Gauguin

I'll never be a fan of Gauguin (everything about the man brings out the latent feminist in me) but if nothing else, this exhibition has given me a new appreciation of his use of colour. There's a particular shade of orange that can stop you in your tracks and a soft mauve that almost begs to be touched. The landscapes are by far the most arresting part of the paintings, and the juxtaposition of colours - especially in the South Seas works -produce a vibrant effect. Looking at these exotic images you do indeed feel a million miles away from Europe.

Thomas Lawrence

One of the delights of this exhibition is the opportunities it provides to work out how some of the effects are achieved: the portrait of Elizabeth Farren for instance features a shimmering gown, courtesy of thickly applied brushstrokes of white paint. So simple, yet so effective. Not that the clothing dominates, impressive though it is. His drawings provide ample illustration of Lawrence's skills and the faces are what you most remember. Selina Meade and Rosamund Croker are impossibly beautiful, though not forbiddingly so, while the elderly Mary Digges shows how adept Lawrence was at portraying age. Likewise the oil sketch of Wilberforce is full of character, while the painting of Pius IV is a worthy descendant of Raphael's Julius II. Perhaps most charming of all are the portraits of children, whether on their own like the famous one of Charles William Lambton, or in groups. There's a real warmth to many of these that is singularly lacking in many other artistocratic portraits of the period.

Salvator Rosa

If ever an artist fit the description of Romantic, it's Salvator Rosa. His paintings might date from the 17th century but they would have fit perfectly into the later artistic movement. One painting in particular brought John Martin to mind, while the witches' sabbaths inevitably conjure up Goya. In addition there are bandits and hermits, usually set amid wild landscapes (again, the Romantics would have swooned) and sometimes cocooned in such darkness that it's difficult to distinguish details (this may or may not be intentional ...) Yet the brushwork is vibrant, the vision singular and the overall impression one of strange beauty.

Venice: Canaletto and His Rivals

Canaletto is an artist that I find is easy to admire but difficult to love. Yes, there's the undoubted technical skill on display (not to mention an insane attention to detail) but the overall effect often feels cold, especially in the later paintings which feel increasingly lifeless. Mind you, even these rather static figures are still miles ahead of the ones that populate the paintings of his rivals. Whereas Canaletto's people seem to inhabit the urban spaces, those in other works look like they are part of a tableau (these were usually painted by other artists in any case) Canaletto is head and shoulders above most of the others, although Marieschi's view of the courtyard of the Doge's Palace is terrific, with it's dramatic contrast of light and shade, and Bellotto clearly inherited some of his uncle's talent. However, it's Guardi who steals the show with his more impressionistic approach and muted palette. It's a breath of fresh air after the hyperdetailed onslaught of the previous rooms.

Treasures from Budapest

The first sight that greets the visitor to the Royal Academy's main galleries is a massive altarpiece dedicated to St. Andrew. In addition to the central panel of the martyrdom and the wings, there is a painted limewood statue on the saint and an elaborate canopy towering above. It's a smashing indication of the unexpected delights within the Hungarian national collection. All the big names of European art are present and correct (Raphael's Esterhazy Madonna might be the star attraction) as well as those anonymous artists who created the likes of that altarpiece. There's a particularly impressive collection of Old Master drawings, built up by Nikolaus II Esterhazy, which are typically stunning in terms of both closely-observed detail and vibrant swirling line. Elsewhere my personal favourites includes a dramatic Ribera Martydom of St Andrew, with the saint's body glowing through the engulfing darkness and a typically cheering portrait by Hals, full of bold brush strokes. Cuyp's painting of cows in a river with a huge expanse of sky behind was rather endearing and Jan Breughel the Elder's painting of the animals waiting to enter the Ark was full of lovely touches (I especially liked the pair of cats up a tree, apparently sizing up the birds as a potential meal) The big surprise though waited in the final room: Sandor Ziffer's Landscape with a Fence, a banal title disguising a wonderful burst of colour. A vibrant red mounrain towers over a landscape painted in jewel-like colours. Noone would ever describe it as naturalistic but it's almost too sumptuous for words.

