Dickinson College Humanities Program in Norwich

After experiencing the National Gallery and the British Museum, the Tate Modern was shocking in and of itself. Compared to the beautiful architecture and classical feel of the other two galleries, the vast emptiness and cold steel of the Tate created an almost uncomfortable feeling. Meant to emphasize the artwork displayed, the white walls and dead space made us feel small.

The entrance hall of the Tate Modern

The Tate was also much louder and more family-friendly than the other two museums. Children were sprawled out on the floor and benches, creating their own modern art. Graphic installations were clearly marked by both signs and museum employees. We were impressed by the museum’s effort to be open to all audiences.

Through a combination of choice and naivety, the three of us entered Paul McCarthy’s Projection Room. At first, we were simply disgusted and disturbed by the sexually explicit/grotesque imagery. The videos were so shocking that we can barely even remember what we saw. (For those brave at heart, just google image search “Paul McCarthy” for video examples similar in nature to the exhibit.) A brief peek at the Viennese Actionists exhibit didn’t help to settle our stomachs and minds, so we decided to leave.

Upon returning to the Arran House, we felt obliged to further research McCarthy in attempt to understand the meaning behind his “art.” We discovered he is mocking social rules and standards in addition to the media’s control (read: brainwashing) of our actions. Food and bodily fluid are his medium and his body is used as a paintbrush and a canvas. We found McCarthy views himself as separate from the Viennese Actionists. He states, “Vienna is not Los Angeles. My work came out of kids’ television in Los Angeles. I didn’ t go through Catholicism and World War II as a teenager, I didn’ t live in a European environment. People make references to Viennese art without really questioning the fact that there is a big difference between ketchup and blood. I never thought of my work as shamanistic. My work is more about being a clown than a shaman.”

We’ll leave you with this and let you interpret for yourselves McCarthy’s art and vision.

Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t start a major in social anthropology: I’m utterly fascinated by the tiny, perhaps insignificant intricacies of the way people live in Britain today. What interests me most is not necessarily the greater consequences of large immigrant populations or the history of the development of the city, but the subtle differences between British and American dialects of English and the life of a British school child.

After touring Westminster Abbey and the Tower of London today, I found myself wondering about the contemporary relationship between the British population and the Royal Family and nobles. From what I can gather, the main function of the Royal Family these days is to supply the tabloid newspapers with more scandals and fashion reports, and the real importance of the monarchy remains in the past. However, the fact that the monarchy doesn’t have any political role these days doesn’t keep the pomp and circumstance in check: there were millions of pounds of jewels and gold in the Tower of London which are still used today for official ceremonies. Of course, many of these jewels are from an earlier time, so it’s not as if there are thousands of British taxpayer pounds put into a Royal jewelry fund each year (I assume), though I do wonder what the average Brit thinks of all this formality that seems merely left over from an earlier time. Stereotypically, the Brits seem to have a reputation of being reserved, and the behavior I can see on the Tube, for example, confirms this. Yet the tremendous amount of money, glitz, commemoration, and ceremony put into these old traditions doesn’t seem to equate to the British stereotype. Every case in the Tower of London Jewel House sparkled and every inch of the wall and floor of Westminster Abbey was covered with inscriptions and monuments to royals, nobles, and academics passed. The British seem to like their preservation of history, which is all well and good, but I wonder about the origins of their apparent love of ceremony and honor as well, and how these traditions from ages past fit into the lives and minds of contemporary Londoners.

After a morning class discussion on Ethnic London, I headed with some friends to Trafalgar Square to spend the afternoon in the National Gallery. As an artist and art lover, visiting the National Gallery has been on my high priority list. Not only is it a very large museum, but the collection spans over several centuries. It includes work by some of my favorite artists, Jan Van Eyck and Botticelli, and it is nicely spread out over well organized and numbered rooms.

