Pictorial times

A few days ago, off to see the Foppa jigsaw again.

Weather a bit wet and windy, starting out with an announcement at Epsom station that there had been a landslip somewhere south of Dorking, that the service there would be buses for weeks and that, for the moment, one train in two to Waterloo was being cancelled. Then, once on the train there was a very dodgy sounding cough, terminal even, but a quick scan of the coach failed to reveal the owner. But the cough was soon masked by a small boy explaining his computer game, which sounded like a virtual, dungeons and dragons version of lego in that it involved collecting and assembling, at great length to his granny. He was very absorbed in the whole business and it all sounded quite educational: it might not be the same as reading Alison Uttley or Rosemary Sutcliff (which would have been about where I was at at his age), but world relevant skills were being developed.

Decided that the rain was going to hold off, so hopped off at Clapham Junction and picked up a Bullingdon at Grant Road East, heading off towards and through Battersea Park in the usual way. For a change, up the Mall and through Admiralty Arch, making it to a vacant spot in the stand at Southampton Street off the Strand just as serious rain started. Ducked into a natty little cup cake shop - which, frustratingly, I can now neither name nor locate - and took tea & cake, both being good, but with the cake being rather hard to eat without making a considerable mess. Clientèle mainly ladies and I was entertained by two of them having a serious, social worker style discussion about the sectioning of a child, perhaps the child or at least the ward of one of them.

Onto the National Gallery where I took in three pictures. The Adoration of the Magi by Foppa, the Grand Canal by Canaletto and some fruit, a tribute to Cézanne, by Gauguin. The Foppa is growing on me and I think I shall be visiting it again, quite apart from its jigsaw (now, it seems, discontinued. The gallery shop seems to have moved on to a rather different sort of jigsaw, without interest to me). The Canaletto, my next jigsaw, was enlivened by a trusty who was happy to talk about such things and who even admitted to knowing someone who did them in a serious way. The Gauguin was looking more sensuous than I remembered it, disturbingly so for a still life. The thing had come alife.

Calmed down by a visit to the Salisbury in St. Martin's Lane, where the entertainment took the form of a middle aged couple from Sweden, holiday makers staying in Bethnal Green of all places, although maybe it is not as rough now as it used to look from the train to Cambridge from Liverpool Street. I found that the lady knew all about the famous goose book (see posts of 17th February and 26th March of last year), but was much more interested in reading crime fiction to brush up her English. I could only think of Agatha Christie but between us we could drum up some more and ended up by directing them to Foyle's in Tottenham Court Road - rather than Charing Cross Road. Hopefully they made it as I imagine that Foyle's would have had a splendid collection of English language crime, maybe even running to translations from Swedish crime, to tie in with the better class of crime drama to be found on BBC, better that is than the stuff on ITV3, which is what we watch.

And so back to Epsom where the rain continued.

PS: annoyed to find this morning that I broke the half hour barrier on my trip from Grant Road, which, as a result, cost me £3. Must do better.

Jigsaw 9, Series 2

This jigsaw being that bought after the inspection of the last, as explained in the entry for 4th February.

Another Ravensburger Premium, with the same good feel to the pieces as the last. Not quite such a snug fit, but snug enough that one was never in doubt about whether two pieces had been correctly fitted together or not.

An interesting painting and an interesting jigsaw, the first that I have done without any clear strategy or direction about the solution. Did the edge in the usual way and then thought that the landscape top right was the place to go and managed a bit of that. Then did most of the yellow robe of the kneeling figure front centre. Then dotted about, gradually getting through the puzzle but without doing one thing, then another. Just sort of muddled through; all very odd. And then there were plenty of pieces which looked as if they ought to be easy to find but proved difficult - and then when one found them it turned out one was looking for the wrong thing. That one thought one was looking for the last piece of yellow robe when more careful inspection revealed that one should have been looking for a mostly blue piece. Very easy to jump to the wrong conclusions in this business.

Yesterday off to inspect the real thing at the National Gallery.

