'Nicolaes Maes: Dutch Master of the Golden Age' at the National Gallery

There's a lovely small exhibition of works by Nicolaes Maes at the National Gallery at the moment, apparently the first exhibition of his works in the UK. He was a pupil of Rembrandt before becoming a popular master in his own right.

The exhibition is in three distinct sections over three rooms in the ground floor galleries. The first room displays his early works, some of which have been considered as by Rembrandt in the past, mainly religious works. The second room is made up of small 'genre' paintings which were great fun. The third room is made up of Maes' portraits, including a late self-portrait. Apparently he painted 900 portraits so he must have been well off.

My favourite of his early paintings was his 'Adoration of the Shepherds' which is a copy of an etching by Durer from 150 years earlier. I spent a gleeful few minutes trying to find all the health and safety hazards - those bricks could tumble down any minute and just look at the wooden roof that could easily crash down on Joseph at the slightest breeze and I'm not even mentioning the shepherd's crook sticking out waiting to trip up someone. Then I had to find the donkey and the ox and there they are, at the back in the shadow. It can't be a nativity scene without the donkey and the ox.

Dutch genre paintings of the 17th Century aren't really my favourites but I thought these were delightful.

My favourites were the 'eavesdropper' paintings in which the figure in the foreground is listening to what's happening in the darkened background, the servant listening to their master's goings on or to what other servants are up to. They're quite simple in a way but you need to spot the details to understand what's going on, and that forces you to look carefully. Often you can see tiny lovers in a dark corner, sometimes flirting and sometimes being discovered, the servants always know.

It was quite fun to notice that the same model was used for two of these paintings, and quite probably many more. I wonder who she was and how much she was paid for her modelling? I wonder what she might think if she knew people were looking at here 350 years later?

There were also some of Maes's drawings on show and I particularly liked these two drawings of old women. They're quite small but are incredibly detailed or slightly smudged to make them look detailed. These were made from red chalk on paper.

The final room is made up of portraits, some more dramatic than others. Some were in their original frames and I really liked these two, a pair of betrothal portraits in individual frames. The lady is Ingena Rotterdam and the gentleman is Jacob Benkes and they were painted in about 1676. As portraits they're nice enough but look at those frames. They were made to personalise the portraits so his has a figure of Mars at the top and she has Venus - he was a soldier so it is particularly apt. Sadly they never married since he was killed fighting the French in the new world. 

There is also a self-portrait in which he shows himself as a prosperous and important man, be-wigged in his curly finery. It's a nice little exhibition in the ground floor galleries and is free to view. Sadly, of course, the National Gallery is currently closed but hopefully it'll still be on when the current shut-down is over.

Velazquez, Rembrandt, Vermeer - Parallel Visions at the Prado, Madrid

A very busy blockbuster of an exhibition at the Prado in Madrid at the moment is 'Velazquez, Rembrandt, Vermeer - Parallel Visions'. From the big names in the title you'd be forgiven for thinking that all the paintings would be by those big three of the 17th Century but they're not. The exhibition also includes many paintings by other artists including Frans Hals, Nicholas Maes, Murillo and Zurbaran to name just four. The exhibition attempts to show how the three big names (and others) had a shared vision of how to develop art and the direction painting should go in and it finds paintings that help to justify this vision.

My heart sank a little when I first walked into the exhibition to be faced with a long wall full of paintings of mainly bearded men and some women dressed in black with white ruffs. Who on earth came up with such a boring fashion choice? This was summed up by one of the first paintings, 'Anatomy Lesson of Dr Sebastiaen Eghertsz' by Aert Pietersz. I'm sure these paintings must have their merits but they're not for me thank you.

Further on there was an interesting painting called 'Democratus' by Hendrick ter Brugghen which is basically a right arm and a bald head. I wonder what made him choose that pose?

