'The Virgin of Humility' by Fra Angelico (Thyssen-Bornemisza Collection)

Earlier this week I flew to Barcelona to see a wonderful altarpiece by Fra Angelico. 'The Virgin of Humility' is on permanent loan to the National Museum of Art of Catalonia from the Thyssen-Bornemisza Collection in Madrid.  The painting was further loaned to CaixaForum for its current exhibition of Thyssen Collection paintings, 'A Thyssen Never Seen'.  So it was to the CaixaForum that I found myself walking to on a grey, drizzly Monday morning.

The very civilised Thyssen-Bornemisza and CaixaForum allow photography so these are photos I took on my phone to show what the altarpiece actually looks like rather than versions nicked from the Internet. I haven't manipulated the images in any way - this is what the altarpiece looks like including with and without the frame. I can't read the catalogue so don't know anything about the frame but suspect it was added when the painting was part of the collection of Leopold II of Belgium (the plaque at the foot of the altarpiece names him as 'owner'). The style suggests it's later than the Fra painted but fully in keeping with how we see Renaissance religious paintings today.

It's worth bearing in mind that 'Virgin of Humility' is what we call this altarpiece rather than how the Fra referred to it. Paintings with this title often show the Virgin sitting in a natural setting - in a field, or a room - whereas this painting clearly shows the Virgin in the court of Heaven with its golden background and cast of angels with spotted wings. The angels hold a cloth of gold behind the Virgin and Child while two more serenade them at their feet.  The cloth is fabulously detailed with each golden rosette carefully scratched to create a three dimensional effect so you see the folds and creases. You can't really see that in online images and that's why you need to see the real painting 'in the paint' so to speak. It's all very clever and very effective.

There's an awful lot of gold leaf in this altarpiece and I've no idea who did that for the Fra and how they worked together. When you get up close you can also see the creases in the thick cushion the Virgin is sitting on so this is clearly a painting for a church or donor of high status. I need to do more research.

I really love the composition of this altarpiece. The Virgin holding her son and the Infant nuzzling up to his mother, cheek to cheek, while offering her a lily. When you get close you can see that the Child is wearing a shirt underneath his pink robe and you can see the almost invisible folds of the cloth along his arm. You can also see the Virgin's hair underneath and to the side of her veils, curling beneath her ear. That suggests that this painting was meant to be seen up close, at least by some privileged people. Including me.

I puzzled over the writing in the Virgin's halo - I stood for some time trying to work out what it said and failed. Anybody know?

The overwhelming impression of this painting is blue and gold, both rich colours, the pink of the Child reflecting the red of the Virgin's robe covering her midriff creating a link. It's a very tender composition, exquisitely finished, peaceful and calm. It's a delight to see this altarpiece from the Angelic One.

'The Creation' by Rambert at Sadler's Wells

In 1978 I first thought about seeing the Ballet Lambert - I can't remember what the production was but I'd seen Derek Jacobi in 'Hamlet' and wanted to see more things at the theatre but somehow didn't get tickets (I can't remember why). So, 38 years later I got tickets to see Rambert (it's dropped the 'ballet' word from it's title) at Sadler's Wells along with the Rambert Orchestra and the BBC Singers to dance the world into existence through Haydn's 'The Creation'. So, yes, I had high expectations and what better production to see than one using and interpreting Haydn's great music to dance the world into existence?

The orchestra sits on stage along with the BBC Singers behind a Gothic grille screen which allowed the soloists to stand and sing as their turns came. Rambert danced in front of the grille. This meant that half of the stage was lost to the dancers and, presumably, it was choreographed with that in mind. I thought it worked quite well but wonder how much grander it could have been with a larger space for the dancers to do their thing?

I've never heard 'The Creation' before and it was a joy to hear (I ought to listen to more Haydn). Haydn's grand music and the words telling the story of the seven days of creation from Chaos to Eden. God created heaven and earth, the waters and the land and caused the grass to grow.  I loved the line that 'God created the great whales' - of course he did and mighty and beautiful they are! It was great to hear the soloists sing these lines backed by the orchestra and the Rambert dancers bringing it all to life.

