The National Gallery was my favorite museum that we’ve been to so far. I had no idea what I was getting into when we met this morning, but by the time I had a tummy full of gnocchi from Little Sicily across the street, as well as the owner Carlos’ number, seeing Van Gogh paintings in person made it the perfect day. I found so many paintings that I loved, but the ones that fascinated me the most all revolved around the crucifixion and death of Christ. The two paintings that I loved the most were “Christ carried to the Tomb” by Sisto Badalocchio and “The Dead Christ Mourned by Two Angels” by Guercino. Both paintings had a vision of Christ post crucifixion being mourned and held before being taken to his tomb. 

As someone who has never taken the time to properly educate myself on all the different styles of art and their names,  I was far more focused on how the painting made me feel than anything else. I was in awe of both paintings as soon as I saw them. The time between Christ’s death and the time he entered the tomb is a period I have never really pondered, however both of these paintings along with many others made me so curious. It makes sense that in the time before they put Christ in his tomb his loved ones would be mourning, I had just never really seen a visual interpretation of that before now. What I loved about both paintings was that Christ seemed to almost glow amongst them, despite being dead. He was painted in a way that made his skin look angelic and innocent. In both, it’s almost like he was reflecting off certain areas of their skin. Not only this, but there’s this bubble around his entire body that doesn’t blend in with the environment for a moment. I thought that was a really gorgeous representation of Christ being the light, even in death. I also found it incredibly moving that not only were people mourning, but angels were too. It made me wonder if it was hard, despite already knowing Christ was going to die, to see his body without life. It gave the Passion story a whole new purpose, not just for humans, but for angels too. Now, this is all coming from a Christian worldview, so if you don’t believe the same way I do, that’s totally fine, but I think it’s still so interesting to think about. The idea of supernatural beings feeling sadness is intriguing and wonderful to me. The only difference I found interesting between the two was the overall shape of Christ’s body. Not to take this too far, but my dad’s a mortician, so I have too much information about the process the body undergoes postmortem and I think Sisto Badalocchio did as well. I say this because in his painting, the body looks somewhat distorted and bloated, as if they were still mourning him hours after his death before putting him in grave clothes. Whereas Guercino’s Christ looks fresh, the muscles still full of blood, and the bones not too stiff they would break at movement. Badalocchio’s Christ also had gray tones to his skin, which starts to kick in about an hour after death (sometimes sooner but I’m just going off personal experience), whereas Guercino’s Christ still has some yellowish, pink undertones. Both paintings I found bittersweet, passionate, intimate, and awe-inspiring. I loved seeing them and the rest of the work at the National Gallery. 

I didn’t get to venture through the entire museum, so if anyone would like to go back with me I would love that!!

St. Jerome in His Study

While generally my personal tastes favor modern and contemporary art over historic and representational pieces, the sheer size and quality of the collection at the National Gallery made this morning more enjoyable than our trip to the Tate Modern for me. A huge surprise for me was getting to see de Messina’s St. Jerome in His Study from the mid-1400s. I just spent my final semester in the architecture school doing formal analysis of this painting, and I had no clue that it was in this gallery. I had a slight out-of-body experience when I turned the corner and saw it for the first time! There is so much happening in this painting in terms of contrast. The chiaroscuro lends the composition so much depth, and the geometric shapes of the two archways balance the painting without mirroring each other too closely. The floor is the component that allows us to read the depth of the space most effectively, and all of it functions as a way to keep Jerome and his work at the center of a compositional space. It’s a masterful work by de Messina.

The Nativity at Night

A second piece worth discussing, which I think bears plenty of semblance to St. Jerome, is The Nativity at Night by Geertgen tot Sint Jans. The obvious parallel here is the use of contrast between light and dark to call attention to the most important pieces of the composition. This is probably the most intensely dark representational painting I have seen, and yet I could still make out the figures and faces that sit just beyond the light that the newborn Christ gives off. This suggests that the work was done in layers, and that at an earlier point in its development the interior space was probably fully realized, and then a dark wash was added on top of it. I really appreciate the depth that is provided by the angel in the night sky, which I would compare to the pastoral landscapes seen beyond the back windows in St. Jerome.

Impressionists and Post-Impressionists

This portion of the collection was the highlight of this gallery for me. I am a huge fan of Monet and Van Gogh, and I had no idea that so much of their work was displayed here. However, the biggest highlight was the Georges Seurat collection. I had never gotten the opportunity to see his work in person, and I am such a fan of the way he uses color. I felt a sense of comfort just looking at these pieces on the wall.

