'The Madonna of Humility' by Fra Angelico at the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

On Sunday I visited the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam to see great paintings from the Northern painters  over the centuries and in particular to see a small altarpiece by Fra Angelico, 'Madonna of Humility'. The good Fra painted a number of small, devotional altarpieces with the Virgin and Child that we call 'Virgin of Humility' but they were probably called something very different at the time, more likely named after the donor who commissioned the work, either an individual, a family or an institution of some kind. The relatively small size of this painting suggests it was either for a small private chapel or for a domestic altar in a private home. I don't know who or what institution this altarpiece was painted for but, whoever it was, they were very lucky to have such a gorgeous work from the Fra.

Exploring and wandering past early Dutch and Flemish paintings you see a wall with a small group of golden paintings glowing in the gallery lights. These are early Renaissance Italian paintings with the Fra Angelico in the middle, the pride of this collection.  They have the gold leaf gilding and glowing colours that is the tell tale give away of when they were painted and this is also the most obvious difference with the Fra's works as he moved away from the plain gilded background to his richly textured cloth of gold that has a lovely warm glow.

This is where you can notice the big difference with similar paintings by the Fra. How is the cloth of gold held up and where are the angels? Look at this 'Virgin of Humility' in the Thyssen-Bornemesza  collection and the composition is very similar to the Rijksmuseum version and here you can see the cloth of gold being held by three angels, framing the holy family. This suggests to me that the Rijksmuseum panel has been cut down from a larger altarpiece so that the angels are removed and so is half of the Virgin's halo. I suspect (and hope) that there are some angel heads framed in gold and in a museum somewhere that belong with this altarpiece. Maybe I'll find them one day.

The frame it is currently in is very nice, reflecting the colours of the painting, with stars against a blue sky painted around the curved top of the frame and the golden detail of the side panels. I would be very happy to have this painting on my wall.

It's a very gentle and peaceful composition that works well as a whole, with the slight blush on the Virgin's cheek and the infant reaching out to his mother. One of the joys of seeing paintings 'in the paint' in front of you is that you can examine the detail which you often can't by looking in books or online reproductions. Look at the folds in the Virgin's blue cloak and pink dress and the detail of the hem in which the golden pattern continues and reflects the folds. Given how relatively small the overall work is, this is incredibly detailed work that blurs even just standing a few feet away. This is partly the fine finishing detail of an important commission but also suggests the altarpiece was meant to be seen quite close-up.

Similarly the detail on the cloth of the golden cushion the Virgin sits on and the cloth of gold behind her which folds over to indicate it is being held in three dimensions rather than being hung as a prop. It's this detail that marks a great painting by a master who has the vision for the overall composition but who can also see the detail that brings the work alive.

My recent course at the National Gallery in London included a session on how paintings are hung in galleries and this is something I've started to notice. The Fra's altarpiece here is screwed  to the wall with heavy, thick bolts that you can just see in the shadow in this photo. Unusually, it's possible to get a view of the side of the frame from the doorway just a few yards away from where it hangs. It'll take time and effort to remove this painting from the wall!

It was lovely to see this wonderful altarpiece by Fra Angelico. I smiled when I saw it across the gallery and headed straight for it. The clever people at the Rijksmuseum have thoughtfully placed a comfortable bench in front of it so you can sit and gaze up at it. It's also a joy to get right up close and admire and enjoy the delicate details in the painting. Thank you Brother John for bringing more light into our lives.

Anne Frank's Huis, Amsterdam

On my recent trip to Amsterdam I went to visit Anne Frank's House. It's not ordinarily something that I'd do, visit a house of someone 'famous', but I'm so pleased that I did.

We all know Anne Frank - or should do. The young Jewish girl who kept a diary while hiding from the nazis in Amsterdam in the Second World War when Holland was invaded. I've never read her diary but I saw the film back in the late 60s or 70s. I suspect that I've always just thought of it as another sad tale, a life needlessly cut short due to war, and not thought beyond that. Visiting the house makes you think. You can't help it - or, at least, I couldn't. And it worried and scared me.

