The age-old question of whether rivalry breeds excellence finds perfect expression in the storied competition between two titans of British art: JMW Turner and John Constable. A new exhibition at Tate Britain compellingly revisits their creative struggle, inviting us to consider whether their artistic opposition ultimately produced greater work.
The Infamous 1832 Confrontation
One of the most telling moments in their relationship occurred at the 1832 Royal Academy exhibition. John Constable famously declared of his rival, "He has been here and fired a gun." While this sounds dramatic, the reality was more subtle yet equally potent. Turner, upon seeing his seascape displayed beside Constable's work, added a single bold splash of red paint to his own canvas—a deliberate act intended to draw attention away from his competitor's piece.
This incident represents the most heated moment in what many perceive as a lifelong battle for supremacy in British landscape painting. The Tate Britain's new dual exhibition naturally frames their work within this context of rivalry, echoing a sentiment from their contemporary Jane Austen that two great artists living simultaneously must inevitably become bitter competitors.
Historical Precedents of Artistic Competition
The tradition of artistic rivalry stretches back centuries, particularly during the Renaissance where conflicts often turned dangerously personal. Benvenuto Cellini, the Renaissance sculptor, actually did fire guns—killing a man at close range with an arquebus. When contemplating murdering his rival Baccio Bandinelli, whom he described as "full of badness" and whose statue of Hercules resembled "a sack of melons," Cellini reportedly reached for his dagger during a quiet moment in a piazza before sparing his life.
The Renaissance period can largely be understood through its famous artistic rivalries: Cimabue versus Giotto, Bellini versus Giorgione, and most notably Michelangelo versus Leonardo da Vinci. Michelangelo publicly humiliated Leonardo by reminding him of his failed promise to create a bronze horse in Milan. Leonardo retaliated by suggesting Michelangelo's David needed bronze underpants to be "decent."
Even Artemisia Gentileschi faced violent competition when moving to Naples, where she required a weapons license in a city controlled by an art mafia known as the Cabal. This group, led by painter Jusepe de Ribera, reportedly wounded visiting artist Guido Reni's assistant and may have lethally poisoned another outsider, Domenichino.
The Constructive Nature of Rivalry
Despite these extreme examples, Renaissance Italy generally viewed artistic rivalry as constructive. The belief persisted that competition drove artists to greater achievements—a theory supported by the magnificent works produced during this period. Michelangelo's relationship with Titian demonstrates this complex dynamic. While Michelangelo cattily remarked that Titian "would be really good, if only he could draw," the two masters significantly influenced each other's work.
Titan borrowed the pose from Michelangelo's statue Night for his nude painting Danaë, while Michelangelo responded to Titian's mastery of colour and space in his own masterpiece, The Last Judgment. This mutual inspiration through competition created some of history's most enduring art.
Modern Manifestations of Artistic Competition
The pattern of creative rivalry continued into modern times. The relationship between Francis Bacon and Lucian Freud reveals how one artist's presence could both inspire and intimidate. After Bacon's death in 1992, Freud's work notably expanded in scale and ambition, producing colossal nudes of Leigh Bowery and Sue Tilley that might not have emerged during Bacon's lifetime.
Similarly, Picasso and Matisse pushed each other creatively for decades, with Matisse reportedly giving Picasso a painting in 1907 that Picasso allegedly used as a dartboard. Their competitive tension proved so productive that after Matisse's death, Picasso's work reportedly lost some of its edge.
The Collaborative Counter-Movement
However, modern art history also shows a strong tendency toward collaboration. Avant-garde movements from the Impressionists onward often saw themselves as united fronts against bourgeois conventions. While rumours of rivalry circulated between Monet and Renoir, Dalí and Magritte, and Pollock and De Kooning, these artists primarily identified as comrades.
Picasso himself, while fiercely competitive with Matisse, collaborated harmoniously with Braque to develop cubism. The breakdown between Gauguin and Van Gogh stemmed not from professional rivalry but from Vincent's deteriorating mental health.
Contemporary Rejection of Competition
Today's art world increasingly favours collaboration over competition. In 2019, the Turner Prize nominees made headlines by choosing to share the award as a collective, representing Helen Cammock, Oscar Murillo, Tai Shani and Lawrence Abu Hamdan. While this gesture promoted solidarity, it raises questions about whether eliminating competition diminishes artistic ambition and the creation of definitive masterpieces.
This shift away from rivalry may explain why contemporary culture lacks the clear artistic heroes of previous eras. As poet T.S. Eliot observed, someone who likes all poetry equally would be dull to discuss poetry with. Similarly, exhibitions that explore historical rivalries help viewers develop critical discernment—understanding that appreciation often requires making choices.
The Tate Britain's examination of Turner and Constable ultimately suggests that if visitors leave admiring both artists equally, they may not have fully engaged with either. True appreciation often involves preference, and in the case of these two giants, preferring Constable over Turner—or vice versa—continues a critical conversation that began nearly two centuries ago.
