Churches

Hendrick van Vliet
Interior of the St Janskerk at Gouda (1662)

I am partial to a good church interior and we have two outstanding examples at the NGV, painted two centuries apart. Although neither of them is by that ultimate church interior fundi, Pieter Jansz Saenredam, they are both excellent and we are fortunate to have them.
Van Vliet's exquisite study of the Sint Janskerk (the Sint Jan in question is John the Baptist) shows the austerity of the Dutch Protestant churches. When the Netherlands threw off the yoke of Spain in 1573, the Calvinists stripped the churches of all the trappings of Catholicism, including confessionals, altars, paintings and statues.

I love the bare, luminous, airy spaces of these Dutch churches – when you stand inside one of them, you get the full impact of its sheer size and grace. The stone slabs underfoot are in fact gravestones, often carved with only a family crest, or perhaps a symbol like a pair of scissors for a tailor or a sheaf of wheat for a farmer. Each slab has a number and the names and dates of the deceased are kept in "grave books". In this painting, Van Vliet has included a gravedigger going about his business.

The seventy-odd magnificent and stunningly beautiful windows of the St Janskerk are deservedly famous. They depict biblical and historical scenes and are known as the "Goudse Glazen" (literally "Gouda's Glasses"). When my daughter and I visited Gouda recently, we were lucky that it was a sunny afternoon and we saw them at their best.

Photos and post cards just don’t do them justice. It is not possible to reproduce the rich, glowing reds and golds, blues and greens … the 16th century craftsmen who made those windows were real artists – the colours are not flat, but shaded, to make the figures in their rich robes seem 3-dimensional. The windows are ten metres tall (as high as a three-story building!) and the scenes have perspective. Some of them are 500 yrs old and the colours are still so vibrant.

So what makes the good citizens of Gouda proudest about their St Janskerk? The most beautiful stained glass windows in the world? No, all they care about is the fact that this is the longest church in the Netherlands. They eagerly ask: "Have you been to the St Janskerk? It is the longest church in the Netherlands, you know!" … "Yes, and I loved the magnificent windows!" … "But did you notice how long the church is? There is none longer in the entire Netherlands!"
Well, and a good thing too – room for more windows.

David Roberts
Interior of the Church of St Anne, Bruges (1851)

Scottish painter David Roberts was elected a Royal Academician in 1841. He is especially known for a series of prints and large oil paintings of Egypt and the Near East produced during the 1840s from sketches made during long tours of that region. This work brought him renown as a prominent Orientalist painter. In later life he also travelled extensively in Europe, painting palaces and churches.
This interior of St Anne's church in Bruges, is one that he painted while on a visit to Belgium for the express purpose of painting that country's magnificent churches. I have visited St Anne's and amazingly, it still looks exactly as Roberts saw it in 1851.

Unlike the Sint Janskerk, this church contains a lot of paintings, sculpture and rich carving. Roberts' early employment was as a scene painter at London's Drury Lane Theatre. The manner in which he has peopled this painting with lots of figures in seventeenth-century dress, reflects his theatrical experience.
Belgium is indeed home to many beautiful cathedrals, churches and chapels, and most of them have "miracles" on show: a swatch of cloth with the Holy Blood (still red after 2 000 years), a few drops of the Virgin's milk (still liquid), and other items of that ilk. I lift a cynical eyebrow and refrain from comment. Maybe they are miracles. People curtsey and genuflect before them.

But in Onze Lieve Vrouwenkerk (The Cathedral of Our Lady) in Bruges, I saw a real miracle: white marble that has come alive. An exquisite Michelangelo Mother and Child, the only one of his works to leave Italy in his lifetime. The Christ child is not a baby, but a little boy about three years old, and he stands between his mother’s knees, the way a mother would hold a lively three-year-old who may dash off at any moment. Her delicate features are full of expression and the little boy has a mischievous look – if I am to drop any curtseys, it will be to Michelangelo and not to a dodgy bit of textile.

I can't talk about the artwork in Belgian cathedrals without mention of Onze Lieve Vrouwekerk in Antwerp, which is up there with the best in the world – how could it not be, when local lad Peter Paul Rubens lived just round the corner and was always dropping by with his box of Windsor & Newtons to paint another altarpiece?
It is a stunning building: they started it in 1352 … I am always amazed at these wonderful edifices that were erected without benefit of modern technology. This one is gigantic: it has seven naves and 125 pillars and heaps of paintings and statues, confessionals, lecterns, pulpits and altars. The vaulted ceiling is so far above that it makes you dizzy to look up. The windows are lovely but I have to say the Goudse Glazen in the St Jans Church are better.

There are three huge Rubens altarpieces – the one I liked best is a triptych: The Descent from the Cross. He also painted the backs of the two side panels, so the whole thing is really a bit like Douglas Adams’ "trilogy in five parts".

Each of the panels refers to the carrying of Christ: in the main centre panel he is being carried down from the cross, the left wing shows a pregnant Virgin Mary in a tea gown and picture hat, arriving at an Italian villa carrying her unborn son (for a small-town Jewish girl from the Middle East, she certainly got around a lot and had an extensive designer wardrobe). On the right panel we see St Simeon carrying baby Jesus in his arms.

The back of the left wing is a huge, magnificent painting of St Christopher in a swirling red cloak fording the river, carrying the Christ child on his back; to my mind the best of the five. But then Rubens got bored with the whole carrying theme and for the fifth panel he gave us a guy in a brown habit standing on a rock. I took this to be St Francis because he has a number of assorted small furry animals milling round his feet.

No need to feel deprived because we have no Rubenses in either of Melbourne's cathedrals – we have two genuine Rubenses and one faux Rubens (labelled "after Rubens") of our own in the NGV International, to go and look at, free of charge, any time we like!

You can take a virtual tour of Gouda's St Janskerk at http://www.sintjan.com/.

"Painting and Sculpture Before 1800" - NGV Publication"19th Century Painting and Sculpture" - NGV Publication

A Visit to Adelaide

As L.P. Hartley said: "The past is another country: they do things differently there". He may just as well have been speaking about Adelaide. They certainly do things differently there.

On my way to the baggage carousel at Adelaide airport, I popped in at the Ladies, as one does after a journey. On the door there is a notice: "Adelaide Airport uses recycled water for toilet flushing – DO NOT DRINK". My mind boggled. And not for the last time during my visit.

I'll skip lightly past the wedding and various family reunions I attended, and move right along to the morning we spent at the Art Gallery of SA, where I was delighted to find that they extend reciprocal privileges to NGV members, so I was able to shout my husband a free coffee.