So what about Rambert? They danced their socks off, great crowds of dancers flooding the stage and then vanishing to leave soloists to show off their steps. I loved the mass ensemble scenes with 18 or 24 dancers all doing their synchronised thing and moving round the stage pulling shapes and stretching their bodies in strange and exotic ways. They were wonderful, full of energy and grace. How do you do that?

My only criticism is the costumes. The strange onesies in grey or black with the odd frills across the torso and large daisies at the ankles. What's that about? I thought they were quite unflattering and ugly and hoped for a costume change at half time so was disappointed to see them come on in the same costumes. Please change this for your next production of this show.

Was it worth the wait of 38 years? O yes, I loved it all (other than the costumes), the athleticism and grace, the story-telling and the glory of Haydn's music. I will definitely watch out for more productions by Rambert!

'Amadeus' at the National Theatre

Last week we went to see the new production of 'Amadeus' on the big Olivier stage at the National Theatre. I saw an exciting production of 'Amadeus' at Chichester two year ago with Rupert Everett in the main role as Salieri so I'm familiar with the story of the play, but what would the National do with it? The play is actually sold out until February next year so, it appears, I'm not the only one that's interested to see what it would do with the play it first staged - after all, that's where it was first performed all those years ago.

Although named for Amadeus Mozart, the tale is actually about Antonio Salieri, an Italian composer at the court of the Austro-Hungarian Emperor at Vienna. Salieri is the court composer at the time that Mozart settles in Vienna hoping to make his name and fortune and the play starts with Salieri as an old man looking back to when he knew Mozart. The glory of Mozart's works is spoiled for Salieri by his crass behaviour and that is the start of the spiralling downfall of Mozart at Salieri's hands. Feigning to be a friend and supporter, he plots the downfall of his rival and sees him reduced to penury and illness, finally dying. All as part of Salieri's war with God for granting Mozart the gift of great music rather than himself.

The empty Olivier stage is soon full of chairs for the Southbank Sinfonia that provides the music for the production and is on stage rather than in a pit, adding to the busy-ness of the play. They don't stay on stage for long, though, and start playing here, there and everywhere as needed but are ever-present since music fills the play, sometimes in period costume and sometimes not. More often than not I'd say that this would be a distraction from the 'real' play but I actually quite enjoyed it, with the musicians and actors playing off each other.

I really liked the staging, a relatively bare stage transformed every so often into a crowded salon or concert venue allowing the mind to wonder and wander into different scenarios. One minute the royal palace and the next a bawdy house show that becomes 'The Marriage of Figaro' or some other grand opera. It's all very imaginative and very well done. Well done to Michael Longhurst and Chloe Lamford for having the vision to make it all work.

Of course, the play is really about the relationship between Salieri and Mozart, in this case Lucian Msamati and Adam Gillen. I've seen Lucian a few times in previous National Theatre productions but Adam is a new name to me. They worked well together, the serious older musician and the younger want to have fun while producing great music without thinking about it. Lucian feigns an Italian accent (presumably to distinguish himself from the German-speaking court) and that sometimes got a bit too thick to easily follow but he ably leads the play. The other main character is Constanze, Mozart's wife, played by Karla Crome as a great East End fishwife.

I really liked this production and Lucian as the jealous. scheming Salieri holding it all together. The staging and lighting were imaginative and I loved having the orchestra on the stage as participants in the play rather than accompanists. I think I'd like to see it again!

'King Lear' at The Old Vic

It seems to be 'King Lear''s winter with two major productions playing in London at the same time - Glenda Jackson at The Old Vic and Anthony Sher about to open at the Barbican. Of course, it's got to be Glenda Jackson on her return to stage after a career as a politician and I'm so pleased I've finally seen her on stage. I wonder how this play came about - did she down one day with a cup of tea and think, 'I want to stun the world, I want to be Lear'?

