Astonished by Goya; Creeped out by Goya

Astonished by Goya; Creeped out by Goya

The excellent catalogue that accompanies the excellent exhibition, Goya: the Portraits, at the National Gallery contains a passage that is key to understanding Goya’s power as a portraitist.

The catalogue refers to the series of etchings that Goya published at the end of the C18, Los Caprichos (not included in the Exhibition). In Goya’s own words (promoting the collection commercially): “He [Goya] has selected from among the innumerable foibles and follies to be found in any civilised society … those subjects he feels to be most suitable materials for satire…”. One of the etchings shows a monkey painting the portrait of an ass.

I am not unwell; I am off to Hospital

I am not unwell; I am off to Hospital

I am spending increasing amounts of time having bits of me checked out. I don’t know whether it’s my age, or a policy adopted by my GP surgery, but I keep getting referred to specialists. This is not because of illness. They say that this or that should be “investigated”, just in case: cholesterol, moles, eye, blood pressure – that sort of thing. Specialists require other specialist input to do their work – scans, blood tests, dieticians.

Hepworth; Greenwich; English Touring Opera - an Autumn Miscellany

Hepworth; Greenwich; English Touring Opera – an Autumn Miscellany

Tate Britain – Barbara Hepworth

Tate Britain on a rainy Monday is not crowded, even when it is hosting a fairly prestigious exhibition of works by Barbara Hepworth. The clientele, if that’s an appropriate word, are pretty homogenous – or, to be precise, fall largely into one of two homogenous groups. One group comprises art students, A Level students I should guess at the time of my visit, equipped with sketchpads. They had a tendency to block access to one side of sculptural exhibits by standing immobile, absorbed in drawing.

Cambridge by Train and Bike

Cambridge by Train and Bicycle

If you take away the crowds, the railway station at Cambridge could be admired for the pleasing Victorian structure it is, low rise and far-flung (an extremely long “double” main platform where two trains can pull up nose to tail).

Alas, the crowds cannot be taken away, and, so it seems, forever congest the small ticket hall and jostle through the narrow doors to and from the platforms.

Asides from Glyndebourne #2

Asides from Glyndebourne #2

A second outing to Glyndebourne (see previous blog July 2015), this time by taxi from a Lewes B&B.

Alas, no warm sunny weather this time _ rather, intermittent fine drizzle floated in from the Downs. So, the lawns were largely empty, apart from some hardy hold-outs, among whom we were numbered. A picnic blanket with a reasonably waterproof backing and a golf umbrella balance on a low stone wall provided a dryish encampment, supplemented by cagoules. Good subject-matter for a Bateman cartoon.

Preservation of a massacre: Oradour-sur-Glane

Preservation of a Massacre: Oradour-sur-Glane, France

I spent much of my childhood visiting the sites of battle. This wasn’t because of any unhealthy obsession on my part (though obsessions can doubtless be inculcated) but because my father was a career army officer, and my mother’s father also. They had both served in the Second World War, which in the 50s and 60s was very close in recent history (although to the mind of a child growing up in peaceful England, or even in army quarters in relatively peaceful Germany, it was an incomprehensible distance away).

VENICE MISCELLANY

VENICE MISCELLANY

The Selfies of Venice

If it is true that to photograph someone is to capture a bit of their soul (as some societies have believed), then Venice metaphorically has had its soul sucked out many, many times over. But these days, it is tourists’ souls which mass in forlorn invisible pieces in the City’s main thoroughfares and sites.