Even if the yellow film of what I took to airborne powdered sand turns out not to be what I thought but some form of pollen – it proves nothing. After all I noticed this powdery deposit days ago and there were not any of the effects that I had this lunchtime.
Swollen eyes and plentiful tears! A typical allergic reaction – though as I was sitting by the side of the sea, one does wonder quite what I could have been so instantly allergic to.
For reasons best left unsaid we went to town and after our initial intentions had been frustrated by bureaucracy we found ourselves outside a book shop. Needless to say I was the only one who went in and, to my delight, I found a cut price book on the Catalan painter Isidre Nonell (1873-1911) who is probably best known for his atmospheric and bold paintings of gypsies.
The book is interesting giving more background information that I have had previously and also provides reproductions of his drawings. I was particularly struck by a double page spread of a painting called La Chata (1906) which shows the head and shoulders of a gypsy woman lying on a piece of furniture. It is a dark and brooding picture with very free brushwork in such an expressionistic style that at normal arm’s length the pictured appears abstract. I was so impressed with this picture that I looked at the back to find out where it was. It was in a gallery where I must have seen it a few times before: the Gallery of the Abbey of Montserrat.
I have the Josep C. Laplana book of the collection in Montserrat and I looked up La Chata. In this book the picture is much, much lighter, the reproduction is smaller and the abstract quality seems to have evaporated into what appears to be a fairly ordinary painting!
Other reproductions in the book which I have just bought are all darker than the reproductions in the Montserrat volume. A deep, dark red dress in one book becomes an orange dress in the other. And I can’t remember which one is more accurate!
I suppose that those people who are interested in art are usually more familiar with reproductions than the actual work of art on the walls of galleries. Much of my, no, the vast majority of my knowledge of art is based on reproductions of doubtful accuracy. I remember once getting together all the reproductions that I had in various books of a painting by Turner of a ship in a storm. The variety of colours in these pictures that purported to be accurate reproductions of the same painting were astonishing in their variety. Even in so-called quality art books the variation is bewildering.
But why stop at colour? Reproductions may be of part of a much larger piece, as for example in winged altarpieces where a single panel may achieve a quite different value when seen in isolation rather than as part of an entire altar backdrop. Size is often indicated but, if I’m truthful, rarely read, so three or four paintings which are presented as the same size on the page can often be widely different. Part of a fresco may be presented as a single coherent painting; paintings on curved surfaces may be presented as flat. Perhaps, as always it is a case of “let the reader beware!”
No matter how flawed, I gain an immense amount of pleasure from looking at paintings not only in books but also in galleries when I find out that some of my firmly held beliefs about individual paintings are tested by the reality of looking at the canvases or panels when they are actually in front of me.
Vive la différence!
Swollen eyes and plentiful tears! A typical allergic reaction – though as I was sitting by the side of the sea, one does wonder quite what I could have been so instantly allergic to.
For reasons best left unsaid we went to town and after our initial intentions had been frustrated by bureaucracy we found ourselves outside a book shop. Needless to say I was the only one who went in and, to my delight, I found a cut price book on the Catalan painter Isidre Nonell (1873-1911) who is probably best known for his atmospheric and bold paintings of gypsies.
The book is interesting giving more background information that I have had previously and also provides reproductions of his drawings. I was particularly struck by a double page spread of a painting called La Chata (1906) which shows the head and shoulders of a gypsy woman lying on a piece of furniture. It is a dark and brooding picture with very free brushwork in such an expressionistic style that at normal arm’s length the pictured appears abstract. I was so impressed with this picture that I looked at the back to find out where it was. It was in a gallery where I must have seen it a few times before: the Gallery of the Abbey of Montserrat.
I have the Josep C. Laplana book of the collection in Montserrat and I looked up La Chata. In this book the picture is much, much lighter, the reproduction is smaller and the abstract quality seems to have evaporated into what appears to be a fairly ordinary painting!
Other reproductions in the book which I have just bought are all darker than the reproductions in the Montserrat volume. A deep, dark red dress in one book becomes an orange dress in the other. And I can’t remember which one is more accurate!
I suppose that those people who are interested in art are usually more familiar with reproductions than the actual work of art on the walls of galleries. Much of my, no, the vast majority of my knowledge of art is based on reproductions of doubtful accuracy. I remember once getting together all the reproductions that I had in various books of a painting by Turner of a ship in a storm. The variety of colours in these pictures that purported to be accurate reproductions of the same painting were astonishing in their variety. Even in so-called quality art books the variation is bewildering.
But why stop at colour? Reproductions may be of part of a much larger piece, as for example in winged altarpieces where a single panel may achieve a quite different value when seen in isolation rather than as part of an entire altar backdrop. Size is often indicated but, if I’m truthful, rarely read, so three or four paintings which are presented as the same size on the page can often be widely different. Part of a fresco may be presented as a single coherent painting; paintings on curved surfaces may be presented as flat. Perhaps, as always it is a case of “let the reader beware!”
No matter how flawed, I gain an immense amount of pleasure from looking at paintings not only in books but also in galleries when I find out that some of my firmly held beliefs about individual paintings are tested by the reality of looking at the canvases or panels when they are actually in front of me.
Vive la différence!
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