Saturday, March 21, 2026

Art Eyewitness Review: "Come Together" - Stories and Storytelling at the Morgan Library & Museum

 

Come Together: 3,000 Years of Stories and Storytelling

Morgan Library & Museum
 January 30 through May 3, 2026 


Reviewed by Ed Voves
Original photography by Anne Lloyd

Gather round, everyone! It's story time at the Morgan Library and Museum. Make yourselves comfortable because we have an amazing adventure to share.
 
In fact, the Morgan is serving-up three thousand years' worth of creation myths,  knights in shining armor, an impeccably-clad elephant and a little boy named Max who sails to the realm where "the Wild Things are."

Come Together at the Morgan traces the evolution of story-telling in human culture. 





Anne Lloyd, Photos (2026) 
A selection of works on view in the Come Together exhibit at the Morgan Library & Museum: a fragment of the Epic of Atrahasis., ca. 1646-1626 BC; Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales printed by William Caxton, ca. 1483; Charles Schultz’ “Peanuts” cartoon strip, September 8, 1973

From a cuneiform fragment relating to Atrahasis, a Noah-like figure from ancient Mesopotamia, to literary classics like The Canterbury Tales and beloved comic-strip characters, such is the scope of the Morgan exhibition.

If that sounds like a daunting task for the Morgan's curators to achieve, well it is. 



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) 
Gallery view of the Come Together: 3000 Years of Stories and Storytelling exhibition at the Morgan Library & Museum

Not to worry. The Morgan curators are more than equal to this challenge.

Come Together is a thoroughly absorbing survey of the creative responses to humanity's insatiable need to speak - and hear - for itself. Arranged in five thematic sections, 140 works of art and literature chart the course of storytelling across the ages. 

Almost all of the artifacts in the exhibition are from the Morgan's own collection. One notable exception, however, appears at the very beginning of the exhibit, a Native American mask on loan from the American Museum of Natural History. 



Kwakiutl Raven Mask, attributed to Bob Harris , ca. 1900,
 from the collection of the American Museum of Natural History

Ironically, the story that this remarkable mask helps to illustrate involves one of the most dramatic episodes in the Morgan Library's own history. The raven-head mask complements historic photographs and an early film of Native Americans created by Edward Curtis.



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) 
Edward Curtis photo of Kwakwaka´wakw Dancers, 1914

Edward Curtis (1868-1952), a self-taught artist of genius, started taking photographs of Native Americans living in the vicinity of Seattle, Washington. At first this was a side-line to his thriving photo portrait studio. Soon Curtis' growing obsession consumed his business, his marriage, eventually his life. 

With few remaining resources of his own, financial support from J.P. Morgan enabled Curtis to continue documenting Native American culture across the vast expanse of the U.S. and Canada. By the time he finished his quest, Curtis had taken 40,000 photos! Of these, 2,234 were published in his multi-volume masterpiece, The North American Indian.

Curtis, the son of a frontier settler of the Old West, might well have formed a very different opinion of the Native Americans he encountered. Curtis could have despised "the vanishing Red Man" as so many of his generation did. But his  empathy for them is an important point to consider. 

Many times, people we would least expect - strangers, competitors, even adversaries - play an important role in appreciating and preserving the art, literature and folk lore of cultures very different from their own.

A notable example of this can be found in the first section of Coming Together, "Belief and Belonging." This is an ancient bronze container known as a Praenestine Cista. It was found in a burial chamber near the city of Praeneste, today's Palestrina, twenty miles south of Rome.



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) 
Praenestine Cista with Cover, Italy, ca. 200 BC

Praeneste was a stronghold of the Etruscans, who frequently fought settlers from Greece for control of the rich agricultural lands of southern Italy. Despite this "bone of contention", the Etruscans admired Greek culture. Many of the Greek vases and ceramic vessels now on display in art museums around the world were unearthed from Etruscan tombs, as was this Praenestine Cista.  




The Etruscans were master metal workers, so the Praenestine Cista was almost certainly a work of their hands. Yet, it is engraved with images of Greek goddesses, perhaps a scene from the Trojan War.

If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, to be inspired by the art and ideals of a rival culture is a far greater tribute.

