His Portrait Broods on the Wall

This young man from 1535 might be Rafe Sadler

I sometimes think about moving to an isolated spot out of town and near the sea, preferably somewhere named on the Shipping Forecast. As long as I have Hilary Mantel’s Cromwell Trilogy with me, and something to stitch on, I say, I will keep myself occupied happily. But then I remind myself that 1. I can’t drive, and 2. that I am enormously lucky to live in London, which gives me very easy access to all sorts of art and archival materials which would be harder to see from the lighthouse of my imagination.

I like to take as many opportunities as possible to see work by Hans Holbein the Younger. As well as being a favourite painter of mine, he also plays a significant role in Mantel’s Cromwell Trilogy: he’s present throughout, painting (or failing to paint) Thomas Cromwell; designing jewellery and silver tableware; occasionally warning (or failing to warn) Cromwell of risky behaviour; and very occasionally knowing more than Cromwell about private aspects of his life (and not saying anything). He is a tremendously engaging character and it is always a pleasure to find him on the page preparing to “commit another painting”.

In January 2020, at the end of a damp and grey Wednesday, I called into the National Gallery in London to spend some time with Holbein’s Ambassadors. It was about half an hour before the Gallery was due to close and it was very quiet - I had Jean de Dinteville and Georges de Selve to myself - and so for about 20 minutes I had the opportunity to look closely at fur and velvet, mathematical instruments and sheet music. My partner pointed out the crucifix hanging on the wall at the top left of the painting, almost hidden behind the green damask. I don’t think I had ever noticed that before. It was a very intense experience and one that I remember with great pleasure.

I was reminded of this visit on Wednesday when I went to the Queen’s Gallery, also in London, to see Holbein at the Tudor Court, an exhibition of paintings and drawings held in the Royal Collection. I’m still musing over this exhibition, as I don’t think I found it entirely satisfactory. (And, yes, I am well aware of how spoiled that makes me sound). Firstly, it was very crowded and I greatly dislike going round exhibitions in a queue, so I skipped various pictures to which the audio guides were directing visitors. And secondly, the scope of the exhibition was limited to pieces from the Royal Collection.

Now the Royal Collection holds some amazing work by Holbein, particularly preliminary sketches for portraits that were later executed - or copied - in paint. I often prefer these preliminary sketches to the finished paintings, so it was incredible to be able to see so many. But it was also frustrating to see glancing references to other works held elsewhere. For example, a display informed visitors that there’s a beautiful miniature of Anne of Cleves at the Victoria and Albert Museum, but drawing attention to its absence just felt odd to me. And Thomas Cromwell remains busy brooding on the wall in the Frick Collection in New York, with his copy brooding in the National Portrait Gallery in London.

I was lucky enough to see Holbein in England at Tate Britain back in 2006, and I still remember that exhibition with great pleasure; I don’t remember the crowds, even though I know it was crowded. What I remember is the range and scope of the exhibition, which was supported by loans from many collections, and I still consult the catalogue often. I think I remember some criticism at the time that The Ambassadors - who only live a couple of miles away from the Tate - were not present (after all, other portraits had been shipped from the United States, from Germany, from Spain, and Austria) but their inclusion might have been too overwhelming on top of all the other treasures. And, in any case, I believe that this particular painting is too fragile to be moved.

Anyway back to Holbein at the Tudor Court. Despite my reservations, there are incredibly beautiful works there. And for me, there was one painting that would have been worth the entrance fee alone: a painting of Uncle Norfolk. When I saw him the room was fairly quiet and I was able to get right in front of him. He glared at me, and I felt that if I got too close he would “tear me with his teeth”. And I am sure I heard a mutter of “By the mass!” as I turned away.

Thomas Howard, 3rd Duke of Norfolk (1473-1554), c 1539

In My Studio

A good week. I started to work on a new stream of my Cromwell Trilogy project: this is the Cromwell Trilogy Narrative Cloth, in which I want to illustrate Cromwell’s story as retold by Hilary Mantel - and possibly bringing in other details as I continue to explore the Henry VIII letters and papers.

I say a good week - I had a bad Monday experiment, trying to paint on stitched linen which did not work as I wanted, but I can put that down to experience. By Tuesday I knew what I was doing paint-wise.

Drawing onto unbleached calico

I am not yet sure about the stitching format of the whole strip - yes it’s another long roll in progress - but I have some ideas brewing. And a lot more illustration to do. And many, many index cards. I want the finished cloth to be in chronological order, so I have to be sure of what happens when, and not fall into the flashback trap.

What caught my eye?

Back to Uncle Norfolk. I was very taken by the fabric on display in his portrait - firstly the fur of his coat; and secondly the blackwork on his collar. It is exquisitely painted and the detail is extraordinary.

When I saw The Mirror and the Light on stage, I was in the front row of the stalls and thus near enough to see the blackwork embroidery on Uncle Norfolk’s shirt. It was particularly exciting to see the painted source for his costume. And as I gazed in awe at Holbein’s portrait, I noticed tiny little pomegranates, embroidered in black silk.