[now playing: In the Gallery – Dire Straits]

The National Gallery was way more my groove than the Tate. I’m a fan of broad landscapes and close portrait encounters. These are the things that make you feel. It seems that modern and post-modern art are meant to make you think and act, but the art of the National Gallery was meant to make you feel: whether it be the glory of God, or majesty at the beauty of nature and man-made creation. Take Claude’s A Seaport. It’s an entirely imaginary scene depicting great man-made constructs (the dock, the palace, the ship) amidst the most beautiful natural sunset. My favorite detail is the disassembled cannon in the foreground symbolizing and end of violence: a peaceful image for a beautiful scene. There were other great landscapes but this was by far my favorite.

My next favorite piece was The Idle Servant by Nicolaes Maes. This painting was really funny in a way that few of the other paintings in the gallery were. It was also among one of the only paintings of someone showing amusement. Maes paints a pretty chaotic scene. The mistress in the foreground is sharing a gentle amusement with the viewer at the servant’s drowsiness. Meanwhile, the company in the other room looks pretty severe. My favorite detail is the appetent cat stealing the meat on the right. 

The weather was a bit blah today, and so was I. I’m not sure why. Maybe, it’s because I didn’t sleep much last night. Anyway, sorry if I’m a little gray, a little crabby, a little out of sorts. After wandering through the National Gallery for a while, I think I’m more of a modern art person. I love Impressionism and all that it implies: how the colors bend and stretch a little, how the artist doesn’t have to say exactly what they mean to get the point across, but there’s something sort of cold and flat about history paintings, and the sheer amount of detail is difficult for me to sort through. In a way, that’s why I often lean towards poetry rather than fiction, which is easier to see in its entirety on a few pages. However, there were a few paintings that caught my eye today. 

            A figure of a weary woman stands amidst a room filled with paintings of Saints. Paolo Veronese’s The Dream of Saint Helena towers in its exhaustion. Helena leans sleeping against a window frame with her head in her hands against a dusty sky. Above her, two angels hover and wait to carry a cross into the realm of her dreams. The wall text explains that “Saint Helena, mother of the Christian emperor Constantine, vowed to discover the Cross on which Christ was crucified” (The Dream of Saint Helena). After Helena’s searching, the cross appeared to her in a dream. Yet, Veronese’s Helena seems unaware of the revelation that’s about to come to her. Her shadowed, closed eyes show no spark of recognition or even fear, but rather, close as if at the beginning of a long interval of rest. Even the angels above her appear to strain against the weight of the cross in their arms as they wait for just the right moment to fracture her inner world. Myths and legends aside, part of me wonders if she ever opens her eyes, or if, like an incandescent dream you wish you could inhabit, the defining moment of her life drifts softly by into forgotten memories. 

            But myths don’t lie. Even we question their realness, we rarely question their truth. Giovanni Girolamo Savoldo’s Mary Magdalene, situated just a few steps away from Helena and her dreams in the gallery, resides in a more certain, if still liminal space than Helena occupies. In Savoldo’s painting, Mary Magdalene contorts her body backwards to look at the viewer from under a mettalic, gray cloak that swallows her. Behind her, the sky isn’t quite dawn. A muddy sun just barely begins to smolder on the horizon line illuminating the clouds above it, but the clouds surrounding Mary are still as gray as the night she calls home. Yet, what strikes me the most about this portrait, is the way Mary’s hands are clasped around her ankles in an almost childlike gesture. She makes herself a little smaller, she crumples herself around her heart and lungs for awhile, and as she looks back at us, Mary smirks. She, evidently, knows something that I do not.

            The wall text accompanying Savoldo’s portrait of the biblical figure explains that Mary Magdalene is resting beside “Christ’s empty tomb as the dawn rises on Easter morning” (Mary Magdalene). Aha, so that’s the secret hope you’ve been holding in, Mary. I think what Veronese and Savoldo’s portraits of these spiritual women portray is the moment before relief or maybe, rebirth. They position Mary Magdalene and Helena, women we think of from the distance of religion to symbolize an unattainable sense of virtue and strength, as humans in a season of waiting. Yet, while Mary can see the results of her efforts, Helena is a bit farther behind as she sinks into the aloofness of exhaustion and uncertainty. I guess today, if I’m honest, I feel a little closer to Helena as I try to shake off the weight of the rain and the night I spent awake. I’m reminding myself, though, as I sit in my hotel room at 11:45pm, that these liminal spaces that we wait inside, due to grief or illness or exhaustion, are worth working within to prepare ourselves for the rest that’s coming. If Helena and Mary Magdalene’s portraits tell us any truth, maybe it’s that the light we’ve been waiting for is just beyond closed eyes, just a little out of reach, but still ready for that moment when we choose to begin. 

