'Much Ado About Nothing' at the National Theatre

The National Theatre doesn't seem to do much Shakespeare these days so I was keen to see 'Much Ado About Nothing', one of my favourites. I saw it at the National years ago with Zoe Wannamaker and Simon Russell Beale and that was my favourite version until I saw Meera Syal's Indian village version in 2012. Zoe got me chuckling but Meera made me laugh out loud. So I had high hopes for this new version. 

This new version is set in a Mediterranean resort with Messina transformed into a luxury hotel in the 1930s so we get an art deco hotel as the set and all the characters dressed in 1930s style. I have to say that I loved the set and costumes, all helping to establish the atmosphere of the place with lots of lavish costumes and lots of changes - that's where the money went on this production. It's a fun show but I think what let it down for me was the cast, particularly the men. That's an awful thing to say, I know, and I enjoyed the show for what it was but it's not a great production of a Shakespeare classic. It's different, but not great.

I need to say that I enjoyed it and I'm pleased I saw it but if you're looking for a Shakespearean production then this isn't it. There are songs and dances in it and at 2 hours 10 minutes (plus an interval) I've got no idea what they cut out to fit in the dance sequences. That's probably why I think of this as a 'show' rather than a 'play'. I don't know if it was the direction but none of the cast seemed to be able to speak Shakespeare. The men's accents seemed to waver between Bradford and Liverpool and the women often seemed shrill in trying to project their voices. There's nothing wrong with an accent but be consistent. It reminded me of something Glenda Jackson said a few weeks ago when I saw her and she said that the cast of her 'Lear' were all experienced in television and film but had never worked in theatre and were scared of trying to project their voices. 

The 'stars' of the show were Katherine Parkinson (from 'The IT Crowd' on telly) and John Heffernan (who I saw in an unfortunate version of 'Edward II' at the National Theatre years ago). They played Beatrice and Benedict, the main characters. I couldn't always follow what Katherine said as she shouted out her lines quickly in what I assume she thought was a comic manner while doing some manic movements that were supposed to be comic. I always find it frustrating when people in Shakespeare plays can't speak his verse properly and bring it to life - can't they hear themselves?

While I have lots of criticisms of this show, y'know what? I enjoyed it. And that's the main reason for going to the theatre. It was a fun way to spend a few hours and that's a good thing these days. Plus I had ice cream at the half time interval!

'Jerusalem' at the Apollo Theatre

A few weeks ago I went up to the West End and continued travelling to Chippenham and then further into deeper, darker Wiltshire where the May Queen still rules, there's a spirit in every tree and you can meet giants at dawn. 'Jerusalem' is a strange kind of play that works on so many levels and we're lucky to have both Mark Rylance and Mackenzie Crook back in their leading roles for this revival at the Apollo Theatre. I saw it years ago so had to see it again. 

It's the tale of Johnny 'Rooster' Byron, a middle aged man living in a caravan in the rural Wiltshire woods that are his world. He's a reprobate, a drunkard, a drug taker and dealer, up for fun at a moments notice, divorced with a young son but all he's interested in is partying. His contemporaries have mostly grown up  and got on with their lives so he associates with younger people who still want his drugs and the outlandish life he lives and the tales he tells. The Byron's have lived in the area for centuries and he views the woods as his heritage. But the complaints about his behaviour and the noise grow and he's going to be evicted and his caravan seized. What next for Johnny?

The staging is splendid, with his caravan parked on the stage surrounded by trees and chickens living underneath it. Scrappy furniture out front for people to lounge on as they tell their stories and listen to Johnny's even more outlandish ones. Like the one where he was a motorcyclist jumping over buses or when he met the giant who built Stonehenge and gave him a drum-sized earring as a keepsake. At the end of the play Johnny is beaten and bloodied but still defiant as he beats the drum to summon the Byron Boys from their graves, his ancestors, and asks the giant to save him as the police approach to evict him. The trees shake and the lights go off. The end. I believe. 

How on earth Mark Rylance can maintain that level of intensity for so long - night after night - is astonishing. He must be exhausted after every performance. Every now and then I had to think for a moment about what had been said in those West Country accents and wondered how Broadway audiences managed.There were hints of Spencerian lyric poetry and the brutal reality of the modern world, the unbelief that one of their own would fly to Australia for a new life when Chippenham was so exotic and tales of the olde world of the May Queen and the jingling of morris dancing. A world in conflict, a modern mythology that Johnny is incapable of solving. Go and see it, you won't regret it. 

Flamenco Festival at Sadler's Wells

Last week the annual Flamenco Festival was in full swing at Sadler's Wells so I had to visit. I first saw flamenco three years ago on a visit to Madrid and fell in love with it and wanted to see more. I had tickets to go in 2020 but that didn't happen so I was determined to visit last week. 

