Art Eyewitness Review: Gainsborough at the Frick Collection, New York

 

Gainsborough: the Fashion of Portraiture

The Frick Collection, New York City

February 11, 2026 - May 11, 2026

Reviewed by Ed Voves

Original photography by Anne Lloyd

The eighteenth century counterparts of today's "jet set" or "the rich and famous" were known as "people of fashion." Part of the pleasure of being included in such elite company - then and now - is having one's portrait painted for public display or for later generations to admire at their leisure.

"People of fashion" in Great Britain were fortunate in having numerous painters of talent to record their features. This was especially true by the 1750's, by which time native-born artists had finally gained precedence over the Flemish and German portrait painters who had earlier dominated the art scene in the British Isles.

The Frick Collection is currently exhibiting the works of one of the most successful and influential portrait painters of the Georgian Era. This is what historians call the period, in reference to the three successive monarchs, all named George, who reigned during the eighteenth century. 

After viewing this magnificent exhibit, I came away with feeling that a better title for those years would be the Age of Gainsborough.

   Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026)

 Thomas Gainsborough's Self-Portrait,1787

Thomas Gainsborough (1727-1788) is the key figure in the transformation of British art during the 1700's. His artistic career began with stiffly-posed group portraits known as "conversations." Then, in 1750, he painted a major, if small format, work which marked his emergence as one of Britain's leading artists.

Thomas Gainsborough's Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, ca. 1750

Mr. and Mrs. Andrews is both a portrait and a landscape. Hidden away in a private collection, it was for many years unknown to the public. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026)

 Thomas Gainsborough's Mr. and Mrs. Andrews (detail), ca. 1750

Since its rediscovery during the 1920's, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews has gained an almost mythic status. On loan to the Frick from the National Gallery in London, this is one of the stand-out works in Gainsborough: the Fashion of Portraiture.

Following Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, Gainsborough's prodigious output featured idyllic landscapes and "fancy" pictures, which are best understood as fanciful or romanticized depictions of rural children. To his chagrin, few of these sold.

Gainsborough's fame chiefly rests on his magnificent portraits. This is the theme of the Frick exhibition, a portal both to a long-ago epoch and to flesh and blood humanity, swathed in the latest fashion.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026)

Gallery view of Gainsborough: the Fashion of Portraiture at the Frick Collection. The paintings shown here are Mrs. Samuel Moody and Her sons, Samuel and Thomas, 1779/1784, and Mrs. Sheridan, ca. 1783

Amazingly, this is the first exhibition surveying Gainsborough's portraits by a New York City museum. This is a surprising development, given the rich holdings of his works at the Frick and, further up 5th Avenue, at The Met. Why? Perhaps, this is due to the many contradictions in Gainsborough's life and art.

Despite Gainsborough's success, he was never knighted, as his rival Joshua Reynolds was. Gainsborough was an outsider by birth and inclination. His family were "Non-Conformists" in the religious sense of those who would not subscribe to the theology and rituals of the Church of England. And when it came to his artistic practice, Gainsborough refused to tolerate any measure of oversight or interference from the official Royal Academy, presided over by Sir Joshua Reynolds.

This brief account of Gainsborough's background underscores how ironic, almost humorously so, was his acclaim and status as one of the leading portrait painters of "people of fashion."

Gainsborough did not particularly enjoy immortalizing the British aristocracy. Of England's "milords" and country gentlemen, he declared, "they have but one part worth looking at and that is their purse."

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026)

 Thomas Gainsborough's Mrs. Richard Brinsley Sheridan (detail),1783 

When it came to the "fair ladies" of England and Scotland, Gainsborough certainly found more than "one part worth looking at." This was a consequence of a sincere empathy for and an equally strong physical attraction to women.

Gainsborough's character was complex and compromised, especially his attitude to marital fidelity. The Frick exhibition, wisely, steers clear of this issue and controversy, in general. An so shall we, except to stop for a moment's reflection before the portrait of his wife, Margaret, painted in 1777-78.

 Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026)

 Thomas Gainsborough's Margaret Gainsborough (detail), ca. 1778 

Without a doubt this is a loving image, perhaps the greatest portrait of a spouse ever created and a tribute to one's soul mate. To be able to study this magnificent work at the Frick is truly an honor.  

