'Jerusalem' at the Apollo Theatre

A few weeks ago I went up to the West End and continued travelling to Chippenham and then further into deeper, darker Wiltshire where the May Queen still rules, there's a spirit in every tree and you can meet giants at dawn. 'Jerusalem' is a strange kind of play that works on so many levels and we're lucky to have both Mark Rylance and Mackenzie Crook back in their leading roles for this revival at the Apollo Theatre. I saw it years ago so had to see it again. 

It's the tale of Johnny 'Rooster' Byron, a middle aged man living in a caravan in the rural Wiltshire woods that are his world. He's a reprobate, a drunkard, a drug taker and dealer, up for fun at a moments notice, divorced with a young son but all he's interested in is partying. His contemporaries have mostly grown up  and got on with their lives so he associates with younger people who still want his drugs and the outlandish life he lives and the tales he tells. The Byron's have lived in the area for centuries and he views the woods as his heritage. But the complaints about his behaviour and the noise grow and he's going to be evicted and his caravan seized. What next for Johnny?

The staging is splendid, with his caravan parked on the stage surrounded by trees and chickens living underneath it. Scrappy furniture out front for people to lounge on as they tell their stories and listen to Johnny's even more outlandish ones. Like the one where he was a motorcyclist jumping over buses or when he met the giant who built Stonehenge and gave him a drum-sized earring as a keepsake. At the end of the play Johnny is beaten and bloodied but still defiant as he beats the drum to summon the Byron Boys from their graves, his ancestors, and asks the giant to save him as the police approach to evict him. The trees shake and the lights go off. The end. I believe. 

How on earth Mark Rylance can maintain that level of intensity for so long - night after night - is astonishing. He must be exhausted after every performance. Every now and then I had to think for a moment about what had been said in those West Country accents and wondered how Broadway audiences managed.There were hints of Spencerian lyric poetry and the brutal reality of the modern world, the unbelief that one of their own would fly to Australia for a new life when Chippenham was so exotic and tales of the olde world of the May Queen and the jingling of morris dancing. A world in conflict, a modern mythology that Johnny is incapable of solving. Go and see it, you won't regret it. 

'My Fair Lady' at the Coliseum, London

I've never seen the stage version of 'My Fair Lady' and don't recall ever seeing the film all the way through so the production at the Coliseum was the perfect opportunity to put that right. When I booked the tickets I didn't realise it was the Jubilee weekend and the streets would be full of people aimlessly wandering round trying to find wherever they thought they were going. It was a relief to get inside the foyer and be faced with the familiar madness of people trying to find their seats - I'm used to that.

My main reason for wanting to see it was that it was devised by the same production team that delivered the glorious 'South Pacific' at Lincoln Centre (the Vivian Beaumont Theater to be precise) in 2010 that I saw while the snow piled up outside. That production transferred to London a few years later at the Barbican and then went on tour. I saw it several times. Would 'My Fair Lady' be up to the same standard?

The play opens in Covent Garden as the Royal Opera House empties and spills the posh folks into the common streets around the flower and vegetables market outside. That's where we meet flower girl Eliza Doolittle, the Indian army colonel and phonetics 'professor' Henry Higgins. You know the story from there, where Higgin's decides he can pass Eliza off as a lady under his tuition and so begins the tedious attempts to teach Eliza how to speak "proper". And he does... or rather, she does. But where does that get either of them?

The production was great and quite lavish with the main set of Higgins's house on a revolve to show different rooms and characters walking between them. Lots of fancy costumes for the characters and Eliza seemed to have dozens once she became 'posh'. It was also quite nice to know that the opening scene in Covent Garden was only five minutes walk round the corner from the theatre and we could all stumble across Eliza and her cronies at the market. Sadly, there hasn't been a flowers and vegetables market there for over 40 years but the Coliseum has installed a flower shop in the foyer to make up for that oversight.