I had no idea which shows to book tickets for and didn't know the names of any of the choreographers or stars so I opted for Compania Jesus Carmona and Compania Maria Pages and I'm so glad I did. I don't speak Spanish so had no idea what the songs were about but flamenco is passion and love, sorrow and despair so I could guess what was going on. Flamenco is more that guitar and wailing vocals, more that foot stomping and majestic arm movements. Flamenco is life. 

Compania Jesus Cormona's piece was 'The Jump', an exploration of masculinity in the 21st Century. I didn't see the philosophical theories behind the piece but I saw madness and passion, pain and struggles. Jesus Carmona danced the lead with his all male dancers supporting and driving him on. There was also a male guitarist, percussionist and a singer. This was probably the modern dance version of flamenco, with the disciplines and techniques there but not the styles. Modern flamenco. 

Compania Maria Pages was a different kettle of fish with more traditional elements but brought up to date with her fabulous vision and choreography skills. And her amazing dancing! 'An Ode To Time' took us through different movements and styles with dramatic staging and lighting. With a five-piece band, two singers and eight dancers along with herself as the lead dancer, she transformed that stage. She certainly knows how to put on a show.

I loved the whole show but there were two movements I particularly liked. One was when castanets appeared in her hands and Maria gradually got faster and faster, swirling her arms around her body and up into the air only to descend, snakelike, around her body again, playing them faster and faster as she swirled and danced. It was an astonishing moment and I loved it. The other was when she danced with her large shawl, swirling it into the air to make shapes and then the four female dancers appeared with their own shawls to join in, so spectacular! It wasn't just the magnificent Maria who made the show, it was the whole company, and here they are.

I'm so pleased I went to the Flamenco Festival and I'll definitely go back again next year. There's so much to learn about flamenco.

'My Fair Lady' at the Coliseum, London

I've never seen the stage version of 'My Fair Lady' and don't recall ever seeing the film all the way through so the production at the Coliseum was the perfect opportunity to put that right. When I booked the tickets I didn't realise it was the Jubilee weekend and the streets would be full of people aimlessly wandering round trying to find wherever they thought they were going. It was a relief to get inside the foyer and be faced with the familiar madness of people trying to find their seats - I'm used to that.

My main reason for wanting to see it was that it was devised by the same production team that delivered the glorious 'South Pacific' at Lincoln Centre (the Vivian Beaumont Theater to be precise) in 2010 that I saw while the snow piled up outside. That production transferred to London a few years later at the Barbican and then went on tour. I saw it several times. Would 'My Fair Lady' be up to the same standard?

The play opens in Covent Garden as the Royal Opera House empties and spills the posh folks into the common streets around the flower and vegetables market outside. That's where we meet flower girl Eliza Doolittle, the Indian army colonel and phonetics 'professor' Henry Higgins. You know the story from there, where Higgin's decides he can pass Eliza off as a lady under his tuition and so begins the tedious attempts to teach Eliza how to speak "proper". And he does... or rather, she does. But where does that get either of them?

The production was great and quite lavish with the main set of Higgins's house on a revolve to show different rooms and characters walking between them. Lots of fancy costumes for the characters and Eliza seemed to have dozens once she became 'posh'. It was also quite nice to know that the opening scene in Covent Garden was only five minutes walk round the corner from the theatre and we could all stumble across Eliza and her cronies at the market. Sadly, there hasn't been a flowers and vegetables market there for over 40 years but the Coliseum has installed a flower shop in the foyer to make up for that oversight.

I really liked Amara Okereke as a feisty Eliza, a great performance and a lovely voice. Harry Hadden-Patten and Malcolm Sinclair were fine as Higgins and Colonel Pickering, as were Maurine Beattie as housekeeper Mrs Pickering and Stephen K Amos as Alfred Doolittle. I also really liked Sharif Afifi as nice but dim Freddy with his lovely singing voice. Sadly Vanessa Redgrave as Mrs Higgins wasn't on for this performance. The performances were good, the costumes and sets were really good but I didn't fully enjoy the book or some of the songs. Higgins is a rather unpleasant mysogenistic character and his songs were all to the same stop/start formula. The character rather soured things for me and good on Eliza for walking away. I hope she got her flower shop.

My ignorance of this musical was demonstrated to me by two songs - who knew 'I Could Have Danced All Night' was from this show as is the lovely 'On The Street Where You Live'? The placing of 'Danced All Night' was a bit odd since at that point Eliza hadn't actually danced yet, the dancing is much later and the moment of her triumph at the ball is spoiled by Higgins and Pickering congratulating themselves on the success of their 'experiment', totally ignoring Eliza. 

Verdict? Yes, 'My Fair Lady' is definitely up to the standards of 'South Pacific', so well done to Bartlett Sher and his team at Lincoln Center in New York. And the actual musical? It's great fun, well performed and the cast have some great voices, but, well, on this outing, Lerner and Loewe ain't no Rodgers and Hammerstein. Go and see it for yourself.

