I was lucky to capture a burst of the setting sunlight against a cloudy evening.
At Trafalgar Square.
A personal blog exploring art history (especially the Dutch Golden Age), museums, culture, and travel.
I was lucky to capture a burst of the setting sunlight against a cloudy evening.
At Trafalgar Square.
This is the from the blockbuster Van Gogh exhibition last year at the National Gallery:
I felt a bit embarrassed. 😔
I think Van Gogh would be shocked by what’s been done to his work.
His sunflowers motif were a lifelong, almost spiritual, expression of “gratitude” of being face to face with nature. E.g. see Gauguin’s depiction of Van Gogh’s magnum opus. The power of his art comes from his energy and excitement; and Van Gogh was a troubled soul.
Quite a lot of his paintings were done in an asylum, and it feels v. disrespectful to slap his face and works on tacky bags, jewelry, kitchen towels, tea matts, and everything else etc.
Van Gogh always wanted “validation” (esp. among the respectable Paris salons), but he certainly had a respect for art.
I get museums are strapped for cash, but is it too much? 🤔
From the Tate.
I don’t enjoy the chaos & nor do I really appreciate the appeal.
But I can see how revolutionary it was in art history.
No doubt a reflection of the world during the atomic age. The nuclear arms race, power of electrons and molecular matter. Artists from this era lived through two world wars, the Holocaust and the Great Depression. How do you make art that is meaningful? The expressionists turned inwards to themselves, and painted what they felt instead.
To me, a bit cheap and cheerful - more of a craft than art.

I saw this at the Wallace Collection. It’s a historically significant work of art.
Carle van Loo was part of the 18th century French Rococo movement, and especially the “Turquerie” trend of the time.
This was a European artistic trend for “Oriental” scenes (v. popular in the 18th century). It was a reflection of the French aristocracy’s fascination with the exotic East. And, as the Wallace Collection argue, one of the “best examples of the Turquerie”. It was exhibited at the Salon of 1737 and was one of a famous pair.
The “mistress” is singing positioned to the left of the Grand Turk, leaning in towards a musical score. Laden with symbolism.
Wow. Saw this stunning object at the V&A in London.
The Eltenberg Reliquary is a magnificent 12th-century masterpiece of Rhenish Romanesque art - 1180 AD.
Probably used to house sacred relics, e.g. the Eucharist.
Has that Byzantine dome, gilded bronze, exquisitely carved ivory ...
It shows how redundant our views of the Middle Ages as the ‘Dark Ages’, as little more than mud and superstition.
I took this photo earlier this week around midnight.
Designed by Christopher Wren, and modelled on St Peter’s in Rome.
Famous masterpiece by Paolo Uccello. I saw this at the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford.
Uccello was one of the early pioneers of linear perspective in art, and he used this painting to show off. All lines converge at a single vanishing point deep in the pitch-black center of the forest.
Just saw this YouTube video.
A theatre showing of Caravaggio’s “living paintings” 😁
My favourite statute at the British Museum.
This is a statue of Ganymede (Roman copy of Greek original).
Ganymede was a Greco-Romano coda or symbol of same-sex attraction in classical mythology and art. (Technically, not "homosexuality" as we understand it today.)
But, I like to us gays represented, and looking gorgeous. 😎
I came across this beautiful encyclopedia by Bernard de Montfaucon at the BM.
It was lent to the British Museum by the House of Commons Library.
It’s quite famous scholarly work: L’Antiquité expliquée et représentée en figures.
Written in French, and surprisingly, it can still be read - even by me with my so-so French.
What is remarkable is that Montfaucon, a Benedictine monk, meticulously gathered thousands of images of classical antiquities from private collections all across Europe, and categorised them systematically. Many of these artifacts he documented have since been lost or destroyed, so we owe him a debt of gratitude.
Montfaucon’s engravings on the right refer to statutes he found on the mystery cult of Sabazios of the Roman Empire.
The bronze hands were probably left standing upright on an altar in a temple as a permanent votive asking the god Sabazios for protection or thanking him for a blessing.
An exquisite object I came across at the British Museum.
This monument was for personal religious devotion. From 1792BC–1750BC.
Ancient Mesopotamians hammer-and-chiseled it. A terrific level of craftsmanship.
The figure on the left is King Hammurabi himself, shown in a classic profile with his right hand raised in a gesture of prayer or worship.
The Code of Hammurabi is one of the oldest written sets of laws in human history. King Hammurabi is shown receiving laws from the sun god Shamash. It is now in the Louvre Museum, Paris. (I have been twice, and have missed IT on both occasions — too focused on the art! 😏)
The British Museum has some of the most exquisite collections of Ancient art.
The chapel-tomb of Nebamun is a masterpiece.
Nebamun was an ancient Egyptian official and scribe. Today, he is famous for the incredible discovery of the richly decorated - and now lost - Tomb of Nebamun in Thebes. The tomb’s walls were covered with high-quality fresco paintings considered by scholars to be the chef-d’oeuvre of ancient Egyptian art.
