St Paul's Cathedral

There is no better time to visit the country's most important cathedral than at Christmas. sitting under the ordinarily superb dome whilst it's flanked by two impossibly large Christmas trees is just fabulous.

We took out an audio guide, which was wonderfully informative. The Old St Paul's was destroyed in the Great Fire of London in 1666. Redesigning the nation's church fell to the great Sir Christopher Wren, who was already busy changing the face of London with a collection of grand churches and buildings across the capital. With his signature Baroque elegance, wren's cathedral is just stunning. Whilst the outside is brilliant, it is the interior that sets it apart from others. In particular James Thornhill's frescos on the dome, depicting the life of St Paul, are impossibly brilliant. HOW did he get up their and paint them is all I could think whilst admiring them from the Whispering Gallery.

Even though it had already been a 257 step trak to this point, we were keen for the all-important view, so continued all the way up to the Golden Gallery, 528 steps up, to see it.

It is completely worth it!

Following a well earned tea and cake in the crypt, we stayed for a service of evensong, which was beautiful.

Walking home along Southbank

Shunga: Sex and Pleasure in Japanese art

Shunga is the taboo genre of erotic Japanese art. Whilst often considered vulgar or indecent, this exhibition at the British Museum sets Shunga in its historical context, seeks to explain why Shunga was made and who for and reveals its influence on modern art. When viewed in this context, one quickly becomes desensitised to the overtly erotic imagery and can appreciate this genre as a central part of life in Edo and as the art it was intended.

Shunga- which simply means Spring paintings- dates back to the 12th century, when it was hand painted on to large scrolls. It wasn't until the 17th century that artists began to use the ever so popular woodblock print to produce and reproduce their images.

Very early Shunga is quite simply beautiful. The scrolls in the show are incredibly detailed and show intricate patterns of fabrics that drape intimate couples. Whilst explicit sexually, they are also explicit artistically and incredibly beautiful. Other images from this period are far more crude. Particularly a painting depicting a penis measuring competition. The winner is anyone's guess as the men's bits are depicted as being ridiculously huge! As one artist from the period puts it  “if ‘the thing’ were depicted in its actual size there would be nothing of interest, for that reason don’t we say that art is fantasy?”

The woodblock prints allowed Shunga to develop and become mainstream. This led to a huge variety in the way Shunga looked and was used. Utamaro's series of prints that feature in the Poem of the Pillow, offer images presented in thin oblong aspects that the figures don't quite fit in to. It is a classic cropping technique borrowed from other ukiyo-e prints. If you can see the whole image, what is left is up to the imagination, the floating world. This makes the figures seem shyer and more intimate than earlier prints. Embarrassingly, it can also take a while to work out just what's going on in the image, and you can be rather taken aback when you finally work out what you have been staring at for five minutes.

The other genre within Shunga that woodblock printing led to was the satirical book. Many guidesw existed in Japan at this time for women, explaining how to be a good daughter or a good wife. One example used in the exhibition is a pamphlet that explains how to make rice noodles. The Shunga version shows a couple making love and explains the good wife's time would be better spent like this, than making noodles!

Shunga first reached western shores in the early 1600s. It was promptly burned for being so obscene. Once commodore Perry had negotiated trade with Japan and her ports had reopened to the west in 1853 however, Shunga flooded in. French artists in the 19th century were particularly taken with all things Japan and Picasso and Toulouse-Lautrec owned their own Shunga collection and its influence of their work is easy to spot.

In our modern world of the image and sexual liberation, we can still understand the shock of Shunga, yet can appreciate it as an artform. An exhibition well worth a visit.

New commute route? Probably not, but a great day out!

Any time one has visitors to London, it is expected one will provide a jam-packed itinerary of fun yet cultural and free yet 'touristy' activities for ones guests.

This time, I came up trumps. Thanks to our hosting of the 2012 Olympics, East London has undergone a wealth of redevelopment and improvement. We didn't go anywhere near that, but instead headed to Greenwich for its newest toy: The Emirates Skyline. This pretty useless addition to the TFL service is worth it's weight in gold when it comes to delighting visitors with views of London.

Even just buying tickets we were treated to an Anthony Gormley Sculpture. 

The 360 ride we opted for, takes you south of the River and back again, in what is about a 15 minute journey. I thought I was being ripped off when I learnt this would cost me £6.40, but the views were stunning and it was completely worth it. Freddie and Teddy Harry were kept entertained too, always worth however much that costs!

