Claire Birkenshaw
In his book, Imperial Nostalgia, historian Peter Mitchell (2021, p.3) powerfully reminds us that:
“The violence of the past is ongoing in the present; not only structurally, in that it is built into the foundations of the society in which we live, but in more subtle, more constitutive ways: in the words we use, the images we attach to things, the ways we imagine ourselves and each other.”
Recent events concerning the strip search of ‘Child Q’ (Gamble and McCallum, 2022), a Black female child of secondary school age, by Metropolitan police officers at her school, brought into focus the disparities between the way in which children are imagined to be by professionals: some children are afforded notions of innocence and vulnerability, others are not. In turn, these imagined attributes are applied to certain children unequally (Davis and Marsh, 2020). The subsequent Safeguarding Practice Review of the ‘Child Q’ incident by Gamble and McCallum (2022) demonstrates this by identifying the influencing factors of racism and adultification during safeguarding decision-making processes by professionals. As Firmin et al. (2022) point out, the professionals charged with keeping ‘Child Q’ safe in education were the ones who compromised her welfare, resulting in her harm. The experience of ‘Child Q’ examples clearly Mitchell’s ‘violence of the past’ argument.
What is adultification?
Due to the legacies of slavery and colonialism, Black children are more likely to experience adultification which is specific to them, advances Davis (2022). Davis (ibid. p.5) defines the adultification of Black children as:
“A persistent and ongoing act of dehumanisation, which explicitly impacts Black children, and influences how they are safeguarded and protected. This form of bias spans pre-birth and remains on a continuum to adulthood.”
England’s Children’s Commissioner, Dame Rachel de Souza, recent investigation regarding the use of strip searches of children conducted by police under their stop and search powers across England and Wales seems to add further evidence to the concept of Black children’s experience of adultification by professionals. Her report concludes that Black children are indeed disproportionately more likely to be strip searched than white children in England and Wales (Children’s Commissioner for England, 2023). If adultification is connected with a racialised notion of children’s innocence, as Davis (2022) attests, where then did this innocence asymmetry originate?
Histories of the present
Parton (2014, p.2) suggests that to understand current safeguarding practices, engagement with the past is necessary to exact “histories of the present.” By taking this approach, he concludes, professionals working with children are challenged to “think about the present differently” (ibid.). As a result, concepts such as adultification can be identified, addressed, and resolved, thus improving safeguarding. In effect, a Foucauldian genealogy of childhood innocence is required. As Scott (2014 p.166) points out, a Foucauldian genealogy traces the origins, and evolution of “various practices” and “accepted truths” found in institutions.
For the purpose of this blog then, I wish to trace, albeit briefly, the formulation of racialised notions of childhood innocence by connecting three influential paintings of children produced by two of Britain’s elite artists, Joshua Reynolds (1723-1792) and Sir John Everett Millais (1829-1896) during the late eighteenth and nineteenth century, which helped to present to the wider public the visual image of childhood innocence.
Historical location of racial innocence
According to Harvard professor, Robin Bernstein (2011, p.4), childhood innocence was “raced white” during the nineteenth century, and is, therefore, “historically located.” Arguably though, the coupling of innocence with whiteness can be traced to the production of a series of popular and influential child portraitures painted toward the end of the eighteenth century by Britain’s elite artists.
Influenced by Enlightenment thinkers, such as John Locke and Jean-Jacques Rousseau, elite eighteenth-century British portrait artists, among them Sir Joshua Reynolds, presented a reimagined collective vision of ‘the child’ to the public through their paintings. Embedded within these images were a set of basic visual signals signifying notions of innocence. Art historian Anne Higonnet (1998, p.9) terms this collective visual image, ‘Romantic childhood’, arguing these paintings chart the “visual invention of childhood innocence”. Given that the vast majority of these Romantic childhood images portrayed white children, conceivably then, it was a visual invention of white childhood innocence, not just childhood innocence per se.
Over time, and with the aid of improved image technologies coupled with mass production, this visual invention of childhood innocence circulated far and wide, rooting itself firmly into our consciousness through popular culture. Thus, this Romantic vision of childhood “captured the modern western visual imagination and became the foundation of what we assume childhood looks like” (ibid., p.23).
The Age of Innocence by Sir Joshua Reynolds (?1788)
While there is uncertainty as to the exact date when Reynold’s The Age of Innocence (?1788) painting was produced, art historians are clearer in determining the date of its present title to an engraving impressed in 1794 (Tate, n.d.). According to Higonnet (1998, p.15), this painting presents an “archetype of innocence”, and thus acted as a visual blueprint for future depictions of childhood innocence.
Dressed in loose fitting cream clothing, this young white girl looks comfortably at ease and safe in her natural surroundings, that of nature. The absence of footwear reinforces the image’s sense that children belong in the natural world. The image, therefore, projects a timeless and unchangeable quality, creating a feeling of familiarity and resonance for the contemporary viewer. After all, as Higonnet (ibid., p.23) stresses, The Age of Innocence laid “the foundation of what we assume childhood looks like.”
