PARAGON REVIEW

Issue 7

LOUIE BURRELL: A PORTRAIT IN MINIATURE

Last year Philippa Burrell generously donated to the BJL the surviving papers of her mother, Louie. This collection contains not only a large body of correspondence, but also numerous photographs of many of Louie Burrell's portraits. Over the years Philippa has herself done much to promote awareness of her mother's work, and has organised and contributed to many exhibitions. In this article archivist Arwen Tapping (herself a joint honours graduate in history and history of art) provides a tantalising glimpse of an unusual and fascinating life.

The life and career of the artist Louie Burrell was varied and unpredictable, quite the opposite of what one might expect from a female Edwardian portraitist. The genre of the portrait miniature itself carries with it an air of the genteel and is associated with polite society and the well to do. However in her lifetime Louie encountered discouragement, bereavement and poverty and fought to maintain herself, her career and her child. Thus, whilst being a painter of the upper classes, she can be regarded as strong willed, brave and independent, struggling with many harsh realities. This strength of character and the extent of the effects of misfortune upon her seems hardly apparent in her main work: delicate miniatures - a lasting representation of her talent.

An early photograph of Louie when living at the family home at 22 Campden Hill, London

Born Louie Luker in 1873 into a large and artistic family, Louie knew from a very young age that she wanted to become an artist herself. This could be regarded as inevitable; both her parents were artists and her grandfather, Tom King Margetts, had been a carver and a designer of stained glass. Louie's mother, Ada, had been encouraged by her father, Tom, to develop her talents and became an accomplished still life painter. However, Ada fell in love with a young landscape artist, William Luker, and with their marriage she gave up art in favour of a domestic life, much against her father's wishes. She bore 12 children, of which 6 survived, but became bitter and jealous when Louie showed artistic promise and expressed her desire to develop it. William Luker maintained his career successfully initially with his genre and landscape paintings which were accepted by the Royal Academy for many years in succession. Inevitably, however, the tide of taste in the art world shifted, leaving William behind. He doggedly persevered, painting the same rural scenes of cattle and pastures again and again until finally his work was rejected by the Academy and interest in him declined. He too became bitter, and increasingly critical of Louie's aspirations. Times became hard for the Lukers, especially as Louie's four brothers had grown up selfish and idle due to too much indulgence of them by their mother. Louie's talents where discouraged in favour of her eldest brother, Willie, who was declared by his parents as possessing the true artistic genius of the family, but who never showed any inclination to use it.

In an attempt to break away from her unhappiness with her family life and to obtain an artistic training Louie enrolled herself at the South Kensington Art School. She was swiftly removed by her parents and sent to work as an art mistress at a local high school in order that she might help to support the family. Not to be deterred, and more unhappy than ever with her home life, she sent some of her work to Hubert von Herkomer at his art school in Bushey, Hertfordshire. On the strength of this work he offered her a three year scholarship but, as this was to cover the cost of tuition only, Louie was unable to accept the offer immediately. She took up a teaching post at a school in Truro, Cornwall, and in this way broke free from her family and found the means with which to save enough money to fund herself through art school. It was during these years that she started to paint her first portrait miniatures of local people which served to supplement her income and hasten the time when she could afford to commence her formal art training.

Finally, in 1900 at the age of 27, Louie left for Bushey. By this point Herkomer's school had become well known for it's progressive ethos. Plein- (or open-) air work was encouraged and women were included in life classes, unlike other schools where the female students were denied this opportunity. Louie enjoyed her time in Bushey and got on well with Herkomer, participating fully in his theatrical productions, but furthermore her talent had at last been recognised and each year she was awarded the 'Enamel' for the best student. For the coronation of Edward VII in 1902 the school held a celebratory procession for which Louie was selected to paint one of twenty linen panels bearing 7 feet high portraits of past British monarchs. Her panel depicted Edward the confessor and was painted with transparent oils so that it could be lit from behind to illuminate the celebrations. Recognition from outside the school came when her miniatures were accepted by the Royal Academy, for example 'The red haired girl' which was exhibited in 1902 and now hangs in the Victoria and Albert Museum. Her work exhibited at the Academy lead to a portrait commission from Lord North and it was his patronage that launched her as a portraitist into London's high society.