Although Freddie had soon had enough of sights, we were only just started! Another TFL money spinner, one that's usually more popular in the summer, granted, is the Thames Clipper. For just £5.85 on an oyster, it took us from North Greenwich to Westminster, via all the sights you could hope for. The vessel was bigger than I'd dared hope and even had a coffee bar so being too cold was luckily an unfulfilled fear.

Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without a Bavarian themed market. We got our fill on Southbank, then headed home. Ten out of ten for these forms of transport come sightseeing. More novel than a bus and warmer than walking. 

Morris, after Watts

You'd be hard pushed to spend two hours getting from The National Gallery to Liverpool Street, even if you walked there with my Grandma and had given her a smartphone as only means of directing. That's exactly why I didn't do that, and opted instead for National Portrait Gallery Thursday lates in between work at the National Gallery and my netball match.

There's a lovely atmosphere in the NPG of a Thursday night. Dimmed lights, live DJ and, if you don't have to play sport in an hours time, drinks.

Instead, I pottered around the Victorian galleries and (badly) sketched G.F. Watts portrait of his friend and colleague, William Morris.

We lost at netball even though the other team were a man down. May as well have had a cocktail. Next time, I will.

Georgians Revealed; Life, Style and the Making of Modern Britain

Tom and Jerry at the Exhibition of Pictures at the Royal Aacademy by Isaac Robert and George Cruikshank, 1821

Given how long exhibitions of this calibre take to organise- it contains over 200 original objects and paintings- it probably is coincidence that an exhibition of the last Georgian Age has coincided very nicely with the dawn of the next. I am talking of course about the birth of Prince George Alexander Louis Cambridge. It's very interesting to note that the cult of celebrity, interest in media coverage of events, need for spectacle and the desire to be oh-so-middle-England, all traits in the British public that were really made obvious by the event of Prince George's birth, were common in the British public of the first Georgian era.

This exhibition showcases the middle-class lifestyle in all of its elegant and sumptuous glory. Once you have walked through the first gallery that outlines the main social and political events of the era and, of course, introduces the four Georges and their wives, you are rewarded for hard work, as you should be, with a nice cup of tea!

In was in the Georgian period that serving this Eastern delight really became a fashionable affair. it wasn't as simple ass popping the kettle on, however. The Georgians even had a guide for polite conversation which should accompany the tea.

Once tea is over, every other aspect of Georgian day-to-day life and special events is covered. Robert Adam, the architects work is discussed, beautiful herbals illustrating botanical discoveries of the day are exhibited and the latest fashions are shown. Entertainment was a huge part of the Georgians' social life, demonstrated by circus posters, advertisements for balls and dances and the opening of Vauxhall and Kennington Pleasure Gardens. This inspired the cult of celebrity, with icons such as Grimaldi the Clown and actress Sarah Siddons. This lifestyle was captured by satirical artists of the day such as Cruicshanks and Hogarth, a wealth of their engraving work hangs in the exhibition.

The exhibition is so full of interesting artefacts which are beautifully exhibited. You simply don't get bored of looking and learning. The real treat is right at the end of the exhibition when you descend into Georgian London, by way of a huge map that covers the floor. Each area of the city is explained in its historical context, allowing you to really step back in time. A must see exhibition. 

Georgians Revealed at the British Library until 11th March 2014

TEN MINUTE TALK: Joseph Wright 'of Derby'

The title of this painting is purely descriptive and the artist has made no attempt to conceal the subject from us. As we look at the painting, the experiement in question dominates the picture space, it is right in the centre of the composition with both the bird and the air pump being immediately obvious. We can also see a group of people engaged in various ways with each other and the experiment they are watching. It is also immediately obvious that it is night time as we look into this scene; the moon is shining brightly into the candlelit room.

The airpump was invented in the 1650s by a German scientist named Otto von Guerick. It was an expensive piece of apparatus that would pump air out of whichever sealed chamber it was connected to, producing a vacuum. Due to its cost, the air pump was not readily available. The Irish Scientist Robert Boyle was very interested in experimenting with it and since he was the son of the Earl of Cork, the cost of the air pump was no obstruction to him. He experimented widely with the pump and in 1660, 9 years after he had established the Royal Society with 11 others, he published New Experiments, a volume detailing 43 experiments on the effects of different air pressure on various phenomena such as combustion, magnetism and even living creatures.

About a hundred years after Boyle’s experiments, when Joseph Wright painted this picture, air pumps were readily available and lectures and scientists would use them in public demonstrations, at fairs and in town halls and even, as Wright shows us in his painting, for middle class private audiences in their own home.

The experiment with the bird in the air pump was often the centrepiece for such shows, but was horrific to watch. Boyles book details the experiment and describes the bird’s slow suffocation as similar to watching poultry have its neck wrung.