Started at the station a lucky find of 300g of every day value bacon which had found its way onto the pavement opposite the new Tesco's being fitted out next to the new booking hall for Epsom Station. The packet appeared to be entire and is now in our fridge awaiting further action. The slices might possibly come from more than one pig, although that would depend on exactly how the presumably automated slicer coped with end of pig. But I think we can be reasonably sure that slices of bacon, even every day value bacon, do not involve horse.

Then onto an easier Bullingdon than on the last occasion, picking one up at Vauxhall and being able to drop it off behind the National Gallery, Cockspur Street being full again - but behind the National Gallery even better. A journey which took 18 minutes and which demonstrated that the Bullingdon people are still putting up journey details for inspection, despite my suspicions last time around.

Got into the Gallery and selected just the right trustess to tell me where Foppa lived. She sank into deep thought and then announced that he was in the Sainsbury Wing. More deep thought and then announced that he was in Room 55. Still more deep thought and his first name was probably Vincenzo. And she was right on all three counts.

A large and impressive picture, if a little shabby. Interested to find that the golden crowns and such like were some sort of appliqué. Very thick gold stuff; maybe it really was gold. But I was annoyed to find that the jigsaw has chopped off the top foot or so of the picture, a top foot which made clear that the stable was a ruin, a symbol of the ruin of classical civilisation in the face of the advance of the Christians, or so I was informed by the label. Rather less trimming on the other three sides, but the overall effect was that the composition of the jigsaw was badly damaged. One might have thought that the National Custodian of such matters would enforce a bit more accuracy in jigsaws sold under its banner.

I am not sure if Foppa counted as a Pre-Raphaelite, with Raphael being a contempory, but he seemed to share the Pre-Raphaelite love of naturalistic details. For example, the large number of animals and birds scattered about the odd corners of this picture. But it was quite startling to move to the 'Virgin of the Rocks' in a nearby room, where the treatment of the Virgin's face by Leonardo is in a different league to that of Foppa, his near contemporary. On the way, I was rather taken with an Annunciation by Crivelli, another picture with some odd details, for example what looks like a short fat cucumber sitting on the ledge at the front of the picture. I decided that a lot of these chaps might have been painting religious subjects for religious patrons but were perhaps not terribly solemn about it themselves. But then, that might be the lack of solemnity that true believers and papists allow themselves, unlike us atheists. I think George Eliot may have done a cameo on the subject. All that being as it may, I did like the Annunciation.

A good light lunch at the nearby Terroirs (http://terroirswinebar.com/).Posh sardines on toast. Generous supply of good bread. Good house red and an even better pudding wine (a 2009 Jurançon) to go with the lady of uncertain morals from Chile (a rather fine pudding).

PS: checking up on Saint Valentine today, I find that he is not a proper saint at all, having been demoted in the Holy Cull of the sixties of the last century. This on the authority of Google because he is mentioned in neither our Chambers Encylcopedia nor my fine, 12 volume 'New Library of Catholic Knowledge' from Burns & Oates. But I was pleased to see that the front and end pieces of all 12 volumes of the Library are reproductions of the Christmas Special jigsaw, as recorded on 1st January. Oddly, Valentine has survived in the calendar of our Book of Common Prayer, perhaps because this last is still in its original form, untouched by aforementioned Cull.

Jigsaw 2, Series 3

Following the Holbein of the 25th December, another reprise of another National Gallery jigsaw, this one taken from the largest Foppa to have made it from the plains of Lombardy at the close of the 15th century to our national collection, complete with its technical bulletin and on this occasion photographed in the more satisfactory natural light of the morning. Clearly picking up speed again.

The paint might be a bit worn and the faces might be a bit stylised, but the composition is intricate, intriguing and ultimately very satisfying, with the solemnity of the subject nicely balanced by the naturalistic touches. Amongst other things, a study in feet and hooves, conspicuous in the lower part of the picture. Artily notable for the extensive use of pastiglia (building up the surface of important features (like crowns and cups) with paste or pasta and then painting over that) and sgraffito (painting one colour on top of another and then creating a delicate design by scratching though the top coat to reveal the bottom coat. For example the yellow coat, middle foreground). Not to mention the pouncing which I failed to find. These technical bulletins are proving fascinating.