Eadweard Muybridge

I've been familiar with Muybridge's name because of the vital importance of his experiments in motion photography to the invention of cinema, but I'd never realized he was also a famous landscape photographer. The examples on show often exude that oddly ethereal quality of 19th century photographs, a happy byproduct of the technical processes involved. Water in particular looks very different: waterfalls are bizarrely solid and bright, and it's difficult to tell whether that's surf or sea mist at the base of cliffs. Nevertheless, the photos of Yosemite in particular are beautiful, but equally impressive are the multiple-plate panoramas of San Francisco, a real glimpse into another era as the vast majority of the buildings were destroyed in the 1906 earthquake. The second part of the exhibition contains the work for which he is now most well-known. In addition to the groundbreaking sequences of horses in motion, there are animals of every sort: elephants, buffalo, pigs and even eagles, as well as humans carrying out various activities (though one suspects the naked ladies have considerably less scientific value than claimed ...) Simply looking at the sheets of prints is like examining a filmstrip frame by frame, and the projected recreation of images from the zoopraxiscope is akin to primitive animation. Motion pictures really were only a few years away.

Camille Silvy

I suspect Camille Silvy is not a household name, despite his obvious fame during the 19th century. After leaving his native France and establishing a thriving studio in London, he had the patronage of Queen Victoria. What's most impressive though is the range: portraits, landscapes, artistic photography. In addition to his obvious skill he clearly also possessed a lively wit (see the portraits of his father-in-law looking through a frame designed like a postage stamp and of his wife leaning through an Old Master-style frame. Meanwhile his technical proficiency can be seen in the 360 degree panorama of an eerily deserted Champs Elysees, with a ghostly Arc de Triomphe just visible in the distance. You have to bear in mind this was the mid-1800s when the photographic process was very slow. This actually makes the multiple exposure artistic works even more impressive. The real treasure though is the collection of the studio's daybooks held by the National Portrait Gallery. They provide a photographic record of every sitting during those years. They could be opened at any page and would be fascinating. As it is, we get to see a rather ghoulish "momento mori" of a recently deceased child, 2 playful self-portraits of Silvy, and a group of photographs of a (black) Lago merchant and his wife (also black and a goddaughter of the Queen) Alongside the numerous cartes-de-visites of society and theatrical personalities, it all provides an intriguing window onto Victorian society.

Italian Renaissance Drawings

Don't stand on ceremony. In this exhibition it's essential that you can get right up close to the drawings. A handful are so faint that at first glance you seem to be looking at a blank sheet. It's only when you get centimetres away that outlines become clear. Most though are much easier to see than that, even from a distance. All the great Renaissance names are here though it may not be the obvious artists who catch the eye. There's a delicate King David by Fra Angelico; janissaries by Bellini; beautiful female faces by Filippo Lippi and Verrocchio - all alongside drawings by Leonardo, Michelangelo, Raphael and Botticelli. Cannily there are a couple of useful compare-and-contrasts. Raphael's drawing of St George is displayed alongside the painting (the drawing shows a slightly more aggressive saint) and a film superimposes Carpaccio's St Augustine onto the finished work. Possibly my favourite drawing though - as usual, completely unexpected - was a large, wild, landscape by Piero di Cosimo. That sense of the artist's imagination at work is everywhere in the exhibition but nowhere more than here.

Kingdom of Ife

It says a lot about the racism of colonial attitudes that many refused to believe that the incredible sculptures uncovered in Ife could possibly be the work of medieval Africans. All kinds of wild theories were thrown up in order to show that it was actually Europeans (any group would do) who actually created them. The British Museum displays a selection a stone, terracotta, brass and copper sculptures, exquisitely carved or cast, and very definitely African. Many of the heads seem to show scarification, while some, presumably of foreigners, have a distinctive cat's whiskers marking. I was particularly taken with an equestrian statue with a very endearing horse. In fact the sculptures aren't just of the human form. There are crocodiles, mudfish, apes, rams and other animals, often stylised but immediately recognisable. The sculpted heads often show traces of paint so would have looked rather different than they do today, especially if crowns or veils were fixed via the holes in many of them. It shows that it wasn't just the Renaissance Europeans who were creating exquisite objects.

Irving Penn

What's most noticeable about the photographic portraits on display is how the (mostly) spartan settings focus attention so comprehensively on the figures and faces of the subjects. There are no extraneous distractions and in the early works, where full-figure shots are the norm, the body language tells all. Many of the subjects don't smile, the exceptions being some of the actors (Spencer Tracy positively twinkles while Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly exude Hollywood glamour). Not all though: the double portrait of the redoubtable Anna Magnani and director Roberto Rossellini feels thoroughly confrontational as their shadowed faces glower at the camera. That's the other thing. Many of the subjects stare back, unsmiling, at the viewer. They are a fascinating mix of 20th century cultural icons - artists, writers, dancers, actors, designers - and almost best of all, amid of group of Italian intellectuals in a Roman cafe out peaks the familar figure of Orson Welles, completely unexpectedly ...