This questions the importance of scientific discovery over the sanctity of life. Should the bird die so that people can learn about air pressure? Wright cleverly uses the audience of the experiment to raise society’s anxieties at the time over the impact of science.

The age of enlightenment, or the long 18th-century as it is sometimes known- refers to the period of rational and more secular thinking, teamed with scientific discover that occurred throughout the 1700s. Philosophers such as Locke would not accept any truths other than those which could be empirically proven to be true. He relied on what could be touched and seen. Scientists such as Isaac Newton were working to create theories that could be tested using science. People were worried about the impact of this on their lives and also on religion. Wright paints the young girls looking anxious for the bird, whilst the gentleman in the foreground comtemplate the outcome of the experiment. One can be seen timing how long it will take for the bird to die.

Wright has picked a crucial moment in the experiment. If it continues the girls’ fears will be realised and the bird will die, but if the experiment ends, then the bird will live. Write heightens the drama by giving the audience no real clue as to which outcome to expect. The bird pictured is a rare and expensive cockatoo. Usually a sparrow would have been used for such an experiment, so that maybe hints at the bird’s survival. However, we can also see the boy on the far right holding a pulley rope. It is impossible to tell whether this lowers the cage for the bird to be returned to it, or shuts the curtains on nature; blocking the natural light of the moon, leaving only illumination by science and a dead bird!

Some scholars have also hinted that this bowl of liquid holding a skull, through which the solitary candle can just be seen, acts as a vanitas, a technique of using objects which hint at the inevitability of death. Others have drawn attention to the image of the holy trinity in the painting made by the father character, the scientist and the bird. It is similar in composition to a holy trinity with Christ as the caring figure, tending to humans, the dove as the holy spirit and God the father, looking out at us and pointing to heaven.

In his looking out the figure of the scientist invites us in to the painting. Should the bird live or not, he appears to ask us. Testing on animals for scientific gain still causes contention between various religious, animal rights and scientific groups today.

Some art historians are less interested in the socio-political readings of the painting and focus on Wright’s technique. The dramatic subject lends itself well to the dramatic light in which Wright has made this painting. The stark contrast between light and dark, known in art historical terms as ‘chiaroscuro’ gives a definite realism to the painting. If we compare it to the Gainsborough just next to it, we can see how the painting is brought to life by the sharp contrasts in light and shadow.

I personally think that the fact Wright quite literally used science to enlighten the audience shows us that this painting does reflect the interest in science at the time it was painted.

Wright is referred to as Joseph Wright of Derby quite simply because that was the part of England he was from. He also studied in London, became an associate of the Royal Academy and painted portraits and landscapes in Liverpool and Italy. He had famous patrons such as Richard Arkwright and Josiah Wedgewood, showing him to be a thoroughly modern man. He was also famous for painting conversation pieces, popular in the 18th century with the middle classes, these paintings were portraits of recognisable people in real settings. Although Wright never claimed this painting was a conversation piece nor identified any of the characters in it, if you go through those doors into room 35 and turn left you will see a portrait of Wright’s friends Mr and Mrs Thomas Coltman who I think look suspiciously like the young couple here, who are a lot more interested in  each other than this experiment.

Eric Knowles and William Moorcroft; "I'm a potaholic!"

"I'm a pottaholic!" Exclaimed Eric Knowles, off of the Antiques Roadshow, at a conference in New York when introducing the History if Moorcroft Potters. It was with anecdote he began his talk last night at the De Morgan centre. Moorcroft established himself as a potter in Stoke -on-Trent a hundred years ago, following the success of his designs in the 1897 studio of James McIntyre. The Moorcroft reputation was fiercely and quite suddenly elevated to speciality status through a contract with Libery in the early 1900s. 

William Moorcroft, who started the firm, was a contempory of Morris an his circle and would have undoubtedly been influenced my De Morgan; another key figure in ceramics and art pottery of the time. The company is still alive and flourishing today. Much because of the influence of the still alive and flourishing Eric Knowles.

Elizabeth I & Her People

Elizabeth I's reign is defined by the lives of those she reigned over. During her time cities boomed, the economy flourished and the world became that little bit less daunting thanks to successful exploration and trade.

This exhibition at the portrait gallery aims to convey the impact and success of the Queen, based on the people responsible for these endeavours. At first, it seems promising. We encounter hand-tinted maps and plans of London and grand portraits depicting the Queen's coronation. The curators even point out those people in the crowd who were responsible for her success as a monarch.

