'Pippin' at the Southwark Playhouse

I went to see 'Pippin' at Southwark Playhouse a couple of weeks ago, the day after returning from snowy Boston, and it helped me to stave off the jet lag. I didn't realise I was seeing it in its last week until I tried to book tickets to see it again - yes, it was that good. I saw a computer game themed version of 'Pippin' full of lasers and rock guitar seven years ago at the Menier Chocolate Factory but had forgotten much of the story so this version was almost like seeing it anew.

The first hurdle to get over is that Pippin is the son of Charlemagne, the Holy Roman Emperor. As if the heir to the throne anywhere would be called Pippin. Yes, it's a problem for me. Then there's the daft story-line of Pippin trying to find himself and his role in life which was all very late '60s/early '70s, from joining one of his dad's wars to working on a farm. Then there's the conceit of the Lead Player talking to the audience and introducing scenes that she was also in as well as directing us towards and it's all very odd. But it somehow works and draws you in. Hippy-dippy at one level, rock musical at another and experimental theatre at yet another, all rolled up together to take us on a a very strange journey. It's very of its time and uses some trademarked Bob Fosse dance moves but it somehow works.

Some of the bits I loved were Charlemagne being played with a broad Welsh accent and his queen having a Glaswegian accent, Pippin's grandma encouraging him to have lots of girls, the Fosse moves, and the theme song of 'Corner of the Sky' (I have a great version by Petula Clark and Dusty Springfield). I also liked the simple staging that was very effective. Something I really did;t like was Pippin's wide-necked grey jumper with a few sequins that reminded me of something your grandma might buy from Marks and Sparks - a horrid affair.

This new version of the show was developed by Hope Mills Theatre in Manchester and first performed there before coming to Southwark Playhouse and good on 'em for this revival. Great staging, great lighting and fun costumes (other than Pippin's jumpa of course). I loved all the cleverness of the staging, like lifting the stars painted on the stage to reveal lights, lots of little tricks and turns kept me engaged. Of course, the work itself by Stephen Schwartz deserves mention even if it does sometimes seem to get lost in its own complexities (I'm still puzzling about Charlemagne coming back from the dead after Pippin kills his dad in a revolution and the ending when Pippin refuses to dive into a vat of fire that reminded me of The Beatles' "Mr Kite').

I thought the cast were all very good with special shout outs to Genevieve Nicole as the Lead Player, Jonathan Carlton as Pippin, Mairi Barclay as the queen/grandma and Tessa Cadler as the farmer's wife.Well done also to Jonathan O'Boyle as director, Maeve Black for costumes and set, Aaron J Dootson for lighting and William Whelton for the choreography. Thanks should go to lots of others, of course, for bringing this together in a great show that was a joy to see. I hope I don't have to wait another seven years to see this show. I think a big stage version is due next.

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.

John Singer Sargent in Boston

There is a lot of John Singer Sargent in Boston. He's one of those artists that most people know the name but probably not a lot of his work. That was certainly me until  few years ago when I went to the great exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery in London when I saw a much wider range of his works. One of his paintings is even the object of a ballet performed by the Royal Ballet. Then I saw a range of his watercolours at Dulwich Picture Gallery last year so I was ready to have my horizons expanded beyond society portraiture and that's what you get in Boston. He's all over the place.

The first painting of his that I saw i Boston was his portrait of Isabella Stewart Gardner that hangs in the museum of her name. Apparently she knew Sargent socially so is graced with her own portrait. The painting is in her 'gothic' room in her museum and looks out over a small panel by Giotto so she's in good company and is still keeping an eye on her treasures.

I next encountered Sargent in the Museum of Fine Art a bit further up the road from the Gardner Museum when I spotted a drawing that drew my attention. The pose reminded me of a model I'd drawn a few weeks earlier on one of my life drawing classes so I walked closer to have a look and saw it was by Sargent. I don't think I've seen a nude by Sargent before so that was a surprise but, I suppose, he's actually drawn all sorts of pictures.  He painted the dome and ceiling of the museum and there's an exhibition of his sketches in the space underneath the dome. I suspect this model was Thomas E McKeller of whom there is is an excellent portrait in the Sargent room upstairs.

