Francesco Guardi
Italian, 1712 - 1793
1. Life and work.
If Morassi’s distinction of the hands is accepted, there is some justification for considering Gianantonio a better figure painter than Francesco. Those religious subjects that are signed or now generally agreed to be Francesco’s—the small bust-length representations of the Virgin and Child, various versions of the Pietà, even the altarpiece of SS Peter and Paul (late 1770s) in the parish church of the remote mountain village of Roncegno, near Trent—are no masterpieces; they show undeniable weakness of drawing, wavering contours, distorted anatomy. The verdict of his own time, and of the succeeding 150 years or so, was surely the right one: that Francesco came into his own as a Veduta painter, after his brother’s death or only shortly before. Suggestions that he began to paint views of Venice as early as 1730 have been shown to be based on invalid evidence; there is no reason to suppose that any of his vedute can be dated earlier than the later 1750s . And here again he followed the studio practice of borrowing compositions from others: he borrowed, for instance, from the etchings of his near-contemporary Michele Giovanni Marieschi, as in the Grand Canal with the Palazzo Pesaro (London, N.G.); but his main source of inspiration at this time was certainly Canaletto (see fig.). A group of large drawings of familiar Venetian views by Francesco (London, BM; New York, Met.; Berlin, Kupferstichkab.; Bayonne, Mus. Bonnat and elsewhere) are much closer to Canaletto in style, especially in the little figures, and also more accurate in their topography, than the more typical productions of Francesco’s pen or brush; some of them have been doubted for that reason, wrongly, for most of them relate to paintings that are certainly by him (some signed), but of his earliest phase as a vedutista.
A sidelight on this Canalettesque phase is provided by an entry in the diary of a contemporary Venetian, the Procurator Pietro Gradenigo, who recorded that on 25 April 1764 Francesco Guardi ‘buon scolaro del rinomato Canaletto’ exhibited in the Piazza S Marco two Venetian views that he had painted for a ‘forestiere inglese’ and was much applauded. He added that they were painted with the aid of the ‘camera ottica’ or camera obscura, which was certainly used by Canaletto. Fiocco, though he quoted this contemporary evidence, treated it too slightly while drawing attention so emphatically to Francesco’s activity as a figure painter; and other authorities have followed him in this respect. But if Francesco really worked for a time in Canaletto’s studio, that is only likely to have happened after Canaletto returned to Venice, probably in 1756, having spent nearly ten years (with two short breaks) in England; and by then Francesco was in his 40s. It may be significant that he seems to have moved out of the family studio before Gianantonio’s death in 1760. In fact, according to the 19th-century Venetian critic Missaglia, who remarked on the ‘magia d’effetto’ in Guardi’s views when contrasted with those of Canaletto, Francesco was sometimes required by Canaletto to execute a picture that he (Canaletto) had designed or laid in, to which Francesco then added some finishing touches himself. Perhaps the most instructive example of Guardi adapting Canaletto’s designs is offered by his 12 canvases representing Ceremonies at the Installation of the Doge, which were seized by the French Revolutionary government in 1797, when they were attributed to Canaletto himself (11 now in Paris, Louvre; the other in Brussels, Mus. A. Anc., where it was deposited by the French, when the others were allotted to various museums in France). These are copied, with many variations, from the set of engravings (Venice, Correr) after Canaletto by Giambattista Brustolon, which was published between 1763 and 1766. No such paintings by Canaletto are known, but ten of the drawings, probably done expressly for the engraver, once belonged to Sir Richard Colt Hoare in England, and are now scattered in various collections (e.g. London, BM). The variations introduced by Guardi in his 12 paintings show that some of them, at least, are considerably later in date than their models: the Doge in the Bucintoro on his Way to the Lido for the Ceremony of Wedding the Adriatic (ex-Mus. Augustins, Toulouse; now Paris, Louvre) may be one of the earliest, while the Doge Giving Audience to the Ambassadors in the Sala del Collegio (Paris, Louvre) may be as late as 1780, judging by the coiffure of the lady in the right-hand corner.
These adaptations of Canaletto’s Ceremonies, produced probably between 1770 and 1780, illustrate the gradual development of the most admired Guardi style: the brushwork becomes looser and freer, the colour lighter, the ‘magical effects’ more and more apparent. And as Francesco’s mannerisms in the little figures increased, his respect for the topography of Venice declined. Working probably in his studio, often from some earlier model, he would take liberties with the actual scene; and topographical evidence, as a means of dating his views of Venice, is no longer reliable. A painting by Francesco showing an architectural feature that disappeared at a known date—the campanile of the church of the Carità, for instance, which collapsed in 1741—may derive from an earlier painting or print and need not have been done before that date; on the other hand, the presence of a datable feature in a painting does, of course, provide an indisputable terminus post quem. Thus his view of the Grand Canal Looking towards the Rialto, one of the series belonging to the Duke of Buccleuch which some scholars have dated c. 1730, cannot be earlier than 1754, since it shows the Baroque campanile of the church of S Bartolomeo, which was finished only in that year.
