The obvious answer is: to be apprenticed to a portraitist in order to learn the trade. But there is rather more to it than that.
We have seen already that, for an intending painter/artist, there was precious little to be learned locally. Thomas Smith, the only local artist of note, was no portraitist and was not any sort of specialist in oils, so he had to move farther afield for training. As someone of standing and consequence in the town, ‘Equity’ would have put out feelers to his London and other city-based acquaintance to find out who was best-placed to receive an attorney’s son and prepare him to earn his own living in the face-painting trade. We can be sure that this was not the sort of definition of portraiture that the art-world would deem appropriate, but that is what it amounted to. In 1751, a painter was a tradesman admitted through the servants’ entrance of any grand house where their services were required. Only a very few could claim to be anything grander.
The highest status position of all was that of Principal Painter in Ordinary to the King or Queen. This was almost always a portraitist. This had first been held by Anthony Van Dyke in 1632; he was paid a £200 annual retainer and then again a separate sum for each commissioned picture. The roll-call for this post is, of course, impressive: Peter Lely, Antonio Verrio, Godfrey Kneller, then three more lesser-known men until we reach Allan Ramsey who held the post between 1767 and 1784. Joe knew Ramsey ~ or at least his studio ~ and he also knew the next in line, Joshua Reynolds who held it to his death in 1792.
The awful thing about having this top job was the repetition and severe formal limits placed on what was deemed acceptable and fashionable. Allan Ramsey instantly regretted taking the post, one of the most demanding elements of which was churning out endless copies for palaces, fortresses, potentates and embassies across the empire. The master would produce the original and then teams of assistants would be put to the copying: soul destroying work.
The next step down from this sort of studio was that of the society portraitist: the free-lancer who was always on the look-out for the next commission. At the time when Equity was making enquiries on behalf of his sixteen-year old son, the leading studio was that of Thomas Hudson. There were two good reasons for a man like Hudson to take in apprentices: the additional income he could command for the privilege of an apprenticeship, and to obtain additional labour in his studio. It really was a win-win, as long as the apprentice had potential and proved himself capable ~ and quick. Equity paid the very substantial sum of £80 per annum for his first two-year spell from autumn 1751. Joe tried his hand in business for himself as he turned past twenty but, dissatisfied with his results, he returned to Hudson’s studios for another fifteen months to gain more experience. It was a considerable outlay: it is entirely possible from the way in which the Wrights dealt with each other financially, that this was, at least in part, a loan.
These early London years were to be Joe’s only substantial period in the capital. He was a fairly regular annual visitor in the years from the mid 1760’s to the later 1780’s as he had work shown in exhibitions, many old contacts from his apprentice years to keep in touch with, and he needed to see engravers and publishers as this later work reached a wider audience through the sale of prints.
The impact on Joe of experiencing a city of 600,000 after spending his whole life in town of 5,000 must have been vivid. In the story I try to imagine what a boy from a pretty sheltered, middle-class household had to deal with on coping with the rackety life of Covent Garden which was the hub of the artistic community. Every temptation imaginable was not far from his door.
So Joe went to London to learn how to paint. He already knew a good deal about how to draw. The landmark Derby Museum exhibition in the summer of 2025, Joseph Wright: Life on Paper, illuminated Joe’s early precocity as a self-taught draughtsman. The excellent catalogue can be found here: Derby Museums
Once in London he was set to work in developing his skills in painting drapery, and depicting textiles and materials of all types.
This was the pre-eminent skill required of an apprentice: the master determined composition, pose, lighting and likeness. Behind him was a team that did the rest. Portrait making was a production line and a collaborative exercise. The picture below may well have been in Hudson’s at some stage of preparation when Joe arrived: it was made at about that time. The picture is exceptional in the attention given to the richly embroidered silk fabrics. It is the kind of costume worn at court for some royal event or celebration. It was obviously expensive enough to require its own portrait. We know that Hudson employed one of the very best drapery-men: one Joseph van Aken, (c.1699–1749), a Flemish artist who arrived in London around 1720. In 1744, George Vertue, an engraver and recorder of all manner of details about the London art scene, noted: ‘It is truly observd that Hudson has lately more success and approbation than the other or any other of ye business – at present a great Run – his pictures being dress’d and decorated by Mr Joseph Van Aken – who is a very elegant and ingenious painter. Serves & helps him and other painters to dress and set off their pictures to advantage he having an excellent free Genteel and florid manner of pencelling Silks Sattins Velvets. Gold laceings Carvings &c.’ We can’t know whether van Aiken worked on this particular picture. Someone very talented certainly did. A man called Peter Toms was van Aiken’s own apprentice and he was there when Joe began his apprenticeship ~ he would have taught him some of van Aiken’s and his own techniques. Mister Toms plays a significant role in the story of Joe’s coming-of-age in Georgian London.
