6 Notable Paintings at the National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne

While stylistically Nicolas Poussin’s early work is recognizable through the influence of Raphael and classical statuary, and was often based upon a literary theme, his later canvases derive from biblical narratives. Originally The Crossing of the Red Sea was conceived with The Adoration of the Golden Calf as constituting a complementary pair. (Both were first recorded as being in the collection of Amadeo dal Pozzo, the cousin of Cassiano dal Pozzo, who later became the artist’s most important patron.) In The Crossing of the Red Sea, various figures are seen emerging from the water that, having parted, allows the “children of Israel” to cross the Red Sea. Compositionally, this is perhaps one of Poussin’s most ambitious canvases and demonstrates his skill in organizing what is, in effect, a tumultuous scene. The energy and heightened sense of drama of the work is primarily carried through the expression of the various figures that occupy the foreground of the frame. Unlike Poussin’s earlier compositions, which conveyed a sense of tranquillity, and often only depicted a lone figure almost dwarfed by the pastoral landscape they inhabited, The Crossing of the Red Sea relinquishes such luxury in favor of dramatic gravitas. Utilizing almost every square inch of canvas in order to convey the moment when the Red Sea parted, the strained, almost contorted poses some of the figures adopt, along with the gesturing of Moses toward the heavens, forcefully conveys the magnitude and dramatic sweep of the event as it unfolds. (Craig Staff)

Although the original Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood was short-lived, bursting onto the art scene in 1848 and disbanding by 1853, its ideals were more enduring, influencing British art for the rest of the century. Sir Edward Burne-Jones belonged to the second wave of Pre-Raphaelites, making his mark in the 1870s. He studied for a time under Dante Gabriel Rossetti, sharing his passion for early Italian art, which is clearly evident in The Garden of Pan. Burne-Jones visited Italy in 1871 and returned full of new ideas for paintings. One of these was to be “a picture of the beginning of the world, with Pan and Echo and sylvan gods…and a wild background of woods, mountains and rivers.” He soon realized this scheme was too ambitious and painted only the garden. The mood and style of this work is reminiscent of two early Italian masters, Piero di Cosimo and Dosso Dossi. Burne-Jones may have seen their work on his travels, but it is more likely he was influenced by the examples owned by one of his patrons, William Graham.

As was his custom, Burne-Jones put a new slant on the classical legends. Normally, Pan is shown with goatlike features, but Burne-Jones presents him as a callow youth (his own name for the picture was “The Youth of Pan”). The setting is Arcadia, a pastoral paradise that serves as a pagan equivalent of the Garden of Eden. Burne-Jones admitted that the composition was slightly absurd, declaring that it was “meant to be a little foolish and to delight in foolishness…a reaction from the dazzle of London wit and wisdom.” (Iain Zaczek)

In 1770 the explorer and naval captain James Cook stepped onto the beach at Botany Bay—an event that led to the founding of a new colony and, eventually, the birth of a nation. Parts of Australia had been mapped by previous explorers, but Cook discovered an excellent spot for settlement. More than a century later, Emmanuel Phillips Fox commemorated this moment. The work was commissioned to mark another significant moment in Australian history—the six colonies became a commonwealth and had their own parliament on January 1, 1901. Fox was a natural choice for the job. He was probably the most eminent native-born Australian artist at the turn of the 20th century, recognized in Europe as well as at home for his vigorous brushwork and subtle use of color. He had already founded an art school in Melbourne and been elected an associate of the Société Nationale des Beaux Arts in Paris, as well as exhibiting regularly at London’s Royal Academy.

The subject matter of Landing of Captain Cook at Botany Bay, 1770 is in the heroic mold, recalling French 19th-century historical painting. One of Fox’s teachers had been Jean-Léon Gerome, who was well known for this style of work. In the painting, Cook’s party plants the British Red Ensign, claiming the territory for Great Britain. Some of his men also train their guns on two Aboriginal people in the painting’s background; these Aboriginal people are depicted as threatening Cook’s party, which vastly outnumbers them. The painting’s action is ambiguous—is Cook gesturing to stop his men from firing?—but the violent consequences of the arrival of the Europeans is rendered clearly. As of 2020, this painting is no longer on display. (Christina Rodenbeck and the Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica)

Francis Bacon’s raw and unnerving images prod his viewers’ emotions, forcing them to question how their ideas about life, desire, and death correspond with his. Bacon’s life comprised a series of abusive and abused lovers, drug and drinking binges, and professional successes. Study from the Human Body exemplifies the aesthetic and psychological concerns that dominate his entire body of work. His paint is as slippery as a secretion and soaks into his canvases like a stain. His composition blends the key figure into his environment, and his rendering of the form establishes a foreboding sense of psychological or even physical sadism. Barred from the viewer by a curtain created from the same tones as his flesh, the figure appears decorative and objectified as the object of Bacon’s erotic interest. Contemporary English artists such as Damien Hirst cite Bacon as a primary influence. (Ana Finel Honigman)

Fred Williams started his art education in 1943 at the National Gallery School in Melbourne, Australia. During the 1950s he traveled to England where he stayed for five years to study at both Chelsea and the Central Schools of Art. After his clearly academic start in Australia his English experience opened his eyes to modern art, particularly Impressionism and Post-Impressionism. From the time he was in London, Williams’s practice as an etcher influenced his development as a painter and resulted in a cross-fertilization of ideas between the two techniques. With hindsight it seems highly probable that this interplay between painting and printmaking is at least partly responsible for the shift he finally made from his early rather European-looking work to the groundbreaking approach we see in Drifting Smoke.

Back in Australia during the late 1950s and early 1960s, his work continued to show a strong European influence, his paintings being usually of the figure and clearly influenced by Amedeo Modigliani. During the 1960s, however, Williams managed to shake off the weight of history and found a way of describing the Australian landscape that was both original and persuasive. In Drifting Smoke, a field of hot, dusty earth pictured after a bush fire is first dotted with small sharply focused objects, then introduced to the sky by wisps of drifting smoke. Made at a time when cutting-edge artists were weighing abstraction against figuration, this painting sits neatly between what at that time seemed to be the two poles of painting. (Stephen Farthing)

Narrative painting comes into its own with Rembrandt van Rijn, who excels at conveying a moment in an ongoing sequence of events. Two Old Men Disputing is also a gripping study of old age, a subject that Rembrandt returned to in his later self-portraits. This painting has been known by different titles over the years, but one more than plausible interpretation is that the subjects of the narrative are the apostles Peter and Paul who are disputing a point in the bible, which may have a specific theological significance in the context of Protestantism in the Netherlands at that time. The light strikes Paul’s face as he points at a page in the bible, while the obdurate Peter is in darkness. Seated like a rock, as Jesus had described him (Matthew 16:18), he listens attentively to Paul. But his fingers mark a page in the huge bible on his lap, suggesting that he has another point to make as soon as Paul stops speaking. In this way, Rembrandt suggests the continuation of time.

The contrasting light in this painting reveals the Dutch master at his most Caravaggesque. Rembrandt uses it not only to delineate form but also to suggest the character of each man. Paul, in the light of reason, is learned and rational. (Rembrandt identified with Paul so closely that, in 1661, he painted himself as the saint.) Peter in the shadow, bullish and headstrong, thinks intuitively. It is astonishing that at the age of 22 Rembrandt was able to paint these old men with such penetrating psychological insight. (Wendy Osgerby)