Two heads

Lively scenes recording the minutiae of life in late 18th-century England often spring to mind when describing the watercolour drawings of Thomas Rowlandson. The artist took delight in the juxtaposition of figural pairs, contrasting youth with age, and beauty with ugliness, in a sometimes lewd but always humorous manner. Impotent old men gaze at buxom young wenches, knowing they can look but do nothing more; an elderly husband snoozes, unaware that his young wife has turned to a smooth-cheeked lover to pass the weary hour.

With Rowlandson, the viewer is always in on the joke. A somewhat excessive figure in his own right, the artist worked his way through several legacies by indulging in gambling, horseracing, going to balls and getting perilously drunk in taverns, and was therefore eminently suited to recording the lively social and sexual politics of his time.

Rowlandson was also fond of travelling, and made a number of drawing trips around Britain and Europe. This remarkably vibrant watercolour is strongly Italianate in style and subject, in the manner of the 16th century grotesques produced by Leonardo da Vinci. The cowl draped around the neck of the right-hand head suggests that the subject is a monk, who rolls his eyes to Heaven in a parody of popular images of Italian saints - a pose first introduced in the 17th century by Guido Reni as a symbol of saintly devotion. Rowlandson's figure may also be a response to the tradition of lecherous religious figures depicted in the contemporary writings of Lawrence Sterne and Tobias Smollett.

Such is the vitality in the handling of the monk's mouth that it seems as if the artist has caught him in the act of speaking, and the leering expression of both figures suggests that the object of their gaze fills them with sexual desire rather than spiritual thought. The horned satyr on the left sports the same bulbous nose as the monk, reinforcing the imrpession that perhaps he represents the priest's alter ego or the animal side of human nature.

The two figures reflect the popular belief that a caricature could reveal the truth about chararacter in a way a traditional portrait could not. The spontaneity of expression, along with the restricted colour range and sensitive tone, are characteristic of Rowlandson's work.

Sourced from: Mary Kisler, 'Thomas Rowlandson...', in William McAloon (ed.), Art at Te Papa (Wellington; Te Papa Press, 2009), p. 40.