I really liked Amara Okereke as a feisty Eliza, a great performance and a lovely voice. Harry Hadden-Patten and Malcolm Sinclair were fine as Higgins and Colonel Pickering, as were Maurine Beattie as housekeeper Mrs Pickering and Stephen K Amos as Alfred Doolittle. I also really liked Sharif Afifi as nice but dim Freddy with his lovely singing voice. Sadly Vanessa Redgrave as Mrs Higgins wasn't on for this performance. The performances were good, the costumes and sets were really good but I didn't fully enjoy the book or some of the songs. Higgins is a rather unpleasant mysogenistic character and his songs were all to the same stop/start formula. The character rather soured things for me and good on Eliza for walking away. I hope she got her flower shop.

My ignorance of this musical was demonstrated to me by two songs - who knew 'I Could Have Danced All Night' was from this show as is the lovely 'On The Street Where You Live'? The placing of 'Danced All Night' was a bit odd since at that point Eliza hadn't actually danced yet, the dancing is much later and the moment of her triumph at the ball is spoiled by Higgins and Pickering congratulating themselves on the success of their 'experiment', totally ignoring Eliza. 

Verdict? Yes, 'My Fair Lady' is definitely up to the standards of 'South Pacific', so well done to Bartlett Sher and his team at Lincoln Center in New York. And the actual musical? It's great fun, well performed and the cast have some great voices, but, well, on this outing, Lerner and Loewe ain't no Rodgers and Hammerstein. Go and see it for yourself.

'Picasso Ingres: Face to Face' at the National Gallery

A new exhibition opened at the National Gallery last week, 'Picasso Ingres: Face to Face', that considers Ingres's portrait 'Madame Moitessier' with Picasso's 'Woman With A Book', his version of the portrait. The Ingres portrait is the National Gallery collection and the Picasso is on loan from the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena, California. The exhibition is just these two paintings, that's it, quite simple and also quite powerful with no distractions. 

I've seen the Ingres portrait many times and I've started to almost ignore it when wandering round the Gallery and that is a mistake. It was painted over several years and the composition changed, eventually being completed in 1856. It really is a glorious painting, just look at that delicate flesh tone with the blush on her cheek and the details of her jewels and dress. The thing that caught my attention on this viewing was the detail on her fan in her impossibly delicate hand. It's a thing of beauty in itself.

The floral frock is what grabs the attention but it's important to look elsewhere in the painting. Look at her reflection in the mirror on the right hand side of the painting and also at the fashionable Chinese vase partially hidden by another fan on the left. This is an important society lady and she needs to be portrayed as such.  It's a delicate and detailed painting.

In contrast, Picasso's version is anything but delicate. It was good to be able to get up close and see the paint piled on roughly, see the drip marks, the paint smeared on top of other paint and pushed and pulled until it creates it's own beauty. Rather than holding a fan, the lady here holds an open book.

The painting was made in 1932, an important year for Picasso and the subject of an exhibition at Tate Modern a few years ago that explored his amazing output in that year. That suggests that Picasso probably spent only a few days on the painting, if that, and yet he still created a thing of beauty. 

The exhibition is free and well worth popping into at the end of your visit to the National Gallery - it's in Room 46 at the top of the portico steps after you leave the 'modern art' rooms. There's also a small exhibition book if you want to know more about the paintings.

Ashton Triple Bill at the Royal Opera House

Last week I went to see three one-act ballets by Frederick Ashton danced by the Royal Ballet at the Royal Opera House. My last visit was about 6 months ago to see Steven McRae dance Romeo in 'Romeo & Juliet', his first return to the stage after snapping his Achilles tendon over two years ago. 

The first ballet was 'Scenes de Ballet', a piece I've never seen before. It didn't grab me at all although I liked the music by Stravinsky. The dancing seemed rather formulaic and I wasn't always sure what I was actually seeing. At one point I remember being distracted by the lads' tunics, thinking they would make great tee shirts and the Royal Opera House should sell them in its shop. I should be thinking about the ballet not tee shirts.

The second was 'A Month in the Country' with music by Chopin, a ballet I've seen before and I could sink into the comfort and story of it. A rich family living in the countryside in their grand house, the bored mother flirting with a friend, the father mainly absent, two children and servants when a new tutor for the boy turns up. Obviously, the mother and tutor fall in love but the daughter has set her sights on him and she denounces them to the father. It ends sadly, but the love is real. Natalia Osipova was excellent as the mother, flirtatious and sad by turns, yearning for more than her life has given her. William Bracewell danced the tutor who can't bear to hurt his love and leaves quietly. 

