Probably John Martin's 'Judgement' triptych, but especially The Great Day of His Wrath. Both the size of the canvases themselves and the sheer scale of their scenes and detail is breathtaking in person, they're extremely metal for biblical paintings, and they're partly inspired by the landscapes and coast of (roughly) where I grew up. The painting itself and his work in general has been through so many fascinating periods of huge popularity and total disregard too, almost as if they channel something cyclical about human nature and societal concerns rather than just being dubbed 'classics' and then universally loved.
I also love Harbour Window with Two Figures, St Ives: July 1950 by Patrick Heron. Perhaps it's my coastal obsession again but the texture-like colour and warmth in the home with the cool but subtly beautiful tones outside are a joy and the whole painting as such a sense of motion, as though its the sea that remains steadfast and the world swells and rocks around it. He was also a great writer and a righteous activist (as were his pacifist parents) for the vast majority of his life - a concientious objector to WW2, a socialist, and of course a founding member of the CND (campaign for nuclear disarmament).
Special shoutout to a pair of paintings by George Grosz, Metropolis and Explosion. They were painted at the same time basically, while WW1 was still intermittently tearing apart Berlin. In Metropolis I'm obsessed with the sense of movement of the rushing figures representing modern city life (and the single figure, perhaps the artist, watching from a window) set against the towering structures that go from being a distinctive street to a seemly endless Escher-like labyrinth the further back in the skyline you get. Always the doomer socialist, many of his paintings of cities have this dark red sense of dread that hangs over them, doom and violence that most of the figures ignore. Which is why I think Explosion is such a brilliant companion piece, the movement and excitement of Metropolis exploded into harsh splinters and shards, moving only outward in destruction. Brick, buildings, even limbs and half figures wailing amongst the smoke and fire and yet there's still the calm figure in the window, powerless to stop it but not reacting, as though he knew this was inevitable.
Probably John Martin's 'Judgement' triptych, but especially The Great Day of His Wrath. Both the size of the canvases themselves and the sheer scale of their scenes and detail is breathtaking in person, they're extremely metal for biblical paintings, and they're partly inspired by the landscapes and coast of (roughly) where I grew up. The painting itself and his work in general has been through so many fascinating periods of huge popularity and total disregard too, almost as if they channel something cyclical about human nature and societal concerns rather than just being dubbed 'classics' and then universally loved.
I also love Harbour Window with Two Figures, St Ives: July 1950 by Patrick Heron. Perhaps it's my coastal obsession again but the texture-like colour and warmth in the home with the cool but subtly beautiful tones outside are a joy and the whole painting as such a sense of motion, as though its the sea that remains steadfast and the world swells and rocks around it. He was also a great writer and a righteous activist (as were his pacifist parents) for the vast majority of his life - a concientious objector to WW2, a socialist, and of course a founding member of the CND (campaign for nuclear disarmament).
Special shoutout to a pair of paintings by George Grosz, Metropolis and Explosion. They were painted at the same time basically, while WW1 was still intermittently tearing apart Berlin. In Metropolis I'm obsessed with the sense of movement of the rushing figures representing modern city life (and the single figure, perhaps the artist, watching from a window) set against the towering structures that go from being a distinctive street to a seemly endless Escher-like labyrinth the further back in the skyline you get. Always the doomer socialist, many of his paintings of cities have this dark red sense of dread that hangs over them, doom and violence that most of the figures ignore. Which is why I think Explosion is such a brilliant companion piece, the movement and excitement of Metropolis exploded into harsh splinters and shards, moving only outward in destruction. Brick, buildings, even limbs and half figures wailing amongst the smoke and fire and yet there's still the calm figure in the window, powerless to stop it but not reacting, as though he knew this was inevitable.