Sources

The Dream of Saint Helena. Wall text, Permanent Collections, The National Gallery, London.

Mary Magdalene. Wall text, Permanent Collections, The National Gallery, London. 

If I sounded like I hated art in the prior post, I want to clarify that I hold no issues with contemporary art and newer art styles. My issue is with Modernism as a particular style. There is art in this museum that has work in it younger than some works in the Tate Modern. That being said, there’s a much larger body of work in the London National Gallery that I enjoyed compared to the handful that I liked in the Tate Modern. I was most sad to find that the Raphael portion was a ticket-only section, but was excited to find a few Monet, Da Vinci, and Van Gogh paintings at the gallery. If only to say that I had seen them up close and personal.

This newer addition to the gallery, The Red Boy, was to me one of the most visually striking paintings in the whole museum. The velvet red on display stood out from as far in the gallery as it could be seen, and having vaguely recognized it, I had to shuffle slowly through the crowd to get close up. the depth of the cloth alone was stunning, and the knowledge that it might potentially have been painted over, being originally yellow, makes it all the more impressive. starting as a commission for a simple portrait, only to create a mesmerizing display of attention to detail is the kind of silent bragging that I love from older paintings. Famous for its content, and the skill it takes, not for marketing and complex explanations that one cant see in the visual medium of paint, this was one of my favorite pieces on display.

Another Favorite piece of mine has much less complex reasoning…. I just think the faces looked hilarious. I can appreciate the skill with which it takes to make a painting like this, with such clear action, movement, variety and such. but I can also say, that this reminds me of an old looney toon or disney cartoon. An old man just absolutely sloshed, eight people around him dragging him around, causing chaos, or even adding to the soundtrack like the guy on the left.

Hello again! Day 8 of London has ended. This blog may seem like a bit of a downer, since it is filled with what have been my least favored activities- but it was still a day that was very unique to London! Our group walked to The National Gallery. The National Gallery is filled with beautiful art, but as I have quickly learned, I am not a fan of art museums! Despite all of that, I could appreciate the work gone into each piece, as well as their beauty. My first stop at the museum was their cafe! I got an apple cinnamon loaf, salmon sandwich, and butter croissant. Amazing food as usual!

The first work in the museum that caught my eye was An Allegory with Venus and Time by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo. I think this piece was interesting to me mainly because of the sheer size of it. It towered over me as I walked past, and this was emphasized by the fact that it leaned slightly off the wall. The piece seemed very angelic, and there was a nice contrast in light and shadowy palettes between the two halves of it. Something that also interested me about this piece and virtually all others was its framing. The frames in this museum were fabulous! I found myself looking out for ornate framing rather than paintings themselves.

Another section in the museum that piqued my curiosity was the one dedicated to Van Gogh. I got to see A Wheatfield, with Cypresses (1889), Two Crabs (1889), and Sunflowers (1888). It was really surreal to see his work in person, and this was easily the most enjoyable part from this whole museum because it was something I recognized right away. I think the main appeal of museums for me is that I have at least a little bit of background on the things I will be learning more about, but with art museums, this is often not the case; however, I do know a little about Van Gogh! Knowing the man behind the pieces made me have a bigger interest in them for sure.

After the museum, me and another group member went back to Chinatown to get some dim sum! We went to Orient London (once again), and it was just as delicious as before. After dim sum we got some matcha ice cream at a very cute bakery. The ice cream was in a fish shaped cone called taiyaki! Then we took the tube back to our hotel and I watched the rest of Stranger Things (this new season was the best yet!). Before I knew it, it was time to go to our musical of the day, Lift!

As a group, we went to Southwark Playhouse, and of course I got some sorbet before the show (strawberry this time). Lift was a very confusing musical. Normally I am beaming after seeing a show, but this one left me with more questions than smiles. Lift covered the story of people in an elevator, and how their lives intersected. The things that confused me most about this musical were the abrupt scene changes between each character’s story, and how some characters were played by the same people in different storylines. The music was amazing, I just wasn’t sure how exactly each song fit into the place they were being sung. The cast was very talented, and the ladies of the musical were killing it! I think that if you did a good amount of research on this play before going, it could be worth buying a ticket; however, I don’t think I could recommend it above the other shows I have seen while on this trip so far.

So yes, today wasn’t exactly a “hit” for me, but they were things I could not do in the US- because of that, I’m still glad I did them! Tomorrow’s blog will be full of beautiful pictures (hopefully…) since we are going to Borough Market and Sky Garden! See you then 🙂

The National Gallery is located in Trafalgar’s Square in the city of Westminster. The gallery contains over 2,300 pieces of art of various types. The first section of the gallery heavily focuses on the theme of Christ and the Crucifixion. It was not really until the next section of the gallery that we moved off from the religious imagery and symbolism. Both of the pieces that spoke to me came from Ovid’s Metamorphoses.

