You may notice that many Pre-Raphaelite women look similar.
That’s because they only had a few models and they traded them around.
I suppose it takes a special kind of woman to hold a boring pose for a series of paintings that have no emotional content at all without slitting her wrists.
Here is someone playing a musical instrument and someone reading a musical score. Do they look like they are ready to boogie?
No, they are waiting to be picked up by Uber, but the Internet hasn’t been invented yet.
This couple appear to be snuggled on the sofa.
She has fallen asleep from ennui, and he has the glazed look that comes from watching cricket on the telly. (Ennui is boredom that is rich enough to afford a french accent.)
But wait, what is this? A poorly executed Othello and Desdemona by John Everett Millais, but showing Othello’s jealousy as well as Millais’ difficulty getting the eyes right.
It was painted by Millais at the age of fourteen, and apparently he grew out of the ability to depict emotion.
To be fair, the Pre-Raphaelite collection is probably the least interesting thing about Wightwick (pronounced Wittick) Manor. It’s a late Victorian mock Tudor Arts & Crafts mansion with considerable charm…
and obscene furniture.
This is euphemistically known as a prostitute’s chair. It is low to the ground, and the arms are shaped so that the occupant’s legs could be spread and hooked over them. Our National Trust guide assured us that it was just a conversation piece, but it just happened to be the most worn piece of furniture in the entire house. We can only assume that the first owner of the house, Theodore Mander, was tired and shagged out after a hard day at the paint factory and said, “Somebody get me a fucking chair,” and his secretary took him seriously.