“A poet’s work… to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it from going to sleep.”
— Salman Rushdie
Poetry appears in different forms, and whether a short haiku, a passionate sonnet, or an idiosyncratic free verse: poetry can act as a form of political activism, or just a simple note to remember the scent that lingers after a storm.
The ability to command and control language poetically, in whichever language it may be, is a form of communication so uniquely powerful, and it is not limited to its traditional forms. It is evident in just about everything today: the effect of a few choice words in an advert; the deliciousness of a song that embodies a feeling we couldn’t quite articulate; perhaps even in the unexpected- when someone’s poetic turn of phrase in the morning returns in our thoughts, to raise a smile in the afternoon. It is transformative.
So how can you engage with this artform more often?
Here are 6 simple ways to bring a little more poetry into your everyday life:
Starting with the basics, reading poetry. But one type in particular, poetry anthologies.These are brilliant tools because you can dip in and out, take it at your own pace, and you have essentially a buffet, with poetry in many different styles and subjects, often by a plethora of poets. Here are two anthologies by Allie Esiri, who Tatler describes as a “poetry powerhouse”:
Or perhaps ‘A Poem for Every Night of the Year,’ if you’re more of a books-on-the-nightstand kind of reader: https://amzn.eu/d/gpUm8d8
I’m familiar with these as I gifted one to a relative, and in typical 18th century fashion, we made a habit of reading one aloud in the evenings. Literature used to be a very social occasion- new releases from circulating libraries were read aloud by candlelight to the whole family or friend group- perhaps you could bring a little of that back too!
2. Poetry is indeed a different experience when its read aloud, so check poetry podcasts, like this one:
Poem-a-day Podcast, run by the Academy of American Poets. Follow on Spotify below:
It is often newly written short form poetry, read aloud by the poets themselves, so you can experience original performances while you travel. There’s also an option to receive a poem a day to your email inbox.
If poetry performances really rhyme with you, here are some London venues that host slam poetry and poetry readings.
Kindredin Hammersmith hosts live events- their popularity shows that it’s one venue for your list!
Prices vary, but these kinds of evenings are often free or low cost, and are so entertaining- you might even be tempted to get up on the mic.
Now to another likely daily use: instagram poetry. If you find yourself scrolling on Instagram a lot, here is some direction- some you’ll know, some you may not:
Try going to classes and workshops!
Some examples in London:
Southbank Centre, like the upcoming Out-Spoken Masterclass in April. Southbank’s masterclasses are chance to develop your poetry, ‘borrowing tips and tricks from an established poet.’
The Guitar social, they often host Poetry open mic, writing workshops, ‘words-based chill.’
Write your own.
To inspire you to write and to grow your confidence in sharing it with others, perhaps try entering your work into competitions. The National Poetry Library provides a platform with the latest competitions, check it out here https://www.nationalpoetrylibrary.org.uk/write-publish/competitions. Some are free to enter, others come with a fee. Overall the experience of entering work is freeing because the poem becomes a joint experience between the author and the reader, your work is open to interpretation and it stands alone as its own work.
Taking writing tips from well known poets, consider simply starting by responding to what you see, whether that’s a poem about London’s streets, like A Description of A City Shower, by Jonathan Swift; or a poem inspired by an artwork such as Musée des Beaux Arts by W H Auden; his final verse responds to Bruegel’s painting Landscape with the Fall of Icarus (c.1560). The language used to describe a painted scene lends itself well to poetry. Perhaps try writing about the next piece of artwork which resonates with you, which makes you feel something.
Landscape with the Fall of Icarus, Pieter Bruegel the Elder, c. 1560, Oil on canvas, 73.5 cm × 112 cm (28.9 in × 44 in), Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium, Brussels
Edgar Allan Poe described poetry as the “rhythmical creation of beauty in words,” and whether you read, write or listen to poetry, rhythmical creation belongs in the everyday. It is where we find the joy, humour and power in languages, our first and foremost communication tool.
Raphael (Raffaello Sanzio or Santi, 1483-1520), one of the key figures of the Italian Renaissance, is reborn within the National Gallery’s walls. “This exhibition [is] the first outside of Italy to encompass all aspects of Raphael’s artistic activity across his career”, the Gallery states. The National Gallery, partnered with Credit Suisse, encapsulates not only Raphael’s skills as a draughtsman and painter of oil and fresco for which he is famed, but also his accomplishments as an early archaeologist supervising excavations of ancient Rome, his architecture, and his designs for prints, tapestries, decorative art- the list continues.
Click to view The National Gallery’s trailer, with excerpts from the exhibition.
Raphael was the son of Giovanni Santi (c.1440/5-1494), a court painter to the prominent Dukes of Urbino in eastern Italy. Raphael had a brief career, dying suddenly at 37, yet within those years he excelled across a wide range of media, examples of which have been masterfully curated within this exhibition, charting his “phenomenal success and extraordinary energy”. Creations by the master’s hand have been honoured within 7 high-ceiling rooms of the main gallery, spanning his ‘Early Works’, which opens with Head of a Boy (Self Portrait?), c.1498 and highlights the early talent of Raphael around 15-16 years old, through to ‘Friends & Patrons’, which solidifies the legacy of a man determined to inspire human connection through his artwork.