The collection is small, compared with that of the NGV, but it is eclectic, and I like the museum itself: a handsome, historic building with a colonnaded façade. It also has some beautiful Tiffany windows.

The Australian collection is particularly good - I was intrigued by the earliest-known oil painting to have been painted in Australia: "Fish Catch and Dawes Point, Sydney Harbour" (1813), by John Lewin. It is a bit of an oddity: not quite a natural history painting of fish, nor a still life, nor a seascape, nor a "sporting" picture of a fisherman's catch … a bit of each and it got Australia off to a good start!

They have a fine collection of Colonial art – I particularly liked a watercolour by S.T. Gill: a lively Adelaide street scene. I am going to look for his work at the Ian Potter.

There is a roomful of the usual suspects: Streeton, Conder, McCubbin, Roberts, Fox … and they have a couple of dozen of those small oils on cigar box lids that the Australian Impressionists did so well. My favourite was a witty one by Charles Conder – it is called "How we lost poor Flossie" and I am sure he did it to tease Fred McCubbin, who was very upset when, on a visit to Melbourne, his terrier Flossie scampered off with a gentleman friend and was never seen again. It shows Flossie and a sleek grey dog touching noses, among shoppers in a busy street. The wood grain gives the impression of raindrops on a gloomy Melbourne day.

Break Away by Tom Roberts

I always like coming across well-known paintings – the kind you see on posters and coasters - and thinking: "So THIS is where you live!" I discovered that Adelaide is home to Tom Roberts' "A Break Away" and Charles Conder's "A Holiday at Mentone", that we all know and love.
They have a few lovely Hans Heysens, and so they should, as he was a local. His house in the Adelaide Hills is now a museum. I have to say I prefer Nora Heysen's work: there are a portrait and a still life of hers on display. I would never say this aloud within the borders of SA, but much as I admire Heysen's work, when I see yet another stock standard soft-golden-light-through-the-gum-trees job, it does make me want to say: "OK, Hans, very nice, so what else you got?"

Hans Heysen

The landscape that really caught my eye, was "The Valley"(1898) by Sydney Long. It is very unfussy, almost decorative, with areas of flat colour and elongated, undulating forms. It is clear that he admired art nouveau. He is also on my list of what to look for at the Ian Potter!

The women are well represented: the two Graces, Cowley and Cossington-Smith; Dorrit Black and Margaret Preston in particular. In the passage outside the coffee shop, right between the Gents and the Ladies, they have hung a series of six very beautiful, large studies of Australian wildflowers by Margaret Preston. Go figure. I told you they do things differently there.

I saw a very good portrait, as well as an intriguing composition of flat surfaces which bristle with sharpened pencils, by John Brack. "Now and Then", is its title.
An interesting sculpture was "Lion", by Rayner Hoff: a stylised pair of lions, each with its paw on a ball. It is clearly the Holden symbol, and it was donated by Lady Holden in memory of her late husband.

Moving along to the European art, I saw yet another interesting sculpture and one that I recognised: a winged aluminium Eros, drawing his bow. "Hullo", I said, "what are you doing so far from Piccadilly Circus?" Turns out that the Piccadilly Eros was one of seven that were cast from the original plaster model by Alfred Gilbert in honour of the Earl of Shaftesbury, and one of them fetched up here in Adelaide.

So what do you have to do to get seven statues cast in your honour? Google tells me that His Lordship was a keen supporter of Florence Nightingale, a proponent of returning the Jews to the Land of Israel, and largely responsible for the Lunacy Act of 1845. It also tells me that the statue is erroneously called "Eros", its proper title being "The Angel of Christian Charity". Adelaide, very sensibly, has labelled it "Eros", and never mind the Christian charity.
There is a magnificent William Morris tapestry in wool and silk, "The Adoration of the Magi", designed by Edward Burne-Jones. It was woven in 1900-02, but the colours are as richly glowing as if it had just come off the loom. The silk highlights on the dark red robes of the Magi and the blue gown of the Madonna have a wonderfully luminous effect and the angel is all ivory white and shining silver.

I liked the Van Dyck double portrait of a seated couple, although it is not as magnificent as the NGV's two Van Dycks of the Countess of Southampton and the Earl of Pembroke. I was interested to see a group portrait by Joseph Highmore of his wife and two children aged about eight and five, because the NGV has portraits by him of Anthony and Susanna as adults. I bought the post card and I am going to take it along next time I go to the NGV, so I can compare their child portraits with the adult ones.

Another portrait that drew my attention was one by Nicolas de Largilliere, who also painted Crown Prince Frederick Augustus of Saxony (see WASP of April 2008). It is "Frances Woollascott, an Augustinian Nun" (1729). Frances' aunt was the Abbess of the Augustinian convent in Paris which sheltered many English-born nuns during this period.
There are some really good landscapes: those magnificent old show-offs Turner and Claude Lorrain doing their spectacular thing with light, but also some lovely Dutch ones by the two Van Ruysdaels and Philips Wouwerman – all subfusc foregrounds and skies full of roiling clouds.

Gainsborough's portrait of Madame Le Brun just confirms his reputation as the greatest portrait painter of the eighteenth century – "fluent and feathery brushwork full of grace and charm", the gallery's caption says, and I couldn't put it better myself.

I saw a number of paintings that were recently shown at the NGV as part of the British Artists exhibition, and I enjoyed looking at them again. Those of our memebrs who saw that exhibition will remember the Augustus John portrait of his son and Lucien Freud's "Boy with White Scarf".

Henri Fantin-Latour

The French painters have a corner to themselves: a little Renoir portrait of his son and a vase of white poppies by Henri Fantin-Latour both gave me a great deal of pleasure to look at. Poor old Fantin-Latour, he was so keen to be a prestigious painter of grand historical subjects and only dashed off his lovely little flower paintings because they were extremely lucrative – he didn't really think they were up to much compared to the Grand Historicals. Posterity decided otherwise. Pity he is dead now and can't see the error of his ways.
My favourite among the French paintings is "A Summer Night in Grave" by Ernest Victor Hareux, an enchanting view of a moonlit village street. I hadn't seen anything by Hareux before but I am keeping an eye out for him from now on.

Then there are the Rodins, of which the Adelaide Gallery has the largest collection outside France. (Or so they claim, and who am I to contradict them?) I was especially impressed by "The Three Shades", a group of three disconsolate figures, which was meant for the apex of a set of bronze doors called "The Gates of Hell". Just looking at them puts one in mind of Dante's "abandon hope all ye who enter". That old Frenchman had a real way with a chisel. Or a modelling tool in this case.