'Picasso Ingres: Face to Face' at the National Gallery

A new exhibition opened at the National Gallery last week, 'Picasso Ingres: Face to Face', that considers Ingres's portrait 'Madame Moitessier' with Picasso's 'Woman With A Book', his version of the portrait. The Ingres portrait is the National Gallery collection and the Picasso is on loan from the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena, California. The exhibition is just these two paintings, that's it, quite simple and also quite powerful with no distractions. 

I've seen the Ingres portrait many times and I've started to almost ignore it when wandering round the Gallery and that is a mistake. It was painted over several years and the composition changed, eventually being completed in 1856. It really is a glorious painting, just look at that delicate flesh tone with the blush on her cheek and the details of her jewels and dress. The thing that caught my attention on this viewing was the detail on her fan in her impossibly delicate hand. It's a thing of beauty in itself.

The floral frock is what grabs the attention but it's important to look elsewhere in the painting. Look at her reflection in the mirror on the right hand side of the painting and also at the fashionable Chinese vase partially hidden by another fan on the left. This is an important society lady and she needs to be portrayed as such.  It's a delicate and detailed painting.

In contrast, Picasso's version is anything but delicate. It was good to be able to get up close and see the paint piled on roughly, see the drip marks, the paint smeared on top of other paint and pushed and pulled until it creates it's own beauty. Rather than holding a fan, the lady here holds an open book.

The painting was made in 1932, an important year for Picasso and the subject of an exhibition at Tate Modern a few years ago that explored his amazing output in that year. That suggests that Picasso probably spent only a few days on the painting, if that, and yet he still created a thing of beauty. 

The exhibition is free and well worth popping into at the end of your visit to the National Gallery - it's in Room 46 at the top of the portico steps after you leave the 'modern art' rooms. There's also a small exhibition book if you want to know more about the paintings.

'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.

'Post-War Modern: New Art in Britain 1945-65' at the Barbican

There's an exhibition of British art between 1945-65 at the Barbican at the moment and it's well worth seeing, it's almost a compendium of modern British art. The curators have obviously put a lot of time and effort into creating this exhibition and there are around 200 objects included, mainly paintings but also installations and objects. The exhibition is nicely laid out in the spacious upstairs gallery area with paintings grouped thematically although in one space I decided the theme was simply 'loads of colour'. That seems fair enough to me. It had works by the names you'd expect to see in an exhibition covering these years (Bacon, Auerbach, Bowling, Freud and Hockney) but it was the works by artists I'd never heard of that provided the real excitement.

It's a strange period for art, the 20 years immediately after the war, especially in Europe with our devastated cities including the major British cities. Artists who lived through the war with the particular memories they must have had, the wrecked cityscapes around them, the death, all must have influenced what they produced. Rationing of food continued into the 1950s, intellectual and practical arguments about what the future should hold, clearing up bomb sites and starting to build again and recreate cities and society with the help of those coming to Britain from the former empire and then the dawn of the '60s and hope and the world that led to today.

The first painting that made me cross the gallery for a closer look was this strange creation by Prunella Clough called 'Bypass I' (1960). What on earth is it about and what is it meant to be? I don't know. Is it a physical road bypass that exist all over the country to take traffic away from something or to arrive somewhere quicker? Or is it more like a surgery bypass operation? Or something else? I have no idea but I stood there trying to see a pattern, a repetition, a thematic trick that might explain it but all I saw was shape and a limited palette.  

A painter I haven't come across before was Avinash Chandra who started out painting Indian landscapes but moved to portraying the human body and I was fascinated by his 'Early Figures' (1961). He has two works in the exhibition but this, for me, was the more interesting since there was clearly something going on but I couldn't see what it was. The figures are obviously human (in some form) but what are those little flying things above their heads? Artists had been experimenting with depicting the human body for a long time before this was painted but it doesn't seem to be derivative of anything (that I can think of) so there's an obvious thought process going on here that was new and inspiring. 

I really like the playfulness of Jean Cooke's 'Through The Looking Glass' (1960), a lovely painting of some colourful flowers in their plant pots - how delightful - but on closer inspection you see that it's actually an elaborate self-portrait. At the back of the scene is a mirror and in it is a small reflection of the artist. I didn't realise this at first, I was just admiring the lovely plants and flowers and then she suddenly came into view as I scanned the painting. 

After wandering round I finally found a large painting by Frank Bowling - just look for colour and you'll find him - but to get to his work I had to pass three smaller works by Anwar Jalal Shemza and had to stop to take a closer look. I was particularly taken by his 'Still Life' (1957) with it's rich colours and solid shapes. Apparently Shemza often painted using Islamic themes but this painting fits into the long tradition of still lives using whatever was on the table in front of the artist (or constructed on the table by the artist) but rarely in such a rich palette. I'd be happy to have this one on my living room wall. The colourful Bowling painting was one of his dying swans from 1965 that I had to examine closely. 