The final ballet was 'Rhapsody' with music by  Rachmaninoff and it was my favourite. I've not seen it before but the lead was danced by Steven McRae so we were in safe hands (or feet). It was a perfect match of movement to music with Steven leaping and jumping, running round the stage leading the other dancers then vanishing into the wings to let Anna Rose O'Sullivan do her dances. This is a great role for a male dancer to spotlight their skills and Steven took full advantage of it. And even better, he looked like he was enjoying it. He was a joy to watch and I'd love to see him dance the part again. 

I don't have any more tickets to see the Royal Ballet in the immediate future - my next dance is flamenco - but that day will come again. They're too good to miss for long.

'Van Gogh: Self Portraits' at the Courtauld Gallery

The Courtauld Gallery re-opened in late 2021 after being closed for several years for renovations to make better use of the limited space it has in Somerset House, a listed building. Its first major exhibition of 2022 is a selection of Van Gogh's self-portraits, about half of all the self-portraits he painted in his short life. 

There are 15 paintings and one drawing self-portrait, one symbolic self-portrait and one portrait of his friend Eugene Boch. The Courtauld owns one of the paintings, the self-portrait of Vincent with a bandaged ear, and the other works come from various collections around the world. They're all roughly the same size and shape and most have a plain background rather a scene of a room or landscape behind him. 

I wandered from painting to painting wondering what Van Gogh was trying to achieve with these paintings. Was he just practicing and using himself as a convenient model? His style clearly changed between the paintings, sometimes noticeably, using his brush markings in different ways to evoke the image of his face but was there more to it? His colour palette changes frequently, from rather dark and 'formal' self-portraits to freer, lighter paintings, sometimes in a hat and formal coat or jacket and sometimes in more informal or work clothes. No doubt there'll be a learned essay in the catalogue about this.

In only one of the paintings does he present himself as a painter, with a canvas, palette and brushes, wearing his painters' smock. Artists have been painting themselves like this for as long as they've done self-portraits.

One of my favourite paintings is of Van Gogh in a straw hat, in which the only dark element is his eyes. It's slightly smaller than the others but is very attractive in the gentle, almost dappled, colours he's chosen for it. Perhaps that's why it's in the chunky black frame? It would look very different in a lighter and thinner frame (my hint to the Detroit Institute of Art where it normally resides).

Mr Van Gogh is known for his bright ginger beard and in one painting it almost jumps off the canvas at you. He was experimenting with pointillism at the time, using dots of contrasting colours to create the image. It's fascinating to look at his brush marks with dots and little dashes of colour on his jacket and filling the background with more usual marks on his face, particularly over his nose to create the contours, a definite mix of styles creating his own style. 

It's interesting to note the different frames his works are placed in, presumably the frames they came in when loaned to the Courtauld. Most are quite thick and chunky in different styles and colours and I can't help but think they'd look better in simpler frames. They're not big paintings so having a chunky frames makes them appear bigger by taking up more wall space but I don't think that adds anything to the paintings themselves. 

There is also only one full face self-portrait with Vincent looking straight out at the viewer. Apparently he didn't like showing his full face since it demonstrated his gaunt, sunken cheeks due to losing his teeth.

A final two paintings for you, the famous self-portrait with a bandaged ear that is the only one in the exhibition with a background of what looks like his room with art on the wall. In none of the paintings does he look particularly happy or relaxed. There must have been bright moments in his life but you wouldn't guess that from the self-portraits. 

A painting I am very familiar with is Van Gogh's painting of his chair, a symbolic self-portrait, since it's normally in the National Gallery. I don't have a problem with including this painting since it is a representation of him, his chair with his pipe and tobacco on the seat is saying 'this is me'. It was a companion piece to the painting he did of Gauguin's chair from the short time they lived and painted together. He signs it simply as 'Vincent'.