With small figures in contemporary dress—the staffage, particularly of his paintings of ceremonies and festivals—Guardi was much more successful than with larger figures in his religious subjects. Nothing could be more charming, conveying both the grandeur and the gaiety of the scene, than the Concert of Girl Musicians in the Sala dei Filarmonici (Munich, Alte Pin.) with innumerable figures, painted to commemorate a performance by 80 orphan girls in honour of the so-called Conti del Nord, the Russian Grand Duke Paul Petrovich and his consort, on 20 January 1782. This is one of several paintings by Francesco recording the visit of the Russian prince and princess; they were probably a commission from the Venetian state, his first, at a late stage of his career. Later in the same year he received a state commission that is actually documented, for four paintings to record the visit of Pope Pius VI to his native city; and it is evident that Francesco took extra care in these cases, for several preliminary drawings exist for both series, including a nearly full-size modello (Canterbury, Royal Mus. & A.G.) for the Concert of Girl Musicians. Dress and hairstyle, particularly of the ladies, provide a valuable indication of date. In paintings of the early, Canalettesque phase of Guardi as a vedutista, ladies of the upper class have their hair dressed low—as in works by Canaletto or in Marieschi’s etchings (published in 1741) or Pietro Longhi’s drawing-room pieces of the mid-century. But in the 1770s French and English fashions had reached Venice, and the ladies’ coiffure went up—first piled in a narrow shape, with a feather or small tricorne perched on top, and finally, in the 1780s, dressed high and wide with feathers or flowers. So the fashionable ladies appear in the View of the Piazza S Marco, Venice (Edinburgh, N.G.), one of the finest of that favourite subject; or in paintings of the ceremonies and festivals in honour of some distinguished visitor; or of life in the grand villas of the Venetian mainland.
Francesco Guardi occasionally found a place, too, for elegant figures in those imaginary compositions called capricci (see Capriccio), which he produced apparently to suit the taste of his compatriots—for Venetian patrons evidently preferred them, as displaying the artist’s power of invenzione, to those straightforward views of Venice aimed at the foreign tourists. Canaletto had turned to this mode, and Guardi again followed him, perhaps with greater success. The motifs are many: ruined Classical arches or colonnades, sometimes complete settings in Classical style (see Morassi, 1973, nos 752–8); Gothic arches on the shore of the lagoon, by a dilapidated bridge; fantastic harbours with towers, or sometimes a surprising obelisk. There is much repetition, both of the principal motif and of the little figures—peasants, fishermen, washerwomen and, more rarely, the elegant couple seen from the back. There are at least four versions, all by Francesco, of the Lagoon Landscape with an Obelisk (see Morassi, 1973, nos 911–14), with only slight variations. Then there are many with isolated motifs derived from the actual architecture of Venice—the clock-tower arch (Morassi, nos 784–6) or the colonnade or courtyard of the Doge’s Palace (Morassi, nos 774–8 and 788–91). It is clear from the number that have survived that these capricci, mostly small, had a considerable vogue; and the best of them are indeed charming in conception and exquisitely painted.
Francesco Guardi was over 80 when he died, and perhaps, in his old age, a trembling hand was to some extent responsible for the peculiar idiom of his latest drawings. The contours of figures and buildings became more and more tremulous and broken; and this is especially noticeable in drawings that can be dated to his last years on certain grounds: for instance, the drawing used for the painting of the Ascent of Count Iambeccari’s Balloon in Venice, 14 April 1784 (ex-Altmann priv. col., London) or for the Fire at S Marcuola, 28 December 1789 (New York, Met.); or for the Polignac wedding of September 1790, of which only drawings (Venice, Correr) have survived.
2. Studio practice.
It is a difficult task to distinguish the hand of the master from those of his own studio assistants, especially when more than one hand might have been at work on the same picture. Francesco Guardi was no doubt assisted in producing the favourite views of Venice, in the latter part of his career, both by his younger brother Nicolò and by his son Giacomo. While attributions to Nicolò remain speculative, of Giacomo a good deal is known. Hundreds of little Venetian views by him exist, drawn in plain black and white or coloured in gouache, signed on the back: Giacomo de’ Guardis (he was evidently proud of the patent of nobility), with the address: all’Ospedaletto in Calle del Peruchier al No 5245, or in some cases a S: Canciano in Campiello della Madonna. Twenty of those in black and white are in the Lehman Collection (New York, Met.), having come from albums brought to England or Ireland in the early 19th century; some are copied from his father’s work. No-one could mistake these for Francesco’s; but there are earlier drawings by Giacomo, done when his father was still alive or only lately dead; and at that time his drawings (and presumably his paintings) were more like his father’s. He seems to have busied himself for some years after his father’s death in selling the remains of the studio to foreign visitors or (for very small sums) to Teodoro Correr; himself finishing some that were left unfinished, and copying others in drawings that he sometimes signed with Francesco’s name (e.g. Byam Shaw, 1951, pl. 78). Paintings no doubt went out from the studio simply as by ‘Guardi’, to less demanding clients. But studio remains are likely to contain scribbles and doodles that may not reflect credit on the deceased artist, but are nevertheless by his hand. Pallucchini (1943) published many such examples from the Museo Correr in Venice; and it is surely a mistake to dismiss these, as some more recent writers have done, as the work of Giacomo (whose style is not apparent there) or of some nameless imitator. At his best, Francesco Guardi was inimitable, but occasionally, like Homer, he could be said to nod.
3. Forgeries.
It was perhaps inevitable, once Francesco’s fame was established at the beginning of the 20th century, and his mannerisms were recognized, that imitations, especially of his drawings, should come on to the market; and clever forgeries, produced about the second or third decade of the 1900s (the drawings generally on 18th-century paper, which was easily obtained), are dangerous to the hopeful collector. Some have even passed as originals into the great museums and remained for a time undetected. Exhibitions at the British Museum in 1961 (Forgeries and Deceptive Copies) and 1990 (Fake? The Art of Deception) and at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts in 1971 (Fakes and Forgeries) all contained imitations of Guardi drawings (see also Byam Shaw, 1977). It is generally easier to detect a forgery in a drawing than in a painting, where dark varnish and false craquelure may facilitate the deception.
James Byam Shaw. "Guardi." In Grove Art Online. Oxford Art Online, http://www.oxfordartonline.com.proxy.lib.fsu.edu/subscriber/article/grove/art/T035278pg2 (accessed April 11, 2012).
Person TypeIndividual
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