As Raphael develops his skill, repertoire and clients, his workshop grows simultaneously, and he selected his best students to aid him with the production of large works, a delegation technique which enabled him to create the sheer volume of work that he has amassed in his brief career, while improving the work of other aspiring artists.
Exhibition Highlights
One feature of Raphael’s artworks that held my gaze is hisconnection. Whether its the subject’s eyes fixed on the audience, staring out from the frames, or the body language between multiple figures within a composition- Raphael not only painted a representation of life, but captured a moment of it. With carefully rendered touches of hands, angles of the body, light within the eyes, Raphael longed for the connections he lost himself- losing his mother at age 8, and his father at 11. He did create those relationships, with friends, collectors, artists alike. He develops those connections with us, as we stand among the sumptuously robed figures of his larger works, and side-by-side with our fellow exhibition-goer. Raphael, through the timeless integrity of his work, continues to forge these connections today.
Head of a Boy (Self Portrait?), c.1498, Black chalk over stylus indentation, The British Museum.Self Portrait, c.1506, Oil on Wood, Galleria degli Uffizi, Galleria Palatina, Florence
I’ve placed these portraits together above to highlight how Raphael’s confidence grew along with his skill. We compare one (likely) self portrait drawn around age 16, with the later oil on wood by a more mature Raphael. From the soft medium of chalk to the vibrant and heavy oil rendered on solid wood, Raphael’s artistic decisions are bolder, notable in the contrast from the light background to his dark robes and cap which dominate the foreground and our focus. The soft shadow to the right of the wood panel exemplify how Raphael’s dexterity and his blending of contrasting oil tones has improved from earlier works, and this visible improvement continues throughout the exhibition.
The best advice I’ve ever been given was “Paint what you see, not what you think you see”
Indeed, Raphael said himself that “when one paints, one does not think”: the intention is to shed your preconceptions and observe the shapes and forms that fill your vision.
Its encouraging for an artist like myself, to look back on drawings from when I was younger, looking ahead to what I’ve created since, that when skill is driven forwards with a hunger for excellence, you will improve. I can imagine Raphael’s sigh of accomplishment, stepping back from his self portrait, and I hope he thought “finally, the painting looks like me!” (or rather “Finalmente, il dipinto mi assomiglia!”, as he is Italian). Self portraits can often be the hardest to master, you’d think we’d know our own faces enough, and yet that is our downfall. If you think you know what something looks like, you forget to check your reference. You take for granted the intricacies of the human face.
Raphael’s objective eye for details compounded the realism within his portraits and figurative pieces.
Raphael, Bindo Altoviti, c.1516-18, Oil on wood, National Gallery of Art, Washington, Samuel H. Kress Collection. God the Father accompanied by Symbols of the Evangelists, c.1511, Museo Nacional de Artes Decorativas, Madrid
Above left: Altoviti (1491–1557), a Florentine banker living in Rome was a close friend of the Raphael’s. He was a dedicated patron and collector of works of art throughout his life. The Venetian practice of artists was to pose the sitter as though they had suddenly turned to meet our eyes, which Raphael adopts here, creating that feeling of immediate connection I referred to earlier. The light shining across the canvas, originating from the left and casting a shadow to the right, allows Raphael to display his mastery of proportion at complex angles. Raphael surrounds the figure with a vivid green backdrop, using the same colour within the eyes and the sitter’s ring, to further emphasise the subjects piercing gaze upon the viewer, and the high regard in which Raphael held his friend.
To the right: A tapestry from the Workshop of Pieter van Aelst (1490-1533), from a cartoon by Tommaso Vincidor (1494-1536) after design by Raphael, God the Father accompanied by Symbols of the Evangelists, c.1511, made in Brussels wool, silk and gilt-metal-wrapped thread, and on loan from Museo Nacional de Artes Decorativas, Madrid. The tapestry is directly based on the oil painting displayed next to it within the gallery, designed to form the canopy of “a magnificent bed for the room in which the pope was robed prior to ceremonies in the Sistine Chapel”, as the Exhibition literature states. The movement of the robes which surround God and the angels translates seamlessly into tapestry. Raphael was in high demand to create religious frescoes and portraits, notably for both Pope Julius II and Leo X; religion provided a steady income but also endless inspiration for the artist.
Raphael, The Virgin and Child (‘The Madonna of the Pinks’), c.1506-7, Oil on yew, The National Gallery, London. Detail of The Virgin and Child
The exhibition highlights Raphael’s ability to animate his subjects like Leonardo da Vinci (1452-1519), and adapt to the “dynamic expressiveness” of Michelangelo (1475-1564). Sketches within the exhibition show Raphael’s study of these masters of the Italian Renaissance, but the chronology of his work sees Raphael earn the title of Master in his own right, adapting techniques he values from others, and making the medium of oil painting his own. Above, we see the complexity of interaction between the figures of the mother and son, further attesting to his ability to create and immortalise moments of human connection. Raphael created many variations of the Virgin and Child (also described as Madonnas) over his career. The Virgin and Child was first examined by Dr Nicholas Penny, with the findings published in the Burlington Magazine. Leading experts across Europe and America examined the painting and concluded that it is indeed by Raphael.
