A (Not So) Brief History
By Helena Broome

Introduction

Art had always been my strongest subject at school, and my childhood was often spent drawing or making things. Music was also a strong contender, since my parents were both professional musicians. As a consequence of that, music always featured greatly in my family life. I attended many a recording session, numerous concerts, and I was often found in the chorus of operas that my father produced. As well as all this, I studied classical ballet and classical guitar; and although I took up a number of other musical instruments over the years, the guitar remained my firm favourite.

In fact, it was at a classical guitar concert given by Julian Bream (who happens to be my mother's cousin), that my family and I happened to go backstage - as was customary - after the performance. And it was here that we met, by chance, Julian's brother, Antony. My mother and he had not met for 30 years or more! It was here that I made the first of what would eventually become many links between the world of music and the world of art, for Antony Bream, we discovered, was a successful professional artist.

Now, it was at this time I was struggling to make a crucial decision: that of whether to follow my parents down the path of music, or instead to strike out for myself into the less familiar field of art. And so I was, perhaps not surprisingly, delighted to make Antony's acquaintance. Certainly, I felt I needed to talk to someone who could give me good advice, and perhaps "lead me in the right direction" so to speak.

Il Duomo - Firenze

And so it came to pass that I found myself in Florence that Summer, and an opportunity arose for me to visit the school recommended by Antony Bream, the "Studio Cecil-Graves". I fell in love with it immediately, and knew instantly this was the right place for me. With Antony's letter of recommendation clutched tightly in my hand, I met the school's heads, Charles and Daniel, and, to my absolute delight, I was invited back that September, for three months.

Studying Art (And More) In Florence

Charles' and Daniel's school lies in the heart of the artisan district of Florence, South of the River Arno in the evocatively named Borgo San Frediano. It is surrounded by silk weavers, violin makers, picture framers and restorers. The studio building itself is a deconsecrated renaissance church, but it has been a working "atelier" as far back as 1820, with a series of sculptors having used the ground floor for their work. The Studio Cecil-Graves is to be found on the first floor, up a flight of steep, marble steps. At one point on the ascent one can look down to the floor below and see the examples of the sculptors' work, even a life-size man on horse-back. A plaque outside the front door attests that this "antica bottega gloriosa" (ancient, glorious workshop) has produced many fine works of art! Perhaps this is as it should be, as the characteristically high ceilings lend themselves perfectly for light, especially North light, which is the most consistent light by which an artist can work.

Learning Painting Techniques

The premise is that a good painter must firstly be a good draughtsman. To be able to draw well, one must train the eye. This is aided by the various techniques which have been handed down over the centuries from artist to artist, such as the employment of the "sight-size method", where the artist views both subject and drawing at the same size when at a given distance from the subject.

Other classic tools are the plumbline, essential for measurement; and the mirror, to check the image of the subject and drawing in reverse, thereby checking for those not-quite-so-obvious inaccuracies.

We at the Studio Cecil-Graves were taught to draw the nude model, as it is considered one of the most difficult of forms to draw. So important was this thought to be, in fact, that it was a daily exercise. Each day, a model would sit for us all morning, sometimes for up to two or more weeks!

Piazza della Signoria - Firenze

And in addition to all this, we were encouraged to use the highest quality materials, such as charcoal from Paris and handmade paper from Rome.

Back To Reality?

All of a sudden, my first term was rapidly approaching its end. To my horror, I realised that my precious three months at the studio would soon be over. All too soon I would have to pack my bags and return home to England, back to an uncertain life at home with my parents (who, I must explain, had very generously funded my time in Florence).

My situation appeared hopeless. My parents couldn't fund me any further, and yet I knew that I just had to find some way to stay at this amazing place. I could see that I had made such great strides in my drawing in those few short weeks, and my tutors seemed pleased with my progress.

The Miracle Of Scholarship

My tutors must have been more pleased with that progress than even I had thought, for, soon before I left, they asked to see me. Not expecting anything extraordinary, I could hardly believe my ears when they began to tell me about a special scholarship that had been made available; and not only that, but that I was the fortunate student who had been chosen to receive this precious award. Against all expectation I received my heart's desire.

Months Become Years

Ponte Santa Trinita - Firenze

But enough about me - what about the other students? Well, the studio attracted students from all over the world. There were French, Dutch, Brazilians, Japanese and Scandinavians; but the majority were English and American, and virtually all would converse in English.

More Techniques

We spent the entire first year drawing. The observance of detail and the meticulous approach to drawing appealed to me. Once we were happy with a drawing, we would trace its outline, place it on a canvas, and begin painting.

By the second year I was painting casts and nudes using the "limited palette", which was black and white, yellow ochre, and vermilion. I was amazed to find that one could produce most flesh tones with only these two colours and black and white.