Gainsborough: the Fashion of Portraiture has many insights of value to share. These relate both to Gainsborough's life and to the role of portraiture in human society - the act of creating the public image people present to the world, while clarifying or obscuring their inner selves. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026)

 Aimee Ng, John Updike Curator at the Frick Collection

In the text of the superb catalog to the exhibition, Aimee Ng, curator at the Frick, astutely notes:

Portraits are not simply records of what people looked like and wore - though some are. What the artist painted his sitters wearing at times had little to do with how they dressed in real life and, like portraiture itself, was a construction and invention in paint.

Gainsborough, quite often, had occasion to "invent in paint" favorable images of women, subjected to the raised eyebrows, gossip and scorn of polite society. 

One of the most notable instances of such invention was Gainsborough's portrait of the The Hon. Frances Duncombe, one of the treasures of the Frick. This elegant young woman, whose private life caused tongues to wag, will be featured in a forthcoming book written by Aimee Ng.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026)

 Thomas Gainsborough's The Hon. Frances Duncombe (detail), ca. 1776

Gainsborough was much more at ease painting aristocratic and upper-class ladies than their husbands or lovers, especially those who were army or naval commanders. Military portraits, laden with gold braid and sabers, were a specialty of Reynolds. 

A contrast in military portraiture:

Sir Joshua Reynolds' Sir John Burgoyne, 1766; Thomas

 Gainsborough's Captain Augustus John Hervey,1768.

Gainsborough, however, could certainly hold his own in this respect, too. His portrait of the Royal Navy officer, Captain Augustus John Hervey, can more than stand its ground against Reynold's Sir John Burgoyne, a notable work of the Frick Collection. In a future post, I plan to address the fascinating rivalry between Gainsborough and Reynolds.

As Gainsborough's fame spread, "well-born" ladies flocked to his studios. After a few years working in his native Suffolk, Gainsborough set-up his practice in the resort city of Bath in 1759. Then, he relocated to the West End of London in 1774. His customers seldom were disappointed with their "likeness" by Gainsborough.

Thomas Gainsborough, Mary, Countess Howe, ca. 1763-1764

Mary, Countess Howe, painted at some point during the years, 1763-1764, is a particularly notable example of Gainsborough's acute perception and masterly skill. The wife of a British naval hero who was heir to a noble title, the Countess Howe had been born Mary Hartopp of a Nottinghamshire family far down in the ranks of the social register. But you would never know that looking at the hauteur of her pose and the gleam in her eyes, bewitching and calculating in equal measure.                                                                                                                                                               

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026)

Gallery view of Gainsborough: the Fashion of Portraiture.

Entering the two exhibition galleries at the Frick can - at least initially - be disorienting. There are twenty-five paintings on view, several of them full-length, almost life-sized, portraits of "women of fashion." The scale of these paintings and the shimmer of silk and glistening pearls can make for sensory-overload. It really takes some effort straining your neck to glimpse the faces of Gainsborough's female protagonists.

Gainsborough came from a family involved in the fabric trade. He thus had an insider's knowledge of handling silk and satin, velvet and lace. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026)

 Detail of Thomas Gainsborough's The Hon. Frances Duncombe, 1776

Gainsborough also acquired first-hand experience of the "cut-throat" nature of business practice in Georgian England. His father's textile firm went bankrupt when he was a boy. Shortly afterward, he was sent to London to learn the engraver's trade. It was there that he took night-school painting classes at the St. Martin's Lane Academy managed by the redoubtable William Hogarth.

Like Hogarth, Gainsborough was single-minded and determined to paint his own way. In the mid-eighteenth century, there was a vogue for dressing-up in gowns and tunics of the type appearing in the seventeenth century portraits by Anthony van Dyck. Except in certain instances - The Blue Boy, being the most celebrated example - Gainsborough would have none of this. 

Gainsborough insisted that his patrons wear the clothing of the present-day. Many of them, initially pleased, would bring their portraits back after styles had changed, to have them repainted in the latest fashion. Gainsborough took it in stride. 

