Edward Seago: The World of Dance

Edward Seago painting Alicia Markova

"Through his excursions into print, royalties from reproductions of his paintings, portraits and illustrations for magazines and books, Edward Seago hoped to be able to manage without the commissions for equestrian paintings and was heard to vow that he would never paint another horse. At this point he turned more to Degas than to any of the painters to which the critics had compared him. He went to the ballet and discussed it with John Masefield in terms of poems and pictures as a possible subject for a book Masefield, a staunch balletomane, was enthusiastic.

Ballet offered all the colour, light, movement and world of make-believe as had the circus world. Off-stage it provided an antidote to loneliness in the opportunity of belonging to an unconventional élite - a substitute family to which it was by no means as difficult to gain admittance as it had been to his less sophisticated but closer-knit family of the circus. 

He rented a room in London and nearly every night went to the ballet at Sadler's Wells and Covent Garden. He saw the performances from the front of the house, well to the right, which afforded him a three-quarter view of the theatre taking in part of the wings and orchestra as well as the stage and giving the fullest dimension to the light and movement he longed to portray. During the day he watched rehearsals from the wings and sketched at the regular morning classes attended by even the leading dancers. Within a few weeks many of the principal dancers were his friends. Once again, through painting, Edward found himself in a new and exciting world. 

He painted for most of the day. His studio, over a pastry shop, had a large window with a balcony and a view of an old wall covered with wisteria in full bloom and a distant glimpse of the sea. In the evening he was at the theatre to see the ballet,  and afterwards joined some of the dancers for supper. Once again his talent had precipitated him into an intoxicating social life which, nevertheless, was not necessarily conducive to paint and he was increasingly dissatisfied about his work.

Even so, in 1938, 'Tribute to Ballet' made its impact and was recognized by the public and the critics as a handsome recognition by two arts of a third one, rather than as an example of poetry and paintings. At the same time it represented the beginning and the end of Edward's short-lived ballet period. He had watched and painted the worlds of make-believe for long enough and was at last persuaded to concentrate his talent on portraying life's realities."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Edward Seago: The Other Side of the Canvas" by Jean Goodman.)  

Edward Seago: The Country Scene

"The Crest of the Hill" by Edward Seago

"Sons of Sawdust" was Edward Seago's next book, a fictionalized account of his travels with the circus in Ireland intermingled with stories 'Pop' Baker had told him. Among the congratulatory letters was one from the Poet Laureate, John Masefield, which ended with an imaginative suggestion that changed Edward's life. Masefield wrote: 

'I have been enjoying your Irish book and feel (from the illustrations) that you have an extraordinary feeling for landscape. Why not give up a year to wonderful English country life, shepherding on the downs, horse-training at Newmarket, ploughing in Sussex and in Berkshire, hopping in Kent and in the West, a horse-fair and cattle market, a harvest home and a fruit picking with views of some of our valleys, White Horse, the Golden Valley, the Wye, the Severn and the Avon?' 

Almost by chance, it seemed, Masefield had hit on a way to channel Edward's abilities in a more appropriate direction. Edward wrote back, 'Your suggestion for a year of Country Life appeals to me enormously.' He wondered 'if it might be done in book form? A sort of Parlour table album with all the pictures reproduced in colour, with a note about each one, and a thumb-nail drawing on the opposite page. Both men were so excited about this idea that it became a collaboration with the Poet Laureate writing the text to accompany the pictures.

While working on the book Edward divided his time between his family home at Brooke and Melchet Court and fulfilled a steady flow of commissions, although his work was constantly interrupted by heart turns which confined him to bed for days and often weeks at a time. 'But,' he wrote to Masefield, 

'I've been able to work most of the time although only at home, of course. In December I had a wonderful piece of good fortune. A family of ten Romanian gypsies passed through Norfolk. I have been able to get a meadow for them to camp on, and I think they are the finest models I have had. They are the most marvellous people to look at and have such a grand sense of colour: dressing themselves in the most gaudy hues and yet they never seem to clash. I hope you will pick one of the pictures for the book...'

Masefield and Edward chose 'The Country Scene' for the book's title, which was published a year later and not only marked Edward's permanent break with the circus but brought him international recognition."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Edward Seago: The Other Side of the Canvas" by Jean Goodman.)  

Edward Seago: Henry Melchett and Italy

"Gondolas by the Santa Maria della Salute Venice"
by Edward Seago

"One of Edward Seago's patrons, Henry Melchett, not only commissioned him to paint. At the same time he provided him with material security, treated him like a member of the family and also perceived the need for him to broaden his painting horizons. While he believed in his work, he perceived the weaknesses, particularly an inability to draw, and he was in a more subtle position than either Priestman or Munnings to do something about it.

In Venice that summer the family had rented a villa, Casa Leone, and Melchett confronted Edward with the work of the great Italian masters and watched while he reacted to the wonders of the Titians and the Tintorettos, the Canalettos and the Bellinis and marvelled at the Italian skies over the lagoon and the sheer flamboyance of the Venetian sunset; skies such as Constable and the English school of painters had never attempted, where a painter might indulge in a riot of colour yet still paint well within the bounds of nature. But despite the exuberance around him, Edward was intrigued most by the subtle differences in light and atmosphere and expressed himself in a series of dark, emphatic waterscapes.