This is an excellent portrait on so many levels. I'd never associated Sargent with nude paintings but, of course, he must have made many as all artists do to get the hang of the human figure. This is such a direct pose, so vulnerable and strong at the same time. I just stood there for a moment thinking 'Good grief, this is Sargent?'. Apparently he used Thomas as a regular model and he's the basis for many of the Sargent murals in the MFA. This is a great painting. The other paintings in the Sargent room are more like you'd expect from him, formal portraits and paintings with children but this powerful painting of a naked man is the one that will stay with me. It's very impressive.

There are more paintings by Sargent in Boston Public Library. It's a big old Victorian mausoleum of a building with big murals on the walls, grand staircases and lifts with the names of benefactors. Sargent's murals about religion are on the second floor (or Level Three in American) and are free to access. A few of the sketches at the MFA are sketches for these murals so it was nice to see them. I found it particularly strange to see a sketch of Christ on show - definitely not your standard Sargent drawing!

We see ancient Egyptian gods and demons at one end of the hall and Christ crucified at the other end. It's all very strange and painted in deep, rich colours. It's not entirely clear to me what Sargent was trying to say through these paintings even though he spent a long time working on them. It's a really odd collection of strangely religious, strangely mystical paintings that need an explanation but that's exactly what Sargent doesn't give us. He seems to be saying 'make your own minds up'.

I'm really pleased to have seen these drawings and paintings by Sargent that broaden my understanding of his work. Yes, he was a society painter but he was so much more. I've never understood why there were so many books about him but now I do. There's an angle to Sargent that can please almost everyone, you just need to find that angle. Boston is a good place to start.

The Museum of Fine Art, Boston

If you're in Boston then a trip to the Museum of Fine Art is a must and I walked there in the snow. I actually went twice since I didn't see enough on my first visit and the beauty of ticketing at the MFA is that you buy a ticket but can visit a second time free provided it's within ten days of the first visit. That means you don't have to cram everything into your visit because, if you've got the time, you can always go back again. What a good idea.

It's a bit of a monster of a building with the majority of works on the Ground and First floors but with some works in it s Americas collection on the Lower Ground and Level Three (remembering that Level Three is actually the second floor to British people). You need to pick up a free map to try to understand the place and how the galleries are organised with its art and artefacts from all around the world and, in particular it's huge Art of the Americas collection. And don't forget to look around you at the building itself since the dome and surrounding corridors were painted by John Singer Sargent and there was an exhibition of his sketches on the ground floor underneath the dome. I always associate Sargent with society portraits so it was interesting to see these sketches on a range of subjects way beyond his portraiture.

I wanted to see it's European collection spread over Level 1 & 2 so I headed to the Fenway side of the building. On Level 2 you enter that wing of the building through  large room hung with loads of 16th and 17th Century paintings by the likes of El Greco, but I kept going through to find the real gems in the collection from the early Renaissance. 

One of the earliest works in the painting collection (if not the earliest) is a lovely little triptych by Duccio from the early 1300s. The main scene is the crucifixion with saints Nicholas and Gregory on the wings. This is a really high status work that was probably commissioned as a travelling altarpiece by a prince or rich merchant. It's quite small and the detail is gorgeous and is one of the many works I'd love to see lit only by flickering candlelight to see it the way that Duccio would have done when he handed over the work to its first owner. 