"I am very well aware of the Objection to modern dresses in Pictures," Gainsborough wrote to Lord Dartmouth, "that they are soon out of fashion and look awkward; but as that misfortune cannot be helped we must set it against the unluckiness of fancied dresses taking away Likenesses, the principle beauty and intention of a portrait."

In the case of the portrait of Elizabeth Moody (1756-1782), who died from tuberculosis at the age of twenty-six, Gainsborough was commissioned to rework it, but not because of a change in fashion. 

  Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 Thomas Gainsborough's Mrs. Samuel Moody and Her Sons, Samuel and Thomas, ca. 1779, reworked ca. 1784.

The painting we see, from the collection of the Dulwich Picture Library, is very different from the first version of the work. This had likely been painted at the time of her marriage in 1779. But it was not until 1989, that the radical extent of the difference was established.

At the time of her death, Elizabeth Moody had two young sons, Samuel (twenty months old) and Thomas (eight months). The children in the painting, however, are much older.

Furthermore, art historians noted that Mrs. Moody's right hand, holding young Thomas, was awkwardly painted by Gainsborough's standards. By comparison, her left hand, grasping Samuel's arm, is beautifully composed.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026)

 Detail of Thomas Gainsborough's Mrs. Samuel Moody and Her Sons

Something did not add-up.

The exhibition catalog explains these seeming discrepancies:

In 1989, X-radiography of the portrait confirmed that Gainsborough had originally painted Elizabeth Moody alone, probably around the time of her marriage in 1779 to Samuel Moody and before the births of Samuel, in 1781, and Thomas, in 1782. ... Evidently, Samuel Moody brought the portrait back to Gainsborough in the year or two after Elizabeth’s death (judging from the apparent age of the toddlers). Adding the figures of the children as they appeared then, and not at the age they were when she died, Gainsborough painted over her right arm, which had originally reached upward to toy with a pearl necklace.

This explanation, having brilliantly solved the mystery of this poignant work of art, should not distract us from the more fundamental message of Gainsborough's art. This is visible in the astonishing way Gainsborough articulated the face of young Samuel Moody (above), his mother and little brother - and all of the other subjects of Gainsborough's "pencil", as paint brushes were then called.                               

  

                                                             Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026)

 A gallery of portraits from works on view in

Gainsborough: the Fashion of Portraiture. Clockwise from top left: 

Grace Dalrymple Elliott,1778; Thomas Keable, ca.1750; Ignatius Sancho, 1768; Mary, Duchess of Montagu, ca.1768

A Gainsborough grand-portrait is, almost without exception, not an example of beautiful clothing "making" the woman or man who posed before his easel. However great his facility in depicting the costumes of his subjects, Gainsborough's ability in summoning-forth their humanity with oil on canvas was greater still.

Let the last word be Gainsborough's, from a quote mentioned earlier.

"Likenesses," Thomas Gainsborough said, are "the principle beauty and intention of a portrait."

***

Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved                                                                                          

Original photography, copyright of Anne Lloyd

Introductory Image: Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Gallery view of Gainsborough: the Fashion of Portraiture, showing Thomas Gainsborough’s Mrs. Richard Brinsley Sheridan, ca. 1783.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Thomas Gainsborough’s Self-Portrait, ca. 1787. Oil on canvas: 30 7/8 x 25 3/8 in. (77.3 x 64.5 cm) Royal Academy of Arts, (03/1395)

Thomas Gainsborough (English, 1727-1788) Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, ca. 1750. Oil on canvas:27 1/2 x 47 in. (69.8 x 119.4 cm) National Gallery, London (NG6301)

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Mr. and Mrs. Andrews (detail), ca. 1750.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Gallery view of Gainsborough: the Fashion of Portraiture, showing Thomas Gainsborough’s Mrs. Samuel Moody and Her Sons, Samuel and Thomas, 1779/1784. and Mrs. Richard Brinsley Sheridan, ca. 1783.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026)Thomas Gainsborough's Mrs.Richard Brinsley Sheridan (detail), ca. 1783. Oil on canvas: 86 1/2 x 60 1/2 in. (251.46 x 185.42 cm.)  National Gallery, Washington D.C.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026).Thomas Gainsborough’s Margaret Gainsborough (detail), ca. 1778. Oil on canvas: 30 3/16 x 25 1/8 in. (76.6 x 73.8 cm) The Courtauld, London (P.1932.SC.157)