The beauty is in the detail. Just look at the folds of loose skin at the wrist, the wrinkled skin of the fingers and the much smoother skin of the arm stretched over slight muscles. The right shoulder is excellent, hinting at the complex musculature underneath the skin, the contours and slight shadows. That is a good arm in anyone's book.

Democritus is also clearly discussing something with someone out of the picture, with his left hand gesturing while he lounges against a globe. The darker, exposed skin of his forehead is furrowed and his bearded mouth is open, mid word. It's an impressive painting.

One of the biggies of the exhibition is 'The Geographer' by Vermeer from 1669.

We see a geographer leaning over a map with his tools,with a globe behind him and other paraphernalia. His face is slightly blurred, suggesting movement and excitement perhaps? Has he just realised or discovered something?

There are the inevitable Dutch still lives and flower paintings and this part of the exhibition was particularly crowded, being in a sort of cul de sac in the gallery space. I gave the paintings the once over but the only one that made me look twice was this strange painting by Zurbaran, 'Still Life with Vessels' from 1650. I think the thing that caught my attention was the vase on the far right and it's textured surface - this photo doesn't really give you much of a feeling for what it was really like.

Rembrandt is represented by the inevitable self-portrait as a middle aged man but the painting I've chosen to include here is his painting of his wife, 'A Woman Bathing In A Stream' from 1654 on loan from the National Gallery in London.  There's something about this painting that grabs the attention. A woman in her shift, cut low and pulled up around her thighs so there's no particular nakedness compared to many other paintings of women but this seems particularly personal and intimate.

I wonder if Rembrandt made his wife stand like that in a stream, or maybe in a bath tub in his studio, to get it just right. In an age of puritans did she feel uncomfortable exposing her thighs like that or was she used to her husband's ways by then?

Not far from it is a long, thin painting by Velazquez, roughly life sized, of 'Mars'. Just look at that healthy skin tone, the body and the blue of the loin cloth. The thing that really intrigued me was the face, covered in shadow from the martial helmet, and, in particular, the impressive moustache.  In a body free from hair where does this tache come from? It's really impressive and long. I wonder if the model had a tache like this or whether he was chosen since his face could take it being added?

It's not the most muscular or masculine of bodies but the physicality of it is quite impressive, particularly since he's not actually doing anything other sitting for his portrait to be painted. The god of war having a rest but keeping his helmet on. There must be a story behind this painting but I don't know what it is.

One of the final paintings in the exhibition is 'A Civil Guardsman holding a Berkemeier (the Merry Drinker)' by Frans Hals from 1628-30. Let's face it, this guardsman has been doing more than simply holding a glass, he's been drinking from it and probably isn't much good as a guardsman at the moment. Judging from his ruddy complexion he's already had a few and fully intends to have a few more. I hope he's finished his shift on guard by the time he indulges. He's clearly in a good mood, raising his glass to us, the viewer, several centuries after he left this world. I was quite pleased that this was the last painting I took notice of in the exhibition, a drinking partner offering me a last glass before I went home. Thanks mate, I don't mind if I do!

This isn't my favourite period in art by any means but I'm pleased I saw this exhibition. It shows that there's always something to enjoy and engage with if you actually take the trouble to look. 

Two Lates - Rembrandt and Turner

I went to see two 'big' exhibitions in January - 'Late Rembrandt' at the National Gallery and 'Late Turner - Painting Set Free' at Tate Britain. The Turner exhibition closes this weekend so I popped along after work on Friday since Tate Britain is only 10 minutes from where I work - so why did it take me so long to go and leave it until the last few days?

I was lucky enough to get a ticket to a private members viewing of the 'Late Rembrandt' exhibition at the National Gallery. The Gallery had only opened it's membership scheme in the autumn last year and this was only it's second members evening and I was looking forward to going. But it didn't start well. Firstly, we were kept out in the cold in the street rather than being allowed into the foyer to buy a glass of wine while we waited. Secondly, the woman I handed my email ticket to didn't look at me or smile or act remotely welcoming while she crossed my name off the list and handed the ticket back to me, all without looking at me or speaking. Thirdly, the cloakroom staff were brusque in the extreme - 'move along move along'. The human element of the evening was a complete failure.

