Hay-on-Wye

     A fine day out in Hay-on-Wye Saturday.  Crisp and sunny.  The place humming with locals and late-season tourists.  Lasagne and chips for lunch at the Rose and Crown (very fine those chips).
     A mere three books bought: 'The Garrick Year' by Margaret Drabble; 'Six More English Towns' by Alec Clifton-Taylor, and 'Rutland, a Shell Guide' by W G Hoskins.

     'The Garrick Year' is something I've been looking for for some time - though on Saturday I was actually on the hunt for Storm Jameson's 1966 novel 'The Early Life of Stephen Hind'.  'The Garrick Year', 1964, Drabble's second novel, is an exploration of a decidedly shaky marriage.  It is told from the wife's viewpoint, as she and her husband relocate from London to Hereford, where is to take part in a theatrical festival.  Apparently satiric.  Could be fun.  Artwork by Caroline Smith

     'Six More English Towns' written as an accompaniment the eponymous BBC television series, broadcast in 1981 on BBC2.  The original series - 'Six English Towns' - had been broadcast in 1978, and a third series - 'Another Six English Towns' aired in 1984.  The towns in this volume are Berwick-upon-Tweed, Beverley, Bradford on Avon, Lewes, Saffron Walden, and Warwick.  He said of these broadcasts, 'I'd like every programme to be an exercise in looking.'  I have mentioned Clifton-Taylor in a number of previous posts before.  He was educated at Queen's College Oxford, the Courtauld Institute, and (I think) the Sorbonne, and was a man of strong opinions.  He was brought to our screens by a man of equal robust opinion, John Drummond.  Clifton-Taylor was a regular contributor to the Buildings of England series, and wrote a number of books, such as 'The Cathedrals of England', and 'English Parish Churches Works of Art'.  As with John Drummond, it is unlikely we will see his sharp, erudite like again, or, for that matter, programmes such as 'Six English Towns'. He deserves a post to himself.

     So does the great WG Hoskins; and the whole phenomena of the remarkable the Shell County Guides. The guides were published by Faber under the patronage of Shell, and were edited by Sir John Betjeman and the artist John Piper. They were designed to be an alternative to 'The Buildings of England'.  Sadly, the project never reached completion. However the books are rather lovely.  The photography, for instance, is always top notch. In addition to 'Rutland, a Shell guide' of 1963 - one of the smaller and rarer of the series - Hoskins also wrote the Leicestershire volume in 1970, where in the introduction he manages to completely ignore the sw part of the county. No mean feat.

Tenby

      The bf's birthday yesterday and we decided, last minute, to take the train to Tenby.  Rather cold, but fine.  Lovely lunch.  Some photos for you.  Doors mainly.

Turner in Cardiff

      A return trip to Cardiff on Friday to see the Turners on display at the National Museum of Wales.  A small exhibition of deeply evocative oils and watercolours from the permanent collection to celebrate the 250th anniversary of Turner's birth in 17175.  If I remember rightly the oils are all of the Kent coast, and the watercolours are of Wales.  It was quite something to be able stand so close to these remarkable paintings - works both delicate in the oily washes of paint and forceful in gestural impasto. Quite an emotional experience if truth be told.  Paintings that are rich in texture and colour and glow with vitality.  Yet, oddly enough, I was put in mind of the atmosphere created by the work of Caspar David Friedrich - both men exploring the place of humanity in the vastness of nature.

     The permanent collection at the National Museum is rather fine and it was very instructive to be able compare what I had just seen with the Canaletto - 'The Baccino di San Marco looking north' -  in the adjacent gallery.  Turner's technique, surprising perhaps, was not so far removed from that of the Venetian Vedutista - the same application of numerous thin washes of transparent colour, the smear of impenetrable impasto for such elements as a sail; the same impressionistic rendering of detail eg figures, and yet the results could not be more different.  From serenity and reasonableness to sturm und drang, of nature 'prowling round like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour'.