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Amee Ng, John Updike Curator at the Frick Collection.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Thomas Gainsborough’s The Hon. Frances Duncombe (detail), ca. 1776. Oil on canvas: 92 1/4 x 61 1/8 in. (234.3 x 155.3 cm) The Frick Collection, New York

Comparisons of paintings by Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir John Burgoyne, 1766, and Thomas Gainsborough’s Captain Augustus John Hervey, later 3rd Earl of Bristol, ca. 1768.

Thomas Gainsborough (English,1727-1788) Mary, Countess Howe, 1763–64. Oil on canvas: 94 15/16 x 60 3/4 in. (243.2 x 154.3 cm) English Heritage, Kenwood House, London; The Iveagh Bequest.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Gallery view of Gainsborough: the Fashion of Portraiture.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Detail of Thomas Gainsborough’s The Hon. Frances Duncombe.

 Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Thomas Gainsborough’s Margaret Gainsborough (detail), ca. 1778. Oil on canvas: 30 3/16 x 25 1/8 in. (76.6 x 73.8 cm) The Courtauld, London (P.1932.SC.157)

 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Mrs. Samuel Moody and Her Sons, Samuel and Thomas, ca. 1779, reworked ca. 1784. Oil on canvas: 92 1/8 x 60 11 ⁄ 16 in. (234 x 154.2 cm). Dulwich Picture Gallery, London (DPG316)

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Thomas Gainsborough’s Grace Dalrymple Elliott (detail), 1778. Oil on canvas: 92 1/4 x 60 1/2 in. (234.3 x 153.7 cm) The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York; Bequest of William K. Vanderbilt, 1920 (20.155.1)

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Thomas Keable in Thomas Gainsborough’s Peter Darnell Muilman, Charles Crokatt and William Keable in a Landscape, ca. 1750. Oil on canvas: 765 x 642 mm. Tate Britain/Gainsborough’s House

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Thomas Gainsborough’s Ignatius Sancho, 1768. Oil on canvas: 29 x 241/2 in. (73.7 x 62.2 cm). National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa.

Thomas Gainsborough (English, 1727-1788) Mary, Duchess of Montagu, ca.1768. Oil on canvas: 49 1/4 x 39 1/2 in. (125.1 x 100.3 cm). Duke of Buccleuch, Bowhill House, Scottish Borders; lent by the Duke of Buccleuch and Queensberry, K. T. and the Trustees of the Buccleuch Chattels Trust.

 

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Salute to the Surrealists: Dreamworld at the Philadelphia Museum of Art

 Salute to the Surrealists: 

Dreamworld: Surealism at 100

The Philadelphia Museum of Art

November 8, 2025 - February 16, 2026

Reviewed by Ed Voves

Original photography by Anne Lloyd

"The only thing I know," Leonora Carrington declared, "is that I don't know." 

Coming at the end of a very long artistic career, these words might seem like an admission of doubt and incomprehension. Actually, Carrington's remark was anything but negative or filled with regret. 

Carrington was a Surrealist artist. Her inscrutable paintings were featured in the just-concluded exhibition, Dreamworld, at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 Leonora Carrington's Ulu's Pants,1952

As can be seen in Carrington's Ulu's Pants, created in 1952, coherent subject statements and clearly depicted visual content have little place - in fact, no place - in Surrealism.

According to the foundational document of Surrealism, the essential attribute of Surrealist art was that it need be done “in the absence of any control exercised by reason, beyond any aesthetic or moral concern.”

Surrealism, by definition, was - and is - an art characterized by "not knowing."

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 The entrance to the Dreamworld: Surrealism at 100

 exhibition at the Philadelphia Museum of Art

If you departed, feeling bemused or befuddled, from the Dreamworld exhibition at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, don't feel alarmed. Your response was entirely in keeping with Surrealism's approach to understanding and depicting life. Surrealist painters like Carrington seek after truth. But their art is not intended to be a deliberate, conscious exercise of their artistic powers.