I can't leave the Adelaide Gallery without mentioning John William Waterhouse's "Circe Invidiosa". There she stands in her emerald robe, the beautiful, wicked sorceress - eight feet tall, crystal bowl in both hands, pouring her magic potion into the sea. It was one of the reproductions of famous paintings that my mother put on my bedroom wall when I was a child. I remember being fascinated by the rich greens of the water and Circe's robe, just as much as by the story my mother told me of how she poisoned the water to turn Scylla, her rival in love, into a hideous sea monster. At the time, I was a bit disappointed that he hadn't put the hideous sea monster into the painting as well. I never thought I would meet this picture from my childhood in Adelaide half a century later!

Next door to the Gallery, at the Adelaide Museum, there was an exhibition of Wildlife Photography sponsored by the BBC and the Natural History Museum, London. I do hope it comes to Melbourne – there are some marvellous photographs and I would like to see it again. In the meantime, you can have a look at all the prizewinning photos on the website – go to www.nhm.ac.uk/wildphoto and click on the "gallery" link.

Continuing the "Weird Signs in Adelaide" motif, the sign at the entrance to the wildlife photos informed us that "some subjects may be engaged in natural behaviour". (As opposed to what?) Much like the "this show contains sex, violence and bad language" warning before a TV programme.

Just as well I was warned to brace myself, but my husband still had to fan me with the catalogue when I saw a couple of stick insects engaging in what looked like extremely natural behaviour.
Hot tips of the month: If you should visit Adelaide, 1. don't drink the toilet water and 2. be sure to go to the market – it is an absolute cornucopia. Leaves Queen Vic in the shade, I'm sorry to say. Endearingly, the books, clothing and bric-a-brac stalls have signs that plead: "Please Do Not Steal". No threatening the punters with cameras or police, they just ask nicely! In the face of such politeness, who could stuff a lava lamp under their jumper?

"Treasures" a publication of the Art Gallery Board of South Australia
http://www.artgallery.sa.gov.au/

 

Miss Susanna Gale

Detail

Spotted at the NGV
Joshua Reynolds
Miss Susanna Gale c.1763-1764
oil on canvas 210 x 118.8cm

Miss Susanna Gale could have stepped out of the pages of a Georgette Heyer novel. Like many of Miss Heyer's heroines, she is young, beautiful and an heiress. When Reynolds painted this portrait of her in 1763, she was fourteen years old. Three years later, she was a widow.

Her full name was Susanna Hyde Gale, and she was the daughter of Francis Gale, a wealthy Jamaican plantation owner, and his wife, Susanna Hall. Susanna Gale's mother, the former Miss Hall of Hyde Hall, Jamaica, was an heiress in her own right, being the daughter of James Hall, who owned the only silver mine in Jamaica besides several other estates.


Reynolds painted Miss Gale's portrait in London, where she had travelled from Jamaica to complete her education. I presume she stayed with her mother's brother and his wife: her Uncle Cossley and Aunt Florence Hall, at their family home in fashionable Albemarle Street. She had five cousins: Rebecca, Elizabeth and Florence were about her own age but the two boys, William and John, were older.

The stay in a big London household would have been a totally new experience for Susanna, an only child. She was too young at 14 to "come out" in Society, but she would have been taken to the theatre and perhaps to private parties. Undoubtedly her aunt took her to some of the fashionable dressmakers and milliners of the day for ensembles like the pink one she is wearing in the painting. Money would not have been a problem!

Lady Worsley

We don't know how long she stayed in London, only that, after returning to Jamaica, she married Sabine Turner. I can find no trace of Sabine except that his Will was probated in Jamaica in 1766, when Susanna was 17 years old. They could not have been married for much more than a year when he died, if that. Perhaps he, too, was very young … he certainly had not had time to make his mark upon the world: that old gossip, Google, who usually has something to say about anybody who has the least claim to fame, only knows that he made a will.

Lavinia Spencer

Be that as it may, by 1769 Susanna had had three years to get over the loss of her first husband and she married 25-year-old Captain Alan Gardner, RN. This was a good move – the dashing captain certainly made his mark in the world. He had a meteoric career from Captain to Admiral and went on to become Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Navy in Jamaica. He was created the first Baron Gardner of Uttoxeter in 1806. He and Susanna, now Lady Gardner, had seven sons and a daughter: all of them fine, upstanding citizens who made advantageous marriages. One son followed in his father's footsteps by becoming an admiral and another had an illustrious career in the Royal Artillery. Three married into titled families. Miss Georgette Heyer, not to mention Miss Jane Austen, would have approved.

Lady Frances Finch

Lord Gardner died in 1809 at the age of 67, after an illustrious career. Lady Gardner, the former Miss Susanna Gale, outlived him by fourteen years and died in London at the age of 74.

I looked to see if I could find a picture of the present baron, thinking it would be interesting to see whether Susanna's descendant resembles her at all, but I found that the title died with Alan Legge Gardner, the 3rd Baron, in 1883. His family tree shows a son, Herbert Coulston Gardner, who outlived him and only died in 1921, so I was a bit flummoxed about why the Barony should have lapsed, until I discovered (courtesy of Gossip Google) that the third baron hadn't actually married Herbert's mother until two years after his birth, so Herbert and his two older sisters, Florence and Evelyn, were illegitimate. A bit harsh, I thought, that the Lord Chancellor or Black Rod or whoever wouldn't let poor old Herb inherit the title, just because his parents fetched up a bit late at the altar.

The stigma of the bend sinister didn’t seem to inhibit his sisters' marriage prospects, however. It helps to have pots of money! Florence married the Earl of Onslow and Evelyn married William Fuller-Maitland of Stansted Hall in Essex: no title, but a double-barreled surname and a Hall to live in doesn't sound like a mésalliance!

In fact, Herb himself came out of it quite well: he went to Harrow and Cambridge, became and MP and a Privy Councillor, married the Earl of Carnarvon's daughter and was created 1st Baron Burghclere of Walden in 1895. So yah boo and sucks to the Lord Chancellor and/or Black Rod.

By 1763, when Reynolds painted Susanna, he was in such demand that he fairly churned the portraits out, painting up to 150 sitters in one year, according to his notebooks. He required no more than three sittings: one sufficed for the face, and if it did not suit the subject's convenience to spend more time in sitting, then the rest of the portrait was finished using his servants and/or students as models.

He also streamlined his business by using the same settings and poses over again. In the case of Susanna Gale, he painted her in the same year as Mrs Thomas Riddell. He put them in much the same pose in a portico and against a nearly identical background. There are insignificant differences: for example, Mrs Riddell is holding a small basket of flowers, while Susanna is holding a rose, pink to match her gown.
The inspiration for both portraits was Anthony van Dyck's portrayal of the Marchesa Elena Grimaldi, a picture which Reynolds admired very much. Reynolds placed his sitters in a portico just as Van Dyck did, and they hold flowers as she does.