But then there's the art and that's what it's all about. The art, yes, the reason for being there in the first place. I've never been a big fan of Rembrandt and this was a great opportunity to be surrounded by his works and see what he's all about.

Sadly, this exhibition did nothing to change my mind about Rembrandt and it only reinforced my prejudices. Black on brown with another hint of brown and some deadly nightshade black with a hint of a white collar somewhere. Repeated again and again. Was colour illegal back then or something? Some finely marked faces with incredibly fine lines etched into them doesn't make a great painting for me when 90% of it is just swathes of black or brown.

I did like a few of the paintings, such as this one, 'Portrait of Catrina Hooghsaert' who was about aged 50 when this portrait was made despite looking like 70. I also liked the parrot on the left which doesn't show up at all in this picture (but it's there, honest). I also liked some of the drawings and etchings, like the lovely 'Recumbent Lion, facing right' in, I think, pen and ink - doesn't that mane just make you want to stroke it?

'Late Turner - Painting Set Free' has been the big exhibition at Tate Britain over the last few months and it's closing weekend was bound to be very busy so I popped along late on Friday afternoon. As with Rembrandt, I've never been a big fan of Turner and generally just glance at his paintings as I walk past them in galleries. As with the Rembrandt, it was an opportunity to be immersed in his works and see whether that would change my mind. And it did.

As expected, it was incredibly busy, especially the first couple of rooms, with people milling around, forgetting they're wearing back-packs and carrying big coats against the January weather (there was a huge queue at the cloakroom so I did the same and just carried my coat).

People listening to the audio guide and peering at the paintings, chatting quietly and gesturing at different paintings, and me just wandering round and glancing right and left like a magpie hunting for shiny things but nothing attracted my attention. And then a painting did, 'Dawn of Christianity' in an ornate frame. I'm not sure what attracted me to the painting but it was the first one I stopped at, waited for people to move on and then took a closer look, seeing the holy family on their trek into Egypt on the right bank and the serpent in the river to bottom left. I like the palm tree outlined against the clouds and the deep blue sky. There was something very harmonious and relaxing about the painting, with an element in intrigue as to what was going on.

Wandering deeper into the exhibition, and paying a bit more attention now, brought me to some grand panoramic scenes that made me yearn for some lightening flashes and wild glare from a John Martin 'end of the world' scene. No such drama from Mr Turner, but he brings his own kind of drama such as this lovely small watercolour (I think) titled 'Bamborough Castle' from 1837 (properly spelled Bamburgh).  The storm and the wild, mad waves with little boats bouncing around and the majestic castle on the headland… o yes, I want this one. It's made up of course, since the castle isn't that high above the sea and it's not based on any particular event but the drama and storytelling are marvellous.

Other paintings made me stop and look twice, like 'Undine Giving the Ring to Massaniello' and 'Mercury Sent to Admonish Aeneas', a few paintings here and there. A painting I crossed a room to look at was another small watercolour 'Lake of Zug' from his travels in the Swiss Alps. The blue on blue and the sun peeping out behind the mountains, the misty depth and people in the foreground. I just had to take a look and wonder what was going on.

Being surrounded on all sides by an artists' works can change your mind about them and see things to appreciate that you haven't thought about before. And this exhibition did just that for me. I'm not a convert or a fan, but perhaps I just don't know how to look at Turner's paintings? And that's part of the problem of only seeing the exhibition on it's closing weekend. If I'd gone a couple of months ago and felt this way then I could've read a book or two and gone back to see if I'd learned how to look and see. Unfortunately I can't do that and that's my own fault. But I'll certainly look at any Turner painting differently and maybe, just maybe, I'll see them in a new light.

I learned something at this exhibition. Thank you Tate Britain and, of course, Mr Joseph Mallord William Turner.