The first piece was Orpheus by Roelandt Savery. This painting shows Orpheus surrounded by different animals in a wooded area in the foreground with a waterfall and trees in the background. This was one of the exhibits that I could pretty much immediately recognize by just glancing at it. The attention to detail in the piece shows not only shows the artist’s talent but also shows the myth of Orpheus well. There was one problem with this painting, and it was that Orpheus is shown with a Violin, but in the myth, he has a lute. This is important because the lute is a very magical ethereal instrument and changing it to a violin makes him more human.

The second piece was Pan pursuing Syrinx by Hendrick van Balen and a follower of Jan Brueghel sometime after 1615. This painting depicts the faun god Pan chasing Syrinx the nymph through Arcadia. This piece is also from Metamorphoses similar to Orpheus. The artist does a very good job in making Pan a predatory figure as fauns in mythology are known for being rapists. The palette used shows a clear distinction of color to show the brightness and purity of Syrinx against the evil and darkness of Pan. The myth says that while running away, Syrinx was turned into reeds and then put then in his flute. Even after her “death” Pan still was able to take advantage of her.

A piece that reminded me of The Fountain was Ceal Floyer’s, Monochrome Till Receipt. It was a grocery store receipt, of only white items. This one I didn’t look too deep into but I thought it was pretty interesting, because I’ve never seen art created this way.

Blog 5: the National Gallery

By Isaac Overman

May 31 2022

For our excursion today, we went to Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery. This of course brings up the Tate Modern and the inevitable comparison between them. The National was everything a fine art gallery should be. It had hundreds of paintings for different centuries and varied styles. I would find it a impossible to have no love for the gallery. It decimated the Modern in my opinion. The building was just as impresive as the Tate but with a better catalog of works from the greats. The Tate lacked some of the big names that I assosiate with great modern art, but the National had at least one famous work from most great painters up until the 20^th century. Anyway, the paintings that jumped out at me where “La Pointe de la Hève” by Claude Monet and “Coastal scene” by Thèo van Rysselberghe.

These two paintings share the same century and were relatively contemporaries. But Rysselberghe was apart of the post impressionist movement where Monet was of the old guard by this time. Both portray beach and cliff scenes. They are both excellent but different in the way that they are painted. Monet uses slightly longer brush strokes than Rysselberghe and is a little more crisp with his lines. However, Rysselberghe uses a unique style of pointillism that had just been invented to make it looks stunning but very different. I love both works for different reasons. They are only separated by a single wall and I think that’s how it should be. They are looking at the same things but painting them how it speaks to them and that is the strength of the National Gallery. It has art spanning many centuries. It demands the attention of its viewer. As it turns out, so does the rain. As several of us left, it began to fall a little more rapidly. So we all had beers and lunch in the upper room of the Lemon Tree Thai fusion Pub. As it rained outside, Ben told more jokes and Braedon polished off yet another Guinness. I realized that this is what London is all about—grey weather and new friends.

May 31

Today I got the opportunity to visit the National Gallery. Founded in 1824, the National Gallery is home to over 2,300 paintings from the 19th Century all the way back to the 13th. And among all the beautiful pieces, two in particular stood out the most to me.

What I find quiet interesting about this piece is the way Seurat uses color to emulate light throughout the scene. Looking left to right, we see the light dim within the scene to were we see the sky darken due to the factories in the distance. Because the upper right side of the painting is darker, it forces the viewers eyes to detour towards the brighter clothes and people on the opposing corner. In addition, Seurat uses brighter tones around the people on the island that in turn highlight and give them focus.

Both paintings have very distinct contrasts. First, Bathers is very bright, soft, rounded, and illusionistic, whereas Cornelis is sharp, stoic, regal, and showy. Simply the body language expressed details stark focuses. The people in Bathers face away to the right (which again perpetuates the view flow around the piece) and Cornelis faces full front. In addition, Bathers is a very pastel and light piece, which is vastly different from the rich and dark color scheme used in Cornelis.

Both pieces are similar though in that there is immense detail put into both pieces. Cornelis is very clear to see the detail, with the many pieces to their outfits, the addition of the parrot & dog to aide in showing off their wealth, and the scenic elements of their surroundings. And while Bathers seems simple from far away, that is simply the effect of pointillism. Up close to the painting you will see incredibly precise paint marks of contrasting colors that create an illusion and make up the one color we see from afar. All in all, both paintings have precise attention to detail and while they were created centuries apart, share a similar view in precision.