There's also a lovely painting by Roger van der Weyden of 'Saint Luke Drawing the Virigin' which is a composition I can't recall seeing before in a gallery but I know that some artists used similar compositions. It's sort of the artist saying 'look, my art goes back to one of the Saviour's followers drawing the Saviour himself' and increasing its status from being a mere craft. It uses the Italian device of having a window and landscape at the centre of the painting but van der Weyden goes one step further by including people outside the window looking at the landscape. He's almost telling those Italians that Netherlanders can use all that artistic trickery too and go one better. It's a lovely little painting, full of the detail you'd expect from early Northern Renaissance works.

Another early painting I want to mention is 'Virgin & Child with Four Angels' by Neri di Bicci from Florence, a new name for me and you can probably guess why I'm including it here. It's quite a nice composition but just look at the faces of those angels... 

It's a good Renaissance collection and includes other paintings by people like Bosch with a version of 'Ecce Homo', a lovely Crivelli and a small hexagonal panel by Fra Angelo.

The collection moves forward in time and there are lots of other paintings to gaze at and muse over  with the mandatory Delacroix and, surprisingly, a smallish John Martin. Jumping forward to the late Nineteenth Century and we have a Monet room and a Sargent room and lots of Impressionist paintings and post Impressionists with Gauguin and van Gogh. Americans invested in these paintings long before we did in Britain (other than the Courtauld collection) which is why their collections can be astonishing. One of the lass colourful paintings in these rooms was 'Man at his Bath' by Gustave Caillebotte which shows a pastey-skinned man drying himself off after a bath. This is as far from the Classical ideal of a naked man as it's possible to get but is the everyday reality for all of us.

A far more colourful painting that caught my eye was 'Women of Paris: The Circus Lover' by James Jacques Joseph Tissot. I'm not a great fan of Tissot who was contemporary with the Impressionists but whose style is more realistic, but this is a grand painting and, if you remove the women in what we now think of as as period costume, that circus scene could easily be played out in Wonderground on the Southband in London today. I particularly like the slightly belligerent bloke in the Union Jack shirt walking towards the women. You just know that the bloke bottom-left has just told the ladies that the acrobats aren't all that really and he can do some of the tricks - bet you can't matey!

Two of my favourites were in the same room and by van Gogh. They would probably benefit from being hung in less ornate frames but they are both gorgeous. 'Houses at Auvers' with it's thick paint that made me want to touch it to feel the textures and the mysterious 'Ravine'. Both are superb quality and would command wall-space in any gallery in the world. But did the MFA shop have postcards of either? You can guess the answer.

One of the benefits of American museums is that once you've paid your entrance fee then everything is free to see inside, including the temporary exhibitions. The exhibitions at the MFA were small but worth popping in to see. I saw the Escher exhibition which was so-so but missed the Rothko exhibition. I did, however, visit the exhibition about the drawings from Vienna by Klimt and Schiele that is coming to London later in the year to celebrate the centenary of their deaths. The drawings are in various media and at a relatively small size and it was interesting to see the similarities in their styles as well as the differences. I'm in two minds as to whether to see it again in London but, with my new-found interest in drawing, I probably will, if only to see if there are any tips I can steal from them.

Another exhibition - the main one for the museum that featured on all the posters but has now closed - was an exhibition by Takashi Murakami, a Japanese artist I've never heard of before but will watch out for. The exhibition was full of mainly big pieces and was full of light and colour and fun. In one of the exhibits the flooring that you walked on ran up to and onto the wall making it part of the work and, for some reason that just tickled me. Big pieces with smiley flower-heads and brash colours, encouraging the kids to run around making a noise and it all seemed so right. It was actually quite wonderful to be surrounded by these works in a very different way to the wonders of the Renaissance upstairs. I liked it.

There were also galleries of Greek and Roman statues, a huge collection of the Art of the Americas, furniture, craftwork and all sorts of stuff. It's a massive collection and you probably need more than two visits to do it justice but I was pleased with what I'd seen in the European painting collection. That was enough for this visit.

