The Harvard Art Museums, Boston

The third museum I went to in Boston was Harvard Art Museums, a new building bringing together three museums and their collections. Straight up the Red Line on the underground and you come to Harvard with its colleges and big library and, of course, it's art museum.

I found it to be a very odd place. Is it a public museum of a university exhibition area? It has a great collection but it had a feel of 'one of those, and one of those, and two of those please' in its choice of paintings. It didn't feel like a collection so much as a selection from a collection to put on display. If the latter is true then what's in the vaults? That's what I want to know.

The first floor (or Level Two in American) is where the early European paintings begin so that's where I headed and, almost immediately, stumbled across a gorgeous triptych by Bernardo Daddi. There are five scenes in this triptych which makes it rather unusual, with paintings of saints rather than scenes from the life of Christ. It's a lovely little altarpiece that would've been used by a travelling priest or merchant who could open it up at the end of the day in their lodgings for evening prayers. It's a lovely, delicate thing.

A painting that grabbed my eye was in a glass case and labelled as 'After Jan van Eyck (?)' from the 16th Century. The date is much later than van Eyck but the composition is very similar.  If you've ever seen 'The Arnolfini Portrait' in the National Gallery in London then this composition will jump out at you as being incredibly similar. The dating of the work means it's not a van Eyck but is a later copy of a work or is inspired by an original, But wow!

Of course, there are many more things to go 'wow' about in the Harvard Art Museums. There's a  Fra Anegico panel for a start (mentioned in another blog) and paintings by Botticelli and his school, There's a bit of everything in there really.

Downstairs on the ground floor is the cafe and the shop and, of course, more galleries, this time for 'modern' works. It still feels like a 'one of those and one of those' collection but there's a nice range of paintings.

One of my favourites was a Picasso painting from 1901 in which he painted both sides of the canvas in different styles. One side is his emerging style and the other is his take on a 'traditional' Nineteenth Century style. These were really quite stunning to see back-to back and was a new idea to me. I haven't seen any like these before - traditional versus his own style. If the 'traditional' painting hadn't been labelled I'd never guess it was a Picasso. These were on display in a glass case next to a large, more recognisable, blue period painting of a mother and child.

Something that really surprised me was finding a corner with loads of Pre-Raphaelite paintings, particularly by Rossetti. I don't know why, but I always think of the Pre-Raphaelites as a peculiarly British movement that wouldn't necessarily resonate with collectors away from this island but it appears that they were collected and appreciated in New England. Perhaps one of the curators is a particular fan which might explain the number of them on show.

Of greater interest were paintings by Seurat, Klee, Gaugin and van Gogh and, of course, the inevitable Impressionists. I loved this painting by Monet, 'Red Boats, Argenteuil 1875'. Just look at those gorgeous colours. I want to drift in a rowing boat on the river at Argenteuil in the summer and absorb the sunshine and colour.

A final painting I want to mention is 'Summer Scene (Bathers)' by Frederic Bazille from 1869-70. I've never really noticed Bazille before but this really caught my eye, in particular - with my drawers hat on - the figure of the lad being helped to leave the pond. It struck me as a great pose for drawing, with the tension in the lead arm and leg. Then you notice the shadows and the couple towards the back in the sun and the whole laziness of the scene in the painting, a perfect summers afternoon.

I enjoyed the museums and there's a lot there to keep me interested despite it feeling a bit over-curated and forced with the choice of paintings on show. I can't help but wonder what might be in storage. Typically, of course, the shop didn't have anything remotely resembling a catalogue or a range of postcards, but had lots of children's toys and ladies scarves. I had expected more from a Harvard museum, with learned works on the collection or even individual artists from formed PhD students, but it wasn't to be. O well. Definitely worth a visit if you're in Boston.

The Guildhall Art Gallery and more Victorians

After seeing lots of Victorian painters at Leighton House Museum at the start of the week what better way to finish the week with more Victorians and another gallery I'd never visited, the Guildhall Art Gallery in the City. It's recently re-hung it's collection so it's a good time to go, especially on a dreary wet and cold afternoon in mid-February.

The star of the collection is Dante Gabriel Rossetti's 'La Ghirlandata', one of the centre-pieces of the Pre-Raphaelites, with her lush lips and direct gaze. She looks quite cold to me, playing her harp and gazing out at the viewer but, I think, she's gazing through us to something else, something just behind us that we can't see. Is she playing for a lover or is she cursed to play endlessly until the magic of a kiss frees her?

There are a few other paintings that might be classed as broadly Pre-Raphaelite but most of the collection isn't and it's good to see them together, the different artistic movements over the years.

There was a lovely painting by Frederic Leighton (whose home and studio are now Leighton House Museum) called 'The Music Lesson'. I assume the mother is teaching her daughter to play the lute amidst the acres of fabulously decorated fabrics that make up their clothes and their feet bare. It's the feet I first noticed since this painting is hung beside a short staircase and I saw the feet as I went up. The antique or eastern background, coupled with bare feet, suggests tho is meant to be in a far off land long ago to give it a context but I just think it's a lovely domestic scene with a parent and child doing what parents and children have always done. It's a very peaceful and calming painting with no rush or worry, not a care in the world.