Pencil sketch produced at Herkomer's Art School, circa 1900-1903

Louie left Bushey in 1904 with a testimonial from Herkomer which read: 'I wish to testify that Miss Louise H. Luker has been one of my most successful pupils, and I can in every way recommend her for portrait work, either in oils or in miniatures'. With this, and the help she received from Lord North, she was set for a successful career; she was already receiving commissions from the aristocracy and becoming popular. Another option would have been for her to study further under Julien in Paris as she had always desired. However, unpredictably she chose another path. Louie wanted her career, and wanted to succeed, but she also wanted marriage and motherhood and so she left England for South Africa, where she felt she would find a suitable husband and father. She arrived in Cape Town and started working, painting miniatures of the distinguished and wealthy residents and, as she had hoped, met Philip Burrell, a Johannesburg merchant from a respectable family and within a month they were married. Unlike her mother, Louie did not intend marriage to bring an end to her work, and she believed that after she had borne the two children that she wanted, Philip would not obstruct her return to painting. Furthermore, she would have financial security, not having to rely on her art to keep herself and thus taking pressure off her work. Her first pregnancy was unsuccessful and so in 1907, on learning that she was carrying another child, Louie returned to England where it was felt that the health of herself and the child would be less likely to suffer. Philip remained behind to arrange his business affairs and was to join her later, but at Durban in February 1908, whilst on his way to board his ship for England, he suffered a heart attack and died, throwing Louie's world into disarray. She was left with a new born child, no home and with no financial support whilst still recovering her health from the recent birth.

It was under these circumstances that she returned to the parental home, but as soon as she had restored her health she was fighting again to leave and reclaim her independence. She recommenced her work as soon as she was able, but now it held even more importance as it had to support herself and her daughter Philippa. It was to be the means by which she would stand alone in the world as a financially independent woman, not conventionally supported by a man. This was no easy way to live for a woman of her class, but it freed her from the responsibility of living for a husband and large family, not sacrificing her talents as her mother had done. Fortunately she soon regained the popularity that she left behind when she embarked for Africa and in an article in The Ladies Field 13 July 1912 it was proclaimed that 'it has become quite the fashion nowadays to be painted by her'. Whilst a review in the Financial Times of her exhibition at the Francis Holland school in May of that year declared that Louie Burrell:

has become well known by the general public through her eleven years consecutive exhibiting at the Royal Academy. The artistic distinction of her work will delight all who are able to appreciate it, while her innate gift of reproducing the most individual characteristics of her subjects makes her portraits the source of yet more intimate pleasure to their possessors.

During this time Louie produced miniature portraits painted onto ivory of many notable individuals, including Prince George of Battenburg and Princess Marie Louise of Schleswig-Holstein. In 1912 she was elected as an Associate of the Royal Miniature Society and exhibited at many galleries. But the strain of supporting herself, a daughter and a nurse began to show and her health broke down. A change of climate was recommended to improve her condition and so she left London for a six month visit to Canada.

