But Millais was much more than his “Ophelia.” In fact, the British artist had a vast repertoire. In the splendid new show “Millais” at London’s Tate Britain (through Jan. 13, then traveling to Amsterdam and Tokyo), that oeuvre is examined for the first time since 1898. Presented in chronological order, the exhibit looks at Millais’s early work, his rebellious period, his grand portraiture and his landscapes. “He was an incredibly diverse painter who tackled all the major genres of art with great energy and virtuosity,” says curator Allison Smith.
His raw talent was apparent early on. Born in 1829 to a prominent family in Southampton, Millais was accepted to London’s Royal Academy of Art when he was only 11—remaining to this day the youngest pupil ever admitted. He soon met fellow art students Dante Gabriel Rossetti and William Holman Hunt, with whom he founded the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood to buck the tedious artistic conventions popular at the time. They wanted to move away from the Raphael school of classical poses, which they thought lacked emotional depth, in favor of free-flowing works that incorporated vibrant color and rich symbolism and detail.
But their subject matter was often controversial. Millais’s “Christ in the House of His Parents” (1849–50), depicting a young Jesus—along with Mary and Joseph—in a carpenter’s studio with a bleeding cut on his hand, caused such a furor when it was first displayed that it was removed from the Royal Academy exhibition and taken for inspection by Queen Victoria. The rendering of Mary “is so horrible in her ugliness” that she would stand out in “the lowest ginshop in England,” Charles Dickens wrote in his magazine Household Words. Over time, however, critics warmed to Millais’s pre-Raphaelite works; his ethereal “Autumn Leaves” (1855–56) was deemed an instant classic by the art critic John Ruskin.
Working in such elaborate detail eventually took a toll on Millais’s eyesight—and pocketbook. He could produce only a few paintings a year, and had a tough time supporting his wife and eight kids. So he changed his focus to portraiture, soon earning a vast income from commissions and copyrights. “Bright Eyes” (1877) is a striking portrait of a confident young woman, her natural beauty and poise practically lifting her off the canvas. In “Benjamin Disraeli: The Earl of Beaconsfield” (1881), Millais finds the strength and wit of Queen Victoria’s favorite prime minister, even though Disraeli was gravely ill when he posed.
During the last two decades of his life, Millais found inspiration in Scotland, spending a significant time in the Highlands every year and painting 21 large-scale landscapes, lovely in their simplicity and desolation. In “Glen Birnham” (1890–91), a lone woman wrapped in a shawl trudges down a snow-coated lane. Unlike his earlier works, this one has no testiness, no obvious symbolism—just a wandering woman caught up in nature. The exhibit may help show just how diverse a painter Millais was, but it remains the discomfiting “Ophelia” he is best remembered for.