Tate Modern

I have a sneaking suspicion that I've seen more exhibitions at Tate Modern in recent years than anywhere else - despite claiming to not actually like modern art! Clearly I need to reassess that statement. The tentative footsteps into this strange new world *have* broadened my horizons a little without ever replacing my existing preferences. Of the 2 shows that I saw on Saturday I expected to like the Arshile Gorky one the most, but as it turned out Van Doesburg and the International Avant-Garde was far more enjoyable. In the Gorky exhibition there were a few nice "spot the influence" moments (Cezanne in Pears, Peaches and Pitcher, Picasso and Miro elsewhere) but there rapidly came a point where the doodlings became infuriatingly formless, repetative and apparently meaningless. Oddly, the preponderance of grid-like squares and rectangles in the Van Doesburg managed not to have the same effect. Admittedly they were merely part of the numerous De Stijl-influenced architectural drawings and models, furniture, typography, film and art on display but they didn't become monotonous. In some respects the architectural exhibits were the most fascinating: the geometric shapes and primary colours working surprisingly well both inside and out. And then there's the stained glass, again geometric in design in a limited palette but with an undeniable beauty as the light shines through.

The Real Van Gogh

It has to be said that the crowds, even at 10.20 in the morning, were formidable (the queue even more so) but the exhibition is well worth the effort. A few pragmatic decisions helped. The letters containing the sketches were the main cause of bottlenecks so I decided that if I could sneak a peak I would, but if not, well, that was OK) and I knew I would be buying a catalogue so I dispensed with the information boards (another area where movement ground to a halt) In fact, once past the first couple of rooms, it wasn't too bad.
The first impression is awe at the sheer productivity of Van Gogh: the small sketches in the letters; the larger pen and ink or chalk drawings; and the paintings themselves, some of which I never knew existed. Secondly you begin to appreciate his skill at drawing. With a handful of lines the sketches take shape while the larger preliminary works stand on their own merits. And then there's the paintings themselves. Vibrant colours leap from the canvas - a field of wheat positively glows with gold, the sea is a luxuriant blue - while it's fascinating to see up close the brushstrokes. It brings on an impulse to actually touch the paintings as well as, of course, conveying a strong sense of both movement and structure - you can feel the breeze blowing that field of wheat, the trees swaying in the wind, the rise and fall of the waves and the strength of the mountains. The paintings flow and the eye follows.
It's even the case that some of the works no longer look as they would have done originally, with various pigments fading. You wouldn't know if you weren't told and does it actually make a difference to the beauty of the painting? That stunning vase of white roses was originally pink, so the contrast with the background would have been different but would it have been any more striking? perhaps not. The portraits meanwhile could never be described as naturalistic but, with their odd use of colour, nevertheless give a strong sense of character. A person could happily gaze at the poplars, cypresses, olive trees wheatfields and orchards for ages (and trust me, some do) wondering at the alchemy that converts those broad brushstrokes into such wondrous results.

Beatles to Bowie

This is a great exhibition to bring out nostalgia even in people who don't remember the 1960s. Did Bowie *really* once look that boyish? And Shirley Bassey somehow doesn't look like Shirley Bassey when she was a mere girl. And for a real shock to the system, there's The Rolling Stones, with not a wrinkle in sight. Balance that with the likes of Jimi Hendrix, forever young, gazing at the viewer, framed by leaves. The other understandable reaction is sheer horror at some of the ghastly fashions on show. John Entwhistle and Pete Townshend seem to be swapping the same hideous jacket in a series of photographs and the less said about the bright floral trousers sported by other males the better (throughout the chronological exhibition, The Beatles transcend whatever's hip and end up looking timeless) Well worth a look for anyone who loves music or portrait photography or simply just wants to relive their past.

