J W Waterhouse exhibition at the Royal Academy - Mermaids, myths and mysteries

Since I studied a little art history about a 1,000 years ago I have always had a soft spot for the Pre-Raphaelites and I always considered Waterhouse more accessible - a sort of PRB-Lite. A huge version of his mermaid picture adorned my wall for many, many years as a result.

So inbetween some meetings last Friday afternoon, I took myself off to the Royal Academy (avoiding the summer exhibition which I had been reliably informed was, again, a bit of a disappointment). I walked across the square – remembering that the last time I was here (to see the Rodin) when my kids were with me and had truly delighted in the fountains. I paid for my £8 ticket. Got a bit lost on the way – so lost in fact I ended up browsing the bookstore before I even entered the Waterhouse exhibition.

Some may find this Victorian’s work too chocolate-box romantic and twee. But I like it. It allows you to get lost in a world of mermaids, myths and mysteries – with most of his paintings drawing on great poems and historical literature. So there is an educational angle if you take the time to read the copious material. Or, if you are so inclined, accept a pair headphones which talk you through his work. I didn’t want headphones though – this exhibition demanded my visual concentration.

His paintings have been placed in a number of small interconnected rooms which makes it hard to know where to start. I started at “Dolce Far Niente” – a woman painted in exquisite detail relaxed in thoughtful pose on a chaise longue with a peacock feather and an animal print rug. It could be modern day. I loved the pigeons.

Then it was “After the dance” – A Roman (Greek?) setting with a couple of children resting and older musicians in the background. Again, the female is reclined. The boy holds a flower. I spent many hours learning how to interpret the tiniest details in PRB pictures – which allow you to see a raft of hard social criticisms in a peaceful country scene. But this picture is just beautifully painted and rather calming.

I was less taken with “A sick child brought into the Temple of Aesculapius” – maybe it is the subject matter. I spent a while looking at Miranda looking wistfully out to sea – but much prefer his other painting where there is more of a storm on the horizon. Sadly, I couldn’t find that one. There were more pigeons in “The Favourites of the Emperor Honorius”. – and the bowing priests and aids were a reminder that everyone in power has to suffer such false behaviour.

The pale peach dress of Diogenes stops you in your tracks. It’s almost luminous and 3D (High Definition Victorian style?). Each picture tells a story with these types of paintings – like “Great out of my sunshine”.

More pigeons in St Eulalia – and rather than showing the horror of torture, shows a beautiful girl lying half naked on the streets watched over by a Roman guard and with curious bypassers peering nearby. “Consulting the Oracle” shows a group of women beholden by some witchery but the detail of the rugs and fabrics is incredible. “The Magic Circle” follows – not one that I was familiar with – but I loved this Eqyptian sorceress and the fire, smoke and steam are amazingly depicted. Then another bad woman – Mariamne – Herod’s unfaithful wife – dressed in white to show her innocence. Pretty serene for someone on trial.

Then lots of water nymphs – now I know where The Lady in the Water movie got its ideas around naiads! One of his best known works – The Lady of Shallot – is here. I stopped for quite a while here and tried hard, not very successfully, to remember my Tennyson.

Kids would love the “Ulysses and the Sirens” – women’s heads on bird bodies (but not pigeons this time!). Then another “bad” woman – Circe offering her cup to Ulysses with wand in hand. Then another bad woman - “Circe Invidiosa” – poisoning the sea. No printed representation of this picture can do it justice. The colours are incredible – blues and greens so like a peacock. This slim pillar of a young woman pouring a liquid into the sea – her hair merging with the background dark woods and rocks - and her eyes looking a bit like Princess Diana when she did that sulky pout thing. Almost malevolent. A chap near me commented “How he could get the proportions so wrong?” – and when you look harder she does seem to be rather taller and more elongated than you would expect. But I adored this painting.

Another new one for me – “Windflowers” – an enchantingly tousled model in a classic flowery English country scene. Much lighter. I glimpsed “Narcissus and Echo” beside the rocks and water. And then “Lamia” – a girl with her knight – in proper shining armour. Shame she was a snake. Then “Ariadne” – lying on a chaise longue again – and you almost don’t see the panther crouched beneath her.

Finally I found “The Mermaid”. My favourite. And a number of earlier, perhaps preparatory sketches. The words “Who would be a mermaid fair, singing alone, combing her hair” are nearby. I always overlooked the crude painting of the waves behind her. And the impossible position of her tail. But she is lovely. And the picture always makes me smile.

Nearly all his paintings are of women. Who are either depicted as passive, resting, persecuted, adoringly attached to their knights or staring into a faraway distance space or mythical, magical, bad women who are set on destroying their men and mankind. There’s no inbetween it seems. Art does mimic art after all.