On the right is detail from the full piece, highlighting the tenderness of touch, soft folds of fabric and skin, the passing of the pink carnation flowers between carefully rendered fingers. It is an intimate moment as both figures gaze at one another, the viewer observes. The domestic setting reflects Raphael’s intent to portray first and foremost the love between a mother and her child, reified by the central placement of their hands within the composition: Raphael’s primary occupation was their connection.
And a personal favourite
Raphael, The Holy Family with a Pomegranate, c.1507-8, Pen and ink over traces of black chalk and stylus indentation with squaring in red chalk Palais des Beaux-Arts de Lille-cliché Jean-Marie Dautel
“Raphael was generous towards other artists throughout his career and provided designs for several of them to work from.” At first glance I thought this drawing was incredibly detailed for a preliminary sketch, and it was then I learnt this drawing was sent to a friend and fellow artist of Raphael, Domenico Alfani (about 1480/5-after 1553). Raphael sent this highly finished drawing from Florence to Domenico Alfani in Perugia, near central Italy, who used it to create an altarpiece in 1510, formerly in the church of Santi Simone e Giuda, Perugia. It was before creating the painting that Alfani added the grid, squaring up the drawing to transfer and enlarge the proportions. The drawing is another example of Raphael’s excellence in creating narratives between the characters, as eyes and hands, robes and limbs seem to continue their course of movement, even after the artist has finished his process.
I sincerely hope you can make it to the exhibition- the careful curation, lighting, colours and textures make you feel the pure joy that Art should make one feel, as the artist is reflected in his work. Raphael’s appreciation for the tenacity that is required to develop a talent is inspirational for any creatives and art lovers alike.
There are a range of events at the Gallery and online to celebrate the exhibition and the artist, for example, Drawing and Mindfulness: Raphael as a draughtsman, Raphael: Universal Artist Weekend Conference, The Linbury Lecture: Patricia Rubin. Details and other events can be viewed here.
I’m stood in front of a large scale reproduction print of Raphael’s The School of Athens, a fresco painted between 1509 and 1511. It was a part of his commission to decorate the rooms in the Apostolic Palace in the Vatican- the rooms are now known as the Stanze di Raffaello.
Four years of Art and English Literature have culminated in the Degree Show exhibition, the finale to my dissertation and artworks: Welcome to the ‘Thornton House Museum’, an immersive installation of a Victorian drawing room, based on the 1854 Victorian Industrial Revolution novel North and South, by Elizabeth Gaskell.
Laura Rozamunda Allsopp-Huddle, 2022, Thornton House Museum, Mixed Media Installation
The story of class struggle and the resilience of the human spirit has been brought to life: through large oil paintings I rendered on canvas, a clay bust sculpture, collected antiques and the production of an audio guide- explore the Museum for an intimate insight to Gaskell’s creation and the power of communication during conflict.
Monet’s house and gardens, and the fascinating life of the artist. La maison et les jardins de Monet, et la vie fascinante de l’artiste.
“The richness I achieve comes from nature, the source of my inspiration.”
Claude Monet
Monet’s ‘The Water-Lily Pond’ is an outstanding example of his impressionistic prowess. Within the brushstrokes, you can feel the weight and movements of Monet’s hand; surrounding the still stability of the Japanese bridge with a vibrant energy.
Find yourself standing on the japanese bridge above the rippling water- surrounded by an orchestra of wildflowers and birdsong, as if you’d just stepped into the painting. Monet’s style, some brushstrokes passionately rendered in quick motion, others pressed thoughtfully to the canvas, were borne of the inspiration he sought in these gardens.
Claude Monet The Water-Lily Pond, 1899, Oil on canvas, 88.3 x 93.1 cm Bought, 1927 The National Gallery, London
Travelling to Giverny
The day began with an early train ride to Vernon-Giverny, from Paris Saint-Lazare. When I first stepped into Saint-Lazare station, I had a feeling I’d been here before. It wasn’t until the Impressionist exhibition (I’ll be writing about on here soon), that I realised why I recognised it:
Claude Monet, Saint-Lazare Station, 1877, Oil on canvas, 54.3 x 73.6 cm The National Gallery, London
I’d visited the station many times, in the form of Monet’s paintings. Those impressionist brushstrokes somehow manage to catch a cloud, to capture the intangible; the steam rising from the powerful engines below. Of course, the train you’ll take from Paris to Vernon-Giverny is less steam-dream, but still exciting. (And more environmentally friendly).
On arrival, you can rent bikes from just outside the station ‘Gare de Vernon’ in Giverny like we did. I rode on, picking up speed on some roads and gliding slowly along others.
I stopped to admire curious street names, the exposed wooden beams on houses, the elegant town hall, and we sang “L.O.V.E.” as we cycled along a bike path through meadows. Writing that last part does instil a little cringe, but the fellow cyclists seemed to enjoy our little rendition! 😉
At the Foundation of Claude Monet
Opened to the public as a foundation, Claude Monet’s house and gardens are maintained and exhibited in all their glory.
The house and gardens are open from the 1st of April to the 1st of November, 2023, but always check availability on the website. Here is a link to purchase tickets:
Monet was born on 14 November 1840 in Paris, and baptised as Oscar-Claude Monet, but his parents simply called him Oscar. He showed artistic promise from an early age. Monet’s mother encouraged his artistic pursuits, though his father would rather have seen Monet pursue a career in business. His mother, Louise, was a singer and shared a close bond with her son. Following her death in January 1857, when Monet was only sixteen, Monet was sent to live with his wealthy aunt Marie-Jeanne Lecadre, who became his most significant financial support during his early art career.