One thing that did irritate me was finding my way around to see the rooms i wanted to see. The visitor map is laid out by room number but the galleries are labeled with the name of the sponsor of that room or corridor. You have to really look for the room numbers which seem to be on small plaques near the door that, all too often, are blinded by the art inside the room. It's all very confusing which is another reason for setting aside plenty of time to see the place. I suspect it probably works better for locals than for visitors. I'd recommend the American Cafe in the courtyard of the museum for lovely food, excellent service and a great view of a Dale Chihuly work in glass and steel that kept me focused on it and wondering how it didn't fall over. I loved it! 

If you're in Boston and have a few hours to spare you could do a lot worse than pop along to the Museum of Fine Art. There's something there for everyone but don't expect it to be laid out for you - do some research first so you know what you really want to see before you arrive.

The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston

I can't possibly go to a foreign city to explore its museums and galleries and not blog about them. Because I needed to see the Fra Angelico exhibition at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston then that was the first place I visited.

After seeing the Fra Angelico exhibition in the new wing of the museum I walked through the glass tunnel to 'the Palace', the name now given to Isabella's house and art mansion. At first, I thought it was a bit like Leighton House in Kensington, a period residence full of art, but this is so much more and so much bigger. One of the prides of the collection is a portrait of Isabella by John Singer Sargent that is on display in one of the corner rooms upstairs. I quickly came to the conclusion that this museum should definitely be on anyone's top ten list of places to visit in Boston and, for an art lover, I'd say top five.

Once you're through the tunnel you come to the courtyard garden. My first reaction was to wonder where all the snow was? There was a foot or so of snow outside, so where was it? Looking up, I saw a glass ceiling protecting the garden and enabling the plants to grow and flower. You can't go into the garden but can walk all the way round it. There's a central mosaic and loads of statues dotted around the planting. Given the whiteness of the snow outside, it was odd to see all the greenery in the courtyard. I bet it's lovely in spring and high summer.

The mansion is very big and three stories high and that makes exploring it really interesting, never knowing what you might come across next. To a layman, the layout of the place makes little sense with X painting next to Y period desk and chairs and Z painting opposite with a gothic altarpiece just to the right... it's a right hodge-podge of stuff thrown together for reasons I can't fathom. Like having a Botticelli Virgin & Child in the alcove of a corridor that people will most likely miss and  turn left along the corridor rather than right to see the painting. Most museums would have a Botticelli front and centre with big lighting and signage. Not here.

In a talk in the Fra Angelico exhibition I learned that everything in the museum was put where Isabella Stewart Gardner wanted it and it's part of the bequest that the location can't be changed. Fair enough, it's her art and she can place it where she wants. Like placing the Fra Angelico reliquary on the side of a fireplace that makes it easy to miss unless you look but it's beside a north-facing window so it gets consistent sunlight rather than the vagaries of morning/afternoon sunlight.

I actually quite liked this approach, wandering round the place finding one 'wow' painting after another. I didn't really bother with the map you're given on entry but just followed my nose. My 'wow' factor almost went audible when I found a small panel by Giotto standing on top of a small red velvet-covered desk, close enough to touch. A lovey little Giotto in this collection, close enough to touch and positioned under her gaze. I suspect many world-cess museums would be happy to have this small panel in their own collections. I wanted to pull the seat out from under the desk and sit down and just look at it. I wonder how many people have actually touched this gem over the years?

In one room you actually enter under a wooden pulpit. I was too busy looking round the room to look for another gem but I suspect the pulpit was Italian and her guests probably played with it, making speeches or wotnot from the platform.

I really liked the 'you never know what you'll find next' experience of wandering around that big old house. All built around that lovely courtyard garden with lots of windows looking out over it so it really is central to the place. So much art in there: paintings, tapestries, furniture, sculpture and the house itself. What must it have been like to live surrounded by all that art? Not all of it is great art, but it's definitely interesting art.

