For artists whose talent is answerable to a beating heart and an awakening conscience—and this is especially true for writers in the here-and-now—achieving an artistic and commercial balance has always been problematic: how do you say (or portray) what needs to be said (or portrayed) without effectively chopping off your nose and spiting your face?
How do you invest your gift—your talents—without selling out your underlying principles?
William Holman Hunt stands out as one who skilfully walked this tightrope. He profited handsomely at the bank without seeming to bankrupt the principles which kept his brush 'from truth unswerving'.
Of the original members, William Holman Hunt was perhaps the most steadfast amongst the randy Pre Raphaelite Brotherood for sticking to the principles of ethics and excellence, on which John Everett Millais, Hunt and the dauntingly-named Dante Gabriel Rosetti cleverly set afloat their careers.
The Holman Hunt exhibition's Curator, Carol Jacobi from the National Gallery, described Hunt as 'the Damien Hirst of his day' in The Guardian, for commanding the princely sum of £5,500 for a single painting (and 'turning his back on the values of the old guard'), though beyond setting a record price tag, the comparison is flattering to Hirst and positively degrading to Hunt.
For example, Holman Hunt's 'The Finding of the Saviour in the Temple' is primarily a labour of love, and you get the feeling it would've been finished even if the artist himself had had to turn over the tables in the temple. Of the six years obsessive toil it took to complete, Hunt spent two of them in Jerusalem doing his homework. Not only is it a painting of such uncompromising, skilled brushwork and mind-boggling detail, it has a beating heart that agents cannot command, money cannot conjure and fame will never fully inspire.

William Holman Hunt's self portrait greets you at the entrance to the Manchester City Art Gallery exhibition like an Old testament Prophet. Indeed, it is from his Old Testament readings as a child that he no doubt learned the power of the symbolism that figures in his more relevant works, like 'The Hireling Shepherd' and 'The Awakening of Conscience', and the latter becomes even more pertinent when you hear young visitors enquire 'what's conscience?'.

I love the story of how Holman Hunt twice visited the baking Southern banks of the Dead Sea, taking along his own goat (the first one died en route so he went back for another) so he could paint 'The Scapegoat' in situ. Somehow, I can't imagine Damien Hirst sitting with a rifle in one hand to protect against Bedouin bandits whilst working with his brush in the other. Not unless he had a top-of-the-range Winnebago, that is, with Bono and chums in tow to make the biblical proportions a little easier to digest for the celebrity palate.

In 'The Shadow of Death' Christ is portrayed in his carpenter's workshop, and as Jesus stretches out after a hard day's work, he inadvertently casts a shadow of the crucifix onto the wall behind him, foreshadowing his own earthly end. For me, this is Hunt's strongest idea but sadly it becomes his greatest failing, because the concept is ill-served by the depiction of Christ, who seems to be doing some kind of a merry little dance.

Whilst we're on the subject of strong ideas in (religious) art, those visiting the William Holman Hunt exhibition might take the time to go and see Norman Adams 'Stations of the Cross' at the Catholic Church of Saint Mary's, which hides away in Mulberry Street facing the main Town Hall facade. Although I'm not a great lover of much modern painting, the framing of his ideas in Adams' Stations of the Cross are mostly spectacular. It boggles the mind to consider what the fabulously gifted Bacon might have done with such inspired ideas, should he have opened himself to the subject rather than forcing himself upon it with all the relish of a master butcher.

There is much to admire in this excellent exhibition and in a world awash with well-marketed mediocrity, it is a joy to see diamond skills placed above a veritable ocean of fool's gold: a packed gallery at weekends would suggest there are many who feel the same, and it is good to see so many art students making sketches and taking notes.

It is no secret that the majority of people will visit the Manchester Art Gallery to see William Holman Hunt's three variations on his iconic image of Christ, 'The Light of the World', the largest of which has a more permanent home in Saint Paul's Cathedral.
Although the Christ figure in Holman Hunt's most famous image almost reaches Dickensian proportions of sentimentality and, as a Goth girl beside me decried, 'Christ was Jewish!' not a medieval Knight-type figure, these chocolate box moans miss the whole point: 'The Light of the World' is an inspired piece of fantasy art with a clear Evangelical purpose, for which Hunt might now be accused—by the new breed of Inquisition—of 'promoting faith' (a dangerous, guileful accusation levelled at the makers of the C.S. Lewis' Narnia films, amongst others, which were repeatedly given validity on news channels).
Even if it lacks a certain power, 'The Light of the World' is simple to grasp, lovingly rendered and beautiful to behold. It is therefore a concept near-perfectly realised.

Adolphe Valette
If you are planning to go and see the William Holman Hunt exhibition at the Manchester Art Gallery, you might also look in on Adolphe Vallete on the floor below. One-time Manchester art teacher and extraordinary draughtsman, Vallete produced some of the best ever paintings of the host city and for me his work is one of the main jewels in Manchester City Gallery's crown. Oh, and whilst you're about it, look for the Liam Spencer in the small white frame, which sits as uncomfortably as a Naked Emperor might amongst the obsessively skilled and the naturally bejewelled.