View on side of Monet’s house from the garden
During the next few years, from 1858 to 1860, Monet stayed in Paris to continue his studies, and enrolled in Académie Suisse. There he met Camille Pissarro, who would become a great friend and fellow pioneer of the Impressionist movement. Monet was soon after called for military service, and served with the Chasseurs d’Afrique (African Hunters), in Algeria, from 1861 to 1862. I included this significant moment in his life as Monet later says the vivid colour and light of North Africa “contained the germ of my future researches”, proving the powerful effect this experience had on Monet.
Exploring the gardens
The garden paths
The intermittent clouds of a light rain added to the atmospheric surroundingsClaude Monet, Garden Path at Giverny, 1902. This sunny scene is brighter than the gentle rainy day I visited.View of the house from the far end of the gardenBamboo lined walkways through the winding paths
The Japanese bridges
Above the rippling water- surrounded by an orchestra of wildflowers and birdsong
Admiring the wisteria which hangs over the first bridgeThe bridges were reconstructed after the war, due to their weakened frames, as they had been neglected. Although it is new wood, the style and colour remained the same.Claude Monet, The Water Lily Pond, 1900
Les Nymphéas or ‘The Waterlilies’
Soft brushstrokes; some passionately rendered in quick motion, others pressed thoughtfully to the canvas, were often borne of the inspiration he sought in these gardens.
Overlooking an aspect of the willow and the waterlilies Monet’s largest waterlily paintings are at Musée de l’Orangerie, designed specifically for those giant canvasesWalk down to the end of the gardens, and you’ll find a sign. This way to the Etang des Nympheas, or Pond of WaterliliesClaude Monet, Waterlilies, 1919An aspect of the ponds, viewing from a bed of daisiesMonet’s species of waterlily were typically white, and would turn pink with age. Along with changing seasons, his subject itself would change, providing 40 years of new inspiration
Exploring inside
In 1883, Monet rented the house and gardens we know and love today, which provided a domestic stability for him and his family. There were local schools close enough for the children to attend, the country landscape inspired Monet’s depictions of natural scenery, and he used the barn as a painting studio.
The dining room
Introducing guests to “my” bone china collection in the dining room, which seemed to tickle the other visitors.A tobacco jar saying “I have good tobacco”. A sense of humour remains in the house even though the artist’s family has long since left
Over the next several years the family worked, developing the gardens, which grew and flourished along with Monet’s growing success. In 1890, Monet purchased the house. Monet built a greenhouse and a second studio (shown below)
Photograph by Henri Manuel, Monet at work in the large studioBehind me is the finished version of the Les Nymphéas Monet is working on (left), housed at the Musée de l’Orangerie, Paris. Check out my post on Monet in Paris!
Exploring the home and gardens of this French impressionist artist was really a dream come true, and as you can probably tell from the photos, I was excited.
The kitchen
Copperware placed about, as if waiting for the owners to returnThe blue Rouen tiles were a favourite of MonetA magnificent fireplace and the stove stood adjacent would warm the countryside kitchen on cold winter nightsFull view of Monet’s kitchen. This photograph is courtesy of Fondation Claude Monet
Check out more before your visit, via the Virtual Tour
The Salon-Studio as seen in the Foundations virtual tour. A photo of the Blue Room from the Foundation’s virtual tour, which you can check out here. The Foundation have hung many Japanese art prints, artistic stylings which influenced Monet’s work- hence the Japanese bridges seen around the water gardens.
Below is Blanche Hoschedé Monet’s bedroom, step-daughter of the artist (from Monet’s second marriage) and manager of the house and gardens for twenty years, following Monet’s death in 1926. Blanche marries Monet’s eldest son Jean in 1897.
Much of the furniture is original to the house, though there are additions of furniture and décor, added during the scenographic reconstruction of the home.Designers at the Foundation chose décor typical of local country houses during the late 1800s (when the family lived here).
The master bedroom- At the end of the artist’s life
The master bedroom. Monet didn’t display his own artwork in this area of the house, reserving it for artworks by his friends.The foundation have displayed prints of paintings that Monet’s friends and fellow artists produced.
The photos above show the light magnolia and pine comfort of Monet’s bedroom. It was here that Monet passed away in the winter of 1926. An honourable mention must be made to a close friend of Monet’s; Georges Clemenceau, a French statesman and journalist, who ordered a car and rushed to Monet’s side when he heard Monet was about to succumb to the battle of lung cancer. Clemenceau was Prime Minister of France from 1906-1909 and again from 1917-1920, and it was during these later years in office that he became a major contributor to the Allied victory in World War I and a framer of the post-war Treaty of Versailles.
Caricatures of Monet and Clemenceau
The friendship between the two was sparked when the Clemenceau first saw Monet’s series of Rouen’s Cathedrals. The series, depicting the Cathedral at different times of the day and the changes of light it brings, is composed of 40 masterpieces, exemplified below. Clemenceau published an article on Monet in the newspaper La Justice, and became enamoured by the artist and the idea of the man behind the artworks. Clemenceau was finally introduced by the art critic Gustave Geoffroy in Monet’s house, in Giverny. Being the place where the friendship began, it seems important and fitting that it would be the setting of their farewell.
