Revered across continents

Watson and the Shark (1778) by John Singleton Copley.

One of Boston’s favourite sons, John Singleton Copley found fame in London

The Guildhall in London has a fine art gallery. Above the staircase hangs the biggest oil painting in England. It shows the bravery and humanitarian work of the British army at the Siege of Gibraltar, saving Spanish soldiers from the flames of burning attack boats. The painting is by John Singleton Copley, who was born in Boston, Massachusetts, at a time when the British army were far from heroes.

In his home city Copley Square is named after him because he was one of Boston's favourite sons before the American Revolution. The great Museum of Fine Arts has many portraits of Boston's finest and you can trace his progress from the simple images he made in his youth to swagger portraits in the grand manner.

A prominent image is the iconic portrait of Paul Revere, not as a heroic rider carrying a warning through the night, but as a craftsman with a teapot in his hands, the product of his trade as silversmith. Revere's hands are reflected in the polished silver. Copley was very good at reflections in polished surfaces.

He prospered, married and bought property on desirable Beacon Hill. But Boston was a small stage and London a grand theatre. Like gifted New Zealand painters in a later century, notably Frances Hodgkins, he was drawn towards Europe and, once there, stayed and achieved wide fame.

Yet the Boston Museum is the place to see the best of his work. It ranges from a charming piece called Boy with a Squirrel that he sent to London when he first thought of leaving. It was admired by prominent artists, such as Sir Joshua Reynolds, and their praise helped make up his mind. The political turmoil of the coming revolution also helped.

When he left, he wasted no time in going to Italy to see Old Master paintings. In England he began a new career of doing "History" paintings in the academic manner. He was successful, spent 40 fruitful years there and never returned to America.

His most memorable painting now in the Boston Museum is transatlantic in subject. Watson and the Shark is a huge dramatic work. The painting was commissioned by Brooke Watson, an orphan but an ambitious young man. He began a career as a sailor and trader. In Havana Harbour he went for a swim from his ship and was attacked by a shark. The crew went to his rescue. He was pulled from the water but had lost a foot and had a leg badly ripped. Amputation was necessary and ended his career as a sailor. Back in London, he went into business and prospered. He became a Member of Parliament, a director of the Bank of England and was elected Lord Mayor of London.

What is evident in the painting is that Copley had never seen a shark, certainly not one as big as the one in the painting. He needed a monster and he painted one. The shark's fins are wrong. He painted lips around its mouth but he must have seen dried jawbones because the teeth look right and suitably menacing.

The shape of the boy in the water comes from Italian sculpture and scholars have traced the positions of the rescuers back to works by Raphael and Rubens that Copley may have seen.

What is strikingly different from many such paintings is the powerful African American at the apex of the compositional triangle. He stands tall and equal to the rest and much could be made of this although it is doubtful if Copley intended a political statement.

Politics or not, true shark or made-up monster, the painting is unique, dramatic and unforgettable. How different from the smallest painting by Rembrandt in a room that has some of his large portraits. The little painting is filled with thought. It was done by the artist when he was a very young man.

Rembrandt: The Artist in His Studio, 1626-28.

It could hardly be a direct self-portrait but it is a comment on his thinking and philosophy of painting. In a small, shabby room full of art paraphernalia such as a stone for grinding pigment, a young man, almost a boy, stands in his painting clothes holding a palette, brushes and mahl stick.

He is looking at a large canvas on an easel. We cannot see the surface, only the edge of the canvas.

The artist is standing metres back from the easel, looking at it, pondering the concept. Thought fills the gap between the artist and the work and this is a visualisation of the process.

The Fog Warning (1885) by Winslow Homer.

Also in the museum is another telling image of the perils of fishing off the northeast coast near Boston. Winslow Homer shows a fisherman rowing a dory. His catch is heavy in the stern of his boat. Fog is coming on and he is losing sight of the mother ship. There are no sharks but the industry had its terrible dangers, too.