To speak of Carrington in the present tense  - or of any of the other artists whose works appeared in the Dreamworld exhibit - may seem distinctly odd. 

Leonora Carrington died in 2011. Most of the leading figures of Surrealism died years, even decades, earlier. Max Ernst passed in 1976, Salvador Dali in 1989. Surrealism as a formal art movement began in 1924 and the years of its greatest influence were over by 1950. Yet, to assign begin/end dates to Surrealism and the artists who embrace it strikes me as a debatable premise, even a misleading one.

The world is a very surreal place - and always has been. Long before Andre Breton issued the Surrealist Manifesto in 1924, Francisco Goya created disturbing images, emerging from his troubled subconscious state. Goya's "caprichos" certainly qualify as Surrealist art. 

Francisco Goya, The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters, 1797-99

So too, does the the first painting displayed in the Dreamworld exhibition. This was Giorgio de Chirico's The Soothsayer's Recompense, 1913. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 Giorgio de Chirico's The Soothsayer's Recompense, 1913

No amount of explanation will ever solve the riddle of this enigmatic work of art, one of the treasures of the collection of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. I've studied it endless times and am still scratching my head, trying to reach a conclusion. But there can be no doubt that De Chirico, a year before the outbreak of World War I, set the stage for the Surrealist movement a decade later.

 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

Gallery view of Dreamworld: Surrealism at 100

Dreamworld at the Philadelphia Museum of Art was part of an international collaboration of six museums, led by the Centre Pompidou in Paris, which used the centennial of the 1924 Manifesto as a touchstone for examining the leading artists and themes of Surrealism. 

Ed Voves, Photo (2025)

 Matthew Affron at the press preview for Dreamtime. At left, is

Salvador Dali's Invisible Sleeping Woman, Horse, Lion (1930)

Dreamworld at the Philadelphia Museum of Art was curated by Matthew Affron, the brilliant scholar of modern art who organized the memorable Matisse in the 1930's exhibition back in 2022. The heyday of Surrealism, ranging across the 1930's-1940's, was the same as it was for the Matisse exhibit. But how different was the artistic vision of the Surrealists!

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026)

 Gallery view of Dreamworld: Surrealism at 100

Many of the great paintings in view in Dreamworld, dating from nearly a century ago, seemed anything but dated. That's not true of the three dimensional works in the exhibit. Salvador Dali's Aphrodisiac Telephone (1938) is a period piece as much by its rotary phone dial as its lobster shell receiver!

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 Salvador Dali's Aphrodisiac Telephone (1938)

In the case of Jacques Herold's The Great Transparent One (actually a replica of the original) which was displayed at the International Surrealist Exhibition of 1947) and Maria Martin's The Road; The Shadow; Too Long, Too Narrow, it is difficult to suppress a smile. These were, it needs to be remembered, serious pieces of sculpture of their time. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 From left, Jacques Herold's The Great Transparent One (1971) & Maria Martin's The Road; The Shadow; Too Long, Too Narrow (1946)

One generation's vision of the future or of inner psychic realms often appears naive or even absurd to their successors. Then, much later, a more favorable verdict is rendered. No doubt, the same cycle of bemusement and rediscovery will hold true for the art of our contemporary era.

With paintings, Dreamworld demonstrated how artistic insights can maintain their relevance across broad expanses of time. The simpler these enduring works of art are, the likelier they are to strike a chord with museum visitors years later.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 Rene Magritte's The Secret Double (1927) 

Rene Magritte's The Secret Double (1927) is one of several doppelganger-themed works which he executed during his career. It depicts a bisected face which may be either male or female. The interior is exposed to reveal dangling bells. The symbolism of these is difficult to interpret. Yet, had Magritte used 1920's mechanical gears or electronic components, rather than these medieval-looking metal bells, Secret Double's universality would have been compromised. 