Claude Monet, Rouen Cathedral, the Portal, Morning Effect, 1894Claude Monet, Rouen Cathedral, the Portal, 1894Claude Monet, Rouen Cathedral, Magic in Blue, 1894
Monet and Clemenceau were both driven and capable men in their own fields, and the two found common ground in matters such as education and politics. Clemenceau was also an art lover, and they shared seeds and bulbs for their gardens, so the friendship between these two developed easily.
Claude Monet, Study of Rocks; Creuse: ‘Le Bloc’ 1889, oil on canvas, 72.4 x 91.4 cm
Claude Monet gifted the famous painting ‘Study of rocks, the Creuse: ‘Le Bloc’ to Clemenceau, who nicknamed it ‘le bloc’. The title is Monet’s nod to Clemenceau’s speech of 1891 wherein he says “the French Revolution is a block.” ‘Le Bloc’ (The Rock) was to be the title of a political journal Clemenceau was to establish.
This artwork is now held in the Royal collection, bought by the Queen Mother in 1949.
I’d like to leave you with a few poignant quotes from Monet:
“I must have flowers, always, and always.”
Claude Monet
English wild roses, geraniums, lilies, harebells, carnations. Just five of the many flower species that flourish within the artist’s grounds
“Everyday I discover more and more beautiful things. It’s enough to drive one mad. I have such a desire to do everything, my head is bursting with it.”
Claude Monet.
I especially resonate with this quote from Monet, as it is how I think about creating my own paintings- and the joy of creating. A mind full of enthusiasm and fervour, finding inspiration everywhere, as there is so much beauty on this earth, how can one possibly paint it all?
Exactly 122 years ago, Monet painted “The Water-Lily Pond” (1899). His vision is still there today, the natural haven he designed is thriving, and the original painting is currently on display in the National Gallery, London. With hundreds of other works across the world. What a legacy.
“It’s on the strength of observation and reflection that one finds a way. So we must dig and delve unceasingly.”
A post of its own; the Louvre, the highlights, and a race to the Mona Lisa before closing!
I fell in love with the Louvre before even entering, the architecture is just incredible, and we had a lot of fun inside!
It is said that nothing ever lasts. And yet, standing tall in all its glory, is this beauty. Once a Palace for French kings, the Louvre was transformed into a public museum following the French Revolution of 1789. It later became the playground of emperor Napoleon I, who briefly named it after himself, AND it was seized by the Nazis to store stolen art in World War Two.
view from the upper levels of the Louvre, across the courtyard to the left wing of the museum
After staring meticulously at all the canvases on the first few levels of the Louvre, three hours have passed so quickly. Looking out of the windows, the sun had moved right across the courtyard, lighting the opposite wing of the palace, which glistened after the rain.
The Highlights
Below I’ve included the artworks which I spent the most time with, absorbing all those carefully placed or quickly rendered details. A brilliant painting is like a clear night sky; the longer you stare, the more stars appear.
Behind: Robert Hubert’s Le Pont du Gard, 1787, Oil on Canvas, 242 x 242cm. I’m admiring that viaduct and pastel sunset from a safe distance.Oil on paper landscapes by Pierre de Valenciennes, painted 1e quart du XIXe siècle (between 1800 – 1825)Joseph Ducreux, Portrait de l’artiste sous les traits d’un moqueur, c.1793, Oil on Canvas, 91 x 72cm. Ducreux painted the portrait of Marie Antoinette which was King Louis XVI’s first sight of her.Ary Scheffer, Temptation of Christ, 1854, Oil on Canvas.
François Gérard (1770–1837), Cupid and Psyche, 1798, Oil on Canvas. In Greek and Roman mythology, and many other depictions of the story, the couple must overcome countless obstacles, until they are finally joined in a sacred marriage, through which their love transcends mortal suffering. The little butterfly above Psyche’s head alludes to the presence of the soul. In Greek mythology, and in the modern language today, Psyche is Greek for Soul. As in antiquity, the image of a butterfly represents the soul’s ability to leave the body and to transition to eternal life after death. Souls bond in sacred marriage, and here the souls deliver Cupid and Psyche to a state of eternal love.Cupid and Psyche detail- the gentle touch. There are other scenes of this couple, but there is something so tender and passionate in the way his hand adores but doesn’t possess.Gilded frame, and a single highlighted buttercup beneath Cupid’s feet.William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1825 – 1905) painted The First Kiss which depicts Cupid and Psyche as children. A print of this painting hangs at the head of a hallway in my family home, perhaps why I was so drawn to Gérard’s piece above. For more of Bouguereau’s work, you must visit the Musée d’Orsay. He paints radiant skin like no other.
At the highest level of the palace, the guard sounded the last call for closing. I felt rather satisfied with the amount of colour and narratives we’d absorbed that day, but I still felt that something was missing. Had I lost my boyfriend somewhere?
No, he was by my side. Dropped my bag? Nope, that was on my shoulder, I thought, tapping it. Then it dawned on me, as the guard ushered us towards the exit, I’d forgotten the most iconic smile.
