Going to the pictures

MUSEO NACIONAL DEL PRADO

Cue disappointment. If you are visiting one of "The world's greatest...." something-or-other the build up so often leads to let down. Or does that just apply to old cynics like me? Sometimes it's almost as if I'm determined to find fault. As if.

Does the exception really prove the rule? Nonsense. If the 'greatest' label is repeatedly applied by credible sources then there will be some authenticity to the claim. It's up to the individual to seek out their truth for themselves.

The Prado is regularly hailed as one of the world's top art galleries, even if it only has space to display a fraction of the vast collection. It is a very large and imposing building, both in terms of architecture (albeit more internally than on the outside) and the myriad steps needed to cover the floors of it's warren of rooms. The walls are beautifully lit (it was rare to find viewing difficult due to reflections) and there are plenty of benches for the weary to ponder on.

As ever there is a limit to how much beauty, prowess and meaning an individual can absorb in one day and I make no pretence to having viewed every room, or given close examination to each item in those we went to. I apply my own eccentric eclecticism, being drawn to the images which make a connection with my own thoughts and imagining, which strike a chord of recognition or inspire a story in my head. Although I was presented with a compelling example of the value of technical mastery, it is not really my 'thing'. I have no visual artistic ability and am as baffled by the technique of an amateur as I am by that of a great artist. If this sounds perilously close to saying "I know what I like" then so be it.

So, a few days further on, which are the paintings which have stayed strong in my memory, the butterflies amongst the moths?

Rubens was the first to hit home. If the name means anything to most people then it's in association with the portrayal of women even now referred to as Rubenesque. Or, more truly, 'realistic'. An antidote to the regular portrayal of, and commentary on, women in our mass media (yes Oscars ceremony, I'm looking at you....). Of course such figures formed only a small proportion of his work, hung in two huge rooms, and there were many arresting compositions to admire. But the two which meant most to me did portray full bodied women. Diana andCallisto fascinates on many levels. The basis, as with many of his compositions, derives from classical mythology, but made powerfully human. Shame, embarrassment and reluctance pour from Callisto's frame. My fascination strayed from that key element and moved to the left of the picture. Why is there a dog hanging from the branch of a tree? Why are the jaws and one paw of another canine thrusting in from the left border? Some Googling might reveal the answers, but it is the curiosity it raises in the first place that excites.

I forget the name of the other Rubens. Again it had a classical basis, a man leering in at a woman. There was nothing particular to catch my attention, except that a contemporary artist had set up his easel alongside to attempt to replicate the image. He was obviously skilled for in most respects it appeared to be an accurate copy. Except for the face of the woman. Maybe he had more work to do there, but I didn't get that impression. He just didn't possess the technique required to produce the level of animation and emotion that was so (comparatively) obvious in the original. A lesson in the good and the great?

A surprise next. Passing a room of British artists one portrait demanded me to come closer. Why did I feel that the woman pictured had to be Scottish? The painting was indeed by Henry Raeburn. I've seen much of his output in Edinburgh galleries and although I've admired a few there has never been one that grabbed at me the way this lady did. The face conveyed a sharp intelligence, her clothing and background done in impressionistic style to take nothing away from her keen look. I like to think she was as remarkable a spirit as Raeburn shows her.

There were, naturally, roomfuls of Goya. Armed with next to no knowledge of the painter I let my eyes decide. In amongst the portraits of self important royals and courtiers one man stood out through his world-weariness. Once a liberal-minded Minister of Grace and Justice (que?) the work had some similarities to the Raeburn in highlighting the face above all other aspects, but with some elements of symbolism incorporated. The pose and expression suggest an ongoing battle against the forces of conservatism, a high minded desk warrior.

Further on, side by side, the most immediately recognisable of all Goya images. The two Majas. A young woman reclined on a couch, arms behind her head. In one she is nude, in the other (painted later) she is fully clothed. Stare at them for long enough and the real contrasts begin to emerge. Other than her state of dress I found two significant differences - the framing of the 'shot' (to think of it in photographic terms), and her facial expressions. The nude is slightly more distant, her smile calm and confident. She knows you are looking at her and doesn't care. Literally comfortable in her own skin. Whereas the other is closer, you are in the room with her, the smile is more inviting, coquettish. It is by far the more sexually suggestive image of the two.

One more thing. The toes of the nude Maja. Oh, those toes! They looked so real that I wanted to pull them.

Two highlights remain, one sought out, the other stumbled upon. Hieronymus Bosch is one of those names I know of without really knowing why. Visions of hell was all I could recall. Seeing the reality of his work made me ask, was this man really alive in the fifteenth century? Despite the religious subject matter the images seem more likely to originate from Dali or Terry Gilliam than the late medieval period. There is genuine surrealism in there and I could have spent hours on each painting if I'd had the time. In the same room were some lovely works by Pieter Brueghel whom Bosch obviously inspired. Again the characteristics look far more modern that would seem feasible.

Beginning to tire after three hours on the hoof I'd got to the point where anything that was able to attract me had to very special indeed. If you look at this - you may wonder why this image would do so. But no photo can do it justice. This is a big painting, perhaps four or five metres high. I read the description of the event portrayed, and the background to the commissioning of the work, and marvelled even more. In a room of huge pictures this one stood out as truth in the way that only art can convey sometimes. I will be compelled to find out more about the historical episode represented. It's strange where knowledge emanates from at times.