| Born | 1785 (Soho) |
| Died | 1851 (London) |
| Nationality | United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland |
| Profession | Maler, Graveur |
| Family | Father: Samuel Alken Sibling: Samuel Alken (II) |
| Notable works | Grouse Shooting (1825), Boy Sitting Holding a Cap, Man Leaning on a Fence (1815), Study of Children, The Infant (1824) |
| Museums | Yale Center for British Art, Clark Art Institute |
Anyone who wants to learn how to paint a horse at full gallop would do best to study under the British painter and printmaker Henry Thomas Alken. A picture such as “Full Cry, c.1840” - named for the English hunting term “full cry” - demonstrates the task: a grey and a chestnut stretch out across the meadow, one rider sits deep in the saddle in a red coat, the other waves his hat as he leaps, the pack streams away to the right like a mottled chain, and at the edge of the picture a farm labourer pauses with his spade to watch. Everything is in motion, and yet every leg, every hoof, every fetlock is right - the slender joint above the hoof. The first lesson, then: speed comes from precision.
Second lesson: origins. Across four generations, the London Alken family produced eight documented artists. Henry Thomas, born in Soho on 12 October 1785, was the third son of Samuel Alken, who also painted hunting and sporting scenes and engraved them in aquatint, an etching technique used to create soft, even tones; two of his brothers painted as well, as did his own sons later. He first trained at home, then with the miniature painter John Thomas Barber Beaumont; two of his portrait miniatures were exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1801 and 1802, after which he abandoned the small format. Yet the miniaturist's training remained in his hand: it can be seen in the finger-sized hounds in his hunting pictures, each individually delineated, with its own markings and gait.
Third lesson: a name is a tool. His earliest sporting prints, beginning in 1813, bear the signature of an invented figure, “Ben Tally Ho” - named after the cry with which English hunters announce the fox, and well suited to gentle satire. From 1816 onward he signed his own name, and business flourished: the young father lived above the shop of the publisher Thomas McLean in the Haymarket and supplied drawings for 30 shillings a day, a very good income at the time. In 1821 McLean published his principal work, “The National Sports of Great Britain”, fifty hand-coloured aquatint plates covering everything England then considered sport, from horse racing and foxhunting to fishing, prizefighting and cockfighting - a clear-eyed inventory of the sporting culture of his time.
Fourth lesson, and the most important: the wit belongs to the people, never to the horses. Alken worked in both registers with the same hand, producing noble hunting series as readily as albums of caricatures, and the two meet most beautifully in his plates devoted to Mr Jorrocks - a fictional character created by the writer Robert Smith Surtees, a London grocer obsessed with hunting. In “Lift Me Up! Tie Me in My Chair! Fill My Glass!”, Jorrocks lounges blissfully askew in his armchair after a day's hunting, his legs stretched wide apart, while the company around the table raises its glasses; on the wall, as propriety demands, hang two hunting pictures in gold frames. The title is Jorrocks's own heartfelt sigh, and Alken laughs with his exhausted hero rather than at him.
Fifth lesson: a signature offers only limited protection against confusion. Because so many members of the Alken family painted and numerous works are signed simply “Alken”, the art trade has spent generations puzzling over which hand painted which picture; his son Samuel Henry sometimes used the deceptively similar signature “H. Alken”, and one rule of thumb among dealers holds that ladies riding sidesaddle are more likely to indicate the son. “The Start of the Derby” shows how customers recognised their Alken: a field of jockeys knee to knee, their silks green, red, blue and yellow, the horses fully extended, one second before the race breaks apart. And in “Hunting Scene”, red coats and the mottled pack sweep together across the green - the fever of a hunting morning condensed onto a small panel.
Sixth lesson: the material. Alken's scenes in oil thrive on dark horses' bodies, the single rich red of the coats and the changing light across the meadow; as an art print, this painting requires a support capable of carrying such contrasts. We therefore prefer to print them on lightly glossy canvas: the subtle sheen keeps the blacks deep and gives the red its luminosity.
Alken himself gave the final lesson. In 1849, long ill and impoverished - why the prosperity of his successful years had vanished is not recorded - he summarised in 58 pages what forty years in the workshop had taught him: “The Art and Practice of Etching”, a practical etching manual for beginners. The second edition appeared in 1851, and by then the master had little time left: he died in London on 7 April 1851. His grave is in London's Highgate Cemetery; his family paid for the funeral.
