'Edvard Munch: Masterpieces from Bergen' at The Courtauld Gallery

The latest exhibition at the Courtauld Gallery is a selection of 18 works by Munch from the KODE Art Museums in Bergen, Norway, that have never been seen before in this country. The last Munch exhibition I attended was a few years ago at the British Museum and it was full of despair and death but, from the images used for the publicity for the exhibition, I suspected this exhibition might be a bit different. And it was. There was colour and light, such as this 'Self Portrait in the Clinic' from 1909 when he was recovering from a breakdown.

One of the first paintings you see is 'Spring Day on Karl Johan' from 1890 when he was experimenting with Impressionism and this looks like he was influenced by a Seurat painting. This is one of the main boulevards in Oslo painted with small dashes of colour. Munch was still a young man when he painted it and trying to find his own approach to art but I think it's nice to know he was influenced early on by the colours and styles of the Impressionist masters. He might have even been happy when he painted it.

Another early painting that caught my eye was 'Morning' from 1884, distinctly showing his early influences. The overall composition and the delicate colours are very different from later works. A young woman is getting dressed in the morning, sitting on her bed and looking towards the window, one foot still bare. It's a gentle image, painted when he was only 20 years old.

I puzzled over 'Children Playing in the Street in Asgardstrand' from 1901-03. I don't know what the children are supposed to be doing but it looks like they're lying down while the girl looks out at the viewer. The notice beside the painting suggested the girl is on the cusp of moving from being a young child into adolescence. I don't really see where that is coming from but I can get the leaving innocence and childhood behind thing, growing up and no longer playing with her friends. One of Munch's regular themes was transition so maybe this was an early example of him finding his way. Still, the painting is light and airy and that's a good thing.

It was nice to see another side to Munch and see these paintings on show for the first time in this country. It was a pleasant surprise to see so many bright, colourful paintings. There were other paintings on show that are instantly recognisable as by Munch, using his regular themes and darker colours but I liked the brighter, lighter ones best. A final one, 'Youth' from 1908, a bather on the beach in northern Germany with the Baltic Sea in the background. 

'Walter Sickert' at Tate Britain

Tate currently has its first major exhibition of works by Sickert in 60 years at Tate Britain. I don't know much about him at all so this was a good way to find out. He had a long career, working from the 1880s to his death in 1942 so he lived and painted through the major art movements of the late 19th and first half of the 20th centuries. He worked in the studios of both Whistler and Degas and looks to have been particularly influenced by Degas, especially in the subject matter of his paintings. 

The first room of the exhibition is full of rather sombre self-portraits but I quite liked this self-portrait of Sickert as 'The Servant of Abraham' (1929) based on a photo of himself shown next to the painting. His palette for most of his career seems to have been rather dull and, apparently, Degas encouraged him to expand into richer colours.

I much prefer colour so noticed his 'Brighton Pierrots' (1915) straight away with its much richer palette and glowing colours. The costumes of the pierrots, the dusty pink suits, the colourful houses and empty deckchairs all combine to make this a colourful and mysterious painting. Degas had a fascination with music halls and cabarets and Sickert seems to have picked this up as well. Beside the pierrots is 'The Trapeze' (1920) with the vast expanse of canvas tent with the small figure of the trapeze artist about to jump and fly. I immediately thought of 'Miss La La' by Degas and thought this is Sickert's version of Miss La La.

Sickert seems to have had a fascination with Dieppe and Venice where he seems to have returned time and again to paint, as well as with Paris and London. There were quite a few cityscapes of those cities and a room full of the facades of cathedrals. I liked this one 'The Facade of St Jaques' (1902) with it's dramatic light effects as the sun hits the front of the cathedral leaving the street level in shade. I liked the detail of having a sign for a restaurant in the painting because, of course, wherever you go there is always a restaurant or cafe beside a cathedral. Sickert rarely painted the streets of London but I liked this one of the front windows of a drapers shop, 'Easter' (1928), named after the easter bonnets filling the shop window. 

