The Anatomist - Bill Hayes [48]
Gray had also just been named head of the Anatomy Museum, a well-deserved promotion in Carter’s eyes. Gray “is well-placed as curator and fully alive to his advantages,” he writes that evening. “Envy him.” Not that he was wallowing in self-pity, mind you. On the contrary, Carter, who’d scarcely had time to resettle into his old flat, was already taking decisive steps in shaping his own destiny. While still waiting to hear back from the steamship company, he had decided to pour his energy into his artistic work. His first move was to assemble a portfolio of his anatomical drawings and paintings—a “specimen” of his work, as he called it. As a student, he’d never had the time or inclination to promote himself as an artist for hire, or the financial need. Sure, occasional jobs had come to him through Gray and other faculty, but, simply happy to contribute, he had nearly always done the work for free. As of now, that policy would have to change.
Carter, ever the anxious soul, had not made this decision lightly. For guidance, he’d turned to Prescott Hewett, one of a handful of father figures in his life. It seems that the question he brought to Dr. Hewett was not whether he could make money as an anatomical illustrator but whether he should.
Propriety told him no. Wouldn’t he be “encroaching” on other artists’ territory? This concern stemmed from H. V. Carter’s upbringing, I believe. As the child of a working artist only now finding fame, he knew firsthand what a struggle it could be to make a name for yourself, to become established. He would not want to threaten another artist’s livelihood or, for that matter, to be viewed as a dilettante—a physician who simply dabbled.
Dr. Hewett absolved Carter of these concerns, assuring him that drawing was in fact a “perfectly legitimate” enterprise. By all means, young man, use your talent! And like a racehorse on Derby Day, he was off and running.
True, he did stumble right out of the gate—Carter’s first job prospect fell through, leaving him “disappointed and put out”—but he recovered quickly. The next day, in fact, less than two weeks after returning from Paris, he showed his portfolio to three separate doctors, all of whom promised him work.
“Hence,” he writes with brio that night, “have regularly set up as a Medical Artist and have little doubt, D.V., (Deo volente, or, God willing) [that] in a little time might make it pay well.” Carter sounds full of confidence, as well he should be, and yet he cautions himself never to lose sight of his top priority: “The exercise of the profession is the chief end…of [my] medical education,” and “the artist’s position is but subsidiary.” He adds, “Pro tempore!” meaning “for the time being.”
After four weeks back in town, he earned his first fee, £4.7s for several days’ drawing for a Dr. Heale, an encouraging amount. Heale offered additional work, as did Gray, but already Carter was growing restless. “[I] am constantly feeling want of fixed and full employment.” He was not willing, however, to take just any job.
Twice, he is offered a full-time