In the same section of the exhibition as the Bowling painting is this one by Gillian Ayers, 'Break Off' (1961). I've got no idea what it's supposed to mean or represent and I suspect it's more of an emotional expression than anything else. But it caught my eye and made me stop in front of it and scan the canvas. 

All in all, it's an interesting exhibition and explores lots of different ways of creating images and paintings as well as photography and sculptures. It features 48 artists and around 200 objects, so it's a good size. It's on until the end of June so there's plenty of time to visit if you fancy seeing it. 

'The Corn Is Green' at the National Theatre

I've never seen 'The Corn Is Green' on stage and have only vague memories of the film with Katherine Hepburn and a young Toyah before she became a pop star. The perfect excuse for seeing the new production at the National Theatre.

It's a semi-autobiographical play by Emlyn Williams set in a little pit village in Wales before the First World War where children grow up speaking Welsh as their first language and are sent off to work in the local pit at a young age. That would've been Emlyn's fate if he hadn't been 'saved' and educated by an English teacher. That's the basic outline of the play, embellished here and there to create more drama and tension right up to the end. The old story of working class kid does good has been used many times but it still works and draws people in.

This production of the play was a bit odd in that it overlayed the play with the conceit of having the author in the play as well. It opens with a posh party, presumably in that there London, when the author escapes to get some fresh air and remembers his childhood in Wales, with the pitmen covered in grime and singing on their way home, and so the play starts. The author hovers around the action, intervening every now and then to point out that *that* didn't really happen, then rewinding the action to point out that *this* is what actually happened. And occasionally dancing with a sparkling flapper girl. At first I found that all a bit distracting, having the author as director, but then I ignored it. 

The lead as Miss Moffat, the teacher, was Nicola Walker and she gave a really strong performance, dominating each scene with an iron will to ensure that everyone will do her bidding. She faces resistance to setting up her school and gives up on the silly idea until she reads a short essay by one of the boys, Morgan Evans (played by Iwan Davies), and realises there is potential there so she can't give up the school. Over the years of teaching she decides to put the boy up for a scholarship to Oxford and he is selected so his future is secure. But then the bombshell arrives in the shape of a baby he fathered with the housekeeper's daughter...

I enjoyed the play and I really liked the largely bare stage with the company hanging round the edges of the set. I liked the references from the few English speakers that they couldn't understand the Welsh language of the locals, almost as if they were in India or Africa. The characters all seemed nicely rounded and believable (other the stupid squire character). Nicola Walker was excellent as the imperious Miss Moffat, the teacher who refuses to be a mere middle aged spinster but will still do something meaningful with her life. It's a powerful tale on lots of levels.

Ashton Triple Bill at the Royal Opera House

Last week I went to see three one-act ballets by Frederick Ashton danced by the Royal Ballet at the Royal Opera House. My last visit was about 6 months ago to see Steven McRae dance Romeo in 'Romeo & Juliet', his first return to the stage after snapping his Achilles tendon over two years ago. 

The first ballet was 'Scenes de Ballet', a piece I've never seen before. It didn't grab me at all although I liked the music by Stravinsky. The dancing seemed rather formulaic and I wasn't always sure what I was actually seeing. At one point I remember being distracted by the lads' tunics, thinking they would make great tee shirts and the Royal Opera House should sell them in its shop. I should be thinking about the ballet not tee shirts.

The second was 'A Month in the Country' with music by Chopin, a ballet I've seen before and I could sink into the comfort and story of it. A rich family living in the countryside in their grand house, the bored mother flirting with a friend, the father mainly absent, two children and servants when a new tutor for the boy turns up. Obviously, the mother and tutor fall in love but the daughter has set her sights on him and she denounces them to the father. It ends sadly, but the love is real. Natalia Osipova was excellent as the mother, flirtatious and sad by turns, yearning for more than her life has given her. William Bracewell danced the tutor who can't bear to hurt his love and leaves quietly. 

The final ballet was 'Rhapsody' with music by  Rachmaninoff and it was my favourite. I've not seen it before but the lead was danced by Steven McRae so we were in safe hands (or feet). It was a perfect match of movement to music with Steven leaping and jumping, running round the stage leading the other dancers then vanishing into the wings to let Anna Rose O'Sullivan do her dances. This is a great role for a male dancer to spotlight their skills and Steven took full advantage of it. And even better, he looked like he was enjoying it. He was a joy to watch and I'd love to see him dance the part again. 

I don't have any more tickets to see the Royal Ballet in the immediate future - my next dance is flamenco - but that day will come again. They're too good to miss for long.

'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.