Discover Our Favourites

One of my favourites items in The Harris is ‘The Rector’s Garden, Queen of the Lilies’ by John Atkinson Grimshaw 1877. Grimshaw was born in Leeds in 1836 and became a well-known painter after working as a clerk. He was particularly inspired by the Pre-Raphaelites, a style that was popular in the first half of the 19th century for its realism and attention to detail. Perhaps more recognised by his peaceful poetic scenes of the night by water and urban landscapes; I feel this piece contrasts beautifully as a bright, airy and light depiction of the movement of everyday life

In this part of The Harris, the painting is surrounded by our Scent Bottle Collection which makes for an elegant and feminine corner, particularly as it is adjacent to the art in the reading room. I imagine the woman in the painting to be the lady of the house, outsider picking the best flowers as decoration for the house.

This piece sticks out to me as an idealist life I would dream up. I envision this little cottage is in the countryside, surrounded by picturesque views and wildlife. As the garden is full of flowers, I imagine if I stepped into this painting, I would hear birds chirping, the buzz of bees and the beautiful lady humming while tending to the plants.

This art reminds me of time spent out in the garden reading, enjoying the sunshine and putting my mind at ease with nature. When I’m surrounded by wonderful pieces of our collection every day, I can’t help but spend some time studying every detail and almost imagine myself transported into the scene.

Why not step into ‘The Rector’s Garden’ by visiting The Hub, just beside the Reading Room located on the first floor?

My favourite piece in The Harris collection can be found in The Harris Café, amongst many other fantastic ceramics and glass work, is Clarice Cliff’s ‘Tea for Two’ tea set painted with the Gibraltar seascape. (Produced around 1932-33). Now, one of Cliff’s rarer designs, this set is a classic example of the stunning work Cliff produced.

Clarice Cliff was an English, ceramic artist and designer, notable for her colourful and bold hand-painted Art Deco ceramics from teacups, saucers, teapots, vases and jugs. Growing in popularity in the 1920s – 1930s, Cliff has a very distinctive style, known for her hand-painted and geometric patterns, using bold, bright, enamel colours. A lot of Cliff’s work uses popular choices such as landscapes and botanical patterns, but using more abstract, cubist designs.

Cliff’s designs work within an Art Deco aesthetic, using a lot of angular, geometric shapes. This was not only reflected in the hand-painted designs but also used in the structure of the pottery themselves. We can see the Art Deco style in this tea set in the shape on the handles of the teacups, the angular quality of the milk jug, and most famously, the teapot more often referred to as the ‘Stamford’ teapot, a very recognisable and popular piece, used many times in Cliff’s tea sets.

Growing up, I knew about Clarice Cliff from teacups that my parents had in our house, not too dissimilar from the ones we have in The Harris collection, so I was immediately drawn to this set. I find Cliff’s designs quirky and joyful, perfect for admiring as you enjoy a cup of tea in The Harris Café!

For me, one of the highlights within The Harris collection is Benvenuto Cellini’s Bronze statue Perseus with the Head of Medusa, located on the Second Floor. The sculpture depicts a gruesome scene from Greek Mythology: hero Perseus holding aloft the severed head of the fearsome monster Medusa, as he stands triumphant on the crumpled remains of her body.

As the original story goes, Medusa started off as a beautiful Priestess of Athena. She was relentless pursued by Poseidon, so to try and escape his advances she sought shelter in Athena’s Temple. The temple walls did nothing to shield her from the desire of a powerful God and this act angered Athena greatly. She viewed the deed as a defilement of her Temple and pinned the blame on Medusa, transforming her into a monstrous gorgon with snakes for hair and a gaze that would instantly turn people to stone. The story of the myth then leads us to the image depicted within the statue, as Perseus is sent on an impossible quest to slay the ‘monster’ and bring back her head as proof of completion.

In my opinion, the myth of Medusa exists as one of the most important Greek Myths when revisited with a modern, feminist lens. During my Master’s Degree, I modernised the classical story to draw an emphasis on the way Medusa is the victim in the myth. I believe Cellini’s statue alludes in several ways to the problematic nature of the supposedly heroic deed. Firstly, the downturned angle of Perseus’ head; whilst this could be interpreted as his avoiding the gaze of the gorgon, I would like to believe that he is showing exhaustion and remorse for the murder he has committed. The shard of the sword he desperately clutches in his right hand clearly reflects the intense battle and suggests that once against Medusa had the strength to fight against her impending fate.

At the bottom of the statue, underneath Perseus’ feet, Medusa’s broken body is slumped over a plinth. For the second time, her body has been wickedly defiled by a man, and I interpret that the inclusion of this plinth represents how the murder of Medusa catapulted Perseus to fame within Greek Mythology. To the general population, the name Medusa most likely conjures a mental image of a gruesome monster. In contrast, Perseus is known as a brave hero who slew a monstrous beast. The reality of the dynamic between the two is clear and with the feminist lens, we see Medusa clearly as a victim of horrific circumstances.