Another painting that called to me from across the room was 'Bathers, Dieppe' (1902) with its vast expanse of sea and the people in their colourful bathing costumes. It reminded me of Sorolla's beach scenes with the excited waves and then I noticed there is no beach. Or sky. It's an odd composition in a way, seemingly focused solely on the middle ground. I like the sea and the many different colours in the sun and shadow as the waves gather and then crash on the shore. I couldn't help but wonder about the group in the black swimming costumes, presumably friends or workers on an outing, and wondered what they might've though about the men wading into the sea in their bright, stripy costumes (possibly the workers' bosses?). 

The final room of the exhibition was full of paintings Sickert did from photographs, including photos in newspapers. He painted a lovely 'Portrait of Degas in 1885' (1928) and painted famous people of the time from photos as well as significant events. These paintings were all in much brighter colours and the paint seems to have been thinned to provide a light covering on the canvas. Despite the brightness of the paintings, the one that touched me was 'The Miner' (1935-6) painted from a press cutting at the time which was displayed in a case nearby showing a miner kissing his wife as he returns to daylight after being on strike underground to shut the pit down. It looks grubby and drab and he carries a water jug under his right arm, other arm round his wife pulling her close. It's close-cropped and that emphasises the power of the image. 

And here is the painting of Degas.

'Carlo Crivelli: Shadows on the Sky' at the Ikon Gallery, Birmingham

Carlo Crivelli isn't one of the big names of the renaissance and he rarely gets mentioned but I've long been fascinated by his paintings in the National Gallery in London. The National Gallery has a good selection of his works in the collection and I would've thought if anywhere held an exhibition about Crivelli it would be there since it has so many of his works. Instead, the National Gallery is supporting the Ikon Gallery to hold the exhibition and has loaned four paintings to it, including two from its storage that I've never seen on the walls of the National Gallery before. 

The first thing I noticed on going into the exhibition is that it's in a big white room with a divider in the middle, acres of white walls. I'm used to seeing Crivelli hung on the richly coloured walls of the National Gallery, not in all this whiteness. The paintings are very spread out which emphasises the plainness of the walls but it also helps to focus on the paintings themselves. Crivelli's paintings are always packed with details so we have the colourful, detailed paintings against the stark, plain white of the walls. An interesting experiment. 

The first few paintings you come to are relatively small and one of my favourites was the painting of Mary Magdalene from around 1491-94. The figure of the Magdalene is set in a niche, almost as if she was a statue, holding a jar of oil, her symbol since she washed Christ's feet. Her hair cascades freely down her back and she holds her cloak out of the way of her feet. And then we see one of Crivelli's trademarks, her foot slightly over the edge of the ground she stands on - he does this time again using feet or random fruit or vegetables, his little trick to emphasise the three dimensionality he was seeking. To add more interest he's painted the wall of the niche as cracked and crumbling, which probably represents something to him and whoever commissioned the painting. 

On the next wall is a gorgeous, small Virgin and Child from around 1480 in a lovely tabernacle style frame. And it is gorgeous with the swags of hanging fruit behind the Virgin's head (another Crivelli trademark) and the delicate robe she wears. Then you see the Child's face. His hair hangs in ringlets and he's clutching what looks like an apple. In the background on the left is a lush forest but, on the right, is a dead landscape and a single dead tree. There's a lot going on in this little painting with life and death going on in the background, the lushness of the fruit, the Virgin as queen of heaven in her decorated golden robe... but what's going on with the Child? Is the apple meant to be the fruit from the tree of knowledge and he's clutching original sin to himself, perhaps hinting that he'll free us from sin through his own life and death? There's a lot to consider here.

One of my favourites in the exhibition was the large Virgin and Child from 1482 on loan from the Vatican. The painting was recently restored by the Vatican and it looks gorgeous. The swag of fruit across the top (with rather over-sized grapes) and the Virgin's robe spilling over the edge of the plinth her throne sits on cover Crivelli's trademarks, then there's the delicate cloth of gold behind the throne and, of course, the detail and richness of the Virgin's robe. The Christ is a toddler now with a rather ornate hair style, standing in his mother's lap and, once again, holding the apple. His green tunic reflects the colours in his mother's robe.