As we move forward, we are treated to a room dedicated to the image of Queen and how her people grew to recognise her. There is a lovely display of otherwise seldom seen portraits, a divine Frederick Zuccaro sketch and a selection of coins. This draws upon the relationship of the people to the Queen. The real focus of the exhibition- how those close to the Queen rose in power- is best demonstrated with portraits and artefacts in the third room. Elizabeth Talbot, Bess of Hardwick, William Cecil, Sir Walter Raleigh and the Duke and Duchess of Norfolk are all displayed, telling the story of how either charming or impressing the Queen could lead to vastly improved social standing.

After this, the exhibition goes downhill. The organisers have hereafter attempted to show the lives of the ordinary and how they were lived throughout Elizabeth's reign. Too much information, with not enough space or material to back it up, is added on to the end of the modestly sized exhibition almost as an after thought. You feel as though they should have stuck to telling us about the rich and powerful, which would have been interesting in itself. The rushed ending leads to huge oversights, such as William Tyndale, champion of the bible of the people, who gave the word of God to the Elizabethans, being omitted.

Despite this, the portraits are truly charming and give a real feel for the age. In particular the portrait of three Elizabethan children with their exotic pets, shows off beautifully the fashion for Dutch paintings and the impact of trade, as the children clutch their furry and feathered friends!

Wimbledon

A brilliant two weeks of tennis fever struck hard this summer. I had a particularly great time venturing out to Wimbledon and watching some tennis there.

At midnight struck, Pix and I weren't going to bed like the rest of the country, we were in Gizel Kebab buying what unfortunately turned out to be sauce in a pitta. We manned up and ate it anyway, knowing we'd need our strength for the evening ahead. Some packing, a bus and a cab (because we were lost) later, we arrived, unscathed to what is, without exception, the most British thing I've ever participated in: The Wimbledon Queue. Now everyone knows queuing is quintessentially British, but the Wimbledon queue is on another level. As we entered the the queuing campsite- a large field- we were met by two jovial security guards who explained the rules of the queue and showed us where to pitch our tent. Yep, a queue so long and regimented it has staff and toilet facilities. Some people had been there for three days!

Anyway the whole thing was actually quite enjoyable and we even got interviewed by the BBC and managed to watch the Murray match in the sun on Murray mound.

Our keen supporting led us to invent the excellent game of drink tennis with some electrical tape, pack of cards, a grass green rug and lots of cider! Ahhh British summer time!

TEN MINUTE TALK: Cuyp

Not a particularly inspired title for such a uniquely glorious painting. There's little more appealing than standing before this masterpiece at the National Gallery and being plunged into the honeyed glow of late afternoon light and enjoying the peace of the rural idyll.

Painted in the late 1650's by the master of landscape in the Italiante Style of Dutch Golden Age painting, Aelbert Cuyp. Cuyp lived and practiced exclusively in Dordrecht in the new Dutch Rebpulic, established in 1581 amidst the 80 years war. 

Prior to this the Netherlands, literally meaning low lying countries, were under the strictly Catholic rule of Charles V of Spain. Becoming restless with Spanish rule, war broke out between those seeking Dutch independence and the Spanish in 1568. At this time, 17 provinces made up the Netherlands. The first two to be captured by the seafaring Guezen leading the rebellion were Holland and Zeeland. The countries rapidly converted to Calvinism, a branch of Protestantism that teaches truth from the word of the Bible. Thanks to advances in printing technology and the Protestant reformation, ripple could easily access printed Bibles and read for themselves the truth. Churches did away with gilt alter pieces and gaudy church interiors to provide vast, stark interiors for congregations to read and worship.

The desire for independence grew and in 1579 the Union of Utrecht was signed: seven provinces in the north were united by the word, the word they would fight for their cause and the word of God under new rule and new religion.

In 1581 the Dutch Republic was fully established, with independence fully granted by the Spanish in 1648 under Philip III of Spain.

The new Dutch Republic boomed. The Golden Age of the 17th century is a name well deserved, whilst their churches may have done away with all that glittered, trade, the military, seafaring, science, literature and art were indeed, golden. In 1602 the Dutch East India Company was established which quickly became the world first global company. People were out-posted to India and Indonesia to establish trade there. The country was trading goods, art, spices and textiles with the east and was very profitable, making it one if the richest countries in the world at this time.

This is the world that in 1620 Cuyp was born in to: fiercely independent, devoutly Calvinistic and horribly self-assured. For the painter, new opportunities were abundant. With the Church no longer acting as patron, it was the new merchant, aristocratic middle classes who wanted paintings; paintings of their wonderful, successful everyday life.