We ran through grand halls, centuries worth of artworks, and I resisted the urge to stop and stare so many times, to finally reach the lower level and La Gioconda, (the Italian name for the Mona Lisa. La Gioconda translates to ‘jocund’ (happy) literally, ‘the jocund one’, and her portrait is rendered on a 77cm × 53cm wooden panel, from the poplar tree. The poplar seems to feature often in the works we know and love; Monet himself was inspired to create many versions of the tall and delicate poplar trees which lined various stretches of the Seine river
Even ten minutes to closing, there was a queue for Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. Here I noticed this masterpiece hanging opposite: Da Vinci’s St John the Baptist. In this 69x57cm Oil on Canvas, created 1513-1516, John the Baptiste gestures towards heaven, and salvation through baptism.This piece exemplifies Da Vinci’s brilliant ‘sfumato’ technique, which lends an ethereal softness and depth to the figure.Capturing other people capturing the famous painting, in which Da Vinci captures Mona Lisa’s captivating smile.
The lady who posed as Mona Lisa is likely to be to be Lisa del Giocondo, (1479–1542) hence the title La Gioconda, an Italian noblewoman and member of the Gherardini family of Florence and Tuscany.
Leonardo Da Vinci, Mona Lisa (La Gioconda), the original. c.1503–1506, perhaps continuing until c. 1517, Oil on poplar panel, 77cm × 53cm. Mona Lisa (La Gioconda), digitally retouched to reduce the effects of aging.
Smile, and she smiles back
A glass ceiling lets in natural light to Mona Lisa’s room at the Louvre. The glass here is a shatter-proof display case, which maintains a controlled temperature of 43 degrees F.
Did you know?
🌟 The Mona Lisa belongs to France : After Italy’s Leonardo da Vinci’s death in Amboise, France, the artist’s assistant Salaì inherited the work and sold it to France’s King Francis I for 4,000 gold coins. (May 2, 1519) 🌟According to research, engineer Pascal Cotte discovered that the Mona Lisa did have eyebrows and eyelashes: but they were probably the one of the last things Da Vinci added to the her face, and since all the cleanings the painting has undergone, and general aging, they have faded so that they are barely visible to the human eye. 🌟 It would take you around 100 full days to see all of the Louvre, and that is if you only spent 30 seconds on each piece.
It is hard to put into words just how vast, and ancient the experience is; Exploring these hallways and galleries allows us to glimpse at past civilisations. It brings to the forefront the morals, the beauty and the values of our societies, some which have changed for the better, others which people fight to preserve. Thank you to all those who help to preserve it; restorers, curators, janitors, security, and sales staff.
Comparative guide to Picasso’s Guernica and Goya’s The 3rd of May 1808
Francisco Goya, The 3rd of May 1808, 1814, Oil on Canvas, 268 cm × 347 cm, Museo del Prado, MadridPablo Picasso, Guernica, 1937, Oil on canvas, 349.3 cm × 776.6 cm, Museo Reina Sofía, Madrid, Spain
The 3rd of May 1808, painted in 1814 by Francisco José de Goya y Lucientes[1] and Guernica created by Pablo Picasso[2] in 1937, are both deeply significant works of art, the two depicting harrowing scenes of warfare in Spain. However, Goya depicts a particular event from the Napoleonic Wars: over 120 years earlier than Picasso’s of the 1937 bombing of the Basque town of the same name. Despite such a passing of time and developments in history, the two works are united over their subject of similar tragedy. Further analysis of the paintings, such as their uses of light, colour and iconography illuminates the themes and motivations for such recordings of historically significant events impacting art and society alike.
Immediately, certain formal properties can be distinguished within Goya’s and Picasso’s artwork. The two share a sense of upheld tradition in that they are two-dimensional canvas pieces. Visual, the emphasis is on the immediate effect of looking, unlike a 3-dimensional sculpture for example. This rendering to a flat, large surface suggests an attempt to produce a work to not only be observed, and perhaps from a distance due to its scale, but also to be placed upright, on a wall; Picasso was commissioned a mural specifically, and Goya’s painting for the royal collection would be presented in this fashion. They would both be secured so that they may be preserved. There is the intent to survive, to become or to mark a legacy. This is emphasised by their large scale, with The Third of May standing tall at a height of 268 cm, and a width of 347 cm. Picasso’s Guernica measures at 349cm high and 776 cm wide. The sheer size creates grandeur and affect; no doubt a representation of the subjects of the pieces, which extend much further than the physical constraints of the canvas. To stand in front of these works is to be absorbed, one must stand back far enough to physically witness the narrative as a whole, and this distance creates a feeling of reverence as the viewer creates space between themselves and the artwork, out of necessity and an element of respect.
The composition of Goya’s The Third of May is painted with oils, with careful consideration to a sense of reality. Goya employs focal shortening, with the figure on the ground, for example, laying towards us. His body interacts with the viewer. The diagonal angle at which the French soldiers to the right are stood creates further depth, adding not only to the realism of the scene, but suggesting this towering barricade of ammunition is an ongoing impenetrable force. It emphasises the victimisation of the scattered civilians to the left. The palace behind recedes into the background, rendered desolate with dark grey and browns, with a tone abandonment highlights the action in the foreground. The brushstrokes in the work are quick, rather expressionist.
