Aubrey Beardsley: A Catalogue Raisonné by Linda Gertner Zatlin

Abstract

Weighing just over fourteen pounds across its two five-hundred page volumes – containing over a thousand illustrations – Linda Gertner Zatlin’s catalogue raisonné of Aubrey Beardsley must count, by size if nothing else, as one of the most significant books on turn-of-thetwentieth-century British visual culture published in recent years. The catalogue raisonné is not an especially common form in the field of modern British art; two of Beardsley’s more illustrious contemporaries – Walter Sickert and William Nicholson – have only received partial catalogues, both significantly smaller (and lighter) than Zatlin’s study. Francis Bacon has, of course, also just received the full catalogue treatment, with Martin Harrison’s five-volume, thirty-six-pound set published in June 2016. Bacon, however, had a career lasting several decades; whereas Beardsley – who died at the age of twenty-five – had a career lasting several months. In fact, Zatlin spent almost as many years working on this book as Beardsley spent living. This all serves as a firm reminder of Beardsley’s continuing popularity on the international stage. Which other artists from this period – sometimes referred to as the ‘Beardsley period’ – would merit such a lavish publication? Zatlin’s book, which contains as many as fifty previously unpublished images, is a sumptuously produced affair, almost breathtaking in its beauty (due credit must go here to the designer, Emily Lees). One of Beardsley’s strengths has always been that, even in a poorly reproduced image, he still looks pretty good. Zatlin has made special effort, however, to gather up the best images available, re-photographing many examples, and giving them plenty of space within the page. The images are backed up with well-researched and gracefully written supporting texts, supplying the usual exhaustive information regarding exhibition, provenances and literature, followed by a summary of the work’s salient features, and how these have been critically received over the years. Some of these texts amount to little more than a few lines, while others (such as those on the images produced for Oscar Wilde’s Salomé) stretch over several pages. Each section – the book is ordered according to major projects, as opposed to a strictly chronological progression – is introduced by a short essay, which puts the project in the context of the artist’s career and, to a slightly lesser extent, the wider art world. Beardsley’s swift progression from Kate Greenaway imitator to Edward Burne-Jones acolyte, from canny appropriator of Mantegna, Whistler, Japanese prints and Rococo design to original Art Nouveau master and (arguably) Art Deco prophet, is charted in no small detail. Reoccurring motifs in his art are also well-covered, from Pierrot to the ghoulish foetus, with a particular emphasis on flower symbolism and, of course, the ubiquitous sexual imagery. The shortened nature of Beardsley’s life means that we can follow his development on what is almost a day-to-day level (though sadly, the lack of good records makes it hard to know exactly the days on which most of these artworks were