The paintings are incredible, especially when you realise they were painted around 1350 BC - making it over 3,370 years old! 😎
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So beautiful.
Nebamun is depicted hunting in the marshes, powerful and strong. In his small raft, with his wife Hatshepsut next to him, and their young daughter holding onto him.
What marks this art as remarkable is its move away from rigid formal stylised depictions of the Old Kingdom to more lifelike and sensory art.
The ginger cat catching three birds at once in the papyrus thicket is iconic.
It reminds me of modern art.
As the British Museum notes:
Fertile marshes were a place of rebirth and eroticism, making this more than a simple image of recreation. The huge striding figure of Nebamun dominates, forever happy and forever young, surrounded by the rich and teening life of the marsh. Hunting not only supplied food but represented Nebamun’s triumph over the forces of chaos.
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This scene shows an official inspecting fields.
Nebamun was the accountant in charge of grain at the great Temple of Amun at Thebes (Karnak).
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Nebamun’s garden in the afterlife is like his beautiful earthly gardens of ancient Egypt.
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A procession of servants bringing food offerings for Nebamun: grain and desert animals.
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This painting displays a massive lavish pile of food meant to sustain Nebamun in the afterlife.
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Entire painting dedicated to a lively gathering in honor of Nebamun. His friends and family being served wine and entertained.
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More Information:
Captivating.
I’ve seen this portrait so many times, but I’ll never forget my initial shock when first encountering it.
It’s very interesting that Vasari (thirty years after the death of Raphael) wrote of this portrait “it was so lifelike and true it frightened everyone who saw it, as if it were the living man himself.”
For me, the painting has a disarming intimacy and sense of pathos which is executed with Raphael’s technical brilliance.
The artistic details are bewildering: the soft white ermine fur on the red-velvet mozzetta, camauro to match, subtle flesh tones and rings, crisp & starched white surplice etc. The dark green background hides an interesting backstory.
Pope Julius II was a scary Pope. He had a horrible temper and lead armies into battle himself! And yet, he is depicted as a tired elderly man in a moment of some melancholic reflection. His downward gaze, dejected bearing, distant and worried eyes, the grip on his chair. It is down to his military defeat at the hands of the French.
The previous Pope was Pope Pius III and below (it seems) is his portrait:
Raphael’s portrait is thus revolutionary - very intimate with a three-quarter view turned away from us (in contemplation).
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More on YouTube from the National Gallery talk by Matthias Wivel:
I saw this terrific Moai statue at the British Museum.
This one is known as Hoa Hakananai'a. What is striking is its massive scale. Stoic and powerful.
These are massive human figures carved from volcanic tuff by the Rapa Nui people on Easter Island (Island of Chile) between roughly 1250 and 1500 AD.
This Moai was carved from a dense hard basalt! Incredible.
I saw this lovely painting at the Louvre.
Pesellino was a bridge between the delicate & ornate International Gothic style of the Middle Ages and the more structured Early Renaissance.
Pesellino was, in his day, doing some cutting-edge art for the 1450s.
The halos are still the traditional “gold disks”. By the time we reach the High Renaissance, they’re turned into thin golden hoops or disappeared entirely. The linear perspective is clear, and faces bear a subdued expression (the sacrifice of Christ) as opposed to the earlier distinctly-stylised Gothic faces. There is a somber tone.
St. John the Baptist announces the coming of the Messiah by pointing at the Child and directing the viewer’s attention towards the spiritual meaning of the work. I noticed some faint anatomical signs in the arm (blood vessels) which obviously marks it out as a humanist-renaissance painting.
This is a poignant (and religious) painting by Andy Warhol at the Tate Modern.
Mass production is an old story. For centuries, religious icons were mass-produced (woodcuts etc.) as a “window” to Heaven or towards some spiritual or meaningful connection. Warhol tried to flip this. By treating Marilyn as a religious diptych, he is suggesting, in our modern times, that we have traded spiritual transcendence for the “religion” of the celebrity icon.
I don’t agree with the religious thesis of Warhol, but I think he’s right about the grotesque commercialisation of art in our times.
Warhol wanted his art to be as recognizable as a Coca-Cola bottle. So, if you see a Marilyn, you don’t have to wonder who painted it. The “brand recognition” would be instantaneous. One might argue that The Dutch Golden was the moment in history when art moved away from God and religion into a commodity for the middle class, but the Dutch created “meaningful” art with incredible detail and moral/meaningful overtones and symbols. Warhol took that same “commodity” art concept and stripped away the detail and the meaning.
Why so some many paintings (which were originally painted for ordinary people) fetch enormous sums at auction houses? Last year, an ugly portrait by Gustav Klimt sold for $236 million. Why? Because of the “hype” about him as an artist (i.e. the artist’s persona as a product). Warhol knew that once the artist becomes a “brand”, the art becomes secondary.