However, Reynolds' garden background is not as formal as the garden in Van Dyck's portrait - more of a landscape, which was the fashion with British portraitists at the time. As we saw in Rupert Bunny's portrait of Melba, the landscape setting enjoyed a bit of a resurgence during the Victorian era.

Next time you visit the NGV, drop in on fourteen-year-old Susanna, on the cusp of womanhood, looking serenely out of her frame with all the confidence of youth.

Here is a postscript to this article, in the form of an e-mail I received from Ann Farrington-Alt:

I'm an avid family genealogist and have been researching Susanna's first marriage to Sabine Turner. I wanted to commend Anna McClelland in her article that I read on your site. I was able, again thru Google, to find in an exerpt of the book 'The Records of the Honourable Society of Lincoln's Inn: Admissions Register: 1420-1893' the following information you might like to pass on to Anna. On May 9, 1757, Sabine Turner (gentleman) son of Robert T. Turner (late of Kingston, Jamaica) was admitted. In the National Archives online (under Documents Online) I was able to search for 'Robert Turner Kingston Jamaica' during the years 1700 to 1760 and found a 3 page lengthy Last Will and Testament to the tune of 710KB. It mentions Robert Turner being a merchant (probably very wealthy)...and that his Last Will and Testament was proved on 25 February 1756--the year before Sabine was accepted to Lincoln's Inn. I'm guessing that every wealthy merchant would want his son to become a leagal-eagle and know the laws..so my guess is that this was something planned by Robert for his son. How Sabine Turner died is another question that I have not been able to ascertain."Painting and Sculpture Before 1800" - NGV Publication
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alan_Gardner,_1st_Baron_Gardner
"A General and Heraldic Dictionary of the Peerrage and Baronetage of the British Empire" by John Burke, Esq

Crown Prince Frederick Augustus of Saxony

Crown Prince Frederick Augustus of Saxony 1714 -15
Nicolas de Largillierre
Oil on canvas 140.8 x 107cm

The NGV's impressive portrait of Fred hangs opposite "The Banquet of Cleopatra" by Tiepolo. He was the first owner of Tiepolo's painting, and he seems to contemplate it with proprietorial interest over the heads of the tourists and art lovers wandering about the room. Two and a half centuries ago, it hung in his hunting lodge at Hubertusberg, where he had to abandon it together with the rest of his collection when he fled to Poland at the outbreak of the Seven Years' War. It seems appropriate that he has on some metaphysical level been reunited with his property, albeit in a city that did not exist when he owned Cleopatra's Banquet.

You may think it unduly familiar of me to call His Gracious Majesty "Fred", but I don't have the stamina to refer to him by his rightful name of Prince Frederick Augustus II, by the grace of God King Augustus III of Poland, Grand Duke of Lithuania, Ruthenia, Galicia, Prussia, Masovia, Samogitia, Kyiv, Volhynia, Podolia, Podlachia, Livonia, Smolensk, Severia, Chernihiv, and hereditary Duke and Elector of Saxony, so he'll just have to put up with being Fred to us.
Nicolas de Largillierre was a member of the Académie Français and the leading portraitist of his day. He was adept at the flattering enhancement of his sitters' apearance, which may be part of the secret of his success in attracting wealthy patrons.

Fred sat for De Largillierre during the year he spent in Paris in 1714-15, when he was still Crown Prince. He was 19 years old at the time. At the age of 20, he married the Archduchess Maria Josepha of Austria, daughter of the Holy Roman Emperor Joseph I. They had fifteen children.

The portrait was intended to be a pendant to that of his father, who had all the same names as Fred, (just with different numbers). He was known as Augustus The Strong and liked to show off by straightening horse shoes with his bare hands. His pendant portrait is now in the collection of the Nelson-Atkins Museum in Kansas City.

The two portraits were painted at the same time – the sitters wearing similar armour and both sporting the sash of the Danish Order of the Elephant. They have a robust and confident air.

Painted against a stormy sky, Frederick Augustus (senior) points imperiously back into the landscape in a gesture of command. Frederick Augustus (jnr) has a more gentle expression, which seems to temper his power with benevolence despite his magnifencently regal bearing. Like his father, he was passionately interested in art and architecture. He amassed an impressive art collection and continued work on the fantastic baroque palaces his father started at Dresden and at Warsaw.

Together father and son created a collection of over 800 magnificent paintings, which can be seen today at the Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister in Dresden. The collection includes major works like Giorgione's Sleeping Venus and Raphael's Sistine Madonna, among other well-known works by the entire First Team of Old Masters.

Frederick Augustus jnr had no great interest in politics or the affairs of his dominions, preferring to concentrate on his other interests: hunting, the opera, and his art collection. He delegated most of his powers and responsibilities to Heinrich, Count von Brühl, who became quasi-dictator of Poland.

This slack attitude fostered internal political anarchy and the weakening of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. The thirty years of his reign saw the Seven Years' War and the partitioning of the Commonwealth among its neighbouring countries. His eldest surviving son, Frederick Christian, eventually succeeded his father as Elector of Saxony, but not as King of Poland.

The NGV acquired the portrait through the Everard Studley Miller Bequest, and the dull gold frame is the original 18th century French one, which is why I didn't crop it out. It is interesting to see how it sets off the splendor of the painting's Royal subject.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/August_II_the_Strong
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Augustus_III_of_Poland
"Painting and Sculpture before 1800 in the International Collections of the NGV" : NGV Publication.

"Cleopatra's Banquet" at the NGV

Detail of Cleopatra's face

 To see Our Kylie or Our Nicole, you mostly have to stand in line and buy a ticket, but you can go and see Our Cleopatra free of charge at the NGV any time you like. Like Our Kylie and Our Nic, Our Cleopatra is a blue-eyed blonde. Not the colouring I would have expected in a Greek/Egyptian lass, but maybe things were different in those days: how would I know?

The banquet scene depicted by Tiepolo takes place during Antony and Cleopatra's "honeymoon winter" of 50BC, when they spent their time in extravagant pursuits ~ sailing in her barge with the sails drenched in perfume, gambling and dining lavishly. Cleopatra is said to have bet Antony that she could host the most expensive banquet in history. Plancus, Antony's secretary, was to be the umpire.

Plancus. (detail)

When the queen dissolved one of her priceless pearl earrings in wine vinegar and drank the sludge, Plancus ruled in her favour. (It seems that it is actually possible to dissolve a pearl in vinegar, but only if you crush it finely first. It is mostly calcium so drinking it can't hurt you, except in the wallet.)