The Sacred Made Real

The polychromed sculptures are the main attraction here. While paintings by the likes of Velazquez and Zurburan form an interesting comparison with their three-dimensional counterparts, it's the astonishing detail of the sculptures that makes an impact. The robes of the Virgin of the Immaculate Conception are beautiful in their colour and presentation of texture, while the skill of the painters involved is obviously in the faces of Saint Francis Borgia and Saint Ignatius Loyola (the latter complete with glass tears) Elsewhere real hair is used for eyelashes, while glass eyes catch the light (if you've ever thought that the eyes of a painting followed you around a room, prepare to be seriously unnerved) What could have been horribly garish in fact becomes deeply fascinating. Walking around the Christ figures, complete with the gory results of flagellation, makes one intensely aware of both the injuries and the suffering. This reaches its height in the lifesize figure of the dead Christ, which manages to be both shocking (open red wounds contrasted with ghastly whitish-blue flesh) and moving (the unbearable poignancy of a dead body) No wonder many of these images are still paraded and venerated to this day. You don't have to be a Catholic - or even religious - to appreciate the artistry and power of these works.

Turner and the Masters

This wasn't quite what I expected, but then, I associate Turner more with his later "impressionistic" works than with the more figurative works on show here. Seeing paintings where the emphasis is on the people within them seems very odd indeed. They aren't bad but they are nowhere near as interesting as his landscape and maritime subjects, though they invariably compare favourably with the work of contemporaries. Elsewhere it's interesting to contrast say Canaletto's Venetian paintings with Turner's. The clear lines and almost photographic detail of one against the looser brushwork and brighter light of the other. The brushwork is also noticeably different when contrasting Ruisdael's seascapes with Turner's. Rembrandt though still emerges in a class of his own. The Limekiln is indeed a beautiful little painting, attempting to match the Master's use of a small pocket of light in an area of darkness but it doesn't make any advance on Rembrandt's Landscape with the Rest on the Flight in to Egypt. The final rooms are where you fully appreciate the experimentalism of Turner. The blinding light emanating from the centre of the Regulus canvas is truly breathtaking, and, my favourite in the exhibition, Snow Storm captures the overpowering sense of the elements as the steamboat is barely discernible in the maelstrom of paint surrounding it.

Futurism

I have a suspicion that my taste in art is changing again. Whereas in my teens I liked the Pre-Raphaelites, now they make me feel queasy. I don't think I'll ever like much contemporary art, but I'm definitely starting to warm to early 20th century modernism. In one respect Futurism follows on quite nicely from the Italian Divisionists exhibition at the National Gallery last year. In fact, I'm certain that a couple of the paintings appeared there too. Not that it just focuses on the Italians. The most interesting aspect of the exhibition is that it shows how Futurism interacted with/influenced other movements in Europe (Cubism, Orphism, Cubo-Futurism and Vorticisim) The different groups could never be mistaken for each other. The distance and abstraction of the British Vorticists contrasts with the liveliness and movement of the Russian Cubo-Futurists and the amazingly vibrant colours of both that group and Orphism in France. Boccioni is probably my favourite of the Italians, although I also found the work of Carra and Severini rather appealing. Elsewhere it's a role-call of famous names: Picasso, Malevich, Popova, Braque, Delauney, Duchamp et al. In all, a surprisingly wonderful exhibition - even if the politics are still loathsome...

Exhibitions

There are some exquisite items on display in the Shah 'Abbas exhibition. The calligraphy and manuscripts are as beautiful as any Western illuminated manuscript. The style might be different but the colour, the finely painted flora and the attention to detail are as aesthetically stunning. Oddly, some of the most lovely items are metallic flasks, with their sinuous shapes and Islamic decoration, although some are influenced by Indian art. In fact, not all the exhibits are Iranian. Shah 'Abbas donated works from his own collections to religious institutions and there are early Chinese and Vietnamese ceramics displayed alongside later Iranian items that they influenced. As Iran was at the centre of trade routes passing East to West, it's not surprising that such influences should occur.
On then to Japanese art. I love landscape and nature prints but have never been quite so fond of those featuring the human figure. However, among Kuniyoshi's warriors, geishas and actors there is a wealth of energy and imagination. Famous warriors fight mythical beasts, actors appear in their famous roles and, as a way of circumventing censorship, animals adopt human guise. Several prints are even in the triptych format. The joins might be obvious and the colour might vary across the 3 sheets but it provides a different overall effect to the usual single sheet print. It doesn't just lend itself to epic subject matter either. It works just as well for portraits of women at work or play. There are also humorous prints to outwit the censors, with octopi behaving as humans and a pleasure district populated by sparrows. The playfulness is what sticks in the mind rather than the belligerent heroes.