The jigsaw had the same virtues as that of the Holbein, although I solved it rather faster and I have not checked whether the Foppa was made with the same cutter as the Holbein; this is left as an exercise for the reader. I would guess not as Ravensburger might not make many jigsaws for the National Gallery, but they do make a lot of jigsaws. Turning to my solution, edge first then architecture. Few odd bits building in from the edge. Then faces, then the white tunic. Then most of the page & horse, then most of the landscape at the back.

Then the yellow coat, then the various bits of red, these last having the virtue of being easy, having got this far, to pull out of the heap. Plus, the patches were quite small so most of the pieces with red had other colours, and hence identifying edges, which helped placement.

Then advance on all fronts, actually finishing with the blue robe of the Virgin.

Sadly there are not any others in this short series that I fancy, so I shall have to put my thinking cap on.

PS 1: I noticed yesterday that 'The Works' is discounting BBC jigsaws of animals, but they are dull as pictures and look hard as jigsaws. So I passed.

PS 2: note the Treasury tag holding the pages of the bulletin together. These tags are widely used in the civil service, not just the Treasury. They are sold by Rymans but I don't know who else uses the things apart from me. I find them very useful, much more convenient to tag a small bundle of papers than to put them in a file or folder.

Hot meat sandwiches

On Friday to London Town in search of a hot meat sandwich, an item last consumed in the café in the old market in Florence, surrounded by a rather odd crew of market folk, down and outs and tourists.

Weather not too promising but took a chance and decided to pick up a Bullingdon at Grant Road Central, where, for the first time, I had some difficulty in getting started; the stand did not appear to have been interfered with, but maybe the locals have found a way. One does wonder about the wisdom of supplying such facilities to such an area. Also for the first time headed off to London up the Wandsworth Road, rather than taking my regular route through Battersea Park.

Where I found that the Plough, a quiet and decent boozer once associated with the adjacent Plough Brewery and more recently associated with Youngs, had been turned into a gastro pub. Also that the giant Sainsbury's, once the rival for flagship with our own Kiln Lane is well on the way to being demolished. But the dodgy looking solicitor offering criminal services was all present and correct; he (probably not she) survives.

Took a break at Vauxhall Bridge, resuming the ride at Millbank House, to park up at Pall Mall East, known to me as Cockspur Street. And so to the National Gallery to take another look at the current jigsaw (a reprise. See 16th November 2012 and 4th February 2013) . I get there to find that I had forgotten to remind myself of title and name and thinking that I was looking for the 'An Antique Love Scene' by Foppa. Not surprisingly this confused the trusties and having discovered that it was not Foppa that I was after, I had to have recourse to the information desk, who after a bit of faffng about came up with 'An Allegory of Love' by Garafalo, now consigned to Room E of the the basement, there being work going on in the main galleries. Room E did very well for a basement, with quite decent lighting. Pictures nicely spaced out and the room was quiet so I was able to enjoy the picture in peace. A rather better and more interesting picture than I had remembered, despite the lighting highlighting a vertical join just to the right of the middle of the picture. The chap was clearly interesting in painting cloth, flesh, townscapes and landscapes - and was good at it. But I also felt that the composition was a little weak, with him doing rather better in that department in the adjacent and even more fanciful picture of St. Augustine. I also continue to wonder whether cleaning old pictures does not overdo the contrast between background and foreground.

Back to Pall Mall East to pick up another Bullingdon to take me to Grosvenor Square, from where I hoofed it to Hedonism Wine (see 29th December 2013 and http://hedonism.co.uk/). This turned out to be a fine shop. There was a great deal of very expensive booze there, but there was also a great deal of less expensive booze, and from the few that I knew, no dearer than at Waitrose. A good selection of German and Austrian whites, if they could not manage Greco di Tufo from Italy, having sold out of the one line that they had carried. A good selection of half bottles, although sadly dented by an enthusiastic customer of the day before. And an Irish whisky coming in at around £3,000 a bottle. The shop was quiet and spacious with plenty of pleasant staff who knew how to help without being too pushy; so they got a sale. The young oriental lady - Chinese I think - who served me was very concerned that I was going to carry off my purchases on a bicycle - she had clocked the helmet - particularly when I explained that the technique was to hang the bag around one's neck using one's scarf. But she did manage to wrap the bottles up very nicely before putting them in a couple of what she described as 'deceptively sturdy' brown paper bags, one inside the other.