Cuyp's father Jacob Gerritz, was a portraitist and his work reflects the patrons one could expect working as an artist. Although Aelbert Cuyp is best know for landscapes, his interest in portraying human life probably comes from his father. In River Landscape with Horsemen and Peasants, for example, although it is clearly a landscape, the foreground is rich in details of 17th century Dutch life: the social types of aristocratic horseman and shepherd; the breeds of cow one can trade in; the joy of the hunt and hunting game and being out of doors enjoying the day.

Cuyp's most influential acquaintance was undoubtedly Jan Both. Whilst Cuyp never travelled to Italy, he carefully studied the worth of Both who had worked in Rome under Claude. Cuyp's depiction of the Italianate landscape comes from his careful observation of Both's work. For his distinct use of light, he is vicariously indebted to Claude through Both's paintings. River Landscape is typical of this style that Cuyp adopted. The scene is certainly fictional; the low lying Netherlands he saw simply do not have mountain ranges. The way the light is painted makes the painting radiate the amber heat Cuyp has captured. His minutely accurate and expertly executed brushwork on the bracken in the foreground ensures the light source illuminates the whole picture. This also cleverly pushes the mountain village into the far distance, allowing him to achieve an exciting level of depth in the painting.

In 1658 Cuyp married a wealthy Dordrecht widow and strict Calvinist, Cornelian Bosman. Shortly after their marriage Cuyp became a Deacon of the Reformed Church and the number of paintings he produced rapidly plunges after this date. River Landscape is one such painting from this period, where his patrons were almost certainly wealthy members of his congregation, buying for their large townhouses. Certainly the sheer size of this painting- the largest known of Cuyp's work- suggests that is the case.

The painting was the first of Cuyp's to be bought in England, by the 3rd Earl of Bute before being bought for the nation in 1989.

Leighton House

The Arab Hall at Leighton House

Frederic, Lord Leighton (1830- 96) was once of the most influential artist of the late Victorian Period. His work was patronised by Queen Victoria and still has huge influence today, hanging in Tate Britain and the National Gallery as well as a plethora of other important institutions. Such was his fame even in his own time that he was honoured with a burial at St Paul's Cathedral.

Amongst his close friends, he counted enigmatic artists of the day such as G. F. Watts, Millais, De Morgan and Rossetti. Whilst his fame and his privileged position in society undoubtedly helped him get ahead in the arts, he was a genuine man who worked hard for his own artistic merit; something recognised in 1878 when he became the President of the Royal Academy. Just before his death from heart failure in 1896, he was ennobled, becoming Frederic, Lord Leighton, Baron of Stretton. He is the only British artist to have been awarded this honour.

Leighton House, is set just outside the idyllic Holland Park in West London. This set a vogue after its 1866 construction for artists to design and build their own houses in their own, individual styles, around the area. Artists such as Val Prinsep, and G. F. Watts, the book printer Cockerill and architect Philip Webb all built houses in the area, becoming known as the Holland Park Circle. 

Walking to the house through Holland Park today is worth a visit in itself, in order to see this wonderful architecture and play a pretty decent game of spot the blue plaque!

Leighton House is a purpose-built studio house, with provision for living, domestic staff and a working art studio. Much of the house is preserved as it was in Leighton's day; original documents strewn across a writing desk and plaster casts of classical figures around the studio. In this sense in reeks of National Trust, who part own the house.

The collection of paintings is fabulous and it's a real treat to see these in their original environ. The real treat of the visit has to be Leighton's Arab Hall. Following his travels to Turkey, Egypt and Syria in the 1870s where he amassed an impressive collection of traditional tiles and ceramics, Leighton transformed part of the house into an Arabian Nights' dream. His friend, the celebrated ceramicist, William De Morgan, was entrusted with the design and construction of this, using Leighton's tiles. It is a unique experience to admire the tiles whilst tredding carefully to avoid falling into the water feature!

Visiting Leighton House

Feeding time for the Pelicans

Pelicans were first introduced to St James' Park in 1644 as a gift from the Russian Ambassador and have been entertaining the tourists ever since. What they (tourists and pelicans) particularly like is feeding time at 2.30, when these hilarious birds leave their island and waddle to the gamekeepers hut to be fed. It really is a must see!

Playing at the Serpentine Gallery

I've never been to the Serpentine before, but have wanted to for years. Especially for the 2010 pavilion by Jean Nouvel, which I thought was brilliant. 

This year's however did not disappoint. Designed by Japanese architect Sou Fujimoto, the large white matchstick like climbing frame is a complete joy. It transcends the boundaries of space, shape and design to present a completely unique approach to the interaction of people and place. You can admire it, climb it, get in it or simply admire it. What's great is how it complements the exact shape of the gallery behind it; you can just make out the outline of the building through the bold white structure. The fact that people are encouraged to climb up it and sit with a treetop vista highlights the sense of play at work in the design.

