Sophie Ribbing was an academy-trained painter of genre scenes and portraits.
Born into an aristocratic family, she was raised in a manor house on the Bråneryd estate near Jönköping. Her father, Arvid, was a local governor and her mother Karolina Augusta, was also of nobility. As such, she had access to a fine painting collection from an early age, which would’ve aided her drawing skills and influenced her tastes.
Düsseldorf Academy
She trained with some of the finest in Europe, commencing her studies in Stockholm before enrolling at the prestigious Düsseldorf Academy where she was tutored by landscape painter Karl Ferdinand Sohn (1805-1867). From here, she moved to Paris, working under portraitist Jean-Baptiste-Ange Tissier (1814-1876), and finally to Brussels under the history painter Louis Gallait (1810-1887). At every juncture, broadening her knowledge, while also gaining valuable life experience.
Now equipped with the confidence to explore, she continued to travel, living in Amsterdam, Copenhagen, and London. In each city, producing several exhibition pieces for the foremost shows. She was accepted into London’s Royal Academy on several occasions, which is quite an achievement for a tourist.
Rome
But it was the spirit of Rome that captured her heart and ignited her imagination. The beauty of its citizens, the crystalline skies, the graceful vocabulary, and the distinction of its history. She stayed awhile, meeting with fellow artists, writers, and other Scandinavian travellers. These included the Norwegian literary historian, Gerhard von der Lippe Gran, who often socialised with Ribbing at ‘Croce’, a quaint eatery. We’ve published his full account in our directory, in which he elegantly describes the environment.
“While we ate and drank our glorious wine, we did not forget to study the surroundings. Around us at the wooden tables sat farmers and peasant girls in their colourful national costumes, picture-perfect models, tanned coachmen and broad-shouldered workers.”
“They all sat quietly and well-behaved, speaking softly their musical language and sipping the wine in small sips”.
“Among the regular guests at these gatherings in Croce, I would especially like to mention the painter Miss Christiane Schreiber*, who could tell so interestingly about her youth and about Welhaven, the lovely gifted Sofie Ribbing from Sweden, Miss Schreiber's inseparable friend, Kathinka Kondrup, the brilliant Danish sculptor, radiant and vivacious, to whom I had particularly attached myself, and the Norwegian candidate Oscar Westergaard, an amiable original, who soon became my good friend.”
*Christiane Schreiber (1822-1898) was a Norwegian portraitist who became Ribbing’s life partner. The pair met during their training in Düsseldorf and travelled to Paris together.
In 1864, Ribbing produced a depiction of two boys drawing, titled ‘Ritande Gossar’, which is regarded as one of Sweden’s defining works. In 2016, the Swedish National Heritage Board selected it to represent the nation for 'Europeana 280'
Sophie Ribbing, Boys Drawing (1864)
She’s represented in numerous public collections including at Stockholm’s Nationalmuseum and the Uffizi in Florence.
Exhibited
Scandinavian Exhibition in Stockholm, Royal Academy in London, Swedish Academy of Art.
Public Collections
Uffizi Gallery in Florence, Frederiksborg Museum, Nationalmuseum in Stockholm, Göteborgs Konstmuseum, National Gallery of Norway.
Timeline
1835
Born at the Södraholm estate in Adelöv parish, Sweden, to Per Arvid Ribbing, the Chairman of the local District Court, and Karolina Augusta Ehrencrona. The Ribbing family were of old nobility.
1839
Moved, with her family, to the Bråneryd estate in Hakarp parish.
1850
Enrolled at the Royal Swedish Academy of Fine Arts.
Enrolled at the Düsseldorf Academy and trained under the landscape painter Karl Ferdinand Sohn (1805-1867).
Travelled to Paris and trained under the portraitist Jean-Baptiste-Ange Tissier (1814-1876).
Travelled to Brussels and trained under the history painter Louis Gallait (1810-1887).
1864
Produced her iconic work, Ritande Gossar (Drawing Boys), which was acquired for a record amount by the Gothenburg Art Association.
1866
Works shown at the Brussels Salon.
Works shown at the Industrial Exposition of Stockholm.
‘A Boy Who Draws’ shown in Copenhagen.
Travelled to Rome, meeting with her friend Agnes Börjesson.
1871
Works shown in Amsterdam at the Living Masters exhibition.
C. 1872
Travelled to London.
1873
Debuted at the Royal Academy with portraits of ‘Baron Hochschild, Swedish and Norwegian Minister at the Court of St. James's’ and ‘Baroness Hochschild’. She exhibited a total of six works between 1873 and 1875.
Lived in Kensington, London.
1875
Lived in Piccadilly, London.
C. 1876
Travelled to Rome. (spent considerable time here)
After 1879
Moved to Oslo.
1887
‘Portrait of Mrs. Marie Colban, Norwegian writer’ shown in Copenhagen.
1888
‘A Little Chicken Girl’ shown at the Nordic Art Exhibition in Copenhagen. She’s listed in the catalogue as Baroness Sophie Ribbing.
1889
‘Portrait of Professor Ravnkilde’ shown in Copenhagen via the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts.
1894
Died in Oslo.
Recollections
Two excerpts from Gerhard von der Lippe Gran's (1856-1925) recollections of his time in Rome. Gran was a Norwegian literary historian, essayist and biographer.