And though the Romanticised scene pleads sympathy for its subject’s, Goya evidences in this loose painterly style- no doubt influenced by his predecessor Velazquez[3]– that his brushwork shifts away from a Romantic perfection. It reflects painting which captures the specific moment, and each movement with it. This is further evidenced by the title of the work, claiming a very specific day, month and year within history.
Similarly, Guernica’s composition reflects this similar sense of action through semi-abstract depiction of the amputation of limbs, disproportions, collages of light and dark areas to create a structure. Picasso overlays linear characters, the different faces and bodies directed in various ways, leading the viewers eyes to dart around the painting. However, there is definite focus on the bull and, with the other characters positioned as looking at them. Texture is added with collaging of wallpapers and emulsion paints, and sketches which remain visible on the surface.[4] There are limbs that don’t seem to belong to any one character, and it is difficult to perceive whether the scene is placed inside or outside, as the diagonal lines don’t seem to create this depth of field. This adds to the disorientation of the viewer’s gaze when looking at the chaos within the work.
These elements of composition link next to the powerful control and manipulation of light in both paintings. For example, in the Third of May the only light source is that of the lantern at the foot of the French soldiers, illuminating the victims to the left and particularly the man in the white shirt and tan trousers. Goya’s use of Chiaroscuro adds drama and contrast; the light focuses attention immediately on these civilians who have been executed and lay dead, and the man standing with arms outstretched in surrender to his fate. In Guernica, this same focalisation is created by control of light: the eye which looms above the scene suggests the presence of this illumination. The manmade bulb in place of the eye’s iris is provocative iconography, referencing the overhead bombing, and technology in warfare. The torch held by the figure emerging from the dark grey areas is the main source of light in the work, forming a triangle of light in the painting. As the characters rely on the source of light to illuminate the events below in order for it to be decipherable, it suggests a responsibility of the viewer and the artist to shed light on and understand this difficult subject matter. It is an abstracted view of reality which distorts figures and faces, and removes a normalised sense of space, to the point where it is difficult to locate or situate the work. Ambiguous in whether it is day or night, indoor or outside which adds to the effect of a chaotic and distorted scene. There is no real sense of time, as suggested by the contrast of dark and light in such close proximity to each other, and the background diagonal lines create the possible illusion of a ceiling. This chaos is representative of the subject, emphasised by the woman to the far right of the painting, who appears to be engulfed in flames: fires burned for three days after the bombing in Guernica.
Light impacts details such as colour and tonality. For example, in The Third of May, the man upon whom the light is focused wears white- a symbol of purity and echo of his innocence- and his skin and colouring are clearly depicted. In this detail there is an indent in the palms of the man’s hands, similar to that of Jesus’ wounds, or ‘Stigmata’ during his Crucifixion[5], reiterating the innocence of the man in white. Furthermore, the faces of he and his fellow citizens are illuminated and turned towards the viewer, therefore given individual identities. However, the French soldiers are all alike: the same stance, colouring and turned facing away, facial features are ambiguous. Unlike their weapons, which are rendered in great detail. Detail of the executioners also focuses on uniforms: formal and rigid. As is their arrangement: heavy, austere, grey and black. This contrasts the loose-fitting, naturalistic dress of the condemned man and those who lay slain across the ground, bleeding vivid red blood. The red and warmth of colour creates empathy for these people, to show patriotism, as this warmth and imperfection of dress humanises them in comparison to the dark greys and black with which the foreign soldiers are painted. The Third of May’s pigmentation is strong but is of a limited palette of earth tones, with the exception of those red trails of blood. Guernica is also of a limited palette: the shapes are decipherable as human and animal figures, though comprises of cool toned blue and grey colours. Picasso began to create the mural after seeing the black and white photos of Paris’ media coverage of the bombing, the pain in these photographs is portrayed for example through the silent screams of the mother, horse and outstretched hands. In Goya’s Third of May the crying mother holding her child, to the left of the painting is also portrayed in Guernica and suggests Goya’s influence on Picasso’s work. Other elements of iconography is Picasso’s inclusion of domesticated animals – the horse and the bull which are typically used by humans for agriculture and farming suggest the animals’ presence in the town, as it was bombed and the animals’ suffering is too by the hands of men.
Significant context of the two artworks is also a consideration of the artists’ motivations. The Third ofMay was created in 1814, six years after the event. “Goya did not paint his picture in 1808, his imagination fired by recent atrocity”- unlike Picasso’s immediate production of Guernica in response to the news headlines. Instead, Goya waited and tactically suggested this commission to the restored Spanish monarchy in 1814, requesting that he may record, “our glorious insurrection against the tyrant of Europe.”[6] Moreover, as Goya had produced portraits of French nationals during Napoleon’s reign, it could be argued that he intended to clear suspicions of his collaboration with the French, with the Second and Third of May. Goya’s artistic and social impact was surely better served as a seemingly neutral figure during changing leaderships: to remain able to critique generally, rather than claim allegiance to a deposed party, essentially lowering himself to the mercy of he who held the power, and the gun. Perhaps Goya’s self-conflict is reflected in the bowed head of the man, witnessing the execution, and his fellow onlookers, who refuse to watch.