This is a lovely exhibition and I'm pleased I've seen it (several times now). It hasn't shown me different side to Van Gogh the man or the painter but it does emphasise his constant experimentation, even in relatively small ways. He died very young but left behind a wealth of paintings. Highly recommended.

Plastic Bag Awards 2021

2021 has been an odd year, yet again, and continues to be so. Between official lockdowns and self-imposed lockdowns when the government wasn't doing its prime objective of protecting its citizens, I managed to get out and see and do some things over the year. The categories are, again, abbreviated to make sure there are enough contenders to make it worthwhile convening the judging panel, but here they are, the Baggies of 2021! 

Best Theatre (Drama and Dance)

I only saw one drama this year but several dance productions. The nominees are:

'The Normal Heart' @ The National Theatre
'Romeo & Juliet' @ The Royal Opera House
'The Midnight Bell' @ Sadler's Wells
'L'Heure Exquise' @ The Linbury at the Royal Opera House
'Curated by Carlos' @ Sadler's Wells

'The Normal Heart' was the only play I saw this year and, while it's an important work, it's not a great drama. It was wonderful to see Alessandra Ferri dance twice over the autumn, especially dance with Carlos Acosta, I also saw the ballet that made me fall in love with the art form with my original Romeo, Steven McRae on his return to the stage after his injury. But the dance work that made me sit up and pay attention was the new work from Matthew Bourne, 'The Midnight Bell', telling stories of the seedy side of Soho between the wars. I'm looking forward to seeing it again one day.

The winner is 'The Midnight Bell' by Matthew Bourne at Sadler's Wells.

Best Exhibition

I managed to see a few good exhibitions over the summer and autumn, with all major galleries open and the Courtauld finally re-opened after a three-year restoration project in November (and it's looking good). The nominees are:

'The Making of Rodin' @ Tate Modern
'Sensing the Unseen' @ The National Gallery
'Sophie Taeuber-Arp' @ Tate Modern
'Poussin and the Dance' @ The National Gallery
'Durer's Journeys' @ The National Gallery

There have been some great exhibitions this year that gallery curators will have been working on for several years but fewer people than expected will have seen them due to the plague. That's unfortunate but those of us lucky enough to see them are very grateful.

Who knew that Rodin made naked models of his works to get the musculature and stance right before adding clothes? Who guessed that Durer made sketches from his travels around Europe to incorporate into his paintings? There's a lot to learn from exhibitions. I didn't expect to like the Poussin exhibition but I did, seeing his graceful paintings of dancers and it was a joy to discover Sophie Taeuber-Arp, a colour master I'd never heard of. 

But the Baggie goes to 'Sensing the Unseen' at the National Gallery, a digital and interactive exploration of Jan Gossaert's 'Adoration of the Kings'. Not only was this a great painting to explore but it was perfect for this experimental exhibition of different ways of looking at it, one of my favourite paintings in the collection.

Best Installation

This year I've split off installations from exhibitions since they are, essentially, different things, different ways of experiencing art. The nominees are:

'Rupture No 1: blowtorching the bitten peach' by Heather Phillipson @ Tate Britain
'Infinity Mirror Rooms' by Yayoi Kusama @ Tate Modern
'Forest for Change' @ Somerset House
'In Love With The World' by Anicka Yi @ Tate Modern

This has been a fine year for installations in London and I admit to wanting a holiday cottage in Kusama's Infinity Mirror Rooms. I loved the 'Forest' in the stone courtyard of Somerset House and I want to adopt one of the alien creatures floating round the Turbine Hall at Tate Modern, but the winner is Heather Phillipson at Tate Britain.

This is a fabulous installation that should be called 'The Great All-Seeing God of a Thousand Eyes' and I can't help but gawp at it as I walk through and experience it. It's a sound and vision experience and occupies the central galleries of the Tate. It's fabulous.

Best Face Mask

The pandemic went on from 2020 into 2021 and more places started selling masks since the need continued. Cressida Bell produced a 'Fireworks' mask and the V&A Museum produced different William Morris designed masks (I bought a green one), but the award goes to the Tate that produced a fabulous mask based on the 'Punjabi Rockers' work by Chila Kumari Singh Burman. I bought two.  