And then you notice the tiny figure kneeling at the Virgin's feet. The figures' robe is a Franciscan habit but who is he? An image of St Francis? or perhaps he's the donor of this painting? It was quite common to include a small image of the donor in the painting earlier in the century but that was an old fashioned conceit by the time this was painted so there must be a reason for including him. 

The painting that provides the title for the exhibition is a painting of another Franciscan and this is 'The Vision of Blessed Gabriele' from around 1489 and on loan from the National Gallery. I don't know who Gabriele was but it's quite a striking painting. He's kneeling in prayer in a rural setting with a vision of the Virgin and Child high in the sky. As ever with Crivelli, it's the details I always look for: his wooden sandals are off, the detail of the rope around his waist, a bible is open on the ground, the pond with a duck and another bird, the people on the road in the distance, the flock of birds in the sky, all the tiny angels in the vision and is that a cave behind him? He has the spikey halo of one of the blessed.

Another painting on loan from the National Gallery is the very large 'The Annunciation with Saint Emidius' from 1486. Most paintings of the annunciation focus solely on the Virgin and on Gabriel, but this is more like a cityscape with the annunciation right up front but look at all the activity in the background. It's odd having the saint with his bishop's mitre and holding an image of the church named for him alongside Gabriel as the beam of light from God's hand streaks down to the Virgin (through a handy gap in the wall, you'll notice).

What are all those people doing in the background of what is normally a private scene? I suppose it would be odd to have an empty cityscape and they certainly help with the perspective, getting smaller the further away they are. The painting might not have a swag of fruit at the top but it does have a vegetable sticking out over the ledge at the bottom. The whole city is very ornate with every surface covered in details and even the sky has drifts of clouds and a flock of doves. It's an incredible painting.

There are nine Crivelli paintings on show in total with loans from the National Gallery, the Vatican, the V&A, the Wallace Collection and the Gemaldegalerie in Berlin. There's also a small 'installation' by Susan Collis - I'm not sure why but I was there for the Crivellis. It's strange that this is the first exhibition of Crivelli's work in the UK - I wonder why he's overlooked? Maybe he needs some high profile fans to bring more attention to his works. I'm very pleased I went to see this exhibition and it seems to be doing well given the number of people who were there with me on a Wednesday afternoon. The exhibition is free to enter.

Favourite Paintings: 'The Snail' by Henri Matisse

One of my favourite paintings isn't really a painting, it's a 'cut out' made by painting paper different colours and then tearing it up and carefully placing it to create a new image. There was a great exhibition of Matisse's 'cut outs' at Tate Modern a few years ago and I loved it, such amazing images the old magician created in his old age, using assistants to help place the coloured paper just *so*. 'The Snail' is a huge work and was the centrepiece of the exhibition but I go back a lot further with that particular snail.

I have two distinct memories of visiting the Tate for the first time in the early '80s, walking up those imposing steps into the foyer, not knowing what I'd find but expecting great art. And that's what I saw since the Tate has a really good collection. But my two memories are of seeing a big Mark Rothko for the first time and being mesmerised by it and also seeing 'The Snail', equally large and far more colourful, but where was the snail it was named for? I couldn't see it. I looked at it up close and from a distance but no snail. I saw it many times on subsequent visits and then the Tate split into two and Tate Britain and Tate Modern were born and 'The Snail' moved down river to be a star of the new Tate Modern.

At some point I finally saw a glimpse of a snail and then, suddenly, there he was and all I could see was a snail. So the old man wasn't playing a joke on us after all, he really had created a snail from his bits of colourful paper. He's an old friend now and I delight in seeing him and I always say 'hello'. It was lovely to see him at the exhibition surrounded by so many other cut outs, some much bigger and more colourful but none so special. He has a name, of course, but that's for me to know and for you to guess.

