I had an adventure today. At least that’s what Mirinda called it. And, to be fair, it felt like an adventure, given I’ve not been much further than the library for the last few weeks. So, last week, I decided to visit the Southampton City Art Gallery. There was the proviso that Mirinda was feeling better but, otherwise, there was no barrier.
Given that Mirinda appeared to be over the dreaded lurgy, I downloaded a bus app and bought a day ticket then, this morning, I headed off.
The art gallery was opened in 1939 and, while the Luftwaffe tried to demolish it during WWII, shortly after the war, it was repaired and reopened. It holds some amazing works in its collection and is considered of national importance.
Naturally, it was raining.
Not that the rain bothered me that much. Well, apart from a few drops on the head while I was admiring the Perseus Series, a set of ten paintings by Edward Burne-Jones that have a room all to themselves.
For anyone who doesn’t know about Perseus, it was he that successfully cut off the head of Medusa without turning into stone. For his other exploits, please click the link above.
The Perseus Series was commissioned by Arthur James Balfour (1848-1930), who became Prime Minister in 1902. Arthur was a rather mysterious person. His Wikipedia entry is quite the story.
The paintings, too, had a very eventful life up until they were gifted to the gallery and hung in their own room in 1975. The paintings were, sadly, never completed, but that doesn’t make them any less amazing.
The laminated explanations of each painting were on the piano in the corner and were an excellent way to understand both the story and the works. The series is, rightly so, one of the gallerys most precious possessions.
Not that they are alone. The collection contains some wonderful pieces, including a couple of Lowry’s, a Rodin, an Anthony Gormley, to name but a few. It was an absolute delight to wander around the various rooms, being saturated in art.
Another delight was listening (for a bit) to the chap who was taking a group of very small children around to particular paintings. He would talk about the painting to an amazingly attentive audience and then ask for questions. And the kids asked some excellent questions.
Seriously, the guy was a master of his craft. He not only garnered some excellent questions, he also held their attention.
Of course, after two hours of wandering the many rooms, it was time for me to choose a favourite piece. And I found it very difficult. There was so much variation and so many different artists. I would select one then spot another then another…and so it went on.
Eventually, though, in the bus back to the house, I decided that my favourite was a piece called The Captain’s Daughter painted in 1873 by James Tissot.
The reasons I chose it are twofold. Firstly, I love the style, the French Impressionism of the period. Secondly, and possibly most importantly, I love the fact that Tissot didn’t always explain his paintings, leaving the story to the viewer.
The setting here is the Falcon Tavern, Gravesend. The scene, like many of his works, is ambiguous and open to different interpretations. This type of subtle yet suggestive narrative fascinated Victorian audiences but was sometimes seen as risqué by British critics.
Explanatory text by Southampton City Art Gallery
All up, it was an excellent adventure.
To explain the title of this post: It comes from this painting by Kurt Jackson.
I’m thinking it’s because of all the rain.
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