Glenda always conjures up images of 'Women In Love' and 'A Touch of Class' for me, films I haven't seen in a long time but which I remember fondly. The girl from Boots the Chemist turning up on stage and then film and showing the world what acting really was. And then taking her convictions into Parliament as a Labour MP, even becoming a junior minister for a short time. She retired from Parliament at the 2015 election and did a play for Radio 4 and this is her return to the stage at the age of 80. And there she was last night, strolling onto the stage with her 'daughter' in the play. No fanfares, no announcements, but you knew that *someone* had just walked onto the stage.

'Lear' is not one of my favourite Shakespeare plays - I can appreciate it but it's over-long and complex, it's painful and everyone dies (or, at least, everyone that matters dies). I suspect that's part of the attraction for Glenda, to be on stage for much of the three and half hours of the production, to shout and rail against the fates, power-hungry daughters and against stupid men, in a tragedy of her own making. Lear brings it on himself by asking his daughters how much they love him - two go over the top to prove their love and are awarded with great tracts of England but the youngest tells the truth, 'you're my father and I love you and can say no more'. And that causes the downfall of the entire family after various twists and turns. Honesty can be dangerous.

We see pain and madness, lust for power and plain old lust, we see political machinations and their results. But we also see loyalty and love and a final reconciliation. A man has his eyes plucked out (and one eye thrown into the audience) for his loyalty and another heeds the call of his master to follow him into death ('My master calls, I must not say no' says Kent, a line that always gets me). Lear's daughters descend into selfishness, power and lust while his youngest daughter rescues him. It's all terribly tragic and all because of a simple question asked by a father of his children. Anyway, you know the story.

We were greeted by a plain stage with a backdrop made up of moveable white panels with projections beamed onto them, including the act and scene number throughout the play. The stage is busy with the cast vacuum cleaning and putting out chairs, all in contemporary dress, moving round chatting as the noisy audience took its collective seats. I wasn't sure about the staging but came to love it with the weirdly cast shadows and uncluttered look, focusing on the actors and the words. I particularly loved the storm scene with a curtain and floor of black bin bags with the screens turned black and showing driving rain. I thought that was very effective, one of the best storms ever. Well done to Deborah Warner as director and to both her and to Jean Kalman for an interesting set and lighting.

It is quite a high powered cast as well with Celia Imrie as a very controlled Goneril and Jane Horrocks as a lustful Regan in her skin-tight jeans and high heels, delighting in plucking out eyeballs and throwing one into the audience (I was surprised at the number of hands that went into the air to catch it). The traitorous and rival daughters were very different from one another but shared the lust for Edmund and for power. Morfydd Clark played a nice Cordelia, bewildered by her father's reaction to her honesty and then caring and brave when she returns and saves him. I liked the three daughters and the little additions they brought to their roles, like Celia Imrie arriving stage with a bucket and cloth to mop up Jane Horrock's vomit when she's poisoned. Sometimes it's the little touches that create the character.

Rhys Ifans was an excellent fool with his Superman onesie tied around his neck as a cloak. I rarely like Shakespeare's 'comic' characters but, for once, I actually liked that character despite the nonsense he sometimes spouts. He is Lear's Fool till the bitter end, following his master wherever he leads. The other male characters weren't quite on a par with this performance. I wasn't terribly impressed with Simon Manyonda    as Edmund, the nasty character who seeks advancement at the expense of his brother and father. Why did he masturbate at one point and pull his shorts down at the back to show us his bum - shouldn't he pull the front down? But that is down to Deboral Warner's direction, I suppose. I rarely heard him clearly when he wasn't facing the audience. Harry Melling as his brother Edgar also exposed his bum at one point and then everything when he stripped naked, which was brave. There seemed to be quite a lot of men taking their tops off unnecessarily and Kent even strips to change into the same clothes at one point.