Before long I was painting other things, such as still lifes, and, eventually, portraits. Portraits are perhaps the most challenging discipline, but they are also the most rewarding, so the effort is well worth it; and I enjoyed the interaction between artist and sitter: the challenge of getting a good likeness, as well as capturing the character.

But there is more to oil painting than just the subject. We were also taught how to prepare our canvases, and to hand-grind our own pigments. Our training was very thorough, and gave us a strong grounding in the techniques of the Old Masters whose style we sought to emulate, but whose excellence we ever struggled to equal.

The End Of An Era

Settignano - Firenze

Work In A Cold Climate

Although I was back in England, I was not the same person that had left it those three long years ago. I had a new set of skills, and was keen to use them. Soon after returning to England I received my first major commission: a portrait of Professor John Lumley, who was the then President of the International College of Surgeons (ICS). This was to be no small undertaking. It was to be a life-size portrait, and it took many long months to complete.

Interestingly, this commission had come about because my father had been asked to sing for a performance that Professor Lumley was conducting at St. Bartholomew's Hospital in London, where he worked as a surgeon. The theme of music-leading-to-art experienced its first major recurrence.

But I digress. The portrait of Professor Lumley was then sent to Chicago, to the ICS headquarters, for its unveiling (which, alas, I did not attend). Now, the ICS elects a new President every two years and, on the strength of my first commission, I was asked to paint the portraits of the next two presidents, Professor Refaat Kamel and Professor Pedro Rubio. The first of these required a trip to Cairo (of which more later), but sadly the second was cancelled due to a resignation, so I was not destined to go to Texas. I did, however, receive a letter of recommendation stating that I was to be made the official portrait painter to the ICS 95/96. It meant a lot. I nevertheless lost the connection with the ICS, and have not painted any further professorial portraits. My consolation is that the two I did paint are now hanging proudly, somewhere in the "Windy City".

The Flight To Egypt

In spite of the ICS disappointment, my portrait career gathered momentum. I flew to Cairo again to paint two more Egyptian portraits: a Mr. Elzayat and his wife, again life-size and very demanding. Mr. Elzayat was the managing director of Emeco Travel, a huge travel firm. It enabled me to experience a few days on a Nile Cruise, which was nice!

Whilst still in Cairo I was introduced to a Mr. Magharaby, a bank manager, and we discussed the possibility of me painting some of his family. During my conversation with him it transpired that he had commissioned my cousin Antony Bream to paint some of his family some years before, and now he was asking me to do the ones Antony had not yet done! An amazing coincidence.

Back To England?

One thing I learned from both the trips to Egypt is that it is not possible to do business with Egyptians unless one is sitting face to face with them. So, short of me making another speculative trip to Cairo, I knew it was unlikely that I would be carrying out these portraits. Besides, I had other commissions to do, both in England and abroad.

One of these had special significance. I painted the portrait of the daughter of some friends of my father. They were colleagues of his, fellow opera singers. At that time they lived in England, although their real home was New Zealand.

The New Zealand Connection

The Road To Milford Sound South Island, New Zealand

Those months in New Zealand were filled with a fascinating array of people and events. I will spare you, poor reader, from hearing the associated anecdotes, but there is just one I would like to relate. Whilst painting the portrait of Dame Malvina Major, I noticed, during one of our breaks, a travel brochure lying on top of her piano. It advertised a concert in Egypt. By some extraordinary coincidence, we discovered that she too had been to Cairo, to sing in a performance at the Pyramids, and that this enterprise had been arranged by none other than Mr. Elzayat of Emeco Travel, whose portrait I had, of course, also painted. Oh, how small the world can be!

Away And Home

Those portraits in New Zealand were the last major ones I painted. Towards the end of 1998 I completed a move from London to Dorset, and early in 1999, in the picturesque village of Corfe Castle, I met the man who was to become, later that same year, my husband.

The Dorset Coast - England

And that might have been the end of the story, were it not for the events of 2004, the year when my life as a professional artist came to a gradual yet crushingly certain end.

The End Out Of Sight

Helena at the Fox Glacier, South Island, New Zealand

I now find it difficult to see people's faces, never mind paint them. Although I hardly ever picked up my guitar, I now find it almost impossible to see the musical notation to be able to play. Reading is only possible with a magnifying glass, and driving is out of the question. My career as an artist is over.

From Here To Eternity

Do I find this hard to face? Yes, I do! Each day has become a struggle, mental as well as physical. As a Christian, it has been very difficult for me to understand what God might be saying to me in all this. And yet, as a believer who trusts in God, I know that he has my best interests at heart, and that, to quote St. Paul, "...we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."

The End (For Now)