She settled in Ottawa where a distant cousin, Martin Burrell, was working in the Canadian government as secretary of state and minister for agriculture. This was to Louie's advantage and she was soon painting the rich and influential members of Ottawa society, from politicians to millionaires created by the timber trade. Part of her attraction was that she was English and Ottawa was very much a new world city trying to emulate English culture and traditions; an English artist seemed to create the right impression. Such was her success that she was commissioned to paint miniatures of the Governor General, the Duke of Connaught and his daughter Princess Patricia, and Louie and Philippa became regular guests in his home. The intended six months stretched into two years and Louie came to tire of Ottawa and wished to return to England. She was particularly concerned that Philippa, now six years old, should start her schooling in London; until this point Louie had taught her herself. So in July 1914 it was planned they would return to London after a round the world trip planned and paid for by Louie's wealthy friends in the Canadian government. These plans were halted before they had even left Vancouver by the outbreak of the First World War. Rather than return to an England in the midst of war, Louie moved to Victoria, a small town with a large population of English settlers, and hoped to reproduce the level of popularity she had achieved in Ottawa. Unfortunately this was not to be. The town rejected Louie and her art and she failed to attract any solid work. Her money was running short and with little hope of earning more through painting, she set to work as a boarding house keeper. Eventually this too failed and in the face of unpaid rent and the demands of creditors she turned back, once again, to art. Taking a cowshed near a military camp, she swept it clean and turned it into a simple studio, placing a sign outside advertising quick portraits for 25 cents. These water-colour sketches on paper became popular with the local soldiers and Louie's ingenuity whilst working with very little, kept her and her daughter from destitution. When the local regiment finally left to fight in Europe she survived, as the venture had served as publicity which brought some commissioned work.

By 1916 Louie was weary of struggling to survive in such a provincial town and was on the move again, this time to California, where she stayed for three years painting Hollywood tycoons and film stars. Although enjoying America, she became dissatisfied with a life of constant change and foreign lands. So in 1919, with the war over and the passage home paid for by a wealthy friend, Louie and Philippa returned to London.

To re-establish herself in London Louie adopted a similar tactic to that used in Victoria. In 1922 she started painting quick portraits in a shop window in Beauchamp Place, charging five guineas a portrait, painting two sitters a day. This venture proved to be popular and soon she was earning more money than ever before. One of her first customers was Mrs Stanley Baldwin, who became Louie's new patron and in 1923, as wife of the new prime minister, she commissioned life size oil portraits of herself and her daughters. Louie by this time was feeling strained by the volume of work and, with her eyesight weakening, she turned away from miniatures and concentrated on these large scale oils, particularly as they commanded a higher price. Art was now hard grinding work for her and she came to be less and less satisfied with the results, although her sitters regarded them as a success. Feeling the need for more support in her life, she remarried in 1924 to John Moore, the brother-in-law of a friend. She hoped that this would bring stability to her life, but she merely gained another person to support, and after six months the marriage ended due to John's violence and alcoholism. As another attempt to promote herself and obtain useful publicity, Louie gained permission to paint Princess Mary in 1927. The resulting work was impressive, but failed to bring Louie any further commissions. In 1929 Louie and Philippa, now almost 20, collected all their money together and set off for India, as Philippa wanted to escape England for what she saw as the glamour and excitement of colonial life.

It was hoped that Louie would again start to receive high society commissions to support herself and Philippa before their money ran out. Armed with a letter of recommendation to the Viceroy Lord Irwin written by Mrs Baldwin, they settled in Simla, his summer home and awaited his arrival for the season. Very soon Louie was working from her hotel room, producing small oil portraits for £25 each. She and Philippa were taking great trouble to appear to be of greater means than actually was the case in order to be accepted into the colonial ruling class and when the Viceroy arrived and Louie received permission to paint him, it seemed as though they had succeeded. They joined in with all the social events of the Viceregal Court, receiving a stream of invitations. Attempting to keep up such a lifestyle Louie became over-stretched, living at a level she could not afford to maintain. Louie was dependant upon her patrons, and by associating with the most fashionable, wealthy and powerful she secured her living; if she lost contact with such people she would struggle to gain work. The Viceroy's portrait accumulated increasing importance: it had to be impressive or her popularity would fail. Louie was finding it harder and harder to work on because of this extra burden and time and time again the painting was abandoned. Whilst labouring over the Viceroy's picture she executed a very successful portrait of the Commander in Chief, Sir William Birdwood, who ordered a second to hang in his official residence in Simla, and then purchased a third to hang at Flagstaff House, his official residence in Delhi. From this it would appear that Louie had not lost her abilities, but that they were being affected by her worries and her fear of artistic and financial failure.

