pumpkinstrokemarrow

Last weekend we went to Hampton Court to inspect the progress of the spring bulbs and happened, for once in a while, to visit the Mantegnas in the Orangery - 'The Truimphs of Ceasar'. Paintings which I remember as being dingy to the point of invisibility but which on this occasion appeared to have been both cleaned and illuminated - to the point where one realised why the puff on the Hampton Court Palace web site might rate them as 'some of the most important Italian Renaissance paintings in the world', albeit a rather generous rating.

So I decided that a follow up was in order. First stop was six page essay on Mantegna in the always handy lives of the painters by Canaday, an essay which suggested that the man, more or less previously unknown to me, was certainly worth a look.Second stop was my 1937 catalogue of National Gallery holdings of Italian paintings which told me that they included three large and three small Mantegnas. So the place is clearly worth a visit.

Kicked off from Vauxhall and as I had a little time to spare before rendezvous, headed down river. First item of interest was the first white blossom of the year, whitethorn I thinks to myself. But investigation today suggests that it was neither whitethorn nor blackthorn, although I still think it looked rather like the latter, also known as sloe. Must take a closer look next time I pass it. Past the small queue into the aquarium and the rather larger queue onto the wheel - this on a February weekday, albeit fine. Onto Waterloo Bridge where I was very puzzled by the version of the Union Jack flying over Somerset House: as far as I could tell it was black and white with a white border, not the usual red, white and blue at all. Most improper on a state building but presumably something to do with London Fashion Week. Back up the other side of the river to deal with a bit of unfinished business from May 21st last year, the memorial to Samuel Plimsoll. A very proper memorial indeed, decorated, as was the custom of the time, by a near naked but curvy lady, dark brown in hue.

Up to a rather noisy Trafalgar Square via a bacon sandwich to inspect the rocking horse which had been erected the day before on the fourth plinth. The DT was rather kind about it, explaining how it was gently poking fun at the equestrian statues elsewhere in the square. I thought it was decent but dull & ugly. Not a very memorable bit of sculpture at all. Furthermore the designer had not had proper regard to how the thing sat on the plinth. Or perhaps he has some other plinth in mind when the year is up.

And so onto the Mantegnas which, as luck would have it, were all present and correct: an agony in the garden, a madonna and an entry - this last being very much in the same genre as the pictures at Hampton Court, the only catch being that my elderly catalogue describes it as the triumph of Scipio, whereas the label on the painting described it as the entry of the cult of Cybele.

Interesting stuff. The agony reminded me both of surrealists and pre-raphaelites. Rather poignant in its portrayal of Jesus, very private in his vision of his doom to come, while his closest associates snoozed and the soldiers headed his way, his capture just being a chore which did not touch them in any personal way at all. No need to interrupt one's conversation. In something of the same way, the earnestness of Cybele's priests was contrasted with the relaxed, witty and chatty stance of the waiting burgesses. Yes, they had turned out for this important event but there was no need for them to interrupt their conversations either. I was reminded of an incident in, I think, something by George Eliot, where she talks of the way that true believers have no problem with chatting and laughing in church while, perhaps, arranging the flowers, in a way that a solemn non-believer would think quite improper. The true believers can be truly relaxed in the midst of their beliefs. But I think I liked the madonna best - despite the ungainly child Jesus and the rather odd face given to the madonna. A very serene composition.

I note in passing the strap work on Cybele's cart, which I had not realised was a classical as well as a old English motif.