BBC headline: “Trump urges UK and other nations to send warships to Strait of Hormuz”.
Iran is a global threat which needs addressing, but US leadership under Trump is a total embarrassment. Complete arrogance and incompetence.
In interviews, Trump has made it clear that he was surprised by Iran attacking the Gulf states, and blocking the Straits of Hormuz. They never thought this through properly. It’s not as it was taken into consideration but they simply made an error: they failed to adequately consider or plan at all. According to the WSJ, “[Trump] believed that Tehran would likely capitulate before it could close the strait or cause significant economic damage. And if it came to it, he told his team, the U.S. military would be able to handle it”. What? Even more disturbing, Trump jettisoned the traditional preparations for war:
Preparations for a major military operation typically involve weeks or months of deliberations, written options papers, dissenting views from officials across different agencies, and meetings with the National Security Council. But according to administration officials, planning for the Iran operation was handled by a much smaller circle. This included Vice President JD Vance, Secretary of State Marco Rubio and Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth. While this allowed Trump to limit leaks and move quickly as events shifted, it also narrowed the range of advice and dissent that reached the president as he weighed the risks of attacking Iran. Left unanswered were such questions as how to evacuate U.S. citizens in an escalating conflict—or ensure the next Iranian leader was friendly with Washington, U.S. officials said.
They’re the most mediocre bunch to have ever occupied the WH. They genuinely thought this wouldn’t go beyond 48 hours, and now they’re stuck and looking at others for assistance.
All the more embarrassing since Trump disdained involving or consulting broader ally nations. And, even so, why would they help? He is been incredibly rude and condescending, enacted aggressive tariffs against his allies, and announce desires to invade the territory of fellow NATO members, etc.
Last year, I visited the Wallace Collection, and enjoyed The Venus Series by François Boucher, the Rococo master.
The series is a celebrated group of three large-scale vertical paintings. The fourth got added into the mix years afterwards.
I really like Rococo. I think they are wonderful, silly and a pure aesthetic delight. I think today this art is considered rather passe. The colour palettes and forms are a wonderful way to explore ideas about femininity and luxury, even modern ones.
The central panel. Gorgeous.
Rococo was all about lightness, charm, and curves. The cherubs are a decorative tool to better frame the composition. The tree goddesses do look like they could be sisters.
It depicts one of the most famous incidents of Greek mythology, leading to the Trojan War. It follows the story of Paris, a prince of Troy, who is forced to settle a dispute between three goddesses over who is the fairest: Juno, Minerva, and Venus. He picks Venus. In the myth of the judgment, she won the contest by bribing Paris. She promised him the hand of the most beautiful mortal woman in the world: Helen of Sparta.
Love it. So magical.
In this dramatic composition of Boucher’s masterpiece, Vulcan (the Roman name for a Greek god) is the husband of Venus. He plays the role of the “wronged husband” who has just caught his wife in an affair with Mars, the god of war.
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Another beautiful painting.
Venus visiting her husband Vulcan at his forge to request armor for her son, Aeneas.
Venus seems to radiate light.
I love Venus’s wrap around the more rigid, angular, and dark-toned form of Vulcan. Boucher juxtaposes their bodies to create a visual harmony. The sheer number of cherubs with a swirling & upward energy leads the eye across the entire painting.
Wonderful. Based on the popular theme of love disarmed.
Last year, I went to an exhibition at the British Museum, and saw the Epifania cartoon by Michelangelo.
I wanted to share this on my blog for some time.
It’s easy to forget that “cartoon” in the Renaissance sense refers to a massive full-scale preparatory drawing rather than a sketch. At 2 meters, the Epifania is one of the few large-scale works on paper by Michelangelo that has survived into our modern age.
It underwent a major conservation:
Tears in the fragile paper have been mended, while discoloured areas have been tended, enabling details of the master’s original vision in black chalk and charcoal to be seen with new clarity.
Sarah Vowles, the British Museum’s curator of Italian and French prints and drawings, told The Telegraph: “Some of the chalk lines are so much crisper than they were before. You can get a sense of the power and the drama of the way that Michelangelo draws these lines. Details of some of the figures - the Christ Child’s toes, for example - are much more visible now than they were before. This is one of our most incredible drawings.”
The drawing was made of 26 sheets that had been glued together. It is a “cartoon”, a term derived from the Italian for a large piece of paper - “cartone” - meaning that it was drawn to the scale of a planned painting, although this one was apparently unexecuted.
It depicts the Virgin Mary, Christ Child and St John the Baptist. The man to her left, whom she gently pushes away (v. strange?), is likely St. Joseph (wiki).
Michelangelo created the cartoon for his friend and biographer, the artist Ascanio Condivi. He then began a painting based on the cartoon, but left it unfinished:
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| The Condivi version. |
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