The stage, however, belonged to Glenda Jackson and easily so. She's the central character in the play but, more than that, she has a rare and powerful presence. While some of the others on stage seemed to be shouting their lines she raised her voice and projected and used her voice as part of her armoury of acting. There was a deep power in her performance, a very controlled power that she unleashed when she felt she needed to and then reigned in again. A performance of pain and despair, and eventually, finding a way back to becoming a loving parent again. Glenda gave us a masterclass in how to act. Some of the younger members of the cast would do well to take lessons from her.

I was a little bit worried when I walked into the theatre that Glenda might be all 'big name' but not all that on stage - well, she is 80 - and I am delighted to put that worry to bed. She gave us everything you could want and more. She's still got it and, if anything, her age gives her even more power. She deserved every clap from that standing ovation at the end. I wonder what she'll do next?

Well done Glenda on a magnificent performance!

Paul Nash at Tate Britain

The new exhibition at Tate Britain is a retrospective of the work of Paul Nash, apparently the most complete exploration of his work for a generation. I've seen his works before in exhibitions about early 20th century painting or British schools, but this is my first full exhibition on Nash. So, I'm aware of him, but not terribly familiar with him. That made it quite strange to walk through the door into the exhibition, have a glance round the walls to decide where to start looking and having a distinct feeling that I'm going to enjoy this. And I did.

The exhibition is organised thematically and chronologically so we can see how he developed and experimented but what remains consistent is his love of landscape and nature, sometimes magical, sometimes scarred by war, but always there. One room focuses on his art using found objects and we also get some of his photographs of fallen trees as dragons. The rooms also have quotes from Nash on the walls and I think the curators have done an excellent job at picking just the right sentences to create a different atmosphere in each room.

The first room is full of Nash's early works in ink and watercolour, all relatively small works of trees and more trees and mysterious landscapes with trees, trees as ancient beings that have watched humanity over the centuries. 'Dreaming Trees' is a great title for the room since that's what these paintings evoke with deep dreams of the past of England's mysterious countryside that Nash loved.

They're not all dark and mysterious and some are flooded with the sunlight of a summer's day, with feathery branches and foliage. I really liked 'Summer Garden' and 'The Cherry Orchard', paintings I'd happily have on my wall. I also liked 'Wittenham Clumps', a group of trees on a hill in the middle of the countryside that Nash painted in different ways throughout his life. The cultivated fields surrounding the hill with the magic of the Clumps at the top with birds in the sky and the mystery of what might be inside that group of trees - civilisation and ancient mystery together.

The next room is a complete change in mood as we are presented with some of his paintings from the First World War and we see scenes of devastation and horror.

This room is titled 'We Are Making A New World' after his painting of the same name. We're told that  Nash joined the Artist's Rifles in 1914 and the writing on the wall includes an exerpt from a letter in 1917,

"It is unspeakable, godless hopeless. I am no longer an artist interested and curious... Feeble, inarticulate will be my message, but it will have a bitter truth and may it burn their lousy souls."

Landscapes still feature but they are tortured and desolate and the war to end all wars raged on. 'The Menin Road' is the largest painting in this group, painted in 1919 after the war but Nash is still trying to cleanse his soul by showing the  smashed and barren result of the long war. Soldiers struggle to walk through the desolation left by four long years of war. It's a painful image. It normally hangs in the Imperial War Museum but perhaps it should hang somewhere more prominent as a reminder to politicians and the media what the results of their policies can be.

The exhibition moves on to a series of rooms with paintings and other works based on themes of  'places' and 'rooms' and 'inanimate objects' to 'unseen landscapes' and his involvement with the surrealist movement in Britain between the wars. There are also some works by contemporaries such as Eileen Agar and Ben Nicholson

There are some lovely paintings in this section of the exhibition including a return to mysterious trees but painted very differently as his style developed and he experimented with different ways of looking. I particularly liked 'Wood On The Downs' in which Nash explored shapes and muted colours. We see some of his work with found objects of twigs and stones (and some lovely collages with leaves by Eileen Agar) as well as his weirder work like 'Equivalents for the Megaliths' (the painting used as the poster for the exhibition shown above) where he turns the standing stones of the ancients into geometric shapes.

