Painted circa 1928, Tulips is a luminous example of Samuel John Peploe’s confident and refined late still-life practice. The composition is at once deliberate and expressive: vibrant tulips emerge in rich reds and oranges from a ceramic vase, offset by scattered fruit and set against a backdrop of cool, abstracted tones. The composition is both carefully constructed and expressively painted, revealing Peploe’s mastery of colour and form. Notably, the reverse of the canvas reveals a contrasting landscape: loose, atmospheric, and imbued with a quiet lyricism.

Samuel John Peploe was a leading figure among the group now known as the Scottish Colourists, alongside F.C.B. Cadell, J.D. Fergusson, and G.L. Hunter. Although not formally aligned during their lifetimes, these four painters shared a deep connection to both Scottish artistic traditions and the innovations of the early 20th-century French avant-garde. Peploe, in particular, was profoundly influenced by his time in Paris in the early 1900s, where he encountered the works of Paul Cézanne, Vincent van Gogh, and Henri Matisse. These experiences catalysed a stylistic evolution—from the restrained tonalism of his early work in Edinburgh to the expressive colour, abstraction, and compositional experimentation that came to define his mature output.

The Colourists shared a belief that colour did not have to serve a purely descriptive role; it could instead structure a composition, express mood, and carry symbolic weight. Their work moved beyond the academic realism that had dominated the 19th century, creating a fresh visual language that blended French modernist ideas with Scottish clarity and restraint. Peploe was highly meticulous in his approach, often returning to the same set of objects—flowers, jugs, fruit, drapery—rearranging them under shifting light conditions and exploring their formal relationships through repetition and refinement.

In Tulips, this disciplined method is brought to life through a composition that balances spontaneity with control. The tulips themselves provide natural movement: their arching stems disrupt the symmetry of the vase, and the various postures of the blooms—some upright, others gently falling—create a sense of rhythm and animation. Peploe uses colour to guide the eye across the canvas: the fiery reds and oranges of the petals and fruit are tempered by cool, diffuse washes of mint green, violet, and slate blue. These are not simply floral decorations, but deliberate chromatic relationships, echoing Cézanne’s dictum to ‘treat nature by the cylinder, the sphere, the cone.’

The painting on the reverse—a pale, windswept coastal landscape—likely depicts Iona, where Peploe painted frequently. Its presence adds a layer of intimacy, revealing the dual artistic interests that shaped Peploe’s work: the structured, interior world of still life and the open, ephemeral qualities of landscape.

The landscape, in stark contrast to the ordered composition of Tulips, unfolds with a sense of lightness and immediacy. Painted in a palette of chalky blues, soft whites, and muted ochres, it appears to capture a brief moment of atmospheric stillness—perhaps the diffused light of an overcast morning or the quiet shimmer of sea against stone. A low horizon line anchors the view, while softly articulated landforms stretch across the canvas beneath a pale sky. The brushwork is loose and fluid, suggesting forms rather than defining them, and the paint is applied in translucent, drifting layers. This technique implies a direct engagement with the scene—likely painted en plein air—emphasising sensation over structure, impression over detail.

The decision to paint on both sides of the canvas may have been driven by practicality, economy, or artistic curiosity. It was not uncommon for artists of the time—especially those working outside of traditional patronage systems—to reuse canvases or make use of both sides. But in Peploe’s case, it may also reflect his compulsion to keep working, to experiment constantly, and to refine ideas across media and mood. The presence of both on a single surface invites the viewer to consider not only the final image but the artistic process itself—a record of shifting environments, sensibilities, and gestures.