Harking back to Leighton House again, I found three small paintings by Lawrence Alma-Tadema  in a little alcove, not terribly well lit or well hung, but it was nice to see them anyway. 'The Wine Shop', 'Pleading' (a very similar composition to a painting at Leighton House) and this one, 'The Pyrrhic Dance'.  The dance of armed soldiers celebrating history in war, performed for the great and the good in the city, a martial dance to show off their superiority. It's an odd composition, with the soldiers taking up two thirds of the available space and the other third given up to the city elders to watch. It's a small painting but quite striking.

The oldest painting I found was in a small underground gallery beside the entrance to the old Roman amphitheatre excavated underneath the Guildhall and this was 'The Thames During the Great Frost of 1739' painted by Jan Griffier the Younger in 1739. The Thames has frozen over in the winter cold and there are people out on the ice, possibly getting ready for the frost fairs that took place on the river. The dome of St Paul's is in th distance so this might have been painted from somewhere around Westminster? The river certainly looks wider the today so it was before the Embankment was built along the Thames. It's a fascinating view.

There's also the hopelessly sentimental and romantic paintings that the Victorians seem to love and we turn into pictures to decorate biscuit tins and Christmas cards. I quite liked this one, a painting by Augustus Edwin Mulready called 'Remembering Joys That Have Passed Away' from 1873. It shows two children gazing up at an old poster of the Christmas pantomime that has now closed while the snow falls around them. C'mon, own up - we've all been there haven't we, wishing that something would come back, some event or special moment and that is depicted in this small painting. Ah… memories…

2014 saw the 120th anniversary of the opening of Tower Bridge so, since this is the Guildhall, there was a small exhibition of paintings of the bridge and the surrounding areas as well a room with various things about the construction of the bridge and the alternative designs that were considered. Rather than show a painting of Tower Bridge I want to show this painting, called 'Chaos on London Bridge' by Harold Workman (undated). I like this, the traffic hell that can be London bridges, with buses all over the place and vans and cars dodging in and out. It reminded me of 'Hammersmith Bridge on Boat-Race Day' by Walter Greaves that I saw at Tate Britain with it's similar theme of crowds and madness on a bridge. Bridges can be special places, a transition point from one place to the next or a change from one thing to another and sometimes that transition is a mess. Welcome to London Bridge!

And there you have it, a selection of paintings and thoughts from the Guildhall Art Gallery. It's all plush and new and has very thick carpets. The main room quite a large space, very light and airy and most of the paintings are well hung for easy viewing. There are smaller rooms to visit as you wander round and you never know what you might stumble across. And best of all, no crowds. I'll certainly be happy to return again.

Pre-Raphaelites at Tate Britain

Last week I went to see the new Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood exhibition at the Tate Britain.It was quite busy and reminded me of my dislike of those audio-tour headphone sets but it's well worth a visit.

The Pre-Raphaelites occupy an odd position in British (and world) art since so many of the works associated with the movement have made their way onto greeting cards and biscuit tins that we're all terribly familiar with the 'stars' of the movement and have seen little of the 'lesser' paintings. And, I think, that's part of the problem with the PRB in that if familiarity doesn't quite breed contempt, it breeds familiarity, and that removes any potential for the 'wow factor'.  I assume that's why the curator of the exhibition chose to present it as the Pre-Raphaelites as Victorian avant-garde. The blurb says:

Combining rebellion, beauty, scientific precision and imaginative grandeur, the Pre-Raphaelites constitute Britain’s first modern art movement. This exhibition brings together over 150 works in different media, including painting, sculpture, photography and the applied arts, revealing the Pre-Raphaelites to be advanced in their approach to every genre. Led by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, William Holman Hunt and John Everett Millais, the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood (PRB) rebelled against the art establishment of the mid-nineteenth century, taking inspiration from early Renaissance painting.

The exhibition establishes the PRB as an early example of the avant-garde: painters who self-consciously overturned orthodoxy and established a new benchmark for modern painting and design. It will include many famous Pre-Raphaelite works, and will also re-introduce some rarely seen masterpieces including Ford Madox Brown’s polemical Work 1852–65 and the 1858 wardrobe designed by Philip Webb and painted by Edward Burne-Jones on the theme of The Prioress’s Tale.

I think I suffered from the 'been there/done that' syndrome of seeing all these familiar paintings on the walls. O yes, another nice painting but so what... I think the first thing that excited me was a bust of Dante by Alexander Munro and that's because I'd seen the death masks in Florence.

I was, strangely, delighted to see 'Isabella and the Pot of Basil' (above) by William Holman Hunt and 'Laus Veneris' by Edward Burne-Jones, both on loan from the Laing Gallery in Newcastle. These were the first Pre-Raphaelite paintings I ever saw in the flesh and it's always a delight to see them. My other influence from the Laing is the work of John Martin who painted vast panoramic scenes whereas the next generation focused on the detail of the PRB.

The one painting that I came away with in my mind is Rossetti's 'Annunciation' that reminds me of the simplistic paintings of Fra Angelico in the cells at San Marco. The same pale pallet, the same dramatic pose and the overall intensity.

Something I wan't expecting was a portrait of Sophie Gray by John Everett Millais which is really beautiful. This photo doesn't really tell the full tale but it shows a young woman who recognises her own beauty and is ready to grow into the power that brings. The colour tones don't quite work since her dress is green, not black, and that affects the colour of the whole picture. The pose is quite modern and could be seen in any 'glamour' magazine today.

If you have an interest in art then you've probably already seen most of these paintings, or at least the paintings you're interested in. But I'd still say go and see the exhibition - paintings are always different when you see them in front of you.