Penelope Boothby by Sir Joshua Reynolds (1788)
Painted in 1788, Penelope Boothby demonstrates the peak of Reynold’s power “as a painter of Innocence [sic]” (Wright, 2005, p.46). Chiming with the visual signals depicted in The Age of Innocence, Reynold’s painting portrays another young white girl, Penelope Boothby, daughter of Sir Brooke Boothby, sitting in nature. While the shadowy backdrop engenders a feeling of menace for the viewer, it does not seem to trouble Penelope. Instead, her darkened surround emphasises the cream tones of her clothing and skin. The adornment of over-sized clothing and hat amplify her smallness, heightening the sense of Penelope’s innocence and vulnerability. As Higonnet (1998, p.28) puts it: “Penelope Boothby has been endearingly miniaturized.” Her slightly sideways glance suggests she is absorbed in her own childhood. However, Penelope’s avoidant gaze invites the adult viewer to look at and enjoy this Edenic scene of childhood innocence.
Sadly, Penelope died shortly after the image’s production in 1791. When exhibited to the public for the first time in 1871, Penelope Boothby became one of Reynold’s most admired paintings. Not only did it capture public imagination and sentiment, but that of later nineteenth-century artists also. None more notably than that of Sir John Everett Millais, whose nostalgic image, Cherry Ripe, was a clear homage to Penelope Boothby.
Cherry Ripe by Sir John Everett Millais (1879)
Painted in 1879 by the Pre-Raphaelite artist, Sir John Everett Millais, Cherry Ripe can lay claim to the starting point of the globalisation of white childhood innocence: the yardstick which innocence was measured against. Cherry Ripe’s production was commissioned by the Victorian publication, The Graphic. While there are compositional similarities between Reynold’s Age of Innocence and Millais’ Cherry Ripe, perpetuating notions of Edenic innocence, there is one notable difference: the model’s fixed gaze towards the viewer. The child’s fixed gaze can be read in two ways. On the one hand it promotes “a distinct and authentic sense of the girl’s personality and self-awareness” (Sotheby’s, n.d., n.p). On the other, it invites the viewer into a moment of nostalgia for the imagined childhood innocence constructed by Reynold’s during the late 1700s.
This image of nostalgic childhood innocence was propagated further when, in 1880, The Graphic offered a coloured reproduction of Cherry Ripe. More than 600, 000 were copies sold; higher if The Graphic had been able to meet the public’s demand for the image. Further mass-production of the image enabled distribution across the globe. As John Guile Millais ([1899] 2012, pp.121-122) notes on the ‘hearts and minds’ reach of his father’s image:
“Cherry Ripe found its way into the remotest parts of the English-speaking world, and everywhere that sweet presentment of English childhood won the hearts of the people. From Australian miners, Canadian backwoodsmen, South African trekkers, and all sorts and conditions of colonial residents, came to the artist letters of warmest congratulation, some of which stirred his heart by the deep emotion they expressed.”
Not only did Cherry Ripe offer the public a nostalgia for an imagined childhood innocence from the previous century (an Edenic innocence thought to have diminished during the 1800s), The Graphic’s front page cover for its Christmas edition promoted the idea that childhood innocence, specifically that of a white English girl, would act as both a ‘civilising’ and ‘pacifying’ force, and thus support Britain’s colonial project ambitions. As Bradley (1991, p.192) insightfully posits:
“Cherry Ripe also became a potent emblem of the British Empire’s strength in the last two decades of the nineteenth century. Crucial to Cherry Ripe’s function as imperial propaganda is a paradox: the British Empire, built with masculine soldierly and administrative expertise, turned to sweetly sentimental (i.e., feminine) images of childhood to represent its highest ideals. The girl child symbolized all that was prized, all that the manly soldier pledged to protect.”
Furthermore,with the purchase of image reproduction rights for both Cherry Ripe and A Child’s World (Millais, 1886) by the Pears’ Soap Company as part of their visual advertisement activity, Cherry Ripe’s white innocence was repurposed again as a strategy to sell ambered bars of ‘pure’ soap to families across the British Empire. In doing so, Pears’ commercial campaign constructed an artificial hierarchy of children’s innocence, formulated on skin cleanliness, emphasising the desirable attribute of whiteness. Conceivably then, Pears’ advertising campaign acted as a form of visual ‘public pedagogy’ (Giroux, 2012, p.59), and helped to soak the visual invention of white childhood innocence, through washing and bath time routines, into wider public consciousness. Consequently, the visual invention of childhood innocence, first formulated by elite British artists during the latter half of the 1700s, became trapped into public consciousness, like ambered insects, frozen in time.