Portrait miniature on ivory of Philippa Burrell, exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1910

After the season had passed in Simla Louie and Philippa moved to New Delhi, leaving the unpaid debts of their unsustainable lifestyle behind them. They had succeeded in infiltrating the Viceregal court, but this infiltration had cost more than they could afford. Louie's failure to deliver the Viceroy's portrait led to a decline in her popularity and in New Delhi commissions and invitations were not forthcoming. She returned to Simla and then travelled on to Kashmir, painting Indian Royalty such as the Rajah of Mandi in 1928 and the Maharajah of Kashmir in 1929. Finally, after eighteen months of struggling, Lord Irwin's portrait was completed, too late to secure Louie's position in Viceregal circles and failing to bring the publicity for which it had been intended. She was unsatisfied with the result, feeling that it lacked life and was overworked, but her relief lay in the fact that it was, at least, finished.

In 1930 Louie and Philippa left India for a six month stay in Cairo. During this time Louie once again tried to establish herself, but by now her health was poor and her attempts to paint failed. They came back to London in 1931, but were not to remain there for long. Louie recovered her health and in 1932, with a new Viceroy to paint, she went again to India, this venture proving to be less successful than the last. Whilst preparing to paint the Viceroy, Lord Willingdon, her health failed again and she lost faith in her artistic ability. She returned once more to England.

Louie was never again to produce professional portraits on a commission basis, although she did continue to paint, and earn money by it. Although not now producing grand portraits or intricate miniatures, art seemed to be an essential activity to Louie and she painted both for the money and for herself. She enjoyed sketching expeditions, either abroad to France and Italy, or in England to Cornwall, and even working around London. In 1942, whilst living in Harrogate, at the age of 70, she found a new method of promoting and selling her work, by exhibiting it in Ogden's, a local jeweller's shop. She produced water-colour sketches from photographs of politicians and royalty, such as Stanley Baldwin and King George. These proved to be popular, and a sketch of Winston Churchill led to further work, when it was purchased by a Brigadier-General Jones who showed it to the Prime Minister. Churchill was so impressed by the work that he ordered two copies for himself, and in 1950 the Brigadier-General ordered yet another copy. Louie also supported herself during the war in London with a job painting lampshades and boxes; she continued with this type of decorative work until 1951. In post-war England it was hard to find a market for such work; Louie despaired of the tastes of the new world around her and the place of the artist within it. She describes trying to sell her work in a letter to Philippa of 1948:

Gorridge buyer would not even look at my things. Said she could not sell what she had and would not buy any more. I might have had lovely things for all she knew and her department was full of awful things. Commercial art is a funny job. I expect all artists have an awful time now . . . I lived in a good age - had one or two strikes and wars, but not so awful as now.

In 1952 Louie received an annual grant from the artists general benevolent fund, and at last gained some financial security in her life. She continued to paint almost until her death in 1971, at the age of 98, no longer compelled by the demands of money and society.

Louie Burrell was a highly determined woman who chose her own way in life. In doing this she showed great ingenuity, adapting to her circumstances and making the best of them. Such flexibility is reflected in her art which ranges from fine miniatures, to water-colour sketches and large scale oils. Yet, in each medium she still succeeds in capturing the essence of her subject, not only in physical likeness, but also in the liveliness of execution. In subject matter too she was able to change, and painted not only portraits, but also landscapes and latterly employed a decorative technique for her work on boxes and other ornamental items. Further proof of her resourcefulness is evident from her methods of promoting and selling her art, even when there seemed initially to be little market for it. Finally, she was a devoted mother and managed to support her child on her own at times when she was without support herself.

Arwen Tapping