“I must create a system, or be enslaved by another man’s,” wrote the poet William Blake (1757–1827) in his book Jerusalem. And he did create a system. In manuscripts of poetry and personal mythology, using a printmaking process he invented, Blake’s words and illustrations intertwine in cosmic coherence. Inspired by visions he’d begun having as a child, Blake held forth on politics, literature, and history, often in immortal verse and with drawings pulled from his private fantasies.
“William Blake: Burning Bright” has just opened at the Yale Center for British Art, in New Haven, Connecticut. Organized by Elizabeth Wyckoff, the museum’s curator of prints and drawings, and Timothy Young, its curator of rare books and manuscripts, the exhibition presents Blake’s genius in its original form. It’s a “multi-sensory experience,” Wyckoff says of the more than 100 artworks on view.
The exhibition takes its subtitle from the first line of Blake’s beloved poem “The Tyger,” collected in his Songs of Experience (1794). As some have pointed out, the tiger pictured under the poem isn’t all that fearful and fiery. But the tree to the right of the text compensates. It seems to be taking over, its branches reaching into the spaces between and around stanzas. Meanwhile, the tendrilous y in the title word “Tyger” breaks into the silhouette of a flying bird. Many a page from the hand of Blake is eternally in motion.
Yale’s large collection of Blake works is capped by its unique copy of Jerusalem, an epic poem about the decline of England due to war and organized religion; it contains a cast of mythical characters from what might be called the Blake Artistic Universe. The artist labored on Jerusalem from around 1804 to 1820 and printed a mere six copies of the work. Yale’s is the only one that he lavishly and completely colored in, painting with watercolor and gold. The exhibition displays 18 plates from that edition—evidence that Blake, late in life, still excelled in unusually kinetic imagery. In one Jerusalem plate, a man floats unhurt amid fires, his form and the flames merging in wavy lines that invade the text.
Blake’s printing invention—relief etching—involved writing and drawing with acid-resistant liquid on a copper plate, then immersing it in acid that would eat away at everything not protected by the liquid. The result was an uneven surface ready for the press. Relief etching gave Blake the flexibility to place his texts and graphics freely. Yet he was also expert at traditional engraving and etching, as seen in one of his last projects, Illustrations of Dante.
Dante’s Divine Comedy includes the story of Francesca, who falls in love with Paolo, the married younger brother of her husband, Giovanni, who kills them both in a rage. Their passion undimmed even beyond the gates of Hell, the adulterers have inspired artists such as Rossetti, Tchaikovsky, and Rodin. Blake’s engraving, titled The Whirlwind of Lovers, pictures a large snake-like stream of helpless spirits, flowing fast away. In a separate enclosure, Francesca and Paolo tell their story, which has caused the Dante figure to faint in shock to the ground. But in a nearby sun-like circle, a happy vision of the pair shines. To the curator Timothy Young, this suggests that Blake, despite Dante, sees the couple as forgiven and saved.
“William Blake: Burning Bright” is on at the Yale Center for British Art until November 30
Peter Saenger has written and edited for The Wall Street Journal on such topics as art, art books, museums, and travel. His fiction has appeared in The New Yorker
