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.

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.

Byzantium

The aspect that most impresses is the incredible detail in the ivory carvings, be they plaques or diptyches. The figures might be deceptively simple but the skill involved is unmistakable. The artists themselves might be anonymous but the works speak for themselves. Likewise, a perfume burner on the shape of a fabulously decorated Orthodox church is breathtaking. It's a tiny step though from the beauty of holiness to outright garishness, courtesy of heavily bejewelled icons or elaborate heavy jewellery that looks like it must have been painful to wear. By and large, the less elaborate items are the most appealing: glazed ceramics, geometrical gold jewellery, carved caskets. Also fascinating are the surving 4th-5th century textiles, faded and worn but the patterns still visible. The geographical spread was also surprising: from Egypt to Armenia to Turkey to Serbia and Russia, reflecting the way in which Byzantine art both influenced and was influenced by other cultures. It was never in danger of becoming naturalistic but then again, much of the art was about expressing the divine light of God (hence all that gold) Just don't judge by the standards of the Renaissance.

Exhibitions

Another Saturday, another trip to London to see a couple of exhibitions. The Vilhelm Hammershoi at the Royal Academy certainly counts as enigmatic. You would never call his paintings colourful, with a palette of black, brown and white, and it often feels like you are looking at them through a haze. Some of the interiors brought to mind Vermeer, in the arrangement of rooms and the way light falls through windows, and one painting of a woman sewing immediately made me think of the Vermeer seamstress in the Louvre. Mostly the interiors are unsettling: deserted rooms, or a solitary figure with her back to the viewer. It feels slightly voyeuristic. My favourite work was a pencil and oil sketch of boats at Christianshavn Canal, which felt less claustrophobic and controlled than the rest.
In contrast the De Bray Family exhibition at Dulwich is vibrant. I'd seen some of the portraits at the National Gallery's Dutch Portraits exhibition a while back so it was interesting to see more work by the family. Salomon's delightful portrait of the new-born twins Clara and Albert de Bray is a highlight but his sons were equally talented. Jan's group portraits of various regents in Haarlem sit alongside paintings of his own family (most of whom were to die of the plague), while both Joseph and Dirck painted still life. Dirck in particular playfully juxtaposes items in stark contrast to the cornucopias of Jan van Huysum which are on display elsewhere in the gallery.

Exhibitions

Saturday was a day of exhibitions. Weapons of Mass Communication at the Imperial War Musuem and Cranach at the Royal Academy. I hadn't been to the IWM before so that was a treat in itself. I was shocked by how small a Spitfire is/was. I'd always assumed they were larger than that. I felt claustrophobic just looking at it. And *then* I went into the Trench ...
Anyway, the posters were interesting. Whereas most of the propaganda posters had a snappy or at least brief text, the post-Revolution Russian ones ended up with alarmingly long exhortations! I think my favourite poster was one from France, WWI, which actually looked more like a film poster for a 1950s sci-fi movie. There was nothing else like it.
I'd had a sneak peak of the catalogue for the Cranach exhibition so knew what to expect. The portraits were probably the most impressive although they don't approach Holbein levels of realism. The eyes and mouth tend to be very stylized which you only truly realize when you see a selection of them together. The figures of his (clothed) females also follow a pattern, and certain elements such as the apple tree and various animals reappear. Looking at the paintings, they almost seem to belong more to the preceding century.