Sadly, Nash had to experience another war and this time he painted scenes of downed aeroplanes, of roses of death (parachutes) falling from the sky and destruction. 'Totes Meer' (Dead Sea) is a strange painting in which he sets the carcasses of downed German planes from the Battle of Britain from the scrap yards outside Oxford to present them as the rolling sea crashing on the shore at night. It's only as you get closer that you notice wings and swastikas.

A painting that stood out for me was from a few years later when he painted 'Battle of Germany', one of the largest paintings in the exhibition and given it's own stand-alone space to be better seen. The destruction is from a distance and we see plumes of smoke rising into the sky as the city is slowly eaten into and destroyed.

Nash didn't have a long life and died in 1946 at the age of 57. The last paintings in the exhibition move back to landscapes and mystery, paintings of the seasons and equinoxes and giant sunflowers, one eclipsing the sun and one rolling down a hill. It is a nice way to close the exhibition, returning to bright colours and a bit of wonder.

This is a really good exhibition that covers many aspects of British art in the first half of the 20th Century in the shape of one man and his work.  Go and see it if you can.

'Anastasia' at The Royal Opera House

On Monday evening we went to The Royal Opera House to see the latest Royal Ballet production, Kenneth MacMillan's 'Anastasia'. Something I like about the programmes and cast lists at the Royal Opera House is that they tell you how many performances there have been of a particular show so I can tell you that was the 69th performance at the Royal Opera House of this ballet since it was first created. So there you go.

'Anastasia' is about the youngest daughter of Tsar Nicholas II and Anna, the woman who emerged after the First World War to claim that she was the daughter who had somehow survived the war and revolution. MacMillan choreographed the ballet in 1971 before DNA tests proved there was no link between Anna and the Romanov family so the ballet presumes that Anna might actually be Grand Duchess Anastasia. And what a powerful ballet it is.

It was a bit of a surprise to enter the Amphitheatre and not see the plush red curtains covering the stage - instead there was a giant, grainy, black and white photo of the Romanov family with Rasputin photoshopped into it on one side - Tsar, Tsarina, four daughters and one son. I'd forgotten about the mad monk who stalks menacingly through portions of the ballet like a malevolent spirit (and who Anastasia is obviously wary of). It was quite poignant to see this photo of the Romanovs below the royal crest of the Royal Opera House with all the royal houses of Europe having links in some way. The original photo is included in the programme without Rasputin photoshopped in (he's at the top right in this photo).

The first act is a tale of youthful joy, a family outing on a steamer with attentive crew and limitless possibilities. The daughters all dance and tease the officers and Anastasia is the centre of attention. She and her sisters dance with the handsome, young officers while other officers leap from the side of the ship to have a swim in the sea. Happy, care-free times, times to look back on and smile. And then the Tsar receives the message that war has been declared on Germany. Yes, it's 1914 and dark times are coming.

The second act takes place in 1917 and is more stately, more sedate, lacking the joy of the pre-war years. Russia has been at war for three years and the world has changed. We see Anastasia'a coming out ball at which the Tsar has invited his favourite ballerina and her partner to perform and we get a great entertainment section. This act is interrupted by a great sequence at the front of the stage of the revolutionaries preparing for insurrection and then we see them invading the palace and setting it alight (with flames on the tops of some walls, looking very realistic).

The third act is Anna - or Anastasia? - in a mental institution reliving memories of her family, of the revolution, of Rasputin. Are they memories or are they made up from what she's been told or read? Other than a hospital bed the stage was empty with Anna dancing her madness with various memories appearing now and then to dance with her or torment her. This was very absorbing to watch, very intense and driven, and was the longest act with the dancer playing Anna being on stage the entire time. It doesn't try to resolve the conundrum of whether Anna is Anastasia but it offers glimpses and possibilities.