Tiepolo's "Banquet of Cleopatra and Antony" is one of the showpieces of the NGV, and it came to us through a lucky combination of circumstances.
Between 1742 and 1747 Tiepolo painted several versions of the banquet, each slightly different from the others: ours was painted in 1744. Other versions are to be seen in London, Milan, Moscow and Stockholm, perhaps the most famous one being the huge fresco in the Palazzo Labia in Venice. It is interesting that Tiepolo included a self-portrait in the fresco: he is the middle one of three onlookers in the detail below

The guy in the middle is a self-portrait of Tiepolo

Inspired by the fresco, in 1951 the Mexican millionaire Don Carlos de Beistegui threw a lavish costume ball in the Palazzo Labia. It was one of the biggest high-society social events of the 20th century. International socialites who were not invited, threatened suicide. Lady Diana Cooper came as Cleopatra, in a gown designed by Oliver Messel. Other costumes were designed by Dior, Salvador Dali and Pierre Cardin, all of whom were among the upper-crust guests. Cecil Beaton, dressed as a French curè, photographed the event. Just one of his photos, depicting Baron Alexis de Rede as the Emperor of China, recently fetched € 4.320 (or $A7,000) at Sotheby's. Sure beats selling your wedding pictures to Woman's Weekly!

Augustus III of Poland by Nicolas de Largillierre

Augustus III, King of Poland and Elector of Saxony, appointed Count Francesco Algarotti to buy a collection of old masters and contemporary masterpieces for his new museum at Dresden. Algarotti commissioned three paintings from Tiepolo, who was rather over-committed and pressed for time. A king trumps a count, so Tiepolo gave Algarotti the Banquet of Cleopatra, which he had painted for Count Bruhl. The painting did not join the collection at Dresden but went to the king's hunting lodge at Hubertusburg. At the outbreak of the Seven Years War (no, don't ask! It involved Prussia and Austria, is all I know. Maybe one of them had Weapons of Mass Destruction hidden in the woodpile) Saxony was devastated, Augustus fled to Poland and in 1765 the Hubertusburg paintings were sold at auction in Amsterdam. Our Cleo was Lot 54 and sold for 495 florins to P. Yver. Until recently it was wrongly believed that he sold it on to Catherine the Great of Russia.

It subsequently came into the possession of Niccolo Leonelli, a Venetian dealer, who held a spectacular sale in St Petersburg in 1817. The sale included 22 works by Tiepolo, including Our Cleo's Banquet, which was bought by the Tsar Paul I, son of Catherine the Great. Paul is said to have had the painting placed on a ceiling of the Mikhailovsky Castle. During conservation at Melbourne, damage from nails found at the edges of the canvas bears this out. After Paul I's death it went to the Hermitage, where it was displayed until Stalin took power. It was then de-accessioned together with a great many other pictures that did not conform to the Stalinist ideology and were considered decadent.

As a means of obtaining foreign currency, the Soviet Government sold hundreds of masterpieces from Russian Museums bewteen 1925 and 1935. In 1931 an agent of the Hermitage Museum opened negotiations with the National Gallery in London for the sale of Tiepolo's Banquet. One of the Gallery Trustees, Lord Duveen, visited the Hermitage to inspect the painting and warmly recommended its purchase at £30,000. So far, so good.

But then, luckily for Melbourne, the infighting and backstabbing started among the Curators, the Trustees of the Gallery and the senior civil servants at the Treasury. Each faction was hell-bent on putting a spoke in the other's wheel. It didn't matter whether the picture was good or bad, all that mattered was that the opponents shouldn't get their way. Such spite and pettiness as you wouldn't see on the worst day in a boarding school for spoilt teenage girls. I'll spare you the details.

Just when several protagonists were on the verge of legal action, Sir Charles Holmes saved the day. He was a consultant in London to the National Gallery of Victoria as an adviser to the Felton Bequest buyers. He wrote an enthusiastic report in favour of acquiring the Tiepolo, it was bought for £25,000, and Our Cleo came to live in Melbourne. She arrived on the SS Orford in November 1933, together with the Rembrandt self-portrait, which at £21,500 was the second most expensive work acquired until then. Arthur Streeton peevishly claimed the Tiepolo's price was unjustified and compared the work unfavourably with murals by Puvis de Chavannes.

The Melbourne Banquet returned to London in 1954 where it was exhibited at the Royal Academy and recognised by Antonio Morassi, the greatest of all Tiepolo scholars, as "one of the noblest masterpieces of European painting of its time."

Sadly, Arthur Streeton is no longer around to eat his words. All of the above, and lots more, you can read in a fascinating and very beautiful book called "Tiepolo's Cleopatra" by Jaynie Anderson. Get it from your library and enjoy.

"Blue, the History of a Color" by Michel Pastoureau

BLUE: The inside storyBefore the 12th century, blue was not a colour. It was not used in ancient cave paintings or rock art, nor was it used when the first dyeing techniques appeared, about 4 millennia BC. This despite the fact that blue is present in natural elements that go back to the earth's formation. Blue had no place in social life, religion or art.

Many Victorian researchers have wondered if the people of antiquity could even see the colour blue, since ancient languages have no word for it.

Red, white and black were the basic colours of ancient cultures. Blue, yellow and green served no function on a social or symbolic level.

The classic Greek authors used the word kyaneos, which meant a dark colour: it could be violet or black or brown. For the Romans, blue was the barbarians' colour: the Celts and Germans dyed their faces blue to terrify their opponents.
In the High Middle Ages, red was the colour of the nobility, while the dull blue of woad was the colour of servants and lower ranks.

In the 8th century, the Church started to use gold and bright colours for liturgical vestments. Ecclesiastical texts of the time discuss the meaning and symbolism of up to 12 colours, but blue is not among them.

Blue was, however, not completely absent from art: it was used in early Christian mosaics and illumination, but its use was marginal.

In the 12th century, blue was suddenly "discovered" and within a few decades attained a prominent place in painting, heraldry and clothing. Previously, the Virgin Mary was always clad in dark colours: black, grey, violet, dark red or dark green. Now her clothing became blue: initially a dark blue, which gradually tended to become brighter and clearer, because luminosity was a form of divine illumination. The growing cult of the Virgin assured the success of this limpid blue, and it quickly spread to other areas of the arts, like glass and enamel.

