Landscape

Salvator Rosa's volatile character has attracted the attention of numerous writers. The 18th century Romanticists held him in awe as a wild-eyed rebel more at home with cave-dwelling bandits than effete connoisseurs of the Salons of Rome, a perspective later embroidered by a somewhat fantastical biography published in London  in 1842 - long after his death - by Lady Sydney Morgan. The truth is somewhat less dramatic but equally interesting.

Rosa was certainly forced to sell works form the piazza near his house in Naples in order to make a living when he first began producing paintings. However, his talent soon drew support from fellow artists, enabling him to spend time in the studio of the Spanish painter Jusepe di Ribera... and then with Aniella Falcone... At the age of 20, Rosa moved to Rome for a period, finding acccommodation and employment with a fellow Neopolitan, Cardinal Mara Brancaccio, whose milieu exposed him to current artistic developments in the city...

In 1637, Rosa returned to Naples, but was eventually forced to flee the city after becoming involved in a failed uprising against the Spanish rulers in 1648. At this time he returned to Florence which he had first visited from Rome when he carried out commissions for the Medici family. His second period there allowed him to complement his hours in the studio with his interests in playing music, writing poetry and studying Stoic philosophy.

Although he inevitably produced numerous landscape works, including small-scale figures drawn from the world of mythology, to meet popular demand, two of the paintings held in Wellington's and Dunedin's collections (<em>Rocky Landscape with Figures</em>) represent a different focus that is found in much of his work, where genre figures compete with a more rugged form of landscape closer to home. The attractions of Naples and its environs had long made it a destination for travellers and artists alike. The often vertiginous coastline is sometimes referred to as Siren Land, because according to legend, the Sirens lured unwitting sailors to their deaths with their songs of enchantment. The outstanding beauty of its environs and marvellous climate had a similar effect on tourists longing for the sea. Particular sites were just as popular with visitors then as they are today. In a pre-photographic age. the skill of pen and brush was in high demand to record the sights, much as they were at Tivoli outside Rome...

...In both Dunedin's and Wellington's paintings, thick brushstrokes are visible to the naked eye, building up texture in the rock faces and density in the high cumulus clouds.  The figures in Wellington's <em>Landscape</em>... also serve as focal points to attract our attention. On the left, a cowherd can be made out disappearing from view, while another figure on horseback crosses a simple stone bridge, seated sideways on his horse as he drives his sheep away. We can see that the horse is a well-worn animal, treading a well-worn path. Most intriguing is the group of figures in the centre of the work, who are deep in conversation, all eyes turned towards the woman dressed in blue and gold in their midst who holds a baby in her arms... The older man seated at her side and the younger one opposite, his red vest creating a further splash of colour, are wearing contemporary adult dress, unlike the white-haired man who seems to be wearing classical clothes. Perhaps he is some ancient philosopher who has dropped in from another era to aid them in their debate, for they gesticulate with the young woman to drive home their point.

Immediately noticeable is the startling contrast of the range in tones between these two paintings. Wellington's <em>Landscape</em> has a predominance of ochre, and the brushstrokes also appear broader than in Dunedin's painting, and with rapidly applied dabs visible to the eye.  However, it is hard to imagine what Wellington's painting might have looked like when fresh from the easel; at some time in the past it has been skimmed when overcleaned by some zealous hand, so that any surface glazes have been lost.  Such occurences used to be all too common, with works often suffering in that way before the development of scientific testing of paints and varnishes was able to establish whether they were stable enough to withstand cleaing.

The rocky outcrop behind adds diagonals to the composition, creating a simlar sense of animation to that found in Dunedin's painting.  Yet these rocks are also typographical, a reminder that the sea around Naples remains even today in a state of transformation. Vesuvius had erupted again in December 1631, destroying much of the immediate countryisde, and the landscape around the bay of Naples continues to be defined by great changes of rock pressed over centuries by volcanic activity....

Quoted from Mary Kisler, <em>Angels & Aristocrats: Early European Art in New Zealand Collections</em>  (Auckland, 2010), pp. 124-30.