“I arrived in Rome in the middle of December 1876 and immediately found in the Cafe Artisti some Scandinavians who helped me settle in the big, foreign city. Fortunately, I had already learned a little Italian from the old Mr. L'Abbé in Bergen, so that I could make myself understood by the natives if need be.
I will never forget this first impression of the world city. I was completely captivated, as if lifted into a new and clearer room, flung up onto one of the blissful shores that the fairy tale tells us about. It wasn't the city itself that enchanted me, the streets and houses were quite ordinary, I thought, the famous corso was as narrow and unremarkable as Østergade in Copenhagen, no, it was the blue, clear sky, the mild sunny air, double ravishing now in winter time, the beauty and liveliness of the people, the grace in their greeting, the fire in their dark gaze, the fragrance of flowers from everywhere, and the soft vocal rich language that caressed my ear like a melody…”
“In the evening I ate with the Scandinavians in 'Senio', or we wandered to 'Croce', a shabby cheese shop in one of the side streets of the corso, which was mostly visited by the Roman common people, and where we thus had good opportunity to observe the life of the people. As we could not get food in Croce, but only wine, we bought provisions on the way there the common household, since his wallet was well-supplied that day. One bought a roast hen, another a couple of hard-boiled oaks, a third some salad or cheese.
When all our delicacies were in front of us on the table, where one of our amiable Scandinavian ladies acted as hostess, and the waiter brought us the dark red Chianti or the yellow, pearly Orvieto, a true drink of God, it may be that the mood lifted. Yes, these Croce concoctions were endlessly amusing! Food has never tasted better to me than in this dirty Roman room, whose dusty wooden benches and tables would be a thorn in the side of a good housewife.
Each new, improvised dish was greeted with jubilant surprise. For dessert, we had pickled olives or roasted chestnuts, which we bought from a boy who went around the osterias selling his wares. While we ate and drank our glorious wine, we did not forget to study the surroundings. Around us at the wooden tables sat farmers and peasant girls in their colourful national costumes, picture-perfect models, tanned coachmen and broad-shouldered workers, here and there a young couple in love, protected by an old, dignified matron who had put her grey hair up on her own way in the form of a kind of rosettes in front of the ears. Long needles were stuck in the nape of the neck.
They all sat quietly and well-behaved, speaking softly their musical language and sipping the wine in small sips. The Italian is very modest. You never see drunken people in the land where the grape grows and the wine is cheap as milk. On the other hand, I not infrequently saw the Roman commoner add water to the wine to dampen its strength.
The Romans are also very polite, as you might expect from an ancient cultured people. Often this levity degenerates into an empty form without value, but there is always something amiable and gracious about it.
When a young man near me, judging by his dress to be a workman, noticed that I was looking at his wineglass, the contents of which were of a peculiar mixed colour, he bowed to me and said: 'Favorisce, signore!' 'Be so good, master!' I got up and tasted the drink.
Romeo - that was the name of the waiter at our table - was so handsome and stately and had such distinguished manners that our whole company called him il principe, the prince - a name he seemed to hear with visible pleasure. He also proudly assured us that he was 'romano di pure sangue' (Roman of true blood). He was as helpful as he was condescending in his being. Yes, he protected us all, and we who liked him so much were happy at his patronage. Only he was allowed to serve us.
Our joy culminated when a young singer or mandolin player appeared in the osterie and entertained us with her music. As long as this lasted, the Italians sat quite still, almost without a sound, not a single glass clinking, such is the innate respect the Roman commoner has for art, even in its simpler forms. We Scandinavians made enough noise.
The Italian folk songs, sung to the mandolin, made a strong impression on me with their soft, rocking melody. Words and music could haunt me for a long time afterwards. In particular, there was a small, melancholy love song that would not leave my thoughts: ...
'I love you very much, but you don't think about me.'
One evening at Croce, when I was particularly happy, I discovered, throwing back my head laughing, that the roof was painted sky-blue, with a garland of green around it. 'But this is pure paradise!' I said to my neighbour, who smiled at my naive enthusiasm. She had already spent several winters in Rome.
Among the regular guests at these gatherings in Croce, I would especially like to mention the painter Miss Christiane Schreiber, who could tell so interestingly about her youth and about Welhaven, the lovely gifted Sofie Ribbing from Sweden, Miss Schreiber's inseparable friend, Kathinka Kondrup, the brilliant Danish sculptor, radiant and vivacious, to whom I had particularly attached myself, and the Norwegian candidate Oscar Westergaard, an amiable original, who soon became my good friend.
It is with sadness that I now recall those happy party nights in Croce. Several of the participants are dead, others are alive, but are terminally ill, such as Kathinka Kondrup, who is now in a Danish mental institution. How happy she was back then in Rome, when she knew how to enjoy life, casting a gleam of her sparkling zest for life over the rest of us.
I picture her on a summer's day, dancing in the full sunlight, under the open sky, with a young black-eyed bersagliere in a vigne outside Rome, where the Scandinavian company had gone that Sunday. Jewellery covered with vine leaves and roses, warmed by the sun and the dance, she looked like a backcountry girl. What a blessing to us humans that we cannot see into the future, that we cannot lift the impenetrable veil that hides it! This is the best gift the gods have bestowed upon us mere mortals. A gift for which we cannot be thankful enough.”