Heraldry, too, reflected blue's new status. Around 1200, blue appears in only 5% of coats of arms: by the 15th century, that number had increased to 40%.
The new vogue for blue was given an important boost by the kings of France, who chose gold fleurs de lis on a "royal" blue background as their coat of arms.
The wearing of blue garments by the upper classes was helped by the discovery of indigo as a dye. It produces a deep, solid blue that saturates silk, wool and cotton fabrics without requiring a mordant. This was far superior to the duller blue of woad, which was prone to fading.

By the end of the Middle Ages, blue had become the colour of kings, while red remained the colour of the papacy.

In modern times, blue in all its different shades, is the most common colour for Western dress. Since opinion polls started in 1890, blue has remained the favourite colour of adults in Western Europe and the US: over 50% choose it. Green is next at 20%, followed by white and red at 8% each.

Other cultures have other preferences: Latin America prefers red, in Japan white comes first and in African cultures it seems that the actual colour is not as important as whether it is dull or shiny, smooth or rough.
Interestingly, children of all cultures prefer red to any other colour.

Find out a lot more about the fascinating history of Blue when you read "Blue, the History of a Color" by Michel Pastoureau: in this little article I haven't even scratched the surface of this interesting and informative book with its beautiful illustrations.

Madame Melba (1901-1902) by Rupert Bunny

Helen Porter Mitchell was born in 1861 in Melbourne, the city from which she derived her professional surname. "Nell" or "Nellie" is a nickname for Helen. I can't think why she didn't just keep Helen Mitchell instead of becoming Nellie Melba – perhaps she thought "Melba" had an exotic touch that Mitchell lacked, but what about Nellie? Surely Helen has more grace and gravitas: Helen of Troy, Helen Keller … somehow Nellie smacks more of downstairs than upstairs.

Nevertheless, exit Helen Mitchell, while Nellie Melba went on to a stellar career. She was the acknowledged prima donna at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, well into the 1920s. She was feted all over the world, and her recordings always cost at least one shilling more than any other singer's, having their own distinctive mauve label as well.

Melbourne had to wait nearly a century for another of its singing daughters to make the international big time, when Our Kylie swept all before her. (I'm not counting Joan Sutherland – she comes from Sydney!) It must be said that unlike Kylie, Dame Nellie did not market her own line of sexy undies, but they did both have a weakness for Frenchmen. Dame Nellie, who was famous for upstaging her co-performers, easily trumped Kylie's Olivier Martinez with her own Philippe, Duke of Orleans, the Bourbon pretender to the French throne. She had a torrid and scandalous affaire with His Grace. They travelled romantically across Europe to St Petersburg in a private train carriage and were frequently seen together in a box at the opera, causing a lot of nudging and whispering in the stalls.

I don’t need to elaborate on Madame Melba's illustrious career other than to say that everything about it was superlative … other stars may have food named after them by any old chef, but Peach Melba and Melba Toast were created by none other than Escoffier; others may have a street named after them, but Nellie has a highway and a suburb; others may be made Dames Commander of the British Empire, but Nellie's plain Dameship was soon upgraded to Dame Grand Cross. The five-dollar note will do for Queen Elizabeth, but Nellie's face is on the $100 note, and that only because the Australian mint did not feel it necessary to print a thousand-dollar note (and I hope to goodness they may never have to!)

Others had their portraits done, but Dame Nellie is one of only two singers with a marble bust in the foyer of the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, and her portrait was painted by no lesser painter than Rupert Bunny.
Since the 1880s, Melba and Bunny met frequently in Paris and London. He was not just a painter but a talented musician and composer. Melba was so impressed by his piano playing that she offered him the post of her accompanist. Luckily for us he declined.

Bunny began the portrait in Paris in 1901, but did not complete it until Melba could give him a final couple of sittings in London the following year. It was shown at The Royal Academy in 1902, just when Melba was at the zenith of her career.

She had just begun her musical partnership with the great Caruso, whom she cordially disliked. She found him coarse and uncultivated. She was not amused when, during a performance of La Bohème, he pressed a hot sausage, that he'd hidden in his pocket, into her hand as he sang "Che gelida manina, se la lasci riscaldar."("What a cold little hand, let me warm it")

Rupert Bunny painted her in the grand manner of Reynolds, in a regal pose befitting the Grande Dame of opera and society that she was. Madame looks down imperiously at the viewer, further emphasizing her exalted status. She is opulently clad in a flowing white gown with silk stole, priceless rope of pearls and a flamboyant hat.

The setting is an open, romantic landscape, with summer clouds over a low horizon. The landscape setting was popular with 18th century portraitists, allowing the gentry and nobility to display their affinity with the land at their country estates. During the Victorian era, these "outdoor leisure" portraits enjoyed a resurgence of popularity.

We owe it to the philanthropist Henry Krongold that the portrait is today hanging at the NGV where we can all enjoy it. The NGV's catalogue, as catalogues do, just gives the barest detail: "purchased through the Art Foundation of Victoria with the assistance of Dinah and Henry Krongold CBE".
It is by the merest chance that I happened to be reading Henry Krongold's memoirs recently, and I was most interested to learn how it happened than Henry and Dinah rescued Nellie from a horrible fate: " … we heard that Rupert Bunny's portrait of Dame Nellie Melba needed refurbishment", he says.
" It belonged to J.C. Williamson and hung on a staircase at the Princess Theatre, where it was much stained by tobacco smoke. I went to [the gallery's president] and I said: 'Keith, the gallery should have this painting. On the staircase it rots'. "

Endearingly, he adds; "We'll pay for it … That's the amount we can give you for it so don't go into valuations!" He doesn't say what the amount was, but obviously no quibbling was allowed.

The painting was presented to the Gallery in Henry and Dinah Krongold's name on 28 May 1980, in front of 3,000 people. He doesn't say where the venue was, but it was clearly a glittering occasion – he mentions that the Queen was present and that her diamond and ruby tiara and necklace outshone everybody else's jewels. Well, they would, wouldn't they?

"They were large rubies", Henry says. "Duck-egg rubies they are called". I wonder if he confused his poultry and meant pigeon's blood rubies? Wouldn't duck egg rubies be a wee bit ostentatious? He mentions that her diamonds were large too, but thankfully he doesn't say anything like: "half-a-house-brick diamonds they are called".

While the NGV was being rebuilt, the painting hung at Government House. Henry was invited by the then Governor, Sir James Gobbo, to a dinner. "There were a hundred people", he says, "at a long table. I was placed right opposite Dame Nellie. At the end of the dinner, Sir James praised me and Dinah for it."
Henry's memoirs are a delight to read. Next time they have an open day at Govt House, I am going to have a look at the table that can seat a hundred people. Henry has many enchanting anecdotes to recount – he and the Queen are practically best friends, he is always meeting her. He tells how she often slips a foot out of her shoe and wiggles it a bit before slipping it back in. I know he is telling the truth, because I saw her do just that at a Buckingham Palace garden party. (Didn't know about the exalted circles I move in, did you?) That woman's feet must kill her, poor thing, I don’t know why she doesn't team a nice pair of Reeboks with the duck egg rubies.