Inside, sadly, the premiere exhibition of American Sturtevant's work, a retrospective of 1970- now, does not match up to the pavilion. Leaps Jumps and Bumps showcases everything that's wrong with modern and contemporary art, it's boring, uninspiring and not even controversial. Apparently her rip offs of Warhol screen prints and Duchamp doors call into question authorship of art work: the eternally dull question of what is art. The row of blow up dolls in the window should be playful and arresting but instead they contribute nothing to the overall display. Credit where it's due to those responsible of the design and installation of the video pieces in the show. Old television sets stacked on the floor and projectors swirling images around a circular room that force you into the piece as its projected on to you achieve everything Sturtevant does not;a playful  and stimulating experience.

I also loved Fischli/Weiss piece, Rock on top of Another Rock. The Norwegian duo  have created this witty piece to question both art and nature: where does one end and the other begin. It's rocks, it's outside, it's nature. But it's an impossibly positioned rock, on top of another one. Led by their humour they have cleverly and- it has to be said- beautifully presented the natural as the artificial.

Overall impression of the Serpentine is outside 10/10, inside 2/10.

Blue trees for City of London Festival

No better way to cheer up my walk through the city on a dreary Thursday night than the blue trees installation. 

 In order to force people to stop and notice trees in the city and realise their worth, artist Konstantin Dimpoulos has coloured the trunks of trees in three sites a vivid cobalt blue.

It's an unresting and unsettling feeling to see something so familiar altered. It was like walking through a dream or surrealist landscape.

These beautiful sculptures will be around until after the festival.

http://www.treesforcities.org/about-us/20th-birthday/the-blue-trees-of-london/

Saints Alive

You're never left with nothing, you're left with minus. In conversation with Michael Landy

Michael Landy rose to fame with as a YBA in the mid-1990s with his installation 'Break Down'. In a disused C&A department store on Oxford Street- a victim of financially hard times in the centre of consumerism- Landy systematically documented his every possession, then destroyed every single one. This radical art work ridiculed possession but also got the the heart of sentimentality; his mother was too upset to stay and watch her wedding photographs be destroyed an had to be escorted of the premises.

After a long series of similar wild installation pieces, then a significant absence from the scene whilst Emin is ever the tabloid favourite and Hirst is making millions, Landy has crashed back with his Saints Alive exhibition at the National Gallery.

Following a succession of artists such as Bridget Riley, Ron Mueck and Peter Blake, Landy was asked to take up residency at the gallery. Weird for him in many ways by his own admission as he has neither painted before nor had a full time job before.

What struck Landy most profoundly about the collection he was asked to respond to was St Catherine's wheel. He found 13 of these in paintings and wondered what they were and why they weren't highlighted. This spurred him on to discover the stories behind the saints, unlock the symbols to reveal the tragic stories of their martyrdom. 

Landy said that You're never left with nothing, you're left with minus in relation to the debts he rang up following the destruction. But it is a profound idea that has resurgence in Saints Alive. The stories of the saints are today largely forgotten, St Apollonia pulling out her teeth to rid her of her cursed beauty, St Francis if Assisi inherited the wounds of Christ, the stigmata. Even though they are forgotten, we are left with paintings not nothing and a largely secular society- a minus if you will- rather than nothing.

Landy's kinetic sculptures bring the stories of the saints to life for a 21st century audience. See doubting Thomas prodding the wounds of Christ and St Michael wrestle the devil. His main focus throughout the creation if these sculptures was the Catherine wheel. Originally he wanted to create a huge one that rolled around the gallery picking up visitors. At least that might have worked, most of Landy's sculptures in ironic Landy style keep breaking down and returning to the workshop. Whilst of course it was an eventual aim that these sculptures would break down- just listen to the racket as St Jerome beats his chest with a rock- I'm not sure even the artist anticipated the quite so frequent Break Down of his sculptures. Like he says, you're not left with nothing, you're left with minus, in this case an installation in constant need for repair.

Vermeer & Music

A popular and easy criticism to make of the Vermeer&Music exhibition on show at the National Gallery until 8th September 2013, is the distinct lack of Vermeer paintings. Certainly the show may be lacking in volume, but considering there are only 19 known Vermeer paintings in the world, five isn't so bad. Who can blame the gallery for using the snappy, big celebrity name of Vermeer, rather than simply calling it Music and the Golden Age of Dutch Painting, which would an altogether more apt title.