And so onto Brown Hart Gardens for the hot meat sandwich in the Benugo perched up on the terrace of the strange building there. I have never found out what it was although we did once glimpse some very serious, multi-storey electrical gear underneath (see October 27th 2010). Sandwich and tea for £5. The hot meat in question was a sort of grated pork, with quite a lot of vegetable and other flavouring, so one did not get a terribly strong taste of pork; not bad for all that. And the chairs were very similar to those first seen in a dining room in Tunbridge Wells, striking for their unusual and complicated tubular undercarriages. There were also some rather expensive looking fake trestles, fake in the sense that they were an arty bit of furniture rather than rough and readies for use at fêtes and such like.

I was concerned that the Ukrainian Catholic Church across the road was firmly locked and bolted (see back left of illustration). Where were the exiled faithful going to pray for the succour of their beleaguered nation on this important day?

Mission accomplished, tubed it back to Tooting for a fruit cake from Mixed Blessings, then bused it back to Earlsfield. By this time it was wet and the bus was crowded, mostly with brown people, but also with yellow, white and shades in between. I was pleased with how good humoured it all was; mixed race in the good sense of the word. One was pleased with and valued the diversity.

No aeroplane game at Earlsfield as nothing was to be seen and no snifter at TB as that was still being refurbished. Had to settle for the Cricketers where the house white was both cheap and drinkable.

PS: I had previously noticed a very odd smell in the morning in the glass which had held Jameson of the night before. I learned at Tooting that the Irish Gaelic for this odd smell is glaur, this despite it being the Scottish Gaelic for slime or mud.

Walls

Last Saturday we visited London with two objectives in mind: go and see the jigsaw Foppa and go and see the Eros snowstorm, a snow storm being one of those glass balls containing a famous building, a lot of white flakes and filled with water (or some other colourless fluid): you invert to get the snow storm.

As it turned out the first snow storm was a pedal driven affair outside the Festival Hall. The thing came equipped with a variety of contraptions which one could turn or pedal to generate the storm, but we did not do very well, only managing a flurry rather than a storm. I guess we needed more helpers.

On to Trafalgar Square to find that the rather feeble glass box which had contained a rather feeble Christmas Crib had gone missing and we assumed that it had been removed to make way for New Year celebrations. But, later, when we got to Eros and learned that his glass ball had been burst by the high winds and had had to be dismantled, we thought that perhaps the crib had been blown away. It was certainly of a size and shape to catch the wind.

I observe in passing that while the Christmas tree itself in the Square was rather splendid, the decoration was not. As feeble as the crib. What is wrong with the Square Decoration Committee? They have a whole year to plan in.

After Eros we came across the rather shocking replica of the Peace Wall which has been put up to separate Israeli land from Palestinian land, or at least what is left of this last. But while being shocked, we also learned that suicide attacks on Israelis had fallen from hundreds to tens, presumably in a year, since its erection. So who knows what is to be done - but whatever that is, it is clearly going to be a long haul. The wall is to be seen, with an accompanying exhibition, for just a few more days at St. James, Piccadilly. The name church for that famous area for clubs (and other facilities) for gentlemen (and footballers).

Closed the outing with a Christmas pilgrimage to Berry Bros. (http://www.bbr.com/) where we bought a fine bottle of Silberberg de Rorschwihr Riesling from Rolly Gassmann. According to the Professor '[these] wines are small masterpieces with very good definition'.

Closing observation: the newish office building where I used to work in Allington Street and from which I had a fine view of a rather unusual lingerie shop in Buckingham Palace Road, now appears to have vanished into some huge building site.