Showing posts with label J W M Turner. Show all posts
Showing posts with label J W M Turner. Show all posts

Sunday, 15 February 2026

Turner and Constable

     Wednesday afternoon - during our trip to London - and I braved the miserable weather and headed off to Tate Britain on Millbank for the Turner & Constable exhibition.  It was very popular and some rooms quite crowded.  A very middle class crowd at that and too many interminable middle class conversations that would have been bearable if they happen to have been about the art. A little claustrophic at times, but not as crowded or unpleasant as the John Singer Sargent exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery back in 2015. That was downright dangerous.  Not to self: always go as early as possible.
     Anyway, back to Millbank.  This exhibition marks the 250th anniversary of the births of those two artistic titans of British art Turner (1775) and Constable (1776), and is rather like one of those exam questions 'compare and contrast the work of...'.  Each room contains an equal amount of both, and I (like everybody it seemed) zig-zagged between the two, though if it hadn't have been so crowded you could, I suppose, do one and then return to the start to do the other. Their work comes at the end of the 'Long 18th century', that 'long period of Whig Oligarchy', when the pace of change between Pastoral Britain and Industrial Britain began to pick up, and their art both consciously and unconsciously reflects this. And that's about it.  I've really run out of things to say, usually at an exhibition such as this I find something on which I can hang my hat.  But not this time.  The art was beautiful, the watercolours exquisite, and by the end of it I found I liked Constable a little more, and Turner a little less.  It was not however, at least when I was there, a place for contemplation.
     Finally, for a small confession.  I did not like all of the work on display.  I will go even further and say that there were some paintings I actively disliked, and thought were terrible.  In the penultimate room, which was dominated by vast canvasses, there were some absolute shockers.  There, I've said it.
    
     
     We ate at Le Pain Quotidien, Maison Berteaux, and Ta'mini and in the evenings at our perennial favourite Ciao Bella on Lambs Conduit St; Fushan on New Oxford St (I really liked the grilled aubergine); and Fig & Walnut on Marchmont St.  I also ate at the V&A and Tate Britain - the V&A was the better experience
     The real culinary discovery of this trip was, however, 'Aux Merveilleux De Fred' at St Pancras station. Founded by Frederic Vaucamps, this small chain of patisseries specialise in Northern French/Belgian delicacies such as Merveileux, Cramique and waffles.  We were very impressed.

Sunday, 12 October 2025

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 1775.  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'.