And that's it, the reduced Plastic Bag Awards for 2021. Here's hoping we can get closer to normal next year. 

'Mark Rothko 1968: Clearing Away' at Pace Gallery

A new gallery has recently opened in London and it's opening exhibition is by Mark Rothko, a small series of paintings in acrylic on paper. I've seen a few Rothko paintings over the years at various exhibitions and galleries, including the Tate collection, and they've always been big things but these were pleasantly small and would fit in anyone's living room. That was quite a surprise and joy - I could have one of these in my home.

There's something about Rothko's paintings that I can't quite put a finger on that attract me. I'm sure I read somewhere that they're quite meditative but that's someone else's view and not mine, but they are quite peaceful, quite restful to gaze at. Is it the colour palette, the shape, the size? I don't know, I'm still making up my mind, but I like them. 

There are 22 paintings on display and I probably spent a ridiculous amount of time examining the brush strokes and the colours - is the yellow in tis painting the same as the yellow in that painting on the opposite wall? Is this orange the same or is it slightly more pink? If the curators had spent more time thinking about people like me rather than the overall shape of the exhibition they would've hung some of the paintings side by side so I could examine them properly. Still, can't have it all I suppose.

It may be small but it's perfectly formed. I really enjoyed it and I'm pleased I've seen these rarely exhibited works. It's only on for another couple of weeks so, if you're in the West End, it's well worth visiting - book a slot through the Pace website and see some paintings you'll probably never have the opportunity to see again.

The British Museum in a Mask

The British Museum is open again and, like many places, requires you to wear a mask, has free ticketed entry and a one-way route to follow, ending with the shop. The way in is the same, over to the big tent for bags to be checked and then into the main entrance, get your ticket scanned in the courtyard and then join the queue to get into the exhibition rooms and start the route. Only the ground floor is open at the moment, and not all the rooms, but it was nice to be back. Luckily for me, there was no queue when I arrived so I went straight in to be faced by the Rosetta Stone. 

And there we are, faced with the giant statues of Amenhotep III, in one of the Ancient Egyptian rooms. As it is with most places and exhibitions, the first few rooms were busiest as people adapt to the space, and then the numbers start noticeably thinning out. I wandered round, gawping at the ancient artifacts, All too soon I was surrounded by Assyrian strangeness with winged angels and lions defending doorways and suddenly I was in Ancient Greece.

Exhibits of statues and jars in glass cases and people carefully examining the designs and trying to follow them round the shape of the jars. And then the Parthenon room with those axing friezes. The last time I was in that room it was so crowded I couldn't wait to get out but my recent visit was far more relaxed with maybe a dozen or so people in the room. It was far more relaxed and I had plenty of time and space to examine the carvings. I've always been fascinated by the intricate drapery of the flowing gowns worn by the women in those friezes and I love the fighting centaurs.

In the next room, set in front or a reconstructed Greek temple is Grayson Perry's 'Tomb of the Unknown Craftsman' dedicated to all those unnamed craftsmen over the millennia that made the exhibits in the Museum. It's a galleon sailing their spirits into immortality. It was one of the highlights of the visit.  

Suddenly I was back in Egypt and there was mighty Rameses II. Rameses always makes me think of Shelley's 'Ozymandias' and the much quoted line, 'Look on my works ye mighty and despair'. Rameses was a great builder so no wonder statues of him have been found all over Egypt.

Then downstairs into the Africa rooms with some great Benin bronzes, before heading back upstairs to wander through the Native American rooms to the Mexico rooms and then a room full of old books that are so tempting to touch, probably reminiscent of the old British Library. Then to the shop where you can buy loads of things to do with the subject matter in the Museum, including their own facemarks - I got one with the Rosetta Stone inscription as decoration. Then out the exit into fresh air, also known as the back door.

I really enjoyed the visit and the Museum has carefully planned the route to take in as much as possible while keeping visitors safe. I was probably there for an hour or so wandering along the route and it would be easy to spend longer if you actually look at everything properly. Entry is timed and ticketed but is still free so, if you've got the time, it's well worth a visit. Remember to bring a mask.

