I’ve had this book since 2014, but only just this month found the time to sit down and enjoy it properly. Written by Andrew Matthews and released for Shakespeare’s 450th anniversary (though whether this was of his birth or the staging of his first play is unclear) this retells eight of his plays: four tragedies, three comedies and one history. This gives Angela Barrett a lot of scope, not only in tone and theme, but size as well. Some of her illustrations are full-page spreads, while others are just tiny vignettes.
The unique thing about this book is that Barrett provides some insight into her work at the back of the book, going through each story and her creative decisions in illustrating each one. For Romeo and Juliet, she notes that certain outfits and settings were based on real costumes and places, and that the clothes of the lovers were deliberately made bright in contrast to their dark and sad surroundings: “as befits their story.”
At one point she mentions trying to capture: “the oppressive heat of the sun and the cold feel of the stone,” and even though she’s talking about a different picture than the one I’ve chosen to discuss, it’s also a reasonable description of the above image.
This depicts the moments after Romeo and Juliet’s deaths, before they’re discovered by their families – or perhaps it’s hours afterwards, when everyone else has left the tomb. Though they are bathed in light (presumably from a lantern that is just out of sight) they are surrounded by the overwhelming darkness of the vault. Romeo and Juliet are rendered so small in comparison that it’s a little difficult to see them, and both their faces are obscured – almost as if Barrett wants to give them some measure of privacy, or make us feel we’re intruding on a private moment. From this far away, it’s easy to assume the two figures are only sleeping.
The composition is obviously very deliberate, and though it would be a cliché to say it calls to mind the light at the end of a tunnel, or even life nestled within the womb – well, I just said it anyway. We can’t escape the fact that this is very much a depiction of death, so if it is symbolic of the womb, then it’s an inverted one. Its walls are of cold stone and the beings in its depths are already dead.
Yet there is still beauty there: the tomb isn’t grim or grey, but a deep dark purple, with elegant curves and a grainy texture. The way it frames the lovers feels almost protective, and provides a natural contrast to the warmth of the light in its depths. But it is still death, and it is all-encompassing. Those tomb walls deliberately take up most of the image, with Romeo and Juliet barely glimpsed therein. What little light there is will soon be extinguished.
But Romeo and Juliet remains a story of hope, for with their deaths the feud between their families is ended. If the light that shines on them represents their love and hope, then it’s deliberately made small in within the much greater presence of the tomb that surrounds them – but it’s there nonetheless.
(As a final note, it wasn’t until after I chose this illustration that I realized someone else must have appreciated it too, as it was also featured as the image on the back of the book).
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