Creative inspiration and the challenge of translating ideas into word and image are the theme of the next two sections of Come Together. "Shaping Stories" and "Picture This" provide the setting for studying several modern-day classics in detail. 

Two of these displays, dealing with Jean de Brunhoff's Histoire de Babar, le petit elephant (1931) and the storyboard of the 1979 theatrical production of Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are (1963) stand-out as surefire crowd-pleasers. The "back-stories" of Babar and Wild Things also yield fascinating insights into the childhood (or childlike) sources of creativity. 




Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) 
Preparatory artwork by Jean de Brunhoff for Histoire de Babar, le petit elephant, 1931. From top (left) Study for Text and Illustrations;
 Color Study for the Character of Babar; Dummy for p. 15

Babar's saga began with an impromptu bed-time story told by the wife of French illustrator, Jean de Brunhoff (1899-1937). Next day, the two young boys implored their father to create pictures of the orphan elephant. De Brunhoff set to work and Babar sprang to life in a series of wildly popular books. 

Tragically, de Brunhoff died from TB in 1937. Years later, one of his sons, Laurent (1925-2024), an accomplished artist, continued in his father's (and mother's) footsteps. By 2017, the Babar books totaled 44 in number, along with an animated TV series and endless merchandising spin-offs.



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) 
Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are - an image from the 1979 storyboard for the operatic version of the 1963 book.

In the case of Where the Wild Things Are, Maurice Sendak had to share the credits with a hyper-imaginative girl named Rosie who lived across the street from his boyhood home in Brooklyn. 

Back in the 1990's, I had the honor to interview Sendak for the Philadelphia Daily News. He related how, as a boy, illness often confined him to watching neighborhood children at play. One of them, Rosie, was the "author/director" and star of skits acted-out on the sidewalk and door stoops. 

What Sendak saw was childhood imagination at play - and at work. This is quite different from what adults often conceive it to be. Children's insights are deep and nuanced, seldom of the degree of innocence which their elders believe. These observations informed Sendak's lifelong approach to life and art.



Anne, Photo (2026) 
Maurice Sendak's 1979 storyboard 
for the operatic version of Where the Wild Things Are

The art works related to Where the Wild Things Are on view in Come Together were part of the 1980 operatic version of Max's adventures. For Sendak, this transition to the stage proved to be a very challenging endeavor. The first presentation was beset with a host of difficulties, though it was later revived successfully.

Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are has become an enduring work of art and literature, unifying people of different generations, races and social classes. It is part of the American canon. But it has to be wondered at, if any book, film or work of art of a more recent vintage can ever succeed to a similar degree.

Back in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries- and well into the twentieth -  a new novel by a major author like Charles Dickens or Mark Twain was a cause for celebration. The same was true for plays, operas and, later, films which appealed to a shared set of beliefs or a sense of humor.



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) 
A sequence of film frames from Charlie Chaplin's The Kid (1921)

A brilliant example of such mass appeal is Charlie Chaplin's The Kid (1921). This silent classic is presented in a continuous video loop in the exhibition galleries. We were so transfixed by The Little Tramp's attempt at parenting, that we lost track of time and then had to make a dash for the train!

Talk about the power of storytelling! 

Today, efforts to "frame a narrative" are much more difficult. Individualism has upstaged social cohesion. This is not a bad thing in itself. But trying to perceive cultural trends is increasingly problematic.



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) 
Gallery view of the Come Together exhibition.
 A 1980 drawing by Keith Haring appears at center.

The modern-day focus on personal expression supplies the theme of the final galleries of Come Together. There is a very diverse array of works on display. The Morgan curators attempted to supply something of a framework by casting many of these as "New York Stories."

Perhaps the best way to approach such diversity is to let these "personal" stories speak for themselves. Let our minds engage with the message of each and then wait to see if universal themes emerge.

That is what impressed me, in the case of The Book of Hours. This "wordless novel" by George A. Walker consists of 99 wood engravings depicting the hours leading up to the horrifying 9/11/01 attack on the World Trade Center. No text, just images.


Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) 
Artist’s proof of a hand-printed wood engraving for
 George A. Walker’s The Book of Hours, 2008

Walker's The Book of Hours is a study of normal daily life, the routine of people going about their business on a September morning in 2001, no different than any other September morning...
 
And then, at 9:02 am, the World changed. A senseless tragedy ensued, followed by events, wars and rumors of wars, which are still in progress, all these years later.

There is no ending, no final frame, no moral lessons to be derived from The Book of Hours



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026)
Study of Robert Browning Reading by William Wetmore Story, 1869 

That is really true of all great stories, whatever medium is used. The writer may stop writing, the artist ceases to paint or draw, words no longer flow from the storyteller's lips. 

The conclusion of the story - and the conclusions to be drawn from it - that's where we come in. 

What comes next, in our own personal story or the cosmic drama in which we all play our part? That is up to us.

***

Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved                                               

Original photography, copyright of Anne Lloyd


Introductory image: Anne Lloyd, (Photo 2026) Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are - an image from the 1979 storyboard for the operatic version of the 1963 book. (See full storyboard image, below) 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) A fragment of the Epic of Atrahasis., ca. 1646-1626 BC, First Dynasty of Babylon, Reign of King Ammi-saduqa. Clay The Morgan Library & Museum, MLC 1889; Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales printed by William Caxton, ca. 1483. Morgan Library & Museum MA 6304.8.4Charles Schultz’ “Peanuts” cartoon strip, September 8, 1973. Pen and black ink, black felt pen and white paint on illustration board. Four panel strip: 6 7 x 30 inches (175 x 762 mm) Morgan Library & Museum #1973.49

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Gallery view of the Come Together: 3000 Years of Stories and Storytelling exhibition at the Morgan Library & Museum. 
                                                                                 
Kwakiutl Raven Mask attributed to Bob Harris Collected in 1901 by George Hunt in Tsaxis/Fort Rupert, British Columbia, Canada American Museum of Natural History, Cat. No 16/8533 Accession 1901-32

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Edward S. Curtis’ Photo of Kwakwaka´wakw Dancers with Hamatsa Masks, 1914. Published in The North American. Cambridge, U.S.A. The University Press, 1907-1930, Vol 10. Plate 336. PML 20032.2

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Praenestine Cista with Cover, Italy, ca. 200 B.C Bronze, with incised surface decoration. Height (with lid) 14 ¼ inches (358 mm) Purchased by J. Pierpont Morgan, 1907. AZ046a-b

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Preparatory artwork by Jean de Brunhoff for Histoire de Babar, le petit elephant, 1931. Study for text and illustrations, 1931. 13 x 9 ¾ in. (32.8 x 24.7 cm) Morgan Library & Museum MA 6304.4.01; Color study for the character of Babar, 1931. 14 3/8 x 10 ½ in (36.5 x 26.7 cm) Morgan Library & Museum MA 6304.8.4;Dummy for p. 15: 14 1/8 x 10 3/8 in. (36 x 26.5 cm) Morgan Library & Museum MA 6304.10.10 (recto)

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are - an image from the 1979 storyboard for the operatic version of the 1963 book. Morgan Library and Museum

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Maurice Sendak's  Storyboard (Where the Wild Things Are,1979). Watercolor, pen and ink and graphite pencil on paper. © The Maurice Sendak Foundation, 2013. Morgan Library and Museum 2013.72ab

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) A Sequence of Film Frames from Charlie Chaplin's The Kid, 1921. Running time: 68 minutes. Distributed by First National Pictures.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Gallery view of the Morgan Library & Museum exhibition, Come Together: 3000 years of Stories and StorytellingA 1980 drawing by Keith Haring appears at center.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Artist’s proof of a hand-printed wood engraving for George A. Walkers The Book of Hours, a Wordless Novel / Told in 99 Wood Engravings, 2008. Morgan Library and Museum. PML 195745.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Studies of Robert Browning Reading by William Wetmore Story, 1869. Pencil on cream colored paper, laid down: 9 5/8 x 14 11/16 inches (245 x 374 mm) Morgan Library and Museum. #1954.5


Friday, March 6, 2026

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

 

Gainsborough: the  Fashion of Portraiture

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. And 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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