When I was young, and lived in London, I was taken by my parents to the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square, and later to the British Museum in Bloomsbury, the Tate Gallery on the banks of the River Thames, and the Royal Academy in Piccadilly. When I came of age, I came also to know something of the Courtauld Institute collection, then housed close to University College, London, but now in Somerset House (which formerly housed the Public Records Office). I chose to adopt the Tate as the British gallery to which I would devote particular attention. As a result, my understanding, and, I guess, a recognition of my ignorance, of fine art, and modern art in particular, has expanded.
I have visited the National Gallery a handful of times over the past two decades, and have taken my daughter to see Van Gogh, his bedroom and sunflowers, Monet's waterlillies and Renoir's umbrellas, but find it hard to accept the antique formality and surly reverence of the gallery for the intimate works of fine art prodded into flaunting themselves at coach parties of world tourists. Unlike Prince Charles, I do prefer the ambience of the Sainsbury Wing, and for its use of volume and of materials. I am reminded of the Musée d'Orsay in Paris.
In contrast, the Tate Gallery, perhaps because, requiring a Tube ride to Pimlico, appears frequented by people who covet the paintings and sculptures, secretly plotting to remove this or that to the security of their own property, is a place in which to feel more at home. Housing a significant collection of contemporary art makes the Tate a lively gallery, alive and controversial - a place where it is obvious to ask: "What is the artistic endeavour?", rather than "What was art?" Each modern nuance has at least one representative: French Surrealism (Marc Chagall; René Magritte), Nordic and German Expressionism (Edvard Munch; Emil Nolde; Max Beckmann; Oskar Kokoschka), Italian Futurism (Giacomo Balla; Umberto Boccioni), English Vorticism (Wyndham Lewis; Henri Gaudier-Brzeska), American Abstract Expressionism (Jackson Pollock; Mark Rothko), American Pop Art (Roy Lichtenstein, Andy Warhol), and British painters (Sir Stanley Spencer; Graham Sutherland; Lucien Freud; David Hockney; Francis Bacon). The Tate has long been known for its sculpture, from its lyrical Henry Moores and Barbara Hepworths, to alienating piles of bricks and dissected cows. Blake is present, although not currently displayed well (I do not understand why). Also currently displayed poorly are the Pre-Raphaelites - they look shabby and dated without the light and air they require to burst into life. In contrast, the national Turner collection is housed very comfortably in the Clore Gallery extension. Turner, elevated to noble rank in British nineteenth century art, has noble halls through which wondering admirers can, should they choose, wander.
Below left: Westminster Bridge (from which William Wordsworth composed his poem on 3 September 1802) on the right, over the River Thames, looking towards the Palace of Westminster, which includes the two Houses of Parliament and St Stephen's Tower from which hangs the bell called Big Ben. The photograph is taken from St Thomas' Hospital, built on the site of a pre-Roman ford across the river.
Below right: Tower Bridge, built by Armstrong, the Victorian munitions manufacturer and engineer. The central part of the roadway lifts to allow passage to ships.
|
Return to |
Live link |