Max Ernst's Fireside Angle (1937) and Salvador Dali's Soft Construction with Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War) (1936) are powerful works which have a  resonance today much like the impact they made back in the 1930's. War and civil strife in the 21st century were dangers we thought and hoped were left behind in the past. And yet, these paintings speak to us of our present and, quite possibly, our future.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 Fireside Angel (1937) painted by Max Ernst

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 Salvador Dali's Soft Construction with Boiled Beans

 (Premonition of Civil War), 1936

Fireside Angel evokes the rapacious militarism which most people by 1937 feared would lead to a second "war to end all wars." Dali's symbolic premonition of a nation - his own, Spain - hopelessly divided against itself was a prediction which swiftly came true. By the time Ernst painted Fireside Angel, Spain was being ravaged by civil war. Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union both sent "volunteers" to Spain in order to test their new modern weapons. The city of Guernica was one of the targets.

The leering, desiccated skull in Dali's Soft Construction with Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War) had become both surreal - and real.

I went to Dreamworld three times and was hugely impressed with the number of outstanding works on view and the brilliant organization and design which went into mounting the exhibit. Yet, each visit raised problems in posting a review. Writer's block was not the problem. There simply was too much to say, for almost every work on view.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) 

Gallery view of the Dreamtime exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, showing Dorothea Tanning's Birthday, 1942 (at right)

 

Dorothea Tanning's Birthday (1942) was indicative of my reaction to Dreamworld. To sit before this self-portrait for more than the average 27.2 seconds, which art museum visitors are said to devote to each work of art, was so emotionally draining as to be, dare I say it again ...?

Surreal.

Dorothea Tanning's Birthday,1942

At first glance, the most remarkable feature of Birthday is the series of doors behind the the semi-clad woman, leading to further doors and more doors. Closer inspection, however, will draw your attention away from these portals - and her bare torso! What appears to be a net of seaweed over her skirt is a tangled-mass of small, putrid-green human bodies. It is not a sight to linger on.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) 

Detail of Dorotheo Tanning's Birthday,1942

Beneath Tanning's feet is another, seemingly loathsome, visage, straight out-of-hell. But once again, appearances are deceiving. The winged, bat-faced animal, is to be pitied, not feared. Impossible to classify, this compelling creature is a kindred being for anyone who has ever felt alone, isolated, abandoned in an alien world... in short for us all.

My interpretation of Birthday, influenced in large measure by the wartime date of its creation, is somber. Others see it in a more positive perspective. The title was coined by Max Ernst, who regarded Tanning's self-portrait as announcing the "birth" of a major new talent in the world of art.

What was true for Dorothea Tanning (1910-2012) was equally valid for Leonora Carrington (1917-2011) and Remedios Varo (1908-1963). 

Dreamworld's final gallery was devoted to Carrington and Varo. The currents of mirth, magic and mysticism, so clearly present in each of these women's art, presented post-war Surrealism in a new, unexpected light. It was a surprising and upbeat conclusion to the exhibition.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026)

 Remedios Varo's Celestial Pablum (detail),1958

The English-born Carrington and Varo, from Spain, were engaged in surrealist art when World War II broke out. They knew one another in Paris and when each escaped the German invasion of 1940, they emigrated to Mexico where they reunited. Their friendship and mutual exploration of Surrealist themes would endure until Varo died in 1963. Along with the famous photographer, Kati Horna, they were known as "the three witches."

If the art of Carrington and Varo can be characterized by a single word, then "alchemy" is a good choice. Both women searched and sought for inner wisdom, to express the spiritual in their art and to promote harmony and healing in the world.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 And Then We Saw the Daughter of the Minotaur,

    painted by Leonora Carrington in 1953

Carrington's And then We Saw the Daughter of the Minotaur, now in MOMA's collection, is a representative example of her work. Deeply engaged in myth (as befits a devotee of Carl Jung's writings), Carrington created esoteric scenes which require a lot of imaginative effort from her viewers. But the reward, entry into a parallel universe untainted by war and exploitation, makes it worth our while to do so.

