Steeton Manor House, Near Farnley 1815 - 1818

Curator: Turner really captured something special between 1815 and 1818 with his watercolor "Steeton Manor House, Near Farnley." Isn't it lovely? Editor: It’s gentle, almost muted. Like looking through a rain-streaked window at a memory. There's a real sense of everyday life, but it's shrouded. The home looks grand, but very lived in, not particularly posed for admiration. What kind of impression does it strike in you? Curator: It strikes me as quintessentially English countryside. Not in the rolling hills and grand vistas kind of way, but in the everyday, domestic kind of way. There's laundry hanging, people going about their tasks – someone up a ladder. There is intimacy here, a snapshot. Editor: That ladder becomes so interesting then, right? Here he is, literally scaling into the heavens, or, rather, the upper branches. Is that ladder, the figure, maybe an assertion of man’s desire for self-improvement? To ascend not only literally but spiritually? Is it the mundane reaching towards enlightenment? Curator: I love that interpretation. Though I can also see it as simply a very human touch. Turner was fascinated by industry and nature's power, but also with quiet moments, wouldn’t you agree? This feels very much in that vein. Capturing not some grand statement but a peaceful existence between work and life. Notice how the trees curve inwards, directing our view inward. They almost cradle the scene. It’s like he's saying, "Here is a space held sacred". Editor: Absolutely, Turner saw the sacred in the ordinary. Look at how the clothes on the line appear almost spectral, hanging in that strange intermediate space. White as ghosts dancing; there is a purity in them against that lived in Manor house. Turner’s symbols almost give presence to that moment, transience rendered almost permanent. He really thought of the deep meaning and symbolism, no? Curator: I'd wager, yes. He seemed eternally interested in the subtle poetry of everyday moments and this, to me, echoes the charm of what that existence offers. Editor: It’s an image that sticks with you, like a faded photograph found in an old book.