Tourist pose by the lion

As soon as I entered the museum, I knew there was no way I would finish it all in a day. I was overwhelmed just looking at the interior architecture! I picked up one of the museum’s detailed colored coordinated and numbered maps, decided on left, and entered paradise.  Yes, I was one of those people who stood right up against the barrier, nearly put my face in the paint, and twisted my head into awkward angles so I could “see the quality of the paint.” Having just finished my Fundaments of (Oil) Painting class at Dickinson, I was completely engrossed and fascinated with the brightness and sharpness of the paint when the artists painted on wood.

I only made it through the 16^th and some of the 17^th century works, which tend to be of a more religious nature. So many paintings depicting the life and death of Christ, or the various Saints, reminds me not only of the political nature of those time periods, but also the importance of religion. So much of England’s history and beauty steams from the country’s religious roots. People flock to the churches of England as tourist attractions, forgetting that they were once places of worship. People stare at paintings of Christ, forgetting the meaning and significance tied to the image.

Hanging out by the National Gallery

While I hope at least most people appreciate these works for there aesthetic beauty, mastery of skill, and creative perspectives, I hope that every once and a while, we all think about the mindset of the artist. What is this a painting of? For whom and why? What does this image mean? I try to ask myself these questions with every work of art I look at, in hopes I will appreciate it a little more.

To view a slideshow of photos from my time at The National Gallery, Westminster Abbey, and the South Bank please click here.

So I’m beginning to realize that “free days” actually don’t mean that you get to relax any more than on “non-free days”. Yesterday Sarah, Chelsea and I decided to museum it up and we went to both the National Gallery and the British Museum (part 1). Since I am a history major and was considering art school before choosing colleges, I absolutely love observing all the details about paintings and artifacts in museums. History has taught me to look beyond the surface, so I am advising you to do the same because you’ll be surprised by the information you will discover!

I love looking at older paintings because they tell so much about the period and the people in them. For example, I was observing a portrait of a beautiful 18th century woman, and if I did not read further information about the woman, the painting would have lost so much meaning. The woman in the portrait, Manon Balletti, was actually one of the many lovers of the famous Casanova. Around the time this portrait was being painted, Casanova had declared his love for Manon, but she a few months later got married to another. On the surface, this woman looks demure and captivating, but with further research I now view this portrait differently.

Since I love learning about the every-day person and their lifestyle, paintings offer hints into things such as what people ate, what status a person is if a certain object is placed in the picture, how people wore certain types of clothing, etc. Being a historical reenactor as well, observing these paintings are one of the best research methods for a certain period of time. Who would have know that drinking hot chocolate would have been a status symbol in the 1700s? I had known this before, but apparently if a person was painted drinking or pouring a cup of chocolate, it showed that they were wealthy enough to afford such a luxury. Nowadays, we wouldn’t think twice before making ourselves a packet of powedery hot chocolate mix.

Portrait of a Woman of the Hofer Family, 1470, showed that it is always worthwhile to pay attention to details. If you only walked by and glanced as this painting you would miss the underlying symbolisim behind parts of the painting. In her hands she is holding flowers, symbolicly Forget-Me-Nots, which often signify rememberance. In the left corner of the woman’s headress there is a small fly made to look real. Oftentimes a fly could represent mortality or could just be used to show the artist’s skill of perception. I also noticed that in this painting, and in others from the period, some women wore rings on both of the joints on their fingers (which I think would be awfully uncomfortable!). I have never seen this before in paintings and in this one, if you look at the woman’s pinky finger on her left hand, you can see that she is wearing two rings. Perhaps eventually I will discover why it was fashionable to wear rings like that. It was probably one of those crazy fashion trends of the century.

So the next time you rush by an old painting in a gallery or museum, stop and observe it. Ok, so maybe you can’t get past the “funny” headdress the woman is wearing, or the fact that men are wearing bright colored tights, but you can learn so much by looking beyond that. Perhaps you may even discover some parallels to a certain person or time period, such as people for centuries had portraits with their prized pets painted next to them, just like you might have your picture taken wih your favorite pet.