While this genealogy of the origins of racialised visual innocence is brief, it may offer some insight to help explain the root of adultification of Black children in Britain. Therefore, in order to address this issue, we must imagine innocence and vulnerability equally. This means acknowledging and addressing the violent, and insidious legacy of both slavery and colonialism, which continues to influence how Black children are seen by the people and institutions who are charged with safeguarding them. Furthermore, we cannot be colour-blind to skin colour – we must see the colour of Black children’s skin. As Reni Eddo-Lodge (2018, p.223) urges, we need to change “the narratives” and “the frames” so that we are no longer colour-blind. Lorraine O’Grady’s image, Art is…(Girlfriends Times Two) (1983/2009), examples how changing the narrative of childhood innocence can be actioned through art in a simple, but powerful way. “Taking action to ensure the best outcomes for all children” (Department for Education, 2023, p.6) is a safeguarding necessity. Therefore, addressing visual inequality of childhood innocence through art, whether via the curriculum or through display, is one form of safeguarding action schools can take to make a positive difference for all children. If, as educators, we overlook, or dismiss, the positive role the arts can play in addressing ‘the violence of the past’ we unwittingly assist in maintaining its insidious presence in affecting all of our lives.
Resources
The Hepworth Wakefield School Prints Project: Supporting the teaching of Black histories across the curriculum
Tate Gallery: Black Identities and Art
https://www.tate.org.uk/art/black-identities-and-art
Anti-Racist Art Education (ARAE) Resources
https://www.nsead.org/resources/anti-racist-art-education/
Ofsted Research Review Series: Art and Design
References
Bernstein. R. (2011) Racial Innocence: Performing American Childhood from Slavery to Civil Rights. New York: New York University Press.
Bradley, L. (1991) From Eden to Empire: John Everett Millais’s “Cherry Ripe”. Victorian Studies, 24 (2) Winter, pp.179-203.
Caldecott, R. (1880) Design for front cover of The Graphic, Christmas Number 1880 [Drawing]. Held at Royal Academy of Arts.
Children’s Commissioner for England (2023) Strip Search of Children in England and Wales: Analysis by the Children’s Commissioner for England. London: Children’s Commissioner for England.
Davis, J. and Marsh, N. (2020) ‘Boys to Men: The Cost of ‘Adultification’ in Safeguarding Responses to Black boys.’ Critical and Radical Social Work, 8(2), pp. 255-259.
Davis, J. (2022) Adultification Bias within Child Protection and Safeguarding. Manchester: Her Majesty’s Inspection of Probation.
Department for Education (2023) Keeping Children Safe in Education 2023: Statutory Guidance for Schools and Colleges. London: Crown.
Eddo-Lodge, R. (2018) Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race. London: Bloomsbury.
Firmin, C., Lefevre, M., Huegler, N. and Peace, D. (2022) Safeguarding Young People Beyond the Family Home: Responding to Extra-Familial Risks and Harms. Bristol: Policy Press.
Gamble, J. and McCallum, R. (2022) Local Child Safeguarding Practice Review: Child Q. London: The City & Hackney Safeguarding Children Partnership.
Giroux, H.A. (2012) Disposable Youth: Racialized Memories and the Cultural of Cruelty. Abingdon: Routledge.
Higonnet, A. (1998) Pictures of Innocence: The History and Crisis of Ideal Childhood. London: Thames and Hudson.
Mitchell, P. (2021) Imperial Nostalgia: How the British Conquered Themselves. Manchester: Manchester University Press.
Millais, J.E. (1879) Cherry Ripe [Oil on canvas]. Private Collection.
Millais, J.E. (1886) Bubbles [Oil on canvas]. Held at National Museums of Liverpool, Lady Lever Art Gallery.
Millais, J.G. ([1899] 2012) The Life and Letters of Sir John Everett Millais: President of the Royal Academy. Volume Two. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
O’Grady, L. (1982/2009) Art is…(Girlfriends Times Two) [Photograph]. Private Collection.
Parton, N. (2014) The Politics of Child Protection: Contemporary Developments and Future Directions. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan.
Reynolds, J. (?1788) The Age of Innocence [Oil on canvas]. Held at Tate, London.
Reynolds, J. (1788) Portrait of Penelope Boothby [Oil on canvas]. Private collection.
Scott, C.E. (2014) Genealogy. In: Lawlor, L. and Nale, J. eds. The Cambridge Foucault Lexicon. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. pp.165-174.
Sotheby’s (n.d.) Important British Pictures: Lot 21 [Online]. London: Sotheby’s. Available from:< https://www.sothebys.com/en/auctions/ecatalogue/2004/important-british-pictures-l04121/lot.21.html> [Accessed 10 November 2023].
Tate (n.d.) Sir Joshua Reynolds: The Age of Innocence [Online]. London: Tate. Available from:< https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/reynolds-the-age-of-innocence-n00307> [Accessed 10 November 2023].
Wright, A. (2005) Sir Joshua Reynolds: Penelope Boothby. In: Abbot Hall Art Gallery, Pictures of Innocence: Children in 18th-Century Portraiture. Kendal: Abbot Hall Art Gallery. pp.46-47.
Suggested citation
Birkenshaw, C. (2023) A brief genealogy of British art’s influence on imagining childhood innocence. Altered States of Academia, 12 November [Online blog]. Available from:< https://alteredstatesofacademia.blog/2023/11/12/a-brief-genealogy-of-british-arts-influence-on-imagining-childhood-innocence/> [Accessed ? ].
Altered States of Academia 
Leave a comment