October

 October by John Clare (1793-1854)

Nature now spreads around, in dreary hue,
A pall to cover all that summer knew;
Yet, in the poet's solitary way,
Some pleasing objects for his praise delay;
Something that makes him pause and turn again,
As every trifle will his eye detain: —
The free horse rustling through the stubble field;
And cows at lair in rushes, half conceal'd;
With groups of restless sheep who feed their fill,
O'er clear'd fields rambling wheresoe'er they will;

The hedger stopping gaps, amid the leaves,
Which time, o'er-head, in every colour weaves;
The milkmaid pausing with a timid look,
From stone to stone, across the brimming brook;
The cotter journeying with his noisy swine,
Along the wood-side where the brambles twine,
Shaking from mossy oaks the acorns brown,
Or from the hedges red haws dashing down;
The nutters, rustling in the yellow woods,
Who teaze the wild things in their solitudes;

Cardiff

      To Cardiff on Friday to buy a suit for a family funeral this week.  I'm not at my best at the moment so the day was a bit of trial.  I did however manage to take a few photos of the public buildings in Cathays Park, perhaps the best collection of such structures in Late Victorian Britain.  As I think I have said before, the urbanism is not that special - the layout is just, after all, a simple grid - but the buildings, the earliest ones that is, are of an extraordinary richness and complexity. Baroque in the blurring of categories particularly between architecture and sculpture.  Eclectic in their sources, as was typical in Britain in the late 19th & early 20th centuries.  And finally, as always with a building of this period, the detailing is superb. 

Stephen Calloway in 'English Style'

      I was flicking through 'English Style' by Suzanne Slesin and Stafford Cliff  the other day, and I was left wondering who created the interior below - the text contains no name, but the owner is described as 'a curator at the V&A'.  I was considering if it was the work of Sir Roy Strong - who rarely, if ever, appears books such as these - when suddenly I had one of those light bulb moments and thought of the historian and curator Stephen Calloway, and whose flat I have posted about here.  Well, sure enough, a quick comparison of images from the original House & Gardens article and these below revealed furniture and other items in common.  It may therefore be safe to assume that these highly sophisticated interiors share the same owner, and is indeed Stephen Calloway.  Whoever the owner I find these rooms immensely satisfying.  But what of the relationship between both interiors in time?

Aberglasney

     To Aberglasney Tuesday where summer is fading into autumn. Afterwards a short walk up the hill to the village hall, aka 'The Temperance Hall', and an art and antiques exhibition by Studio Cennen, a revival of the exhibitions that they held in the hall before Lockdown.

Own Work: Arundel House Arch

     Finally a new painting to show you.  A depiction of a now non-existent gate Inigo Jones designed for Arundel House, London.  Mannerism in full flow, almost Jacobean.  Mixed media.

September

September by John Clare (1793-1864)

Harvest awakes the morning still,
And toil's rude groups the valleys fill;
Deserted is each cottage hearth
To all life, save the cricket's mirth;
Each burring wheel its sabbath meets,
Nor walks a gossip in the streets;
The bench beneath the eldern bough,
Lined o'er with grass, is empty now,
Where blackbirds, caged from out the sun,
Would whistle while their mistress spun:
All haunt the thronged fields, to share
The harvest's lingering bounty there.
As yet, no meddling boys resort
About the streets in idle sport;
The butterfly enjoys its hour,
And flirts, unchased, from flower to flower;
The humming bees, which morning calls
From out the low hut's mortar walls,
And passing boy no more controls —
Fly undisturb'd about their holes.

'Quartet in Autumn' by Barbara Pym

        A week or so ago, I finished Barbara Pym's late novel 'Quartet in Autumn' - a book I have been meaning to read for some time now; a fragment of a wider and perhaps now lost  Anglo-Catholic culture.  (After  dipping into Mervyn Peake's behemoth 'Titus Groan' I am now currently reading the patrician 'The Soldier Philosophers' by Anthony Powell.)
As you may remember I have written about 'Quartet in Autumn' before when I was reviewing Paul Scott's panoramic and intricate 'Jewel in the Crown', set in the final years of the British Raj. 