The National Gallery

Laid out in an absolute beautiful mosaic, England’s National Gallery reminds its visitors in a striking fashion to show compassion to others. On the entrance landing (a spot over which all must pass and, therefore, hopefully see) the image of an angel bent down to aide a suffering woman seeks to spark in those that see it a desire or state of consciousness to remember others in need. With this image and reminder being placed before the artwork, the message of compassion is engrained in one’s mind before he or she even begins to look at the paintings he or she is there to see. How true does the message ring in us though?

Many of the paintings portray their subjects in states of need and, thus, excite a feeling of compassion for said subject in the viewer of the piece. One particular piece stood out to me. In the Degas room (room 46- the most impressive room in the gallery in my opinion), an unassuming painting of a woman hangs on the wall. The painting is relatively small and can be passed by without much notice. It displays a woman in a dull black dress facing away from the painter. She stands alone in the sparsely decorated, white room with just a table and chair (both entirely simple and plain themselves). The color of her skin is so light that she would almost blend in with the surrounding wall if it were not for her brown hair and dark dress. If you happen to see this painting in the mix of a beautiful collection of colorful Degas works, you cannot help but be transfixed by it (at least, that was the case for me). The woman appears so lonely- completely isolated in her unnoticed state. My reaction was a desire to reach out and just comfort the woman. Clearly, this cannot happen- she’s just in a painting, I realize. But the painting is a beautiful one that strikes in the viewer an overwhelming sense of compassion for the woman. Success on the National Gallery’s part? Maybe.

Maybe not though. When I was finished looking at the painting, I gathered up my things and proceeded to elbow my way through the crowd of people waiting for me to get out of their way so that they might also have a chance at viewing the painting or the one next to it. Crowds can bring out the worst in people though so let’s put that example of selfishness aside for now. Just outside of the gallery, a man stood with a sign asking us to “say no toracism”. Though he was talking with a man and thus clearly making some strides in his campaign, how many others had passed by without paying him any attention? Besides pausing to snap a photograph, I’m one of the guilty. But, sadly I would argue, I’m certainly in the majority here. Now I don’t know what the man was really hoping to get across. His sign was provocative but not informative. But if I really had learned my lesson to remember to be compassionate, to think of others, to want to help others, wouldn’t I have stopped to at least inquire what he was proposing to tackle such a feat as conquering racism? And yet I walked by. The gallery’s fault? Not at all. But I just hope that its reminder of compassion was more readily remembered by its other visitors than it was by me.

After a delightful performance by E.L.F. trio in St. Martin in-the-Fields, I walked over to the National Gallery with some classmates. I was about to enter a museum with one of the most extensive collections of artwork from the 13^th to early 20^th centuries, and I was in heaven. As an art history major, art museums, especially one as large as this one, make me feel like a kid in a candy store. Our group made a plan to meet up at 4pm and so Kelley and I headed off to the Sainsbury Wing to investigate paintings from the 13^th to 15^th century. Although I prefer modern art, I found the works in this section very moving. Of course, they all had a Christian connotation and most of them were placed in a church at one time as an altarpiece or as part of a triptych. As a Reform Jew, I really don’t know much about Christianity outside of the Old Testament; however, everyone can appreciate the beauty of these paintings and the emotions they evoke. After passing through room after room of the Virgin Mary and Christ I began to wonder, why is the Virgin always depicted in blue robes? The blue is a similar shade in every painting, somewhere in between the color of a clear sky at dusk and a robin’s egg. Naturally, I looked it up when I returned to the Arran House. Some of the answers I found ranged from the ridiculous “because it’s her favorite color” to the more academic explanation, “blue was the color Byzantine empresses wore.” All I can say is that the particular shade of blue is a color I’ve only ever seen in these paintings, so I guess I’ll leave it as ‘the Virgin Blue.’

