Wright of Derby Exposed: Art Meets Science in Stunning Shadows Display!

Under the eerie glow of a full moon, amidst the dark silhouettes of trees, a man wielding a shovel works diligently. Could he be concealing a corpse, or perhaps gathering parts for a grotesque creation, reminiscent of Frankenstein? This scene, captured in a painting by Joseph Wright of Derby, invokes curiosity and a touch of the macabre, fitting for a man who was friends with the early scientists and industrialists of the Lunar Society of Birmingham, whose advances influenced the likes of Mary Shelley.

However, the man next to the frothy waters of the Derwent River is not assembling a body. Instead, he engages in an act considered quite sinister by today’s ethical standards: he is sealing a fox den to prevent the animals from returning, making them vulnerable to the next day’s hunt. Perhaps Wright, like myself, felt a twinge of sympathy for these foxes, as the scene depicted in ‘An Earthstopper on the Banks of the Derwent’ carries a certain malevolence. Yet, it’s undeniably captivating, illuminated by both a lantern and the moon, bringing the night to life with sounds of rustling leaves, rushing water, and the thud of the earthstopper’s spade.

An examination at the National Gallery into Wright’s portrayals of darkness and light positions him as the pioneer of gothic art. The genre of gothic novels began with Horace Walpole’s ‘The Castle of Otranto’ in 1764, while Wright explored the terrors of night during the same decade. But the true terror in his works is rooted in science, not the supernatural.

In ‘A Philosopher by Lamplight’, two young adventurers encounter more than they expected. As they navigate a moonlit path to a cave, they are horrified to find an old man manipulating a skeleton, a scene illuminated by the flicker of a candle. The hermit, a philosopher, ponders the mysteries of life and death, but his inquiries yield no supernatural answers. As the 18th century embraced science for rational explanations of nature, the notion of a divine being was challenged by radical thinkers like Erasmus Darwin, Wright’s friend and Charles Darwin’s grandfather.

In ‘The Blacksmith’s Shop’, the glow from heated metal brightens a decrepit structure, reminiscent of classical temples seen in Renaissance nativity scenes. This symbolizes the transition from the old religious world to a new era of materialism, suggested by the setting of an industrial forge within the ruins of a temple.

Wright invites viewers to marvel at the universe’s mysteries through his striking depiction of a scientific demonstration in ‘A Philosopher Giving That Lecture on the Orrery in which a Lamp Is Put in Place of the Sun’. The National Gallery enhances this experience by displaying a real orrery alongside the painting.

One of the reasons Wright’s depiction of the orrery captivates is its portrayal at varying scales, seen from the different viewpoints of the audience surrounding the model in a dimly lit library. From up close, the children’s faces reveal awe as the model appears massive; from further away, it shrinks to a mere scientific tool beside the adults who, unlike the children, show less fascination and more skepticism or detachment.

Perhaps a more dramatic approach is necessary. Wright’s Orrery, along with other paintings from Derby Museum’s excellent collection, is joined by the National Gallery’s ‘An Experiment on a Bird in the Air Pump’. This piece, created two years later, moves from awe to horror as a young girl turns away, unable to watch a bird about to be deprived of air in a scientific demonstration. The painting masterfully uses light and shadow to craft a scene filled with tension and impending doom.

Wright portrays this scientific experiment with stark realism. The central apparatus, robust with wooden and brass components, echoes the steam engines developed by his contemporaries in the Lunar Society. As society co-founder Matthew Boulton famously said, “I sell here, Sir, what all the world desires to have: power!”

The depicted audience, local nobility in a Georgian mansion, watches powerlessly as the new age of scientific understanding unfolds before them. The scientist, akin to an 18th-century Oppenheimer, prepares to sacrifice the bird and, metaphorically, the innocence of an era. Wright’s scene is not an indictment of science, but a prescient reflection on its potential to radically alter human existence. Behind him, a candle backlights a vessel, filling it with a glowing liquid that casts an ominous light on a nearby human skull, turning a scientific demo into a haunting spectacle of knowledge, power, and mortality. The youngest onlooker, unable to tear her eyes away, might just be inspired to pen her own gothic tale.