Before he left Venice, as Melchett had foreseen, its centuries of history gave him a new perspective and his letters reflected the first signs of real humility:

'Actually, I am trying to paint here,' he wrote. 'No very marked success so far! I have seen some pictures which clearly show me that (1) painting is the greatest of all; (2) I don't possess it!!! and what is more I see no way of attaining it!' 

In the end he completed twelve pictures, nailed them up in a coffin and sent them to England for his next summer's exhibition at the Alpine Gallery. Five of the canvases for this show would be lent and of the rest, among some fine equestrians studies, was a painting of Foxhunter, latest winner of the Ascot Gold Cup; an impressive portrait of Michael Hornby in pink coat and silk hat riding his magnificent horse over the Oxfordshire countryside; and also a poignant study of a middle-aged man in bedraggled ruffles and conical hat and with an anxious, puzzled expression discernible under the grease paint, with the caption: 'Smile at us, pay us, pass us. But do not quite forget,' a fitting epitaph to Edward's own life with the circus people."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Edward Seago: The Other Side of the Canvas" by Jean Goodman.)  

Edward Seago: Writer

"Edward Seago remembered his early attempts at writing and once again felt a desire to express himself in words. At the same time he recalled that John Masefield, the recently-created Poet Laureate, lived near Oxford, and he wrote to say he was a painter and a life-long admirer who happened to be travelling in the neighbourhood with a circus and would like to call. His letter was sympathetically received. Masefield loved young people and in his early years it had been touch and go whether he would become a painter or a writer. He was also fascinated by the circus, and invited Edward to lunch.

His short, formal invitation represented the beginning of a deep friendship based on mutual admiration, that was to develop into a successful professional partnership and last until the poet died. 'What you want to do when you're beginning to write,' Masefield told Edward, 'is to write and write and write and then tear it up 'til you get it right.' Back in Brooke with his family after the circus had disbanded for the winter, the painter did just that. He also worked on the canvases he had started during his travels with the circus that summer. 

The Christmas after his meeting with Masefield, Edward told the Poet Laureate about the circus book he was writing and sent him a painting of the circus. 'I shall love to read it,' Masefield replied. But before Masefield had finished reading it, he was writing to point out its shortcomings.

'The book's best passages are what I can only call word pictures of what you have painted... Circus life is what the world wants from you. So strong a dose of it that all readers will feel that they too have lived with the circus. Do not lose so splendid a chance. Turn to it again... Think what we would give for an account of Shakespeare's rough Globe Theatre as seen by an actor of the time and how eagerly every detail, even the stenches, would be followed.'

Seago tried a second draft - and a third. After one more revision, the book, 'Circus Company' was finally published. It was dedicated to the memory of Tommy Baker, the artist's dear friend whose family had adopted Edward into the circus family. It is not surprising that the book was very well received for what would-be writer could have enlisted a more suitable tutor than a poet laureate? It also proved to be a significant milestone in Seago's career since it heralded a series of important collaborations between poet and painter, and introduced the name of Edward Seago to a new public and gave him an authority it would otherwise have taken years to achieve."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Edward Seago: The Other Side of the Canvas" by Jean Goodman.)  

Edward Seago: Royal Approval

"Huntsman on a Horse" by Edward Seago

"Once again Lady Evelyn Jones was instrumental in tempting Seago away from the circus, the second time through an invitation from Lord Harewood, a former ADC to her father, Lord Grey. Writing from Sandringham, the Earl invited Edward to visit Egerton House and to paint his Ascot winner Alcester. He suggested that after the painter had completed the preliminary sketches, he might like to stay the night.

'We dine in short jacket and black tie at Newmarket as we shall be no party, just Princess Mary and possibly my brother and sister-in-law,' Seago read, as the pendulum of his lifestyle again started its upward swing away from fish-and-chip suppers in a horse-drawn circus wagon.

That evening at Newmarket proved a memorable one for the country as a whole as well as for Edward enjoying his first sample of Royal hospitality. For he did enjoy himself once he had overcome his initial embarrassment during a dinner which lasted two hours and in which he recognized only a few of the dishes. It was the night of the 1931 General Election when the National Government gained a crushing victory with a majority of nearly five hundred. The party at Egerton House sat up until after three o'clock in the morning eating chocolates and listening to the election results coming in over the wireless. 

The following day he joined the Royal party for the Cambridgeshire and drove to the race course through cheering crowds, still demonstrating their election fever. Afterwards at lunch, he sat between Princess Mary and Lord Derby.

Princess Mary and Lord Harewood had also apparently enjoyed Seago's visit, for it was followed by others and resulted in several commissions including a large painting of the Derby and an illustrated calendar for the Jockey Club. From then on, Edward never lacked commissions for equestrian portraits and his 'sitters' included the famous winners Hyperion and Blue Peter. His also painted a portrait of Princess Mary on horseback, as Munnings had done, and Lord Harewood publicly endorsed his opinion of his work when in 1933, at the Sporting Gallery in London, he opened his second one-man exhibition."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Edward Seago: The Other Side of the Canvas" by Jean Goodman.)  