            As we moved through the rest of the museum I was overcome with joy… I was seeing some of my favorite lessons come to life. When you see a picture that you study in your textbook or in a slide comes to life, it’s like seeing it for the first time all over again. Major players like Masaccio, Titian, Raphael and Bellini were all here. It was hard for me to believe that I was actually standing in front of THE Aronlfini Wedding Portrait by Jan van Eyck. This paining first began my love affair with the Dutch school of painters and semiotics…. now I was here, in front of it. I could actually see the dog (for fidelity), the removed shoes (the marriage as a religious sacrament), and the reflection of Van Eyck himself in the mirror along with the inscription “van Eyck was here.” Also, for anyone who is interested, his bride is NOT pregnant. She is simply wearing the style of dress that was popular at this time period. I was even able to see Holbein’s The Ambassadors (1533) and walk across the room to see the anamorphic perspective skull.

            However, when I walked into the 19^th and early 20^th century gallery my heart really began to race. As Kelly will attest, I did audibly gasp when I saw Gauguin’s Still Life with Mangoes (1891-6). This section was by far my favorite. The late nineteenth century painters were the first school to paint modernity; they disregarded all the set rules, added some color and painted the world around them rather than the bible or portraits. Degas, van Gogh, Cezanne, each one brought paining to a new place either with subject matter, texture or color. The Degas gallery was especially moving. I am fascinated with his series that captures the private movements in women’s lives. He takes everyday scenes intimate such as a woman drying herself off after a bath or having her hair combed and turns it into a story for the viewer. We are left wondering, who is she? What is she doing? Why?

            Of course, I could not make it through the entire gallery in one day. So I plan on returning soon to take in the 17^th century (including one of my absolute favorites, Vermeer) and to revisit the early-modern painters. Everyone should visit the National Gallery, regardless of his or her “art background.” It really is the crown jewel in the world of art museums.  I anyone wants to come back with me, please let me know.

Instead of perusing the Portrait Gallery along with everyone else, Sarah, Alli and I decided to chip away at the vast collections of the British Museum a short walk away from the Arran House in Bloomsbury. Because their collection is so vast, we were only able to manage the Egyptian and Southeast Asian exhibits in one afternoon, but so far I think it’s safe to say that the British Museum is my favorite of all that we have seen.

At every turn in this country, I am astounded by the amount of history and the age of buildings, artifacts, and communities on display both in museums and on the city streets, but the Egyptian section of the British Museum takes the cake for being the most impressive and mindblowingly old. As an American, when something is over one hundred years old, I usually find it quite impressive and worthy of special honor and delicate hands. However, many of the Egyptian artifacts at the British Museum are out in the open, which strikes me as almost irresponsible, since “PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH” signs usually don’t stop small children and excited tourists from running their hands all over these ancient hieroglyphs and pharaohstatues. Besides my worries about greasy fingers and eroded stones, however, I believe I have a new-found interest in hieroglyphics and Egyptian culture based on what I saw this afternoon. While I’m usually not a fan of dead things on principle, I particularly liked an exhibit in a glass case of a remarkably well-preserved man, buried and surrounded by various jars of important things he would need in the afterlife. The idea of preparing a dead person for the unknown with worldly goods fascinates me, and seeing the mummies up close and in person is something I don’t think I’ll soon forget.

Even though we didn’t make it to about 75% of the museum today, by glancing at the floor plan, it was immediately obvious that despite the fact this was the British Museum, there was very little having to do with the Brits in the exhibits. There were whole floors and wings dedicated to Ancient Egypt, Ancient Greece, Southeast Asia and Asia, and Africa, and seemingly most other continents and cultures besides Great Britain. The name “the British Museum” is certainly a misnomer, and I hope to find out the origins behind the name. If there had been a feedback section for visitors to leave their comments like there was in the Docklands Museum, I wonder what the patrons would have said. Because the exhibits I saw were not as politically charged as the slavery exhibit at the Docklands Museum, perhaps the comments would be less scathing, but I imagine that many tourists and visitors have arrived at the museum expecting a museum of British history and leaving without getting what they came for (many comments at the Docklands had been about “missing” components of British history and an imbalance of representation of thinkers and innovators).