Our Anastasia was Lauren Cuthbertson and her mother, Tsarina Alexandra was the wonderful Itziar Mendizabal who I've seen before in 'Giselle' and 'The Winter's Tale' - her performance confirms her as the queen of grace and precision in my eyes. Sarah Lamb and Steven McRae were the excellent dancers in the second act. Lauren Cuthbertson was also Anna in the painful third act, the woman who may or may not be the real Anastasia. She was on stage for the entire time with so much stamina and energy that she deserved all the flowers she got when it was time for the bows.

This is an excellent production and deserves to be seen by everyone who can make it. Have an imagination, have a soul and you can't fail to like it and be drawn in by it. I was.

Petula Clark at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane

I went to see Petula Clark in concert at the venerable old Theatre Royal Drury Lane on Sunday and she was in fine form.  To me, Petula has always been around singing her heart out and she's part of the background to my childhood, hearing her on the radio and on the TV shows in the late 60s and early 70s. She's the ultimate '60s girl' to me, followed by Dusty, Lulu and the rest, but for me, Petula is No 1. I first saw her on stage in 2007 in Croydon of all places, followed by Cadogan Hall and then Drury Lane in 2013 and here we were again, three years later, at Drury Lane with a new record, 'From Now On', to promote.

Pet has been a star since before I was born and she knows how to enjoy it. The five-piece band walked on and started playing and then suddenly there she was standing at the side of the stage, hands clasped in front of her, in a sparkly frock with a red flower and the audience erupted to their feet clapping and welcoming her to the stage.  That's the welcome she deserves, particularly on the last night of her tour.

The show took the format I'm familiar with, of about an hour and then a short interval followed by another hour. She sprinkled the hits with the new songs from the new album, plus songs she just fancied singing and they were all worth hearing. To pack in more of the songs that we all wanted to hear quite a few of the hits were segued together so she started off with one blockbuster and then morphed into another. They all seem to have been re-arranged in some way for this tour that made them sound fresh while being very familiar at the same time.

Favourites on the night included 'Don't Sleep In The Subway', 'Who Am I' and 'Colour My World'. From the new record Petula introduced 'Blackbird' (by Stella McCartney's dad, as she noted), 'Sacrifice My Heart' and 'From Now On', the title song. I was delighted that she sang her two songs from 'Finian's Rainbow', her film with Fred Astaire, 'Look To The Rainbow' and 'How Are Things In Glocca Morra' - those songs whiz me back to a Sunday afternoon in the early 70s seeing the film on telly. She also did her great version of 'Crazy' and the autobiographical 'Reflections' (both from her 2013 album). The penultimate song was a big singalong of 'Downtown' - as if it could be anything else?

The songs were peppered with anecdotes and stories of tea with Charlie Chaplin, dancing with Fred Astaire, a young Jimmy Page playing on one of her studio recordings, and telling us about songs she wrote and co-wrote, particularly with Tony Hatch. It looked like she was loving every moment. There was a lot of love for Petula in that theatre.

Petula has been a star for so long it's difficult to think of anyone else at her particular level and certainly her longevity. In a few weeks time she will turn 84 (very ungallant of me to mention it) and it's wonderful to see her still commanding an audience the way she can.  I wonder if any of today's "superstars" will have any of her staying power, still performing and producing new music and still enjoying it. At the end she received another standing ovation as she picked up yellow roses from the stage, offerings from delighted fans.

Come back soon Petula.

Heironomous Bosch: 'El Bosco' at the Museo del Prado

It's the 500th anniversary of Heironomous Bosch so how do you celebrate it? If you're the Prado in Madrid, you put on an exhibition using your own Bosch paintings as the centrepiece and there we have the 'Garden of Earthly Delights' by El Bosco. It's been phenomenally successful, posters all over Madrid, tickets hard to come by and I only saw the exhibition in it's last few days thanks to an extension to the original closing date due to demand. How could I be in Madrid and not see it?