For artists whose talent is answerable to a beating heart and an awakening conscience—and this is especially true for writers in the here-and-now—achieving an artistic and commercial balance has always been problematic: how do you say (or portray) what needs to be said (or portrayed) without effectively chopping off your nose and spiting your face?
How do you invest your gift—your talents—without selling out your underlying principles?
William Holman Hunt stands out as one who skilfully walked this tightrope. He profited handsomely at the bank without seeming to bankrupt the principles which kept his brush 'from truth unswerving'.
Of the original members, William Holman Hunt was perhaps the most steadfast amongst the randy Pre Raphaelite Brotherood for sticking to the principles of ethics and excellence, on which John Everett Millais, Hunt and the dauntingly-named Dante Gabriel Rosetti cleverly set afloat their careers.
The Holman Hunt exhibition's Curator, Carol Jacobi from the National Gallery, described Hunt as 'the Damien Hirst of his day' in The Guardian, for commanding the princely sum of £5,500 for a single painting (and 'turning his back on the values of the old guard'), though beyond setting a record price tag, the comparison is flattering to Hirst and positively degrading to Hunt.
For example, Holman Hunt's 'The Finding of the Saviour in the Temple' is primarily a labour of love, and you get the feeling it would've been finished even if the artist himself had had to turn over the tables in the temple. Of the six years obsessive toil it took to complete, Hunt spent two of them in Jerusalem doing his homework. Not only is it a painting of such uncompromising, skilled brushwork and mind-boggling detail, it has a beating heart that agents cannot command, money cannot conjure and fame will never fully inspire.

William Holman Hunt's self portrait greets you at the entrance to the Manchester City Art Gallery exhibition like an Old testament Prophet. Indeed, it is from his Old Testament readings as a child that he no doubt learned the power of the symbolism that figures in his more relevant works, like 'The Hireling Shepherd' and 'The Awakening of Conscience', and the latter becomes even more pertinent when you hear young visitors enquire 'what's conscience?'.

I love the story of how Holman Hunt twice visited the baking Southern banks of the Dead Sea, taking along his own goat (the first one died en route so he went back for another) so he could paint 'The Scapegoat' in situ. Somehow, I can't imagine Damien Hirst sitting with a rifle in one hand to protect against Bedouin bandits whilst working with his brush in the other. Not unless he had a top-of-the-range Winnebago, that is, with Bono and chums in tow to make the biblical proportions a little easier to digest for the celebrity palate.

In 'The Shadow of Death' Christ is portrayed in his carpenter's workshop, and as Jesus stretches out after a hard day's work, he inadvertently casts a shadow of the crucifix onto the wall behind him, foreshadowing his own earthly end. For me, this is Hunt's strongest idea but sadly it becomes his greatest failing, because the concept is ill-served by the depiction of Christ, who seems to be doing some kind of a merry little dance.

Whilst we're on the subject of strong ideas in (religious) art, those visiting the William Holman Hunt exhibition might take the time to go and see Norman Adams 'Stations of the Cross' at the Catholic Church of Saint Mary's, which hides away in Mulberry Street facing the main Town Hall facade. Although I'm not a great lover of much modern painting, the framing of his ideas in Adams' Stations of the Cross are mostly spectacular. It boggles the mind to consider what the fabulously gifted Bacon might have done with such inspired ideas, should he have opened himself to the subject rather than forcing himself upon it with all the relish of a master butcher.

There is much to admire in this excellent exhibition and in a world awash with well-marketed mediocrity, it is a joy to see diamond skills placed above a veritable ocean of fool's gold: a packed gallery at weekends would suggest there are many who feel the same, and it is good to see so many art students making sketches and taking notes.

It is no secret that the majority of people will visit the Manchester Art Gallery to see William Holman Hunt's three variations on his iconic image of Christ, 'The Light of the World', the largest of which has a more permanent home in Saint Paul's Cathedral.
Although the Christ figure in Holman Hunt's most famous image almost reaches Dickensian proportions of sentimentality and, as a Goth girl beside me decried, 'Christ was Jewish!' not a medieval Knight-type figure, these chocolate box moans miss the whole point: 'The Light of the World' is an inspired piece of fantasy art with a clear Evangelical purpose, for which Hunt might now be accused—by the new breed of Inquisition—of 'promoting faith' (a dangerous, guileful accusation levelled at the makers of the C.S. Lewis' Narnia films, amongst others, which were repeatedly given validity on news channels).
Even if it lacks a certain power, 'The Light of the World' is simple to grasp, lovingly rendered and beautiful to behold. It is therefore a concept near-perfectly realised.

Adolphe Valette
If you are planning to go and see the William Holman Hunt exhibition at the Manchester Art Gallery, you might also look in on Adolphe Vallete on the floor below. One-time Manchester art teacher and extraordinary draughtsman, Vallete produced some of the best ever paintings of the host city and for me his work is one of the main jewels in Manchester City Gallery's crown. Oh, and whilst you're about it, look for the Liam Spencer in the small white frame, which sits as uncomfortably as a Naked Emperor might amongst the obsessively skilled and the naturally bejewelled.