#TheNationalGallery - Diary Entry of the permenent collection.
The National Galley has always been a magical place for me. It is here where you can confront face-to-face, works of art that have shaped the history of picture making by challenging the conventions and concepts of their age. As a young student at GCSE and A-Level Art, the grand rooms of The National Galley and its many great artists burned a permanent and lasting image into my mind.
Rembrandt’s fragile and emotionally moving self-portraits are always a first stop for me. His extraordinary life with its great heights and extreme lows adds to my pleasure in viewing his paintings. At his height he was extremely famous and wealthy, a true genius, but unfortunate circumstances pursued with bankruptcy, the death of his wife and his son Titus. I always make an effort to give his final portrait, painted within months of his death time and contemplation. Walking into other nearby rooms, you pass Velasquez, Titian, Vermeer and a host of other giants of art history. I often find myself thinking while walking briskly past other ‘lesser’ known masterpieces, how sad and quite dismissive my act of going on a whistle stop tour of my childhood favorites. These artists who hang next to Rembrandt and Vermeer spent their life dedicating their efforts to attain a skill and express what was their own personal view of the world. Therefore I think it always necessary to extend my ‘greatest hits’.
Perhaps not a new revelation more of a re-connecting, was my experience of a painting by Constable, titled, ‘Statford Mill’ 1820. A large landscape depicting a river in a rolling English countryside with various people fishing and boating, a scene of everyday life. This painting for me shows both a link to the past but also an insight into the future of painting. Steeped in the tradition of topographical and romanticised painting, you clearly know where you are in space. You can imagine breathing the same air, hearing noises of the river and the tweeting of birds. Constable was a master of describing surface and texture. After a sustained period of time, I noticed a small section of the painting in the bottom right hand corner that triggered parallels with Monet’s Water Lilly series. This ‘painting within a painting’ is very close in technique and execution, an example of space and light. A new ‘greatest hit’ was born many times over. Every section in this work held for me infinite composition and comparisons. We can and should always learn from the past, what may be already familiar to us or even dismissed as uninteresting. To quote Sibyl Moholy-Nagy in reference to Paul Klee;
‘…give sense to the vulgar,
give mysteriousness to the common,
give dignity of the unknown to the obvious,
and a trace of infinity to the temporal’.
I found something new by looking again or perhaps looking afresh at the ‘common’. Paintings which had already given me ‘the answer’ I realise have not. This is an important lesson, art can always surprise and its limitations are only us, the viewer. The Impressionist Room, which helped shape my mind as a young student at school, I purposefully singled out a work by the artist Vuillard (The Earthenware Pot). A colourist and friend of Bonnard, his engagement with pattern through colour and tone has always astonished me. Parts of this painting seem to physically push me away yet I dig my heels in to push back. The highly patterned wallpaper behind the figures seemed to protrude from the surface of the work creating a gravity that I rarely experience. Rhythm, edges and closed space are some of the ideas I pondered on the way home; a lesson learned from studying Ukiyo and the ‘Floating World’ no doubt.
My visit to The National Gallery was one of comfort, seeing ’old friends’ whom I have not seen for a number of years, however it was also one of surprise. Various artists have new things to tell me, some have grown bigger yet stayed the same size and have reminded me that time does not stand still. I can look at a young Rembrandt and experience the exuberance of youth or stare into the eyes of a broken old man, each reminding me of my own existence and perhaps where I may be heading. These great works are a constant force, moving and changing with me - a perpetual source of mystery and wonder.Â