That in itself should've sent a signal - what does it mean if it's that popular? It probably means that it's going to be crowded, perhaps, that it'll be difficult to see some of the paintings and that, possibly, it won't feel terribly comfortable. Yes, that was exactly right.

Timed entry helped, of course, but the crowds inside the exhibition were ridiculous in front of the 'star' paintings that everyone wanted to see (and much less busy in front of others). At times they were six deep in front of the biggies that meant waiting ages to get close enough to stand a chance of seeing any detail. I do think the audio-guides were part of the problem, with people hanging around, not necessarily looking at the paintings, listening to the commentary. Double the size of the crowd and this is something like I found it. It also gives you an idea of the size of the painting.

Think about Bosch and I suspect that most of us conjure up images of tiny, often naked, figures scrambling round a nightmarish landscape like in his 'Garden of Earthly Delights'. Paintings like this often show the perfection of Eden, the temptations of Earth and the pain and horror of hell since we, inevitably, take the wrong path and end up suffering for our sins. It's always worth looking at the detail in Bosch paintings, even the detail of a story we all know so well, such as the adoration of the magi when the foreign kings pay homage to the newborn Christ.

In Bosch's version of the story we see the kings in the three ages of man (young, middle aged and old) in their grand clothes and we have a Virgin and baby out in the open beside the stable. But who are the characters leering from the inside of the barn or crawling on its roof? If you look even closer you can see people dancing in the fields in the distance. What's this all about? It's not in the traditional story of the way the scene is usually painted. That's where Bosch brings his artist's eye and his story-telling to the fore. It's all there for a reason and it's our job to work it out.

Similarly in his 'Ecco Homo' we have a crowd shouting for Christ's punishment while Christ cowers on the ledge as he's pushed forward. Wouldn't you if you had a crowd baying for your blood? And again, look at the detail, look at the cityscape in the distance. Look at the hats and clothes, fantastical but some are remarkably similar to what people wore when this was painted. Are we still baying for blood or are we grateful for the Christ's sacrifice for our sins? Look at those faces and expressions and I suspect it's the former. Bosch is always telling a story that would've been obvious and powerful when these paintings were first unveiled but which we now need to try to piece together.

A painting I was pleased to see was 'Christ Mocked' which is normally in the National Gallery but is on loan to the exhibition. I'm familiar with this painting, with Christ gazing peacefully out at the viewer while he suffers the mockery of the crowd and is about to be crowned with thorns. Christ's face is rather ethereal compared to the more earthly faces around him.

One of the reasons that I like this painting is that there are only five characters in it as opposed to the untold numbers in many of Bosch's other works. It's small and intimate and implies that you are present and watching what's happening. Will you stand up for your Lord or pass on by? That's an age-old question and is current with the present day attacks on immigrants and others and the need for right-thinking people to support their fellow human beings. There is always someone that the majority needs to protect and cherish because they enrich us all. Bosch tells us that through his works.

A painting I wasn't familiar with was another triptych, 'From Paradise to Hell', with multiple scenes. The left panel shows Eve being created from Adam's ribs, meeting the snake and apple and then being expelled from Eden. The central panel shows the multiple ways that mankind can sin and, obviously, we're at all of them! The inevitable result is condemnation to a fiery hell. Just when you think there's ambiguity in Bosch he goes all literal on us again!

This was a great exhibition despite it's uncomfortable popularity. So many Bosch paintings of all sorts brought together in tribute to his great artistry and story-telling at a time when the majority of people couldn't read letters but could read a painting.  I'm so pleased I managed to get into the exhibition and I hope something like it is put on in London one day. The exhibition has now closed but it'll linger in the memory.

Hieronomous Bosch will now always be El Bosco to me.