Over and out

Third and last visit to the Pre-Raphaelites yesterday, on this occasion being pushed into the 1000 slot. The bad thing about this was that the main doors do not open until 1000, so arriving early I was reduced to patrolling the environs for half an hour. But this was probably better for me than sitting inside doing nothing much and it was neither cold nor wet.

The good thing was that although I got into the exhibition towards the end of the opening rush - perhaps between 50 and 100 people - by passing through the first couple of rooms without pause, I had the next few rooms more or less to myself for 15 minutes or more, it taking that long for the herd to move through. And the crowd never reached anything like the pitch of the previous, lunch time visit. It proved worth getting up early and paying double on the train.

Part of this worth was that I got a good look at 'The Scapegoat', a picture first seen in Birkenhead. A picture much improved by peace and quiet, and the story of which was very alive yesterday. The prize goat, groomed and perfumed so as all the better to carry the sins of the people out into the wilderness. Presumably pushed out there to the accompaniment of wine, women and song, although we don't get to see that bit. All with an ambivalence and uncertainty which seems to pervade Hunt's better paintings, or at least the ones which I like the best.

Onto 'Chill October', also much improved by peace and quiet. The book of the exhibition says that it was painted more or less from life, from which I deduce that Millais must have learned a lot about river banks in the process, some of which he is able to pass on to us. I don't think it pointless to spend so much skill, time and effort painting the stalks of perhaps hundreds of reeds; such a concentration can teach something important about the world to both Millais and his customers. I think it does on this occasion.

From there to 'Monna Vanna', which I like the best of the various paintings in the series on offer yesterday.. More a still life than a portrait, and none the worse for that. The sense of still life was even stronger in the next door 'Isabella and the Pot of Basil', although the impact of this picture first time around seems to have gone.

But I did enjoy Hunt's 'The Lady of Shallot', a picture of a very special lady kept in a very special gilded cage. Lady as an expensive toy. Struck on this occasion by the very fancy loom on which The Lady weaves; a loom which looks as if it was worth a good deal more than anything that might ever be woven on it. Also by the wealth of circles in the picture - but all of them broken for one reason or another. A subconscious echo of the mirror crack'd from side to side? But there was a certain looseness about the picture and it lacked the intensity of, for example, 'The Scapegoat', a product of his youth rather than of his old age.

I don't suppose I shall see such a collection in London again, so perhaps we will have to get up north to see what the galleries of Birmingham and Manchester have to offer.

PS: the only tiresome feature of the visit was a small group of two or three people who appeared to have hired a tour guide to tell them about everything. I had to keep jumping rooms to escape the irritating drone of some arty typess in full flow.