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| Born | 1785 (Soho) |
| Died | 1851 (London) |
| Nationality | United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland |
| Profession | Maler, Graveur |
| Family | Father: Samuel Alken Sibling: Samuel Alken (II) |
| Notable works | Grouse Shooting (1825), Boy Sitting Holding a Cap, Man Leaning on a Fence (1815), Study of Children, The Infant (1824) |
| Museums | Yale Center for British Art, Clark Art Institute |
Anyone who wants to learn how to paint a horse at full gallop would do best to study under the British painter and printmaker Henry Thomas Alken. A picture such as “Full Cry, c.1840” - named for the English hunting term “full cry” - demonstrates the task: a grey and a chestnut stretch out across the meadow, one rider sits deep in the saddle in a red coat, the other waves his hat as he leaps, the pack streams away to the right like a mottled chain, and at the edge of the picture a farm labourer pauses with his spade to watch. Everything is in motion, and yet every leg, every hoof, every fetlock is right - the slender joint above the hoof. The first lesson, then: speed comes from precision.
Second lesson: origins. Across four generations, the London Alken family produced eight documented artists. Henry Thomas, born in Soho on 12 October 1785, was the third son of Samuel Alken, who also painted hunting and sporting scenes and engraved them in aquatint, an etching technique used to create soft, even tones; two of his brothers painted as well, as did his own sons later. He first trained at home, then with the miniature painter John Thomas Barber Beaumont; two of his portrait miniatures were exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1801 and 1802, after which he abandoned the small format. Yet the miniaturist's training remained in his hand: it can be seen in the finger-sized hounds in his hunting pictures, each individually delineated, with its own markings and gait.
Third lesson: a name is a tool. His earliest sporting prints, beginning in 1813, bear the signature of an invented figure, “Ben Tally Ho” - named after the cry with which English hunters announce the fox, and well suited to gentle satire. From 1816 onward he signed his own name, and business flourished: the young father lived above the shop of the publisher Thomas McLean in the Haymarket and supplied drawings for 30 shillings a day, a very good income at the time. In 1821 McLean published his principal work, “The National Sports of Great Britain”, fifty hand-coloured aquatint plates covering everything England then considered sport, from horse racing and foxhunting to fishing, prizefighting and cockfighting - a clear-eyed inventory of the sporting culture of his time.
Fourth lesson, and the most important: the wit belongs to the people, never to the horses. Alken worked in both registers with the same hand, producing noble hunting series as readily as albums of caricatures, and the two meet most beautifully in his plates devoted to Mr Jorrocks - a fictional character created by the writer Robert Smith Surtees, a London grocer obsessed with hunting. In “Lift Me Up! Tie Me in My Chair! Fill My Glass!”, Jorrocks lounges blissfully askew in his armchair after a day's hunting, his legs stretched wide apart, while the company around the table raises its glasses; on the wall, as propriety demands, hang two hunting pictures in gold frames. The title is Jorrocks's own heartfelt sigh, and Alken laughs with his exhausted hero rather than at him.
Fifth lesson: a signature offers only limited protection against confusion. Because so many members of the Alken family painted and numerous works are signed simply “Alken”, the art trade has spent generations puzzling over which hand painted which picture; his son Samuel Henry sometimes used the deceptively similar signature “H. Alken”, and one rule of thumb among dealers holds that ladies riding sidesaddle are more likely to indicate the son. “The Start of the Derby” shows how customers recognised their Alken: a field of jockeys knee to knee, their silks green, red, blue and yellow, the horses fully extended, one second before the race breaks apart. And in “Hunting Scene”, red coats and the mottled pack sweep together across the green - the fever of a hunting morning condensed onto a small panel.
Sixth lesson: the material. Alken's scenes in oil thrive on dark horses' bodies, the single rich red of the coats and the changing light across the meadow; as an art print, this painting requires a support capable of carrying such contrasts. We therefore prefer to print them on lightly glossy canvas: the subtle sheen keeps the blacks deep and gives the red its luminosity.
Alken himself gave the final lesson. In 1849, long ill and impoverished - why the prosperity of his successful years had vanished is not recorded - he summarised in 58 pages what forty years in the workshop had taught him: “The Art and Practice of Etching”, a practical etching manual for beginners. The second edition appeared in 1851, and by then the master had little time left: he died in London on 7 April 1851. His grave is in London's Highgate Cemetery; his family paid for the funeral.