     Both writers had been shortlisted for the 1977 Booker Prize - Scott for 'Staying On' set in Post-Independence India, and Pym for 'Quartet in Autumn'.  Both writers were deserving of public recognition, but the prize went to Scott who was by then not only an alcoholic but dying of cancer. He was to ill to be present at the award ceremony and died four months later in March 1978. Pym at the time was in remission from breast cancer, but it returned and she died in early 1980.  
      'Quartet in Autumn' was conceived in the wake of her diagnosis and treatment in 1971,  when she was working in the office of the International African Institute in London, and it was the first of novel of hers to be published since 'No Fond Return of Love' in 1961.  Early on in the book, in language that reflects the opinion of various publishers, there is a description of the sort of novel that one of the main characters is looking for: 'She had been an unashamed reader of novels, but if she hoped to find one which reflected her own sort of life she had come to realize that the position of an unmarried, unattached, ageing woman is of no interest whatever to the writer of modern fiction.' 

    All of that changed, however, in the mid '70s when, following an article in 'The Times Literary Supplement', there was a shift critical opinion, with 'Quartet in Autumn' being published in 1977, followed by 'The Sweet Dove Died' in 1978.  Four novels were published posthumously.

      'Quartet in Autumn' is the story of four co-workers who share a single office.  They are all roughly the same age and are all facing retirement. The office is in some un-named and un-described organization in central London, in the early '70s.  Faceless perhaps, I suppose.  I suspect, though, it is some form of institute of higher education, possibly in Bloomsbury. There are two men, Edwin and Norman, and two women, Letty and Marcia, one of whom, Marcia, has, like Barbara Pym herself, undergone a mastectomy. What any of these four does exactly is a mystery, or rather an irrelevance, as this novel is, apart from the impending fear of old age - loneliness, illness, and death, essentially about those bonds that develop between people who have been thrown together in the workplace - people no doubt that wouldn't have naturally formed friendships - and what happens to those relationships where circumstances change, and how much we owe to them.

     Pym is the chronicler of the mundane, of lives that have not been successful according to the world.  The depicter of the precarious life, the life lived in the bedsitter or the rented room, of the small pleasure.  A sense of the inadequate and the failure pervades her work,  of roads un-adopted where 'removed lives, loneliness clarifies'.

The National Gallery: Siena: The Rise of Painting 1300 -1350 Part One

Apologies for the tardiness of this post.  We are still in the midst of family illness.

Introduction

   I feel I should have done some research before going to this exhibition, which is a collaboration between the Metropolitan Museum in New York and The National Gallery in London.  It would certainly have helped, for although filled with beautiful and lustrous images, this is a hard exhibition to take in.  As I said to a friend later that day over lunch, there is a limit to the number of panel paintings one can take in at one sitting, and I write as somebody who usually loves this sort of thing, but something, for me at least, was not quite right.

'The Art that shaped the Future': Art History in the Age of Stupid?

     For the ignorant, and I think I may include myself in that category, Sienese art of the Middle Ages being a bit esoteric, both galleries have produced introductory videos to the exhibition.

