As Easter comes upon us in this bitter spring, many of us are drawn to contemplate the mystery of Christ’s passion: his Crucifixion, Resurrection and Ascension into Heaven. You don’t have to go to church to do this, for reverie or prayer can take place in a quiet landscape or by a cosy fireside, but there are various aids to meditation, and none better than the appropriate visual art. Although we live in an increasingly irreligious age, there have been religious painters of real power in recent years, and perhaps none more so than Craigie Aitchison (1926–2009). Aitchison is an unlikely choice because he himself professed no particular belief, although his grandfather, the Reverend James Aitchison, a United Free Church clergyman, was Minister of the Erskine Church in Falkirk for more than 50 years. Yet Craigie felt compelled to paint the Crucifixion again and again — ever since his student days at the Slade when a misguided tutor told him that the subject was far too serious for him to attempt. Some of his most moving and deeply spiritual paintings are on this theme.
One of the most exquisite is ‘Crucifixion with Mountain’ (c.1998). In this small painting, Christ’s body stands in for the upright of the Cross, and as a consequence he carries the weight of the crossbar on his head. Anatomy has been radically simplified, with arms and legs reduced to verticals suggested by shadow. Placed against a field of ecclesiastical purple, Christ is given striking red hair and a long straight nose, his features suggestive of suffering and sorrow. On his left a Bedlington terrier is in attendance, and between man and dog a tree branches twiggily in the sap green of renewal. A blue bird perches on the crossbar. (Aitchison liked to tell a story about the blue bird of happiness that was never there if you looked for it, but could be discovered sitting on your shoulder if you didn’t.) Two diagonal white lines ray out from Christ’s head in an emanation of spirit. Above him a tree is bent over by the wind but survives and is seen to be in new leaf. Four yellow-green twiggy leaves emerge from the branch — a promise of redemption and continuing life. The background mountain is dark green but partially outlined in cadmium red, surging with energy; above, a crescent moon rides the dark sky.
This beautiful little painting is part of a fascinating exhibition of Aitchison’s work at Waddington Custot Galleries (11 Cork Street, W1, until 6 April). All the works on display — some 50 paintings — come from a single private collection, amassed by Sheelagh Cluney, the kind of collector most artists only dream about, who focused her urge to buy paintings entirely on Aitchison. She first saw him, rather drunk with his hair permed in an Afro style and sprayed gold, at the private view of his 1979 museum show at Kettle’s Yard in Cambridge. Cluney bought a painting from that exhibition and went on to become the artist’s most steadfast supporter and patron. She tended to buy work when Aitchison was between dealers, when he especially needed private sales to keep him going, and though she also bought from commercial galleries, she never purchased his work at auction. They became friends and even travelled to Jerusalem together for a British Council exhibition Aitchison was starring in. Cluney was entirely loyal to his work, though she did once mischievously say she might have been tempted to buy something by his friend Euan Uglow — if Craigie had ever introduced her to him…
This exhibition, beautifully installed in the right-hand section of Waddington Custot’s spacious galleries, is an excellent introduction to Aitchison’s work. Since Cluney’s death in 2010, the collection has come on the market and is being dispersed, but the gallery is selling only to private collectors, not to other dealers. This makes much sense, for Aitchison’s work belongs in people’s homes, in an intimate setting, where it will be loved and cherished rather than becoming the subject of financial speculation. He painted certain subjects and themes obsessively: portraits (often of black people because they looked so good against the strong-coloured backgrounds he favoured), still-lifes, landscapes and religious pictures. Aitchison loved dogs and he also painted his Bedlingtons, often including one of them in his crucifixions, as a silent and moving witness to the great event. There are some very fine paintings on show: among the portraits, ‘Patrice Felix Tchicaya III’ and ‘Patrick Conyngham’ (on a black background), while ‘Liquorice Allsorts Still-Life’ is a superb example of a different genre. But it is with the religious paintings that we are principally concerned here.
The smaller room at the back of the gallery is like a private chapel hung with paintings for contemplation and devotion. One of Cluney’s largest purchases, a huge Crucifixion from 1984, occupies the main wall, an image of desolation and unblinking austerity, with a lonely Christ lost in a waste of earth-brown paint, comforted only by a bird — perhaps the dove of peace or the Holy Spirit itself. However, as is usual with Aitchison, a note of optimism is struck. The purple mountain above has a golden glow and sprouts a tree with delicate pink foliage in token of the possibility of redemption. Tragedy has come to the world, but we are not left without hope.
To the right of this magisterial painting is a group of three other crucifixions, of which ‘Crucifixion with Mountain’ is the most poignant. Its companions offer different settings: a green and gentle place where Christ is attended by a recumbent sheep and a pair of seagulls, and a dark starlit night — Christ in his agony against the depthless sky. Aitchison imbues each with a different emotional charge. Some of the strangeness and haunting ethereal quality to Aitchison’s crucifixions undoubtedly derives from his habit of painting them as if they were still-life subjects of the utmost spirituality. He never used a human model for his Christ on the Cross (unlike artists down the ages), but often referred to existing paintings of the Italian Renaissance masters he admired, or to his collection of religious artefacts. He owned various devotional crucifixes and hung a Holy Water stoup in his hallway.
Whether you’re motivated by faith, doubt or the desire to see good paintings, the Aitchison exhibition is very highly recommended. And if you live in or near Wales, a further show entitled Risen! Art of the Crucifixion and Eastertide, at Monnow Valley Arts (Middle Hunt House, Walterstone, Hereford, until 21 April, but check opening times), is well worth a visit. It features treasures from the Methodist Church Collection of Modern Christian Art, including an extraordinarily powerful ‘Crucifixion’ by William Roberts, previously owned for 40 years by Augustus John, and a richly coloured ‘Supper at Emmaus’ by Ceri Richards. The Methodist gems are juxtaposed with a selection of work by younger artists, among whom Andrea McLean and Mark Cazalet seem to me to offer the most food for spiritual thought and contemplation. May your Easter be a joyful one, and not just a feast of chocolate eggs.
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