Anne's very literate and mature thoughts were captured in her diary, a diary she made her father promise not to read and, as we hear from his own lips, he didn't during her life. There are video clips of her father talking to camera about how he survived Auschwitz but his daughters didn't survive Bergen-Belsen. He made his way back to Amsterdam to be given his daughter's diary and a box of photos the nazis missed when they cleared out the house. I can't imagine what it must have been like to be him, to see his family and friends wiped out and yet he remained, a solitary man who's seen so much and has to go on living.

The house is incredibly popular as a tourist attraction and is booked online up to 3:30pm after which it's open to buy tickets on the door. Don't wait - the queue at 3:30 was huge so it's best to book online if you want to visit. You're let in in small groups to walk up the incredibly steep stairs and around the small flat shared by the Frank family and their friends. The rooms are small and claustrophobic with carefully noted exhibits and quotes from Anne's diary about life in the flat. It's not actually the house she grew up in in Amsterdam, it's a series of rooms above a warehouse owned by the company of which her father was a director. There are also some small video installations showing films of some of the people who remembered the Franks including people who kept them supplied with food at the risk of their own lives. Such brave people and it's good to see and hear the story from them forever captured by video.

Walking behind that bookcase and up those stairs was quite an eerie experience, treading the same floorboards and stairs that Anne and her family walked on. Very strange and emotional.

I got to the stage when I couldn't just follow the slow moving queue around the flat looking at the exhibits, particularly due to a loud group of laughing Spanish lads, and wandered round drinking in the atmosphere with tears never far from my eyes. How on earth did this happen? How did we allow it to happen? Anne was almost the same age as my mother but my mother didn't have to hide from her neighbours and foreign enemies who hunted people down without thought, like animals. This isn't right. This can't be right, but it happened.

On the way out you pass a video installation in which lots of famous people talk about the influence of Anne's diary, which is nice, but more powerful to me was seeing Shelley Winters' Oscar statue won for her performance in the film about the diary that she donated to the house. It's in a glass case beside the cafe before you go downstairs to the book shop.

Anne isn't faraway history to me. She's a contemporary of my parents and died only 15 years before I was born. She was born in Germany in the late 1920s and was Jewish and that sealed her fate. What would I have done if I was in her position or if I went to school with her in Amsterdam? I don't know.

Despite all the platitudes about understanding history to make sure it doesn't repeat itself I can''t help but feel the circle is turning with votes against migrants and foreigners. In this day and age it's called 'populism' but that doesn't make it any less fascist. Fascism was 'populist' in the 30s in so many countries - including Britain with Moseley's brown shirts - and it must always be fought head on. It's insidious and we can turn round and suddenly realise that it's the norm and wonder what went wrong. We see it too often in the national newspapers owned by multi-millionaires, picking on the minority, the defenceless, and it's up to us - the majority - to defend them at the risk of history repeating itself.

That is why I'm pleased I went to Anne Frank's Huis in Amsterdam. Sometimes we all need to be reminded about what is important and that small warehouse did it for me. I bought her diary and will read it. I will speak out when I see fascism rear it's ugly head when I can and I will support those with louder voices. To quote the cliche, there is one race and it's the human race and we're all part of it.

On the banks of the canal near the back of the house is another monument, this one called the Homomonument. It's in the shape of three triangles, the shape the nazis forced gay men to wear on their clothes to indicate what they were. The triangles represent the past, present and future. The sign beside the monument reads, 'Commemorates all women and men ever oppressed and persecuted because of their homosexuality.' There weren't any queues to see this monument but people had left flowers on it. There are many forms of oppression and hate and all must be resisted. It's quite powerful to find two such monuments mere yards away from each other. Trust those Nederlanders to make an already powerful statement even more powerful.