So if you're in Boston and you like art then you could do a lot worse that spend a couple of hours in the Gardner Museum. It's just a few minutes walk from the Museum of Fine Art and you get a discount on the MFA ticket if you show your Gardner Museum ticket (the MFA ticket desk saw my Gardner Museum bag and helpfully mentioned it). The Gardner Museum also has a great little restaurant and gift shop. It also has best toilets in Boston - just look at all that green!

'The Humans' at the Shubert Theater, Boston

My final play in Boston was 'The Humans' at the Shubert Theatre. 'The Humans' is on tour following an award-wining run on Broadway and I caught it on its visit to Boston. I wasn't really sure what to expect so I was in for some surprises.

It's a simple tale of a family gathering for Thanksgiving dinner but, for the first time, this isn't in the family home but rather at the daughter's new apartment in Manhattan, so new, very little is unpacked yet. It's a small cast of characters with Erik and Deirdre as the parents, Aimee and Brigid as the two daughters, Richard as Brigid's partner and 'Momo', the grandmother with dementia. The apartment block is old and decrepit but quite spacious and Aimee says they're lucky to get in in New York these days.There are creaks and light bulb problems and the old lady upstairs makes a lot of noise.

Home truths soon start leaking as the family talks and gathers round the table, up and downstairs to the bathroom and living room and people talk endlessly, including over each other far too often for my liking. There are a lot of words in this play. Brigid is a bit resentful that her parents haven't helped her financially with getting a place to live, the daughters laugh together about random articles their mother emails to them, Dad makes bad jokes and Brigid tells her sister about her partner's need to make lists and tell her his dreams. Little frictions and niggles build and get glossed over and Erik is goaded into telling his family about the dreams of a weird, faceless woman that have been disturbing his sleep.

This goes on for some time, keeping the tension building amongst the jokes and laughs, the problems of the new apartment and the Catholic mother's little comments about her daughter not being married and in a stable relationship. Something's going to happen any minute, I kept thinking, the play is moving us towards something, but I couldn't guess what. And then the father comes clean and tells his daughters that he's cheated on their mother. With a prostitute. And has lost his job and pension after 28 years working with a private school with a morality clause in the contract. And they can't afford to move to the new house now and can't afford the bills for his mother with dementia and need to move into a small apartment themselves. The daughters are devastated by this bombshell, delivered while their mother is upstairs seeing to the needs of their grandmother. Throughout all this, I just thought 'what a brave man' for admitting all this so candidly and calmly.

Then the visit is over and they rush to get ready for the cab to take them home since Dad has been drinking and the light bulb blows, leaving him alone downstairs, with the odd sounds of the apartment building around him. He bumbles round and sits down in the dark, with the only light coming from the basement door that he's wedged open and we see a woman walk slowly across the corridor outside, but he doesn't. Tension is really mounting by this stage and, suddenly, the lights all go out and we start clapping. The end. Phew!

At first I didn't think I was going to like the play but it slowly wound me in until by the end I was hooked. It's very well constructed to build up the tension almost without us noticing until we get the bombshell. It included some lovely moments as well, with Dad consoling daughter Aimee over recently splitting with her girlfriend without making a thing out of it and also the almost throwaway moments of Momo's dementia and the touching letter to her granddaughters she wrote four years ago which Dad reads out. It's nothing special, just life carrying on as it does. The flow and tension was helped by it playing as one act with no interval.

I liked Richard Thomas as Dad Erik and Therese Plaehn as daughter Aimee but was less keen on Daisey Eagan as Brigid who's voice was too high and light and frequently got lost. I wasn't too keen on the 'let's all talk over one another' sections, particularly in the first half - do Americans really talk like that at home? It was also the rudest audience I've been with for a long time, talking, repeating lines,, shuffling round swapping seats and especially those arriving 15 minutes late for an 8pm start. They'd settled down towards the end but good grief people!

I'm not sure whether the play would work over here in London since it is so very American, but who knows? If it does transfer then I'd definitely like to see it again. It was written by Stephen Karam who I know nothing about but will certainly be interested in seeing anything else he does.