Overlook the poor titling however, and the exhibition is joy. The work if Vermeer and his contemporaries is incredibly noisy if you're willing to look closely enough and this exhibition, though extensive use of  musical instruments displayed alongside the paintings allows us to hear what has been silently captured in an image.

The Academy of Ancient music have teamed up with the National Gallery for this exhibition and are performing original 17th-century musical scores on original 17th-century instruments in the exhibition space. The overall effect of which is bewitching.

The concert, at the time Vermeer was painting, did not refer to a large dance hall, but simply a gathering of friends in the home who would play music together. The lead would strike up his instrument and play the first few notes of basso continuo, which in baroque music means bass-line. This carries melody and the rest is improvisation. What this means is that no singular performance if the same piece will ever be the same. The selection of vanitas still lives displayed in the first room of the exhibition really capture this idea of music as a moment, ephemeral, to be savoured but cannot be kept.

More intimate than a concert, was the music lesson. Rarely could young men and women spend so much time alone together than under the guise of musical tuition. 

Johannes Vermeer's The Music Lesson from the Queen's Collection captures perfectly this intimacy. Whilst it seems innocent enough on first glance, the artist reflects for us in the mirror above the virginal the young woman plays, a tender exchange of a loaded glance between tutor and pupil. The warm sunlight streaming through the sash window engulfs the young pair in a balmy, amorous glow. If further and direct allusion to the pairs romantic involvement were needed, it can be read directly from the virginal 'MUSICA LETOTIAE COMES MEDICINAL DOLORIS', music is the companion of joy, the medicine of sorrow. 

This exhibition has also provided the National Galley the opportunity to show off the work of the scientific department. On loan from Kenwood House, Vermeer's Guitar Player has been thoroughly examined whilst in the National Gallery. The findings show that it is still on its original canvas and from the same period as Woman Seated at a Virginal and A Young Woman Standing at a Virginal from the National Galleries own collection.

Seeing these three paintings if similar subject and size displayed together is a real and rare treat. Whilst the two paintings with virginals show the young woman engaged both with her craft and the viewer- the women peer out at us, placing us in the position of tutor and therefore probably love interest- the guitar player glances away. Her attention has been caught elsewhere and we are left to wonder what we can't see rather than dwell on what we can. What this display of the three paintings reveals therefore is Vermeer's acute understanding of both the relationship of tutor an pupil, and of painting and viewer. His pictorial devices that make us want to cross the yard and climb through his lit windows to the woman inside, have also made us want to strike up the harpsichord and join in the lesson.

This exhibition is alive. There's so much energy and noise and romance that its nice to catch a break. My favourite painting in the exhibition isn't a show-stopping Vermeer, nor a unique ivory lite, but a tiny oil painting by Carel Fibritus. This tiny canvas depicts a market square in the early morning. The vendor can be seen yawning just behind his instrument wares. Shuffling along the dusty street alongside the gentle water of the pond are a mother and daughter walking together. If you listen carefully the peace is broken only by the merry chiming of the church bells. In this case, depicting silence is as powerful as depicting music. 

Helmshore Mill Textile Museum

Helmshore Textile Mill is nestled in the dip of one of East Lancashire's many valleys, where it has stood for nearly 250 years, a period for most of which it was a working textile mill and the hub of the local community. Today it serves as a lasting reminder of the hard slog faced by hundreds of families who spent their lives working in the regions booming textile industry; it really was grim up north...

The textile industry in Lancashire and throughout the North West of England, has a colourful, promising story with an ending far from happily ever after. It is a story which starts in the 1700's, a period of great exploration, discovery and an English gentry besotted with the 'East' and the 'exotic'. Before this of course, wool and cotton were woven into useable cloth by families in their homes by skilled hand-spinners and handloom weavers, as it provided a useful second income. Wares would be woven as time allowed and sold to the passing trade of chapmen, who would walk their packhorses through the villages and then sell the cloth on markets in nearby towns. There was no industry ruling the lives of people in rural areas, just families getting on with such ‘cottage crafts’. The East India Company was formed, with royal blessing of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth I, on 31^st December 1600 and was set up to control the trade with India and China. By the 1700’s, this industry was vast and expanding across Europe, with the Dutch East India Company being the largest of its kind. Not only did these companies import new and exciting goods, such as tea, spices and even the humble potato, export was also big business. In the year 1701 around 2 million pounds of raw cotton was imported from America and the West Indies, much of which was spun into cotton and sold on to India.