    The Met video features the James Pope-Hennessy Curator in Charge of European Painting, Stephan Wolohojian and Caroline Campbell, then Curator of Italian Art at the National Gallery.  At one point Wolohijan said: '[....] in the last years of the 1340s Europe is infested by the Black Death, this great plague that was especially present in Italy, so by the end of our story none of these artists survive."  The implication being they had all died of the plague. This is nonsense. Of the four artists that this exhibition focuses upon, Ambrogio Lorenzetti and his brother Pietro may indeed have died of plague, but Duccio died c1318 and Simone Martini died in Avignon in 1344 at the age of 60.  Towards the end of the video Wolohojian stands in front of the beautiful 'Christ Discovered in the Temple' by Simone Martini with its delicate cusped & subcusped Gothic arch and lilting Gothic folds in the clothing of the three figures and says: "No gable, no Gothic form, a truly kind of framed painting, the way you could see made today...." Why do people make such statements like that, when, in this particular context, the exhibition is filled from beginning to end with panel paintings in square frames without 'no gable, or Gothic form'?
     The National Gallery video, grandiloquently subtitled 'The Art that shaped the Future', features, amongst others, a local Sienese artist Chiara Perinetti Casoni, who has it appears a real downer on Byzantine art. (I hate how in order to re-enforce an argument it is done at the expense of something else.)  She seems to speaking from a place of ignorance and one perhaps tainted by a certain anti-clericalism. In common with the other talking heads she presents a view of Byzantine art that is crude and almost unrecognisable.   She implied, for instance, that Byzantine icons were produced solely by religious ie monks.  However, icons were created both in a monastic and secular milieu.  There were professional secular artists in the Empire creating icons in a workshop system that couldn't have been that different from the one operating in Siena. Too much Vasari, and too much Romanticism.  Certainly this whole exhibition is indebted to Georgio Vasari and his book 'The Lives of the Most Excellent Artists, Sculptors, and Architects' .

     A claim is made in both videos that the icon tradition is 'rigid', 'rote and stale' and yet icons developed over time just like any other pictorial art, for example the introduction of Chrysography or 'striations'.  Contrary to the impression given, the depiction of the Virgin & Child in Orthodox iconography is not tied to the 'Hodegetria' type, which, according to legend, was established by St Luke the Evangelist.  There are other ways depicting the Theotokos and Child eg. 'Panakranta', 'Pelagonitissa' and most importantly in this context the 'Eleusa'.  According to Wiki it is sometimes referred to the in the West as the 'Virgin of Tenderness'.  Perhaps the most famous example of this type is the Vladimirskaya which dates from c 1130.  So claims that the it was the artists of Siena - 'true artists', mind you - those men, 'whose blood boiled' and 'felt strong emotions' who introduced tenderness & emotion into the dead language of Byzantium have to be taken with a pinch of salt.  Italian artists before Duccio were producing art with emotion; for example there is the work of the Florentine artist Meliore di Jacopo (fl 1255-85).  Two of his paintings spring to mind: The Madonna and Child with Two Angels, c 1270-75, and The Enthroned Madonna and Child of the same period.

     But then, sadly, although this exhibition opens movingly with a room of icons from the city, it underplays the role of those images in the religious and civic life of the contemporaneous Italian city: there were, for example, processions of icons in Rome and in the cities of Lazio to the south, and in Siena itself, where in addition the cathedral and San Niccolo al Carmine possessed miracle-working icons of the Virgin Mary.  In researching for this post I soon realised that I knew very little about the cultural spread of Byzantine art in Northern Italy.  The presence of Byzantine culture in Venice I understood, and in southern Italy and Sicily too where there were then still Greek speaking communities worshipping according the Byzantine rite. 

      What, however, was worse about these productions is that virtually no speaker in either video could bring themselves to say 'Byzantine', 'Gothic' or 'International Gothic'.  And these are the categories, the concepts, after all, that exhibition is dealing with. 

     You know, looking at these videos I felt just that bit cheated - I mean, all this people educated - lengthily, expensively, exclusively - talking with all the inanity of a fashion journalist.  PR rules.

    

Sir John Soane Museum

      Just a few snaps which I took of the interior of the Sir John Soane Museum on my last trip to the Smoke.  Hard to think, looking these images just how crowded the museum actually  was.

  The museum is quite the most extraordinary of spaces in London - part house, part office, part museum.  If you haven't been then I strongly suggest you do!  It is a marvel.