The statue is located within the Greek Mythology themed case on the second floor. Some of the chosen Harris collection pieces with this case are themed around a feminist perspective that was sorely missing within the original epic poetry of the likes of Ovid and Homer.

The Veiled Bride, currently on display in No. 9, ticks a couple of boxes with me. It is a beautiful sculpture of a young woman on her wedding day, about to meet the man she is to marry and who will gently raise the veil at the altar. However, for someone like me who enjoys tales of the gothic and Victorian sensation novels by authors such as Wilkie Collins, The Veiled Bride also exudes an air of mystery.

A covered face and eyes downcast, averted from the viewer; is there more to her story, with the veil not symbolising modesty but secrets about to be uncovered, or does the veil obscure her eyes from seeing unexpected danger? Will the man in her life be a cad, or does her beauty hide a villainous heart?

My favourite room in The Harris has to be Special Collections.

Whenever I walk into the space, there’s an immediate sense of calm. I notice it more prominently after I’ve been in the Wallace and Gromit exhibition, which is bright and filled with sounds of nostalgia, from the film clips on the tv screens to the visitors discussing their fondest memories of the series. The atmosphere is alive, and you can hear the unbridled joy in every area of the exhibition.

So walking through the doors that lead into Special Collections is like stepping into a vacuum. Noises fade (other than the occasional bird song, and pencils fervently scribbling via overhead projections) and the lights dim into something softer. The temperature also changes, but it isn’t unpleasant; it’s subtly cooler than in the Aardman exhibition, but it’s not quite cold.

On a personal level, it offers me a different kind of nostalgia than I find in the Aardman exhibition; when trying to explain why Special Collections is my favourite room, my mind conjured a memory of lining up outside church when I was still in primary school, and knowing that as soon as we walked through the doors, there would be an air of quiet reverence that we didn’t want to break.

For whatever reason, being in the Special Collection room creates a familiar sensation in me, albeit to a lesser degree. No matter how many times I walk through the space, I feel as though I can slow down, take a breath, and gather myself. Even though I’m unable to touch the books, I find it cathartic to share the space with them.

Reaching the end of the room and stepping into the light of the art gallery is like re-entering the Harris from somewhere else, emerging from a liminal space. There’s still an air of tranquillity that’s inherent in gallery spaces, a natural hush that seems to fall over people when they’re surrounded by art. But I think some of it is carried over from Special Collections; it’s the way our regular volume seems so much louder after whispering, so we keep our voices to a murmur, like a compromise that no one inherently asked us to make.

Since we opened, I’ve heard a few people comment that they wish the room had been used differently, or that they don’t understand the purpose of books which are locked away with their spines partially obscured by metal mesh cages; the most common refrain that I’ve heard with regards to that room is ‘books are intended to be read’.

But when I hear that, I think that toys are supposed to be played with, cups are to be drunk from, hairbrushes are made to be used. But these are items found behind glass in museums across the world because we understand that they need to be preserved and protected, that they’re still important and worth appreciating even if we can’t touch them. I feel the same about the books in the Special Collections room; the fact that I can’t touch them makes me appreciate them all the more.

What should visitors not miss when they visit?

In a drawer tucked away in the corner of Special Collections is a very special hidden gem: a watercolour piece by J. M. W. Turner.

It depicts Southwell Minster in Nottinghamshire and is an excellent example of his earlier work, which is typified by his technical attention to detail as a trained draughtsman. He had already studied at the Royal Academy of Arts for a number of years at this point, accepted at just 14 years old into the prestigious institution. He developed this watercolour in 1794 from an initial sketch done at the scene.

Turner had a lifelong fascination with architecture and worked to design and build his own countryside villa about a decade after he finished the Southwell Minster painting.

This artwork caught my eye as soon as I started working at The Harris and is still one of my favourites, the vibrant colours give way to a scene of a Dancehall night in full swing.

Born in 1956 in Grenada and moving to the UK at 10 years old, Denzil Forrester’s work focuses on the duality of cultures centring between the Caribbean and the UK, focusing on Reggae, Dancehall and Dub sound system culture.

Depicted in an expressionist style utilising overlapping colours, figures and shapes, Denzil’s paintings capture the energy and spirit of Soundsystem nights. These are a fundamental part of sharing and celebrating Caribbean culture. His work weaves records, speaker boxes and racks of Soundsystem electronics with expressive colours, shapes and dancing in his paintings. Caribbean Soundsystem culture and music has influenced a lot of UK music including but not limited to Garage, Jungle, Drum and Bass, Grime and MCing.

Denzil’s work Dub Scratchers can be found on the first floor of The Harris.