As the demand for cotton and wool fabric began to swell, not only in the UK, but throughout the rest of the world, the cottages could no longer cope. By the late 18^th Century, vast changes were sweeping through the UK, taking the Lancashire cotton spinners with them. The Industrial Revolution had arrived; violently knocking cottage crafts, the homemade and even the villages out of its way. In order to survive, families must follow and go from skilled crafts people to mere cogs in well oiled machines. Such a fate awaited the families of Helmshore when, in 1789 Higher Mill was created by the Turner Family, wealthy textile merchants from the Blackburn area. This mill was primarily concerned with the production of wool.

All members of the family would be roped in to the production of this wool. Firstly, the raw wool fibres are carded to stretch them out in order to spin them into yarn. This was often a job for children who would be provided with carding brushes to pull the fibres apart. The carding brushes used, which Helmshore Mill still had original examples of, were made from tough, spikey teasels that were shipped in from the continent as the hotter temperatures made the European examples hardier than ours. Once the yarns had been spun and a woollen cloth hand-woven, the wool making process got really gruesome. Whilst children as young as six could be made to card the raw fibres, children even younger were necessary for the next part of the woollen cloth making. Being such a starchy fibre, the wool was required to be doused in ammonia before it had a marketable texture. Human urine was used as it was cheap and ammonia rich. The mills would provide local people with ‘piss pots’ which they would be paid one penny for once it had been filled. The phrase ‘not a pot to piss in’ literally means someone is so poor that they can’t even fill a piss-pot for a penny.

At Helmshore, the wool cloth would be washed in urine by large machines powered by the waterwheel. Seeing this in action was really exciting, but also showed off just how cold and loud conditions were for those working long days in the bowels of the mill.

Following this process the wool fabric was washed off and hung to dry on the Lancashire hillsides. As the finished cloth was sold by weight however, it wasn’t always completely dried out in order to make it heavier!

Not very much later, the cotton trade really took off in Lancashire and Whittaker Mill at Helmshore was added to the original Higher Mill. A most impressive demonstration of the cotton weaving process on an original working ‘mule’ machine, really showed off the vast scale of the cotton trade in Lancashire. In one demonstration run, about a meter of cotton fabric was woven, to think there were around 50 million of these machines in the UK at the peak of this industry really put the scale of the cotton trade into perspective.

What Helmshore Mill really excelled at though, was telling the story of the people who were behind these machines and what their daily lives were like. It is a fantastic place and I’m really looking forward to many happy working days there myself. Let’s hope there isn’t trouble at’mill!

Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale

The exhibition 'A Pre-Raphaelite Journey: Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale' is being shown at the Lady Lever Art Gallery from 1 June - 4 November 2012

Now at the Watts Gallery, Compton, until 9th June 2013

What a fabulous exhibition! I had the privilege of having a preview of this exhibition and a guided tour from the curator, Pamela Gerrish Nunn, a few weeks ago. Now in full swing and open to the public, this fabulous show is well worth a visit. It is the fist time Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale's work has been exhibited in over 40 years and Pamela's astounding research has pulled some brilliant and little-known examples of her work from private collections certainly into the catalogue if not the exhibition itself.

Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale (1872-1945) was a celebrated artist in her own time, working not only as a traditional painter working with oils, but as a designer of stained glass and as an illustrator. Rejected thrice by the Academy following her art education at the Crystal Palace School of Art, she was finally accepted in 1897; quite an achievement at the time. She was also a highly accomplished watercolourist and worked on many commissions for flower books. What is most charming about her work however, is that much of it celebrates nature and is very accurately captued. Fortescue-Brickdale focussed not on the standard Pre-Raphaelite way of doing this through moralising or history genre painting, but by inviting fairy folk into her canvases, The Little Foot (above) is a fine example of a painting of a shy nymph.

Fortescue-Brickdale painted many marvellous watercolour portraits, such as this fine example below. It is a portrait of fellow artist Winifred Nicholson (nee Roberts), wife of artist Ben Nicholson. Testimony to the hard times of women artists being recognised for their work in the early 20th century, Nicholson is pictured gazing absently from the painting and from her occupation of reading out of the picture space, away from the viewer and out of the gallery. Her mind is very well occupied simply with her imagination alone. Around her of symbols of femininity in the blush-pink roses and the domestic setting. The couch is covered in William Morris fabric; a nod to the trends and fashions of interior décor gone by.

 Portrait of Winifred Roberts (1913)

 It is the vibrant luminosity of Fortesque-Brickdale's work however, that makes it really appealing. in June is Dead (1915), the dying cherub shrouded in the heavy foliage of late June, marks the end of midsummer and the onset of late summer and autumn. The radiant colour and effective use of light give the piece an odd melancholy.

The summer is over and the rains will come; something we can very much empathise with in the 'summer' of 2012!