The Royal Opera House borrowed the portrait in 1982 to display it in an exhibition at the Royal Academy. Henry proudly tells us that it was highly acclaimed by all who saw it, and one critic particularly admired her "voluptuous lips". Madame would not have welcomed such presumption!

"Henry Krongold: Memoirs" told to James Mitchell: Allen and Unwin, 2003
"The Edwardians: Secrets and Desires", National Gallery of Australia, 2004
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nellie_Melba

Role Play: Photographic Portrait Exhibition at the NGV

Role Play: Portrait PhotograhyNGV Level 3 Until 6 April 2008

A small, but thought-provoking exhibition and one which definitely merits a visit if you are near the NGV and have half an hour to spare.

The photographers concentrated on the "role playing" aspect of their sitters, and the portraits are divided into three broad groups: allegorical, theatrical/celebrity and portraits that illustrate social typecasting. I found it interesting to see the very different approaches taken by nineteenth-century and contemporary photographers.

The Victorian photographer Oscar Rejlander undertook genre work and portraiture at his photography studio. His contribution to the current exhibition is "The Virgin in Prayer" (1857) for which he posed his model to emulate the delicately beautiful "Madonna in Prayer" by Sassoferrato, which is part of the NGV's permanent collection.
Oscar Rejlander was a painter before he switched to photography, and he always attempted to push photography beyond documentation and into the realm of High Art. He maintained that the photographer was not any less qualified than the painter to represent the piety of the Virgin or any other "noble subject". (He didn't mention the kiddie porn that he called Erotic Poses, using street children and child prostitutes as models.)

It has been said that: "before photoshop, there was Rejlander." He pioneered the use of photographic manipulation and retouching and he created elaborate montages, the most famous of which is "The Two Ways of Life", an allegorical picture in which a young man is shown sinful pleasures on the one side and virtuous ones on the other. This picture was much in the vein of the allegorical paintings which were so popular at the time.

Henry Peach Robinson was another Victorian photgrapher who portrayed allegorical subjects, in the manner of the Pre-Raphaelites, whom he admired. "Elaine watching the shield of Lancelot" (1859) was one of his illustrations for Tennyson's poems.
"Elaine the fair, Elaine the loveable …", indeed! Elaine the gormless would be a much better description in my view. I have never had any patience with that silly young woman. Just look at her mooning over the shield of the arch-cad Lancelot.

William Wegman (1943 - ) takes a much more light-hearted approach: he likes to dress up and photograph his two Weimaraners, Man Ray and Fay Ray. I really liked Fay Ray as the hippie Jane Fonda character from "Barefoot in the Park". (I suspect he named her after Fay Wray, who screamed so famously in the original King Kong.)
The celebrity photographs are all of people who are celebrated for actually achieving something other than going to nightclubs, sniffing coke and wearing their underwear on the outside. (No offence, Britney and Paris!)

There are some iconic shots of people like Garbo, Noel Coward, Katherine Hepburn and Luisa Casati, but the one that grabbed my attention was a haunting study by Giséle Freud of Virginia Woolf, the famous profile emanating an air of aloof introspection.
I also liked the series of wardrobe stills of Ava Gardner modelling the various outfits she wore in "On The Beach". It seems that the critics all remarked on how well she acted and how unglamorous she looked in the film, but they must have been looking at a different Miss Gardner – to me she is glamour personified.
They don't make actresses like the screen goddesses of the fifties any more! Oh, well, autres temps, autres moeurs … you can’t expect high-octane glamour from women who want to be called actors and don't seem to own a hairbrush.
The last section was perhaps the most interesting, with portraits and composites purporting to illustrate various "types" from the era when phrenology was still considered scientifically valid.
There is a montaged dual portrait by Nicholas White, of Ellen Tremayne, who lived as a man for most of her life. She is standing beside her alter ego Edward de Lacy Evans: champion ploughman, mining captain, married man and father. The mind boggles.

She was married three times in her Edward Evans persona : her first 'wife' was one Mary Delahunty, who left the marriage in 1862. No, not to take up her seat in the State Parliament, but to marry Lyman Oatman Hart, an American mining surveyor in Daylesford. Evans' second 'wife' died of tuberculosis in 1867. When her third ‘wife’, Julia Marquand, gave birth to a child in March 1878, Evans registered herself as the father. She died in 1901 in Melbourne.

I also liked the 1850s photo, by an unknown American photographer, of two boxers squaring off. I can just see the photographer told them to hold still for sixty seconds! The boxer on the left reminds me irresistibly of Dame Edna asking a member of her audience: "Who does your hair, Dear? The Council?"

Finally, there is the dramatic picture by Davies & Co. of the stage magician, Dr H.S. Lynn, with his head neatly tucked under his arm in the approved fashion of headless ghosts everywhere. This gives an entirely new meaning to the concept of "having his head screwed on properly"!


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oscar_Gustave_Rejlanderhttp://www.pbs.org/art21/artists/wegman/index.htmlRole Play: portrait Photograp[hy (NGV P{ublication)http://calisto.slv.vic.gov.au/latrobejournal/issue/latrobe-69/t1-g-t9.html

"Modern Britain" Exhibition

The exhibition traces the development of British art and society across six decades and includes over 250 works from the holdings of major public collections across Australia and New Zealand.
One visit is not really enough to appreciate the exhibition fully – there is too much to absorb in one go. It is displayed in two parts – the "Britian at War" section is across the foyer from the main part in the usual exhibition space and is a significant exhibition in its own right.

As you walk in, you know you have hit pay dirt right away: Sam Peploe opens the batting for the Edwardians with four jewel-like still-lifes, highlighted dramatically against dark backgrounds. I am very partial to the post-impressionists and here are some outstanding examples of the way they emphasize geometric shapes and distort form for expressive effect, while continuing to use the vivid colours of the Impressionists.

I particularly liked his "Still life – Apples and Jar" which came from the Art Gallery of NSW. Its glowingly simple shapes within black outlines bring stained glass to mind and is a nod to Cézanne whom Peploe much admired.
It is amazing to think that his art dealer, Peter Dott, was so appalled and scandalised by these bold forms that he cancelled the solo exhibition he had scheduled for Peploe at his gallery. (Not unlike the publisher who knocked back Harry Potter.)