Perhaps the name of the museum remains the somewhat confusing “British Museum” because of the elusive definition of “British” itself. Since Britain, specifically London, is such a patchwork of histories and cultures and traditions, perhaps making the British Museum focus on everything but the history that went down on this particular piece of land is actually fitting: each culture gets a historical representation in the broad strokes of the various African and Asian and European galleries, and together these collective histories make up the histories of the individuals who make up Britain.

Yesterday I toured the Docklands Museum and was fascinated with the exhibit on slavery and the response that many museum-goers had to that particular exhibit. I found the museum overall to be both interesting and informative and that it filled a major hole in the historical sense since the Thames is integral to the economy of both city of London and the nation as a whole. The slavery exhibit included several examples of artwork that highlighted the enslaved Africans place in society. The museum housed multiple paintings depicting the slaves as an accessory or a barometer to measure a family’s wealth. After viewing the included artwork I remembered that we had the possibility of touring the National gallery the next day and I decided to look for paintings of a comparable theme to see how the Gallery would handle the similar works.

I was surprised however that in all of the paintings that there were no paintings that included enslaved Africans within the painting. Out of the hundred of paintings that detailed religious aspects of life, the nobility, and the popular myths there was not one acknowledged the existence of slavery in European world. I understand that the gallery is predominately for fine art owned by the British Government, but I do not believe that this was something unintentionally overlooked. Especially during the period that it was fashionable to own a slave and was considered a sign of wealth and class. I just found it interesting that one of the most prestigious art museums in London would gloss over such an important aspect of British history.

My first impression upon entering the National Gallery was skepticism that the art could possibly be any more beautiful than the building’s architecture. I’m not usually much of an art person (although I’m a HUGE Dalí fan), and I usually don’t spend much time in museums dedicated entirely to art. However, to my great surprise, I was abslutely fascinated by the thousands of paintings. Of course, I got to see paintings I thought I would only ever see in photos, such as Van Gogh’s Sunflowers and Monet’s Japanese Bridge. Additionally, I chose to make note of paintings I previously was unfamiliar with that caught my eye. Of these, my favorite was Louis-Léopold Boilly’s A Girl at a Window. The oil on canvas painting originally attracted me because it is painted to look like a framed still image; therefore, it is in black and white and rather unique. As I drew closer, I noticed the clarity of the details, especially those of the fish in the bowl next to the girl. The painting is so clear, it could easily be mistaken for a modern-day cartoon or CGI. Being a terrible artist myself, I never imagined a handcrafted painting could look so smooth and realistic.

While looking at the medieval collection of the Gallery, I noticed various paintings depicting the Biblical scene of St. Michael the Archangel defeating the Devil. Carlo Crivelli’s St. Michael (1476), Bartolomé Bermejo’s St. Michael Triumphant Over the Devil (1468), and Piero della Francesca’s St. Michael (1469) all portray St. Michael similarly. He appears as a rather young looking boy wearing medieval style armory. However, Francesca opts to give the archangel wings instead of a cape. The most noticeable difference to me, though, is in the way the artists chose to represent the Devil. Crivelli’s Devil resembles a lizard-like demon, whereas Barmejo’s Devil is smaller and much more cartoonish and almost comical when compared to the triumphant St. Michael. Francesca’s is once again different from the other two, as he portrays the Devil as a simple serpent in the corner of the painting, which focuses on the archangel instead. These paintings fascinated me because of their diversity. I always knew styles of art changed over time, but I never really considered the diversity that could exist between the contemporary artists of a time period. Seeing these three paintings that show the same subject painted within a few years of one another helped me to appreciate the different ways in which artists might imagine their subjects.