Dante Gabriel Rossetti Giclée Fine Art Prints 1 of 2

It can be striking to encounter Dante Gabriel Rossetti through the sumptuous women who dominated his later canvas - languid figures glowing with deep color and almost hypnotic presence. That phase of his output, however, was inextricably bound to heartbreak and restlessness. After the death of his wife and muse, Elizabeth Siddal, in 1862, Rossetti retreated from public exhibitions and turned inward. Moving to Chelsea, he surrounded himself with a small circle of literary friends, including the American painter James McNeill Whistler, and absorbed their aesthetic impulses. His paintings from this period highlight an intensified command of oils, layered with a palpable sense of longing, as if each brushstroke mourned the lost promise of earlier years.

A decade prior, he had enjoyed the robust backing of the art critic John Ruskin, who saw in Rossetti’s work a spiritual vein that challenged the conventions of Victorian anecdotal painting. Ruskin’s patronage brought much-needed financial security but also considerable scrutiny. Throughout the 1850s, Rossetti bristled at the idea of conforming to a standard critical yardstick, even as he welcomed the monetary relief. Into his orbit came the poet William Morris and the illustrator Edward Burne-Jones, two eager Oxford undergraduates who found in Rossetti both a teacher and a charismatic figurehead. By this time, the original Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood had dissolved, yet a new wave of creativity emerged, shaped by a shared attraction to medieval motifs and a fresh emphasis on designing tapestries, murals, and illuminated books.

Much earlier, in his youth, Rossetti passed through several educational stages that cultivated a self-assured creativity. He began at the junior department of King’s College, though his growing fascination with visual art soon led him to “Sass’s,” an old-fashioned drawing school in Bloomsbury. By 1845, he had entered the Royal Academy schools, determined to master the fundamentals of painting. While he absorbed certain aspects of formal training, he also found himself alienated from Victorian tastes, regarding the era’s popular anecdotal paintings as shallow. He read the works of Shakespeare, Goethe, and Byron voraciously, forever searching for dramatic textures that might invigorate his art.

Around 1847, a chance discovery shaped his artistic rebellion. Encountering William Blake’s manuscript of designs and writings challenged Rossetti to trust his own vision. The intensity of Blake’s language and imagery, coupled with his forceful criticism of academic figureheads, stirred Rossetti’s own penchant for satire. At the same time, he formed a connection with the painter Ford Madox Brown, gleaning an admiration for the German Pre-Raphaelites, or Nazarenes, whose austere, pre-Renaissance aesthetic provided fertile ground for Rossetti’s ambition to reinvigorate English art.

That ambition found practical expression in 1848, when he helped establish the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood alongside William Holman Hunt and John Everett Millais. Although they famously advocated “truth to nature,” Rossetti added a literary and symbolist dimension to the group’s cause. His initial oils, The Girlhood of Mary (1849) and Ecce Ancilla Domini (1850), underscored his fascination with religious subjects, but they also bristled with personal symbolism. When critical reception of Ecce Ancilla Domini proved harsh, Rossetti backed away from public exhibitions, seeking refuge in watercolors and private patrons.

Not long after, his path converged with Elizabeth Siddal’s. She first posed for him and then became an irreplaceable muse. Their marriage was overshadowed by her ill health, and her tragic overdose in 1862 cast a long shadow over his emotional life and productivity. Like the poet Dante Alighieri, whom he revered, Rossetti viewed this loss through a mystical lens, equating his grief with the delicate bond between mortal devotion and spiritual exaltation. Indeed, his painting Beata Beatrix, completed in 1863, resonates with the sense of a soul suspended between life and an eternal realm.

With the original Brotherhood fading from memory, Rossetti’s indefatigable charisma drew fresh recruits in the 1850s and 1860s, transforming the Pre-Raphaelite spirit into a broader vision of art. The ill-fated murals in the Oxford Union signaled grand ambition, even if technical knowledge fell short. Meanwhile, Rossetti ventured into other realms: his illustrations for Tennyson’s Poems foretold a new era of book design, and his growing fascination with Arthurian legend produced evocative interpretations of chivalric lore. Though the unity of the group was fragile, their collective efforts redefined what art could be, elevating it beyond the confines of easel painting.

By the early 1870s, the weight of insomnia, his reliance on chloral, and the slings and arrows of critical opinion took their toll. Financial success from paintings featuring his new muses could not entirely ward off despair. Still, he rallied to complete new poems - some recovered from the grave of his late wife - and published Ballads and Sonnets in 1881, further cementing his reputation as both painter and poet. When he died on April 9, 1882 in Birchington-on-Sea, the Victorian art world lost a figure who had fearlessly pursued the blending of literature and painting. Today, Rossetti stands as a creator capable of binding earthly sensation and transcendent longing, embodying a restless search for beauty that remains as compelling as ever.