Still among the Edwardians, there were three portraits that stood out for me: "La Belle Chauffeuse" by William Nicholson, "The Black Hat" by George Henry and the compelling "Professor Smith" by Oswald Birley.

Nicholson's portrait of the playwright Sylvia Bristowe, fashionably dressed in the coat and scarf of the female motorist, portrays the modern Edwardian woman: she has means of her own, drives her car and looks out of the frame with serene confidence.

"The Black Hat" (1910) depicts an elegant, sophisticated society lady of the period, sumptuously painted. I was reminded of the lush society portraits of the same era by Sargent and Boldini, painted to hang in the town and country houses of the Great and the Good.

Critics often complained that George Henry's "luminously harmonious portraits" were too decorative to be real portraits. His philosophy, however, was "there is no reason why a portrait should not be a piece of decoration, while preserving the character of the subject". Onya, George! Down with the critics - I enjoy looking at his lovely "decorations".

In Oswald Birley's portrait, "Professor Smith", the subject, with Punch by his side, looks enigmatically at the viewer. Punch and Judy puppeteers are traditionally given the courtesy title of "Professor". Despite the Punch and Judy show being part of a carnival, I found the picture a bit edgy and eerie rather than light-hearted: the underlying violence and brutality in Punch and Judy has always evoked more unease than humour in me, and that is perhaps why I find the professor's faintly menacing air fascinating.

There are some very interesting examples of work by the Bloomsbury Group and the Camden Town group, but I will skip lightly over those, except to mention a lovely little still life, "Jug and Eggs" by Roger Fry, which I have much admired in Adelaide's excellent art gallery and was happy to see again. I like the way he painted the frame in a chequerboard pattern.

There are a number of excellent portraits by both Gwen and Augustus John – the one that held my attention was "Poppet ", a portrait by Augustus John of his daughter. John had five children by his wife Ida and three by his mistress Dorelia – they all lived together and he liked to use his family as subjects.

I was struck by the similarities as well as the contrast between the portrait of Augustus John's son Robin and the "Boy with white scarf" by Lucien Freud painted some 30 years later. Both are realistically portrayed: Augustus John at that time was influenced by Italian Renaissance art, and Lucien Freud's meticulously detailed realism and palette of cool neutral colours made me think: "Hah! He's been looking at Ingres!"

Robin, a schoolboy just before the first World War, has a look of tranquil innocence – the scar on his upper lip the result of his love of tree-climbing. Freud's sitter, Charlie, a young petty criminal from a large disadvantaged family, lacks the aura of innocence: behind his defiant gaze lies a wealth of experience and disillusionment. Done more bag-snatching than tree-climbing in his day, would be my tip.

"The Interval Before Round Ten" (1919-20) by William Roberts, caught my eye. It is a very energetic compsition in the Modernist manner, all angular forms and dramatic movement, showing helpers in the boxing ring waving towels to cool the boxers down. I liked the spectators in the foreground: they reminded me of John Brack's rush hour crowd in "Collins Street, 5pm".


There are some beautiful landscapes: my favourite ones are "The Icknield Way" by Spencer Gore, with its intense colours and dramatic sky, and "The Cliff Road" by Graham Sutherland: a strangely ominous picture that drew me to return several times for another look. It belongs to the NGV – I can't imagine why I haven't seen it before: I positively haunt the place!

I was entranced by a collection of linocuts, a medium which flourished between the World Wars. They are full of rhythm and energy - I liked the Art Deco-ish designs and the lovely muted colours.

There were four L.S.Lowrys, one of which, "A Man Taken Ill", belongs to the NGV, but the others come from WA and New Zealand and I hadn't seen them before. Lowry is always a treat for me. I know he is all about illness and accidents and the "dark satanic mills", but his pictures never make me feel depressed – on the contrary, I like all those ordinary people (and the kids with balloons and the babies in prams and the dogs) going about their daily business.

In the "Nudes" section, I found it interesting to see how the modernists harked back to the Old Masters: Matthew Smith uses a zaftig model in the Rubens style for his "Nude with Pearl Necklace" ; for "The Straw Hat", Mark Gertler consciously chooses the same kind of healthy, voluputous model as Renoir, whom he greatly admired and Rodrigo Moynihan, with his "Model Resting", is not the first painter to echo Manet and Goya. The one that stood out for me was "Study from the Human Body" by Francis Bacon. It is a heavy male figure in dark tones, seen from behind, partly concealed by filmy curtains. There is a poignant sense of melancholy about the figure, who seems about to walk out of view.

I have to touch briefly on the "World War II" section, which warrants a visit of its own. I found Louis Duffy's "Christ Evicting the Money Changers" particularly apt – a modern allegory depicting munitions being traded in a graveyard. The painting resonates with the embattled times we live in, constantly beset with fat cats making money out of young men being killed in unnecessary wars.

Stella Bowen made preliminary sketches for a group portrait of an air crew from 460 Squadron at Binbrook RAF Station, just before they flew on their next bombing operation over Germany. The seven airmen, one British and six Australians, did not return and her "Bomber Crew", became a memorial painting. Their names are on their helmets and on the ribbon at the foot of the picture. The picture hangs in the Australian War Memorial in Canberra.

Graham Sutherland's pictures of bombed-out buildings under the collective title "Devastation", are dark, bleak and terrible. By contrast, John Piper's paintings of the aftermath of bombing raids concentrated more on the bits that survived.

"Toller Parsonage" and "Binham Abbey, Norfolk" are two of his works that I particularly admired.

There are pictures of exhausted sailors resting on deck; of soldiers manning artillery; of fighting men in the desert, in the air and at sea, as well as of civilians living their lives as best they can among the chaos of conflict.

It is a collection that gives a good overview of Britian at war, and can only make those of us who have never had to live through a war, extremely grateful that we have been spared that experience.

"Modern Britian" is such a large exhibition that I can't possibly describe all the goodies on offer – I haven't even mentioned the delightful Tristram Hilliers, the wonderful Henry Moore sketches, drawings and sculptures; the design section featuring Clarice Cliff, Wedgewood and Staffordshire bowls, jugs and plates; the Abstract and Surrealist section … you will have to go and see for yourself. Looking at art is a very subjective experience, and there are probably many things I have overlooked which you would enjoy.

I recognised many favourites borrowed from our own NGV collection and thought again how lucky we are to have such a wonderful body of work on permanent display right here in St Kilda Rd and at Fed Square, to visit whenever we like, free of charge!

"Modern Britian 1900-1960" by Ted Gott, Laurie Benson, Sophie Matthiesson NGV Publication 2007"Gallery" Magazine Nov/Dec 2007"Gallery" Magazine Jan/Feb 2008

Free Counter