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It was a risk - could we - in the single day we had the room - get all 70 of the Gwen Raverat prints and paintings professionally hung for the momentous exhibition English Heritage had commissioned of her work - an idea that has been in the making for over a year - to show Darwin's granddaughter's work in the very house he lived in and she frequently visited. It meant working around the public visiting the house, but they were most obliging.
With its unique
Gwen and Jacques Raverat's private collection consisted principally of works by artists they knew - and in many cases artists they enjoyed close personal relationships with, at various stages in their lives: Eric Gill, Mark Gertler, Jean Marchand and Elisabeth Vellacot, . Much of the work was acquired direct from the artists, not least Stanley Spencer, who paintings and sketches they bought to ensure he had enough money to live on - this was long before his work was known.
Gwen Raverat and the Bohemian Meme
Posted by William Pryor under art, books, creativity, darwin, family, growing up (edit this)
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A talk given at Darwin College, Cambridge, by William Pryor on June 7th, 2009
On April 2nd 1911, the night of the census, ten people were recorded as living in this, the house that George Howard Darwin had bought from the coal and grain merchant Patrick Beales and named Newnham Grange.
Archive for April, 2014
A presentation given at the
Cambridge Literary Festival
on April 6th, 2014
in the Winstanley Lecture Theatre, Whewells Court, Trinity College
by William Pryor with the actress Anne Harvey
William: In the preface to her masterpiece of a childhood memoir, Period Piece, my grandmother, Gwen Raverat makes it clear that:
Anne: This is a circular book. It does not begin at the beginning and go on to the end; it is all going on at the same
Creative Myths of Cambridge
A talk delivered to the Rupert Brooke Society, August 19th, 2012
© William Pryor
In a letter to my grandfather not long before his death in 1925 from multiple sclerosis, Virginia Woolf wrote: Is your art as chaotic as ours? I feel that for us writers the only chance now is to go out into the desert & peer about, like devoted scapegoats, for some sign of a path. I expect you got through your discoveries sometime earlier.
But he wasn’t a
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