Rodchenko and Popova

I always claim that I don't like modern art but actually that statement is far too sweeping. It's also untrue. I've long had a soft spot for Cubism, I adore Franz Marc and I like much of the Kandinsky that I've seen. I think I can now add the Constructivists to the modern art that I like. There's something deeply pleasing about the geometric constructions in the art of Rodchenko and Popova. The slight bleeding of colours in works like the Space-Force Constructions prevents Popova's paintings from feeling too rigid, while Rodchenko's spatial constructions hanging from the ceiling cast ever-changing shadows. What's particularly fascinating about the two artists in this exhibition is the multi-disciplinary nature of their art. Textile designs, theatrical costumes, set designs, book covers, advertising, graphic design, posters, architecture: they applied Constructivist principles to numerous activities, not all of which came to fruition, especially in the field of architecture. Rodchenko's photos also provide a glimpse into the artistic circles of the time, while the Workers' Room allows visitors to step back in time and see just what his practical design must have been like.

Exhibitions

Miracle of miracles, the Circle Line was running so I seized the opportunity to finally catch up with a couple of exhibitions. First up was Picasso : Challenging the Past at the National Gallery. I think it's fair to say that I am NOT a fan of Picasso. I find a lot of his paintings downright ugly and don't "get" them at all, apart from the Cubist works. What's intriguing about this exhibition is the way it highlights the way Picasso's art is in dialogue with the great works of the past. This is most obvious in the Variations, where Las meninas or Le dejeuner sur l'herbe are reinterpreted in true Picasso style but are still recognizable. It's also there in the way a portrait or a still life has absorbed the style of El Greco or Cezanne. The thing that impressed me most however was the vivacity of the colour, especially in the Women of Algiers variations, although the monochrome works are equally striking. Having said that, my favourite painting was the portrait of Fernande Olivier in a mantilla, all in shades of brown, with the background paint seeming to run down the canvas. It give a sense of spontaneity, while also being very much a likeness.
From one extreme to the other. Off to the Queen's Gallery for Breugel to Rubens, which is much more my sort of thing. The centerpiece is Breugel's Massacre of the Innocents, with it's multitude of events. The eye wanders across it, looking at small groups, or the distant buildings. You could spend hours picking up details. What I didn't realize was that many of the infants had been painted over on the order of Rudolph II, which is why a family seem so distressed at a farm animal being dragged away or why soldiers are gleefully stabbing at poultry. There are also some fine portraits: Erasmus, Joos van Cleve and his wife, Hans Memling's Portrait of a Man, a clutch of Van Dykes and Rubens' wonderful self-portrait. The landscapes are maybe less impressive though David Teniers the Younger's group all feature stunning still life observation: fish, armour, vegetables, while Jan Breughel the Elder populates one of his with a wonderful array of animals. defy anyone not to indulge in a game of spot-the-animal.

British Museum

There were a couple of things that I wanted to see at the British Museum. I have to admit to being rather disappointed with the Babylon exhibition. I'd have liked more artefacts from Babylon itself. The glazed brick reliefs of lions and a dragon from the Processional Way give an indication of the physical splendour of the city but there was little about the lives of the occupants, and to be honest, cuneiform tablets don't exactly grip in the same way as other ancient written sources. The idea of Babylon may have inspired the imagination down the centuries but I'm afraid the exhibition didn't do much for me. However, it was salutary to be reminded of the damage the site has suffered since the American invasion of Iraq.
Personally I was far more entranced by the fragmentary wallpaintings from Nebamun's tomb-chapel in one of the Egyptian rooms. The details of the natural world are astonishing (a cat catching birds, different coloured cattle suggesting movement, hares and deer brought as offerings, fish in a pond) and one wishes that more paintings had survived. Even this handful of fragments though give an indication of how beautiful the tomb itself must have been.
The other unexpected delight was the exhibition Treasures of Shanghai: ancient Chinese bronzes and jades. Among the items are axes, wine and food vessels and even a drum support. My favourite was a vessel in the shape of a buffalo, from 13-11th century BC, where the elaborate decoration on the body contrasted with the simple, rather sweet, features of the face (actually part of the lid) The technique used in all the bronzes is astonishing, some of the later ones featuring silver inlay. Even the ceremonial jade axe heads are things of beauty, despite their simplicity. Later artists were inspired by the ancient vessels, copying the forms and decoration and it's easy to see why.