Connell, the Director, arrived with the painting, Abbey Slip.

  It featured the inner harbour at Penzance. Painted in 1921, it was widely regarded as one of Stanhope Forbes` most notable works. Keeping guard of the painting were another two of Penlee House`s burly porters. Men not to be trifled with, judging by their height and the size of their forearms.

  *

  The house, Higher Faugan, was in the background as I crossed the lawn and walked slowly past it, frequently looking towards the camera over my left shoulder.

  “Many attribute the formation of the Newlyn School to one man, Stanhope Alexander Forbes. He first came to the fishing village, deep in the heart of Cornwall, in 1884. It offered numerous attractions, and as awareness of him and his paintings gathered momentum, so the number of artists seeking the ideal conditions to paint en plein air increased.

  “He married fellow painter, Elizabeth Armstrong, in the summer of 1889 at St Peter's Church in the village. After the initial flush of arrivals, the number of artists started to decline, and the couple opened the Forbes School of Art to make ends meet.

  “Surprisingly, this had a rejuvenating effect on the Newlyn School, and attracted a new generation of painters, including Dod and Ernest Proctor, Alfred Munnings and Harold and Laura Knight.

  “The Forbes` first home in the village was `Cliffs Castle` cottage, overlooking the sea. Later, they built this, Higher Faughan, further up the valley on the heights above Newlyn. And today, I am privileged to speak with Louise Connell, the Director of Penlee House Gallery and Museum, which masterminded the purchase of Stanhope Forbes` most iconic work for the nation.”

  The camera turned in a gentle arc to embrace the director and the painting, Abbey Slip.

  “Forgive me for saying it, Louise, but Penlee House, though a significant and nationally-recognised centre for art and antiquities, housing some remarkable collections, it does not compare with some of the major houses which have substantial budgets. What was your secret? How on earth did the Gallery manage to secure this painting?”

  “What I still find remarkable is the depth of feeling for art, in all its forms, here in the south-west,” voiced Louise Connell. “It took three months’ tireless work by the Gallery to harness that sentiment, for it to become so vocal that the Heritage Lottery Fund and the V and A Purchase Grant Fund were encouraged to give generously. I should add, as did many individuals and the friends of Penlee House. It was due to all their efforts that the Forbes` painting wa
s saved for the nation.”

  Jack, the cameraman, zoomed in on the painting, while Miss Connell, provided a brief description of the work.

  Then she turned back to me.

  “I`ve been told so often, Louise, that artists flocked to Newlyn and Lamorna because of the climate. When it wasn`t raining, the air was warm, the light outstanding, and the people welcoming. But surely, there were other ingredients that drew artists from all parts of the country to this spot on the coast?”

  She smiled. “Alan, even more than a century ago the grapevine among artists was a potent force. Painters, sculptors, creative people of all description, as they do today, sought constantly to improve. In those early times there was no great difference in the materials and grounds they used. Unlike today. So they looked for advantage in the location, and suddenly Newlyn was the `in place`. It`s true, the light is clear. No pollution to cloud the atmosphere. So they could paint just that little bit longer en plein air.”

  We moved on to the contribution made by Stanhope Forbes, the collections in the Gallery, the director`s favourite works, and likely future purchases. Suddenly, Melville was signalling to close the interview with a delicate flat of the hand across the throat.

  *

  The next day the crew and I travelled four miles to Lamorna.

  Samuel John Birch, a renowned landscape artist, was so fascinated by the river that ran down the valley to Lamorna Cove, that he spent almost all his time in the area. However, this did not stop him from exhibiting widely, both at the Royal Academy and at the Royal Society of Watercolour Artists.

  Even though he chose to live apart from the main body of the colony, with his intensity of spirit, and genuine love of this part of Cornwall, Birch was instrumental in attracting a second generation of artists to the Newlyn School.

  In fact, the painter even adopted the word `Lamorna` in his name. There was another artist in Newlyn named Lionel Birch, so John Birch added the name `Lamorna`, and even signed his work S. J. Lamorna Birch.