Edward Seago: Lucy Kemp-Welch's Criticism

"The Grand Parade, The Bertram Mills Circus"
by Edward Seago

"That winter Edward Seago finished eight circus pictures and in a letter to his brother said he was 'rather bucked with one' and thought it was the best thing he had done. However if, as seems likely, it was the large canvas he submitted to the Society of Animal Painters when he applied for membership the following year, he was over-optimistic. He was not elected to the Society for reasons explained in a personal letter from the President, Lucy Kemp-Welch, the animal painter. Her hard-hitting home truths carried more than an echo of Munnings' opinion. She wrote:

'Of course, it would be easy for me to make one of the usual excuses by which one gets out of explanations, but I am so sure that one day you will do big things - if you keep your face in the right direction - that I am going to tell you the truth about the large circus picture of yours, which was seen by myself and the Committee...'

'My dear boy, that is not art! It might possibly be an advertisement - but it is vulgar because it tries to say too much and see too much and there is no restraint or reticence, or interest of tone or lighting or mass or any of the things which might make it tolerable and perhaps admirable.'

You have been so carried away by the passing show that you have overlooked what made you feel the impulse to paint it - not the facts, not the commonplaces of clowns and Red Indians, etc. But a fine effect of light on a massive design with all the component parts and little masses lost or half seen in the group mass; everything secondary to some big idea or mass of colour or light - or all three with one thing - perhaps, such as the lady in feathers and such details lost in the mysterious blue haze, which is one of the strongest points in the circus as a painting ground.

Well now I have had my say, and I hope you will take it as it is meant from a painter of long experience, who is very interested in your career.'

Lucy Kemp-Welch, of all painters, recognized the true magic of the circus. For months at a time she had attached herself to Lord John Sanger's Travelling Circus and lived in a motor-drawn caravan and painted. Seago was grateful for her criticism. They kept in touch with one another, but he did not again apply for membership of her Society because rejection of any kind, since his parents' apparent rejection of his talent when he was a boy, was to be avoided at all costs. 

Meanwhile, in the autumn of 1931, his painting was interrupted by an invitation which any ambitious young painter would have envied."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Edward Seago: The Other Side of the Canvas" by Jean Goodman.)  

Edward Seago: Study Recommended

"Landscape near Blythborough, Suffolk" by Edward Seago

"Edward Seago stayed back home for just over two months during which time a long-postponed commission materialized to paint Brigadier-General Sir Hereward and Lady Wake and their four children riding in the grounds of their country seat, Courteenhall. In contrast to painting in a circus tent, his studio was now a Louis XVI drawing-room. When the painting was completed, Edward wrote: 'It is without doubt the best I have ever done. Sir Hereward is particularly keen that it should go to the Academy.'

The Wakes showed him around the countryside, took him to Towcester Races, to the theatre, to luncheon and dinner parties and to tea with Lord and Lady Spencer Churchill at Castle Ashby. He and Lady Wake discussed the price he should ask for his pictures. 'I have now arrived at quite definite ideas,' he wrote. 'While it is a great mistake to make your prices exorbitant, it is just as foolish to make them too small.' At the height of his success when everything at his exhibitions was sold on the opening day, he firmly resisted the suggestion that he could easily charge more and, 'a fair price' was all he ever asked.

That year Edward sent the family portrait and a large circus painting to the Royal Academy exhibit for jurying. Alfred Munnings wrote back that they were 'not good enough for so large a picture. You'll now have to study seriously somewhere because all the hanging committee are sorry about your work not being in and they all see that you have the courage and will work. Your father must let you have a year up in town. Try the Academy Schools and you'll be well seen after there. When you have learned more you'll be a great artist. Don't let this defeat worry you. Both the pictures were beaten by their size and utter lack of knowledge and you were at sea when you tried to paint the children's faces. Now you get started and no more playing about and we shall be seeing you in great places one day. The composition of that picture of the children was good. The circus a tremendous effort but a picture that size has to be better to get hung. Never mind.'

Even so, both paintings ended up being hung. 

Munnings wrote again urging Edward to talk to his father about art lessons and reminded him of the long studentships and years of learning of Velasquez, Rubens and Rembrandt and of the Italian men.

'Why did the Academy start its schools 100 years ago if schools were not needed? Why do grown up men go to night classes and draw from the nude, year in and year out? You have now to begin and learn something and from now until the end of this term you ought to go in to Norwich School and work there. Be yourself and do what you want to do. If the master there is 'up to date' as they call it, regard him as you think fit, but go and do some real study and shake the dust of utter ignorance off your feet. Let your father understand that he has to make a student of you for a while and not a young potboiler.' 

But the pull of the circus was too great, and in the end, Edward disregarded the advice. One term's evening classes at Norwich School of Art, studying drawing and working from a series of male models, convinced him that he was equipped with all the schooling he needed and immediately once term was over he rejoined the circus."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Edward Seago: The Other Side of the Canvas" by Jean Goodman.)