Rex Whistler's 'bewildering and diverse' range

Associated media

'This generous book is a publication to treasure' says Julian Freeman

In Search of Rex Whistler: His Life and Work by Hugh and Mirabel Cecil

The notion of a ‘many-sided man’ was rarely more wholly applicable to a British artist than it was – and is – to Rex Whistler (1905–44), and the Cecils have done him proud. There are other contenders, and great artists amongst them, but Whistler’s oeuvre is in its own way unique amongst all who studied art in post-1918 Britain: from 1922–5 he was mentored by Henry Tonks,   Slade Professor, and, apocryphally, if for no other reason, the most unlikely source of such support.

Think what you will: the results of that association run through this beautifully illustrated book. It is combination of luxury item and extensive scholarly study, clarity, discursiveness and restraint. Who didn’t Rex Whistler know? Who didn’t commission his work? And why – despite the untiring efforts of his late brother, Laurence, and those in the know – has he remained such a background figure in British art? To move through the reproductions in this books is to be often startled by recognition, by familiarity: book lovers will have seen much of Rex before, in illustrations and dust-jackets, and research students of graphic design may have encountered his work for Shell in the 1930s. His extraordinary decorations in the Tate restaurant at Millbank are chronicled here, as are his interiors at Plas Newydd, Anglesey, and at Mottisfont Abbey, Hants, both now in the care of the National Trust. They are merely the furthest extent of Whistler’s career, cruelly terminated in Normandy in 1944 whilst serving with the Guards Armoured Division. He was 39.

Why is Rex Whistler interesting? Why attempt such a book? There is renewed interest in the social aftermath of the First World War, and in the social and creative life of the 1920s and 30s. Whistler was undoubtedly able to move between intense creativity and hedonism during those decades, yet, as the Cecils are at pains to emphasize, he was reflective by nature and there are periods when he appears to have ground out his work in an effort to remind himself of his own calling.

A combination of excellent contacts and ability enabled Whistler to gain recognition and, with it, a pantheon of would-be and successful commissioners. The book is uncompromising in its portrayal of Whistler’s reticence, in its portrayal of him against those whom he held dearest, those with whom he was compelled to do business, and those from whom he preferred to keep a distance. Such a strong series of contrasts make his creative invention, and his execution of so bewildering and diverse a range of projects, all the more breathtaking. Compared with artists such as Oliver Messel, John Piper, and John Armstrong, and notwithstanding their often similar connections with the great and the good, Rex Whistler’s spirited invention is probably the feature that sets him apart from those artists. In an era in which so much debate centred on new art from Europe, particularly, Whistler derived much of his creative distinction from the art of the past, and his fantasy – so often so close to the surreal – proved reassuringly captivating for his audiences.

Perhaps surprisingly, Whistler’s war has to date been the only part of his career to receive significant scholarly interest, as the subject for a 1994 exhibition at the National Army Museum (Jenny Spencer-Smith,  Rex Whistler’s War, 1994, National Army Museum, London). The pervasive atmosphere of that excellent show was one of a life cut short, and indeed both the exhibition catalogue front cover and the back illustration of the Cecil’s book bear Whistler’s Self-portrait in Uniform, May 1940. It is a complicated picture in which the artist himself seems withdrawn: the bright day stretches out behind him but all else is in shadow, including the artist himself. On a chair at his left are his cap, gloves, belt and stick; to his right on the balustrade a tray of drinks has been set, and beside them at the left-hand edge of the canvas are his paintbrushes, tied with a cord, perhaps set aside for a more settled future.  

To their great credit, the Cecils have surely presented everything of immediate value to the casual or informed reader, and have not dwelt on what might have been had Whistler lived. Every stage of his creative life is treated with warmth, and side issues are introduced as they become necessary. Whistler’s great friendships with the British aristocrat Stephen Tennant (1906–87, possibly a model for Sebastian Flyte in Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited) and writer and social activist Edith Olivier (1872–1948) are given their full value, but the authors surely score highest for their balanced appreciation and discussion of Whistler’s oeuvre, and for their considerate treatment of those who provided the structure of his existence. ‘Pleasure’ is the predominant sensation upon experiencing any work by Rex Whistler. This generous book is a publication to treasure, and only a step away from the real thing.

In Search of Rex Whistler: His Life and Work by Hugh and Mirabel Cecil is published by Frances Lincoln Limited, 2012. 272pp, fully illustrated in mono and colour, £40.00 hardback. ISBN 978 0 7112 3230 3