By contrast, I find Varo's art filled with a quirky, wry humor which disarms our worldly pretensions and involves us in the search for holistic wisdom in a more relaxed state of mind. As surrealist art, it is less cerebral, perhaps, than Carrington's art. Yet, I find that Varo's paintings promote a more proactive and energizing sense of art appreciation.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 Remedios Varo's Creation of the Birds, 1957

Varo's Creation of the Birds (1957) takes place in a sanctum of arcane experiment. A sorceress in an owl robe, who might be better described as a wisdom figure, sits alone absorbed in her otherworldly craft. She uses a hand-held light refracting device to direct beams of starlight onto figures of birds which spring to life and fly out the window.

Of course, there is more to Creation of the Birds than this literal description. More than blue jays are taking wing and soaring upward and outward to freedom. The soul of humanity, liberated by the nurturing forces of mystical alchemy, has been awakened to new life.

Creation of the Birds is a fitting, final image for our tribute to the Surrealists. However much we have learned or "don't know" from this brilliant exhibition, its singular message is clear. 

Deep within ourselves are special, spiritual gifts that can enable us to "fly."

***

Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved                                               

Original photography, copyright of Anne Lloyd

Introductory image: Anne Lloyd, (Photo 2025) Max Ernst’s Gala Eluard, 1924. Oil on canvas: 32 x 25 3/4 inches (81.3 x 65.4 cm.) Metropolitan Museum of Art. #2006.32.15

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Leonora Carrington's Ulu's Pants, 1952. Oil and tempera on Masonitel: 21 ½ x 36 in. (54.5 x 91.5 cm.) Private collection.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) The entrance to the Dreamworld: Surrealism at 100 exhibition at the Philadelphia Museum of Art

Francisco Goya, The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters, 1797-99. Etching and Aquatint. Plate: 8 3/8 x 5 7/8 inches (21.3 x 14.9 cm.) Philadelphia Museum of Art Collection #1949-97-9

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Giorgio de Chirico's The Soothsayer's Recompense, 1913. Oil on canvas: 53 3/8 x 70 7/8 inches (135.6 x 180 cm.) Philadelphia Museum of Art. #1950-134-38.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Gallery view of Dreamworld: Surrealism at 100.

Ed Voves, Photo (2025) Matthew Affron at the press preview for Dreamtime. At left, is Salvador Dali's Invisible Sleeping Woman, Horse, Lion (1930).

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Gallery view of Dreamworld: Surrealism at 100.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Salvador Dali's Aphrodisiac Telephone (1938). Plastic and metal: 8 ¼ x 12 ¼ x 6 ½ in. (20.96 x 31.12 x 16.51 cm) Minneapolis Institute of Art # 96.2

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Surrealist Sculptures. From left, Jacques Herold's The Great Transparent One (1971), Collection of Jean-Jacques Plaisance, Paris, & Maria Martin's The Road; The Shadow; Too Long, Too Narrow (1946) Collection of the Museum of Modern Art, NYC.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Rene Magritte's The Secret Double (1927). Oil on canvas: 114 x 165 cm. Centre Pompidou, Paris. #AM 1980-2 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Max Ernst’s Fireside Angel (1937). Oil on canvas: 114 x 146 cm. Collection Hersaint.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Salvador Dali's Soft Construction with Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War), 1936. Oil on canvas: 39 5/16 x 39 3/8 inches (99.9 x 100 cm). Philadelphia Museum of Art, # 195-134-41.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Gallery view of the Dreamtime exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, showing Dorothea Tanning's Birthday, 1942 (at right).

Dorothea Tanning's Birthday, 1942. Oil on canvas: 40 1/4 x 25 1/2 inches (102.2 x 64.8 cm.) Philadelphia Museum of Art. #1900-50-1

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Detail of Dorotheo Tanning's Birthday,1942.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Remedios Varo's Celestial Pablum (detail),1958. Oil on Masonite: 36 x 24 inches (91 x 61 cm) Colleccion FEMSA, Mexico.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Leonora Carrington’s And Then We Saw the Daughter of the Minotaur, 1953. Oil on canvas: 23 5/8 x 27 9/16 in. (60 x 70 cm) Museum of Modern Art, NYC. #146.2019

 Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Remedios Varo's Creation of the Birds, 1957. Masonite: (52.5 x 62.5 cm) Museo de Arte Moderno, Mexico City