This could suggest a neutrality perceived as cowardness: heads are hung, eyes averted, in shame of their reluctancy to intervene or aid their fellow countrymen being murdered. But again, they are unarmed. They are ill equipped to deal with such a force as Napoleon It did mark the overthrow of Napoleon in Spain, however, and called to an era of enlightenment, with its painterly loose brushwork, and unusually graphic and gruesome scene. The painting’s placement next to its counter-work The Second of May 1808, 1814, and other conflicts, brings into consideration the familiarity of today’s society with images of bloodshed, standing in the gallery immersed in it. It considers how the shocking bloodshed was received in a pre-photographic era, before the constant desensitisation from imagery in the media.
As Picasso and contemporaries pioneered the Cubist movement, his creation of Guernica recorded another major but much darker development, which redefined warfare in the modern world: the bombing of Guernica was not only significant because of the destruction of the town and the lives lost, but it was “the first total destruction of an undefended civilian target by aerial bombardment.”[7] The Spanish Civil war from 1936 to 1939 is “burned into the European consciousness” foreshadowing the onslaught of Total war, a horrific form of modern warfare. In Guernica, Picasso paints his patriotism (from afar) and empathy of the strategized suffering of innocent citizens.
The legacies of both artworks were established shortly after their creations: Goya’s being held by the Royal Collection, Madrid, 1814; and entered the Prado Museum, before 1834. It’s presence in the Prado National Gallery in Madrid asserts its position as a vital memory in Spain’s cultural history. In this same ‘canonisation’ of significance, Guernica is placed centrally in Room 206.6 at the Reina Sofia, reflecting the artwork’s significance in 20th century history both the gallery’s value of the artwork. The tapestry created by Jacqueline de la Baume Dürrbach[8] of Guernica now hangs high in the United Nations, an image of terror shown as a reminder, a symbol for peace. Both The Third of May and Guernica capture Spanish civilians’ suffering due to vicious international relations, and the continuous inhumane treatment of one’s fellow man, though over a century apart.
Bibliography:
Baudelaire, Charles. Curiosités esthétiques. Paris: Michel Levy, 1860. Translated by Jonathan Mayne as Art in Paris 1845-1862. Oxford: Phaidon, 1965.
Berger, John (1965). The Success and Failure of Picasso. Penguin Books, Ltd. p. 175. ISBN978-0-679-73725-4
Fremont-Barnes, Gregory. The Napoleonic Wars: The Peninsular War 1807-1814 (Essential Histories). 1st ed. Oxford: Osprey Publishing, 2002.
Hughes, Robert. Goya. London: The Harvill Press, 2003.
To officially launch the website, I present to you a magnificent collection, and encourage you to create…
The Walker Art Gallery holds one of the finest collections in the UK, spanning paintings, sculpture and decorative art from the 1300s to the present day.
The collection includes artworks from the European Renaissance, and masterpieces by Rubens, Rembrandt, Turner and Stubbs. During your visit you’ll explore Impressionist paintings from Monet and Degas, and my personal favourite the Pre-Raphaelite artworks by Rossetti and Millais. There are also new exhibitions regularly, and contemporary works by Hockney, Wylie and the winners of the John Moores Painting Prize.
part of the permanent collection
upper level
sculpture gallery
This gallery wasn’t far from my home during my high school years. From my leafy suburb, I’d take frequent trips across the Mersey river and into Liverpool. As the bus emerged from the tunnel, I was met by the neo-classical columns of the Walker Art Gallery just opposite, with a stoic presence like grand gatekeepers to the city.
I’m stood in front of Blotter, Peter Doig’s 1993 oil on canvas and winner of the John Moores exhibition of the same year, photographed here in 2017.
As you stand in front of an artwork, your eyes dart across the vibrant intricacy of a landscape. A few steps forward, and you’re held in a pensive silence, captured by the passionate expression of a face staring back at you from its golden frame. In these moments, the artworks on the walls of this gallery- and the human stories they immortalise- are the answer to why we create, and why we travel so far to see the creation of others.
Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Dante’s Dream, 1869-71, Oil on Canvas, 216 cm x 312.4 cm.
As an introduction I’ve picked out one of my favourite pieces in the entire collection, Dante’s Dream. Rossetti held a lifelong fascination of his namesake: the Italian poet Dante Alighieri.
Dante is considered to be the ‘father of the Italian language’, as he was born and raised in Florence, and wrote his works in a dialect of the Italian language (Florentine vernacular), as opposed to writing in Latin, which was the standardized norm for well-educated citizens, both in literature and Mass. He pioneered an accessibility of the Arts to a wider audience, not only the elite. I believe there is a poetic significance in displaying an artwork inspired by such a man, within a gallery open to the public. One of the beauties of the UK is free entry to the majority of museums and galleries- it emphasizes how culture is valued by our government, the value of the Arts to the general population, and of course to international visitors.
Sometimes, creativity suffers when you are faced with adversity. I don’t say this just to artists, but to everyone: With our very human flaw of attempting to please everyone, we forget what it is we are true to.
In those moments of doubt, I think back to that simple reason why anyone creates.
With a rising tide deep in my chest- a feeling of determination- I realise that we all contribute something in our time on this earth, and this is what I want to contribute, for you.
Laura Rozamunda
If ever you doubt your purpose and your value, remind yourself that you are here to contribute- and most importantly to enjoy!
These early experiences formed a passion for the arts, the passion that inspires me to write this for you.
I hope this is the start to a very real writer-reader connection, and I look forward to every new adventure with you all.
LAURA ROZAMUNDA 