Seurat’s Painting Glow At The Courtauld

An artist who died young, and whose painting method was almost mechanically precise, has somehow filled two rooms at the Courtauld Gallery with seascapes that are unexpectedly calm and contemplative.

Georges Seurat was a French post-Impressionist best known for a technique later dubbed pointillism: painting not with expressive brushstrokes, but by patiently placing thousands of tiny dots onto the surface. Rather than mixing colours on a palette, Seurat relied on the viewer’s eye to do the work. The dots optically blend at a distance, creating the colour and light he intended.

Although pointillism has faded from popular consciousness, the idea behind it is everywhere today. Modern colour printing works in much the same way, using tiny dots of a few base colours to create the full spectrum we perceive when we step back.

With Seurat, that stepping back is essential. Up close, you see the dots and dashes; from a distance, the image resolves. In that sense, the viewer becomes part of the creative process, with the final act of blending completed by the brain rather than the brush.

Seurat’s early death at just 31 means his body of work is small, and exhibitions devoted to him are rare. What the Courtauld has done here is assemble a tightly focused group of paintings made along the edge where land meets sea. From open coastlines to constructed harbours, Seurat wandered the French shore, quietly recording — or dotting — what he saw.

For me, the harbour scenes stirred an unexpected memory of childhood years spent abroad, where the only jigsaw puzzles to hand seemed to be photographs of Mediterranean ports. I spent an inordinate amount of time staring at boats in sunlit harbours, and seeing Seurat’s again brought that back.

Yet these harbours are missing something. It takes a moment to notice, but the absence of people is striking. Whether Seurat painted when no one was around or chose to leave most of the figures out, the result is a faint unease. The exhibition text describes the works as melancholy — which feels right — but they also brush uncomfortably close to more recent memories, evoking the empty public spaces of pandemic lockdowns.

What is most remarkable, though, is how some of the paintings seem to glow, almost as if lit from behind. The gallery lighting helps, of course, but step back and look across the rooms, and there is a genuine luminosity to certain works that goes beyond spotlights and wall lamps.

It’s tempting to lean in close to inspect the dots, but these paintings reward distance. Standing back not only lets the images cohere as Seurat intended, but also makes the exhibition more pleasant, as there are fewer people lingering inches from the surface, blocking everyone else’s view.

It’s just two rooms, but that represents about half of Seurat’s entire lifetime of work, making it easier to absorb, as you’re not bombarded with hundreds of paintings at once.

The exhibition, Seurat and the Sea, is at the Courtauld Gallery until 17th May 2026.