It's All In The Details... Titian at the National Gallery (in a mask)

I was standing there gazing at 'Diana and Actaeon' in the Titian exhibition at the National Gallery and started drinking in the details. I'm quite familiar with the painting but it's always nice to really look at a painting. I liked how Diana's little lap dog is already in full protective mode, baring her teeth at the enemy, young Actaeon and his hunting dog. The nymphs are all shocked and scared but the little dog is ready for anything. Actaeon is a mortal and Diana is a goddess so is pretty safe really, but that's not the point.

Actaeon is all muscle and sinew, not an ounce of spare flesh on that body, just look at the legs and that shoulder and arm. Diana and her handmaidens are all soft and fleshy, voluptuous and inviting, just the odd piece of drapery covering them. They're at their bath after all. They've been surprised and are attempting to cover their nakedness, all that flesh on display. Why they would choose to bathe in a ruined house in the middle of the woods is anybody's guess.

Then I noticed, between two nymphs on the ornate ledge above the pool, a small jar probably filled with rare, essential oils for Diana to bathe with. There's a small mirror beside it reflecting the jar. On closer inspection there's a reflection of the jar in the pool and, looking closer still, you can see a few dabs of white paint that give the jar it's sheen.  

Sometimes it's the details that bring a painting to life. Look at the detail on that ruined shelf, the frieze around the old fountain or whatever it is, partially worn away over the years and then that small jar. All the marks of a master. But it's the storytelling that draws us into a painting like this, the inventiveness of the composition. The current Titian exhibition is well worth seeing.

Lockdown 2020 #4

The world was a different place four short months ago. Those months have been the longest ever due to 'lockdown'. I'm conscious that I'm beginning to forget what life was like at the time and want to make a few notes to help me remember.

March and April were a time of random anxieties about the future and worries about what might happen but they gradually faded as we got used to queueing outside shops to buy food and the world around us didn't crumble. Many people continued to go work and others were furloughed because they weren't needed at the time. Radio and TV shows kept things upbeat and positive (like the great 'Grayson's Art Club'), theatres were very good at offering refunds on tickets, often asking for donations to keep them going but a refund wasn't a problem, and we got used to the new language of zooming everywhere. My Zooms were for online drawing sessions. May crept into June and June into July as lockdown started to ease as the country passed the peak of cases.

I started looking back to the strange days of March and April as being not so bad, when the roads and streets were virtually empty and the world was quieter and cleaner. The government started announcing stupid rules like 'social bubbles' that were totally unenforceable and people just started ignoring them and doing as they wanted. Raves started happening on the local Commons and litter significantly increased. Things were getting back to 'normal' in a pandemic. Masks or 'face coverings' started to become a 'thing' and became mandatory on public transport. I bought colourful masks from OddBalls, the prostate cancer charity.

The National Gallery became the first gallery or museum to open on 6 July for members and 8 July for the public. A brave move that was very well done with staff and guards wearing visors and visitors asked to wear face masks and maintain distance as they looked at the works. I gave them a week to sort out any teething problems and went on 14 July to support the Gallery and see some Art. Trafalgar Square was empty but there was a big queue to get into the Gallery by timed-entry tickets. That was the first time I'd been more than a couple of miles from my front door since March.

Other things started to open like 'non-essential' shops and department stores, pubs and restaurants, workplaces that could operate safely and it became a lot easier to book food deliveries as more people started shopping for themselves. Hairdressers and barbers became a 'thing'. Was this all happening too quickly? Probably, but it was what people seemed to want.

I can get into the centre of London by overground train to avoid buses and tubes and that's what I've been doing. Visiting an art exhibition, St Paul's and Tate Britain, getting a lot of walking in as exercise to and from train stations. I wore a mask on the trains and in the places I visited and will continue to do so. London felt more alive and busier last week, not back to 'normal' by any means and the streets were still relatively quiet, but London is waking up again.

What will happen next? I don't know. Most people seem to assume there'll be another outbreak of the virus and more deaths at some point so there's still a need to be careful since the virus is still out there. We'll see...