Renaissance Paintings in the Scottish National Gallery, Edinburgh

The last time I was in the Scottish National Gallery in Edinburgh the Renaissance rooms were closed for repainting so, when I was in Edinburgh last week, I made a point of visiting those rooms and I'm glad that I did. It's not a big collection, just four medium sized rooms covering over 200 years of art - it doesn't make for a significant collection but the Gallery has some very nice pieces indeed. I've picked out a few of those pieces here to demonstrate how interesting they are. The Gallery is undergoing some major works at the moment but don't let the building site outside put you off going, it's definitely worth a visit.

One of the first and earliest works is a gorgeous triptych by Bernardo Daddi, a small, portable altarpiece of a crucifixion with other scenes from 1338. It's really interesting because of the scenes painted on the 'wings' of the triptych. There's the crucifixion of Saint Peter above a nativity scene with the shepherds on one wing and the generosity of Saint Nicholas giving gold to the virgins above the Virgin and Child scene on the other 'wing. That's an odd combination of images. What's that all about?

I suspect it's down to the donor who paid for the work specifying which scenes they wanted on his or her own personal altarpiece. I wish the Gallery had displayed this in its own glass case so we could see what was on the front of the two wings and see what it looks like when closed. Still, it's a fascinating and beautiful object, very calming in its simplicity.

Another work on the wall beside the Daddi is attributed to Lorenzo Monaco and Workshop but it bears little resemblance to other paintings I've seen by him so I assume the attribution is really to his workshop. Fra Angelico worked in his workshop at the time of this painting and this certainly bears no resemblance to anything completed by the Fra. A much lesser pupil must have been involved in painting this work. I'm afraid the absence of folds in the Virgin's cloak rather did it for me - where are the intricate folds seen in virtually every other painting of this scene? Maybe a good cleaning of the painting will unearth them but I doubt it really.

Beside this is a Botticelli Virgin and Child but it's not terribly remarkable (although I liked the tabernacle frame) so I'll move on to the 'Master of the Embroidered Foliage'.

It always makes me a bit sad when I see attributions of paintings by the subject matter or a particular skill, like the 'Master of the Embroidered Foliage' - there was a real person behind the skill we see in this painting but we don't know what his/her name was. Maybe one day an art historian will find a reference in an obscure diary or receipt from the time and link it to this painting and we'll know the name of the master.

It's a really lovely painting and you need to inspect it up close to understand the alias of the painter - the detail is incredible. The brush strokes do look like embroidery, but why? Every leaf is painted individually and, around the Virgin's cloak trailing in the grass, you can see so many different types of leaf. It's a beautiful piece. Let's hope a PhD student does their thesis on this painting at some point in the future and identifies the artist.

The collection has a few Raphael's, mainly attributed to his workshop and a lovely small Filipino Lippi (that needs a clean) but the next big works are by Titian.

The highlight for me was 'Diana and Actaeon' from 1556-59 by Titian. Actaeon the hunter stumbles across a curtain in the woods and, pulling it aside, he spies the goddess Diana at her bath. In revenge for the intrusion Diana turns Actaeon into a stag and he's torn to pieces by his hunting dogs. So the message is, if you find a random curtain in the woods don't pull it open since you don't know who or what might be on the other side.

I wasn't expecting to see this painting in the Scottish National Gallery but it's jointly owned with the National Gallery in London so I assume it spends some time in Scotland and then moves to London before returning to Edinburgh. It's a large painting and very dramatic but I can't help but feel a bit sorry for silly Actaeon, he really ought to have known better.

Another Titian in the collection is 'Venus Rising From the Sea' from 1520-25. Venus was born in the sea and this painting depicts the moment when she strides ashore for the first time, wringing water out of her hair. The painting is on a much more human scale rather than the other large paintings in this room. The face of Venus is the cover photo in the Gallery guide.

There are, of course, many more paintings in the Renaissance rooms covering a lot of territory but these were some of the ones that stood out to me. The rest of the gallery is full of paintings up to the modern period. Many of the paintings have a Scottish theme, glorying in battles and hunt scenes showing off the highlands to good effect. It's well worth a visit if you're in Edinburgh with an hour to spare.