Fra Angelico in Boston

The people of Boston are very lucky in that they have three works by Fra Angelico on public display in the city. It is my duty and delight to report my sightings of new Fra Angelico paintings when I find them - sometimes I know they're there and visit places specifically to see them but, now and then, I have a surprise and find one that I wasn't expecting (which is another joy all together).

The most glorious of the Boston Fra Angelico works is the small panel bought by Isabella Stewart Gardner and is on show in her museum, 'The Dormition and Assumption of the Virgin'. It's currently on display as part of the 'Fra Angelico: Heaven on Earth' exhibition in the new wing at the Gardner Museum along with the three other reliquaries that the Fra painted for Santa Maria Novella in Florence as well as other works on loan to the exhibition.

It's part of Gardner's will that endows the Museum that the works can't be moved from where she placed them around her house other than for a short time for internal exhibitions. That will be why the other three reliquaries had to come to Boston from Florence rather than sending the Gardner reliquary to Florence.

The panel is normally hung on the side of a wooden fireplace in Gardner's mansion house beside a north-facing window in a corner room on the second floor (the first floor to British people). Apparently it was placed there deliberately so it receives constant light during the day rather than the vagaries of morning and afternoon light. This emerged during a very interesting talk from one of the museum experts in the Fra Angelico exhibition while I was there.

The second Boston Fra was an accidental find in the Museum of Fine Art (I really ought to do my homework properly). It's a small octagonal panel, about 10" x 10", hung a bit too high up on the wall in a corridor gallery in Room 219 on the second (i.e. the first) floor. It's a bit of a hodgepodge of art works in that corridor and it would be easy to miss the painting if the colours didn't attract my eye and, on a closer inspection, it's clearly by Fra Angelico. The painting is titled, 'Virgin and Child Enthroned with Saints Peter, Paul and George (?), Four Angels and a Donor'. The label mentioned that a head of Christ used to be on the other side of the panel but doesn't mention where it is now.

The scene takes place in a garden - just look at all those tiny flowers - which makes the figure pf St George look even more awkward in his bulky armour. I can't think of any other painting by Fra Angelico that includes St George which may be why there is a question mark in the title after his name. The saint I recognised immediately was St Peter, not simply because he holds the keys or that he's dressed in his traditional blue and orange, but look at his face. I've seen that face before, such as in the Corsini triptych in which St Peter looks the same. I wonder if the Fra had a consistent approach to faces so that different saints always had the same face so that viewers could recognise them by their features and not just by their symbols? I shall have to do some research into this.

The third Boston Fra Angelico work is in the Harvard Art Museums, 'Christ on the Cross, the Virgin, Saint John the Evangelist and Cardinal Torquemada'. It's a very late work (estimated at 1453-54 and the Fra died in 1455) and is thought to have been commissioned by the cardinal with whom the Fra stayed with in Rome while working for the Pope. It's the central panel of a triptych, a tabernacle altarpiece that would travel round with the cardinal as a personal devotional piece. I don't know where the other two wings of the tabernacle are now.

It's an interesting, if rather stern, piece, with Adam's skull at the bottom of the Cross and the Cross turns into the tree of life at the top with a nesting pelican wounding itself to feed it's young, a symbol of Christ's sacrifice. Christ's blood flows down to the cardinal's red hat as he kneels there praying to his lord. Saint John looks particularly upset, with his hand pressed to his face and it looks like he's been crying.

I don't know if it was the snow, the time of day or the season, but the museum wasn't very busy at all which meant I could spend some time undisturbed in front of the altarpiece. It's hung on the wall in a glass case with a few paintings by Botticelli and his school on the adjoining wall.

So, there you are, the three Fra Angelico's of Boston. All are lovely and all are interesting in different ways. It's always rewarding looking at the detail in Fra paintings and these paintings have given me a new quest, to compare faces in different works by the Fra to see comparisons and differences in the same characters. Watch this space!