London’s best kept secret:
The Courtauld Gallery
I first visited The
Courtauld Gallery on a chilly Saturday morning in October searching for Cézanne. What I found was a sublime sanctuary.
A beautiful spiral
staircase delivers you to a painterly heaven; pastel hued rooms quietly housing
impressionist masterpieces. Unlike larger London galleries, there I felt no
need to rush, so spent a long time contemplating the fate of the girl in The Bar at the Folies-Bergère by Edouard Manet. Her melancholy is so absorbing, and the more you
analyse the painting the less sense it makes, an almost surrealist mystery.
Never before had I fully
appreciated the true beauty of Two
Dancers on a Stage by Degas. The composition is pure perfection; the
delicate angle of the ballerina’s arms is mimicked by the lines on the stage
and the position of the dancers upon it. The large area of empty stage is
contrasted on a diagonal with the detailed dancers and blossoming scenery
behind. The spotlight on the ballerina’s face is so realistic that for a second
you could believe you were sitting in The Royal Opera House in Paris.
In
the adjoining room I found the treasures I had been seeking: works by Cézanne.
Unfortunately The Montagne Sainte-Victoire had gone on
loan to Budapest, but Lac d’Annecy
was still hanging there in all its splendour.
Reproductions never give justice to its vibrant blue tones. A precursor
to cubism; its flattened perspective and emphasised lines are mesmerising. Cézanne
was the master of the new still life, showing more than one angle of the
objects at a time to give a truer reality. The Courtauld owns some of his best
The next level provided
further impressionist wonders from the landscape genre, as well as an
impressive display of 20th Century art including works by the
Fauves, The Bloomsbury Group and German Expressionists. My stand-out piece from
this collection was Female Nude by
Modigliani. The tilt of the woman’s head could be read as both shyness and provocation
Its strength is in its simplicity; the restraint of colour and detail, save for
the loose strand of hair that has fallen onto her chest, clinching a realism
that gives the painting its warmth.
I was further indulged
upon discovering a new display of recently acquired etchings by Lucien Freud.
As an art student I borrowed a heavy hardback of these etchings from my local
library and attempted to copy them in pencil, in the vague hope that some of
Freud’s genius would rub off. I never made much of an artist but I adored those
etchings. Freud has always been noted for his intense gaze when observing his
subjects which in turn produced his detailed work. His etchings are a perfect
example of this process, more so than his brush dabbed portraits in paint, as
the intricate nature of etching commands attention to detail. Small scale and
in monotone they present a delicate alternative to his large fleshy paintings.
The best galleries these
days provide something in the way of refreshment, and the Courtauld does not
disappoint. Its basement café offers majestic homemade cakes and mouth-watering
seasonal lunches. Suffering from a sore throat, their fresh lemon and ginger
‘tea’ with honey was true salvation. I must confess that I sneakily devoured
the whole dish of honey!
