The National Gallery rehang review: 'London is blessed to have it'
There are about a thousand pictures on display and this re-presentation of them is startling. It makes you look at familiar pictures in a different way and see pictures you've breezed by in the past as if for the first time. My own reaction as I was being taken round was roughly that of Mole in the Wind in the Willows when he was unpacking Rattie's picnic hamper: O my, O my!
And besides the rehanging of the pictures, there's been an architectural reordering. The first thing that strikes you as you enter the Sainsbury Wing is the sheer space. The floor above the atrium, previously taken up by the restaurant, has been opened up with clear glazing and the effect is of light and space. When it's empty, it's cavernous, but most of the time it'll be filled with school tours and tourists; they won't feel cramped now. And, don't worry, the important things have been attended to: shops and places to eat. In the entrance there's a chi-chi coffee bar and a shop where children can buy felt arty toys and adults can get a tote bag with Titian's Bacchus and Ariadne on it. On the floor above, there's Locatelli's restaurant for classy pasta and another shop with art books and arty presents.
As you go up the stairs, the first thing you see is an enormous grey orb on the wall; Richard Long's Mud Sun. Hmm. But once inside the collection, the breathtaking starts, for your first encounter is with Leonardo's the Madonna of the Rocks and just by it the grisaille folds of a beautiful triptych. At a distance from them is the Wilton Dyptich - Richard II being presented to the Virgin - which here seems very much in context.
And this brings us to the most brilliant element of the rehanging...the idea of devotional space. Most of the art of the Renaissance and earlier was religious and there's nothing sadder than seeing paintings intended for people to pray with turned into rarified art objects, divorced from their function.
Well here you get the genius idea of placing the paintings intended for private devotional use in smaller, darker rooms, reminiscent of side chapels, while the great long space that unites them is like the nave of a church between one altarpiece and another. That big basilical space displays works that were intended for churches, for public space. There's a great hanging cross by Segna di Bonaventura suspended from the ceiling as it would have done in the fourteenth century, recalling a rood screen, before the San Piero Maggiore Altarpiece at the end. This great work is presented as complete as possible, in a recreation of the original frame. A little distance before it is a panel from the base of another altarpiece. The effect, seen from a distance, is of being in church.
This transforms the context for the pictures, putting them into a setting that's reminiscent of what they were intended for. A century divides the altarpieces at either end … and in between you can see the Renaissance unfold.
The framing of the San Piero Maggiore altarpiece brings together its various parts, which enables you to see how they fit together. The National Gallery staff got the chance to help the frame-makers with the gilding; lucky things. It's a reminder of the formidable skills that the Gallery has at its disposal. Putting pictures in their real settings (even if they're modern recreations) makes them live – but it's funny how rarely it's done. Another effective touch is to put altarpieces on pediments, thus showing them as they would have been seen originally.
Off the main nave, if you can call it that, are rooms for specific artists or regions or themes; the Cranachs are together … just beautiful – and so are the Piero della Francesca pictures. There's a room that's pretty well given over to pictures embellished in gold and it's heavenly.
But the designers had an eye to the long view: right across the gallery you can see from a Rensaissance crucifix in the Sainsbury wing through all the intervening rooms to the magnificent Stubbs horse at the other end. That gives a horizontal perspective. The same device is used to highlight the Bronzino Venus and Cupid: seen from a distance, Venus's glowing white skin pulls you towards her.
Other parts of the collection have been re-hung. The Titians - the Gallery. has a wonderful collection - come into their own in a dark green space, and what a good backdrop colour it is. The three paintings made for the King of Spain's bedroom are next to each other - now that's a marvellous wall. On opposite sides of the room you can see his earliest Madonna and his last...a whole artistic life, in one space.
The only mild disappointment in this succession of wonders is the final room, where there are remarkable Monets (you didn't think of the National Gallery as a Monet place, did you?) including a painting of beautiful irises but they're let down by drab white walls. After the clever settings elsewhere, it's anticlimactic.
But no matter. The National Gallery for its 200th birthday has done itself and the nation proud. There are splendid new acquisitions and what the gallery has, it has presented afresh, to remind us what a remarkable collection this is. London is blessed to have it. Go and remind yourself how lucky we are.
https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
11 hours ago
As Beyoncé's Cowboy Carter tour draws to a close, Blue Ivy emerges as a star
'Who they came to see?' Beyoncé asks as she performs her 2023 single 'My House' during the Cowboy Carter tour. For many, the answer has been Blue Ivy. Blue Ivy Carter, the Grammy-winning artist's 13-year-old daughter, is more present than ever on stage, and fans are impressed by the growth from her first performance years ago to now. Isabella Kerr, 15, has admired Beyoncé for years, but said she attended the Cowboy Carter tour specifically to experience Blue Ivy's moves in person. 'People are saying, 'Oh, she's a mini Beyoncé,' but no, I think she's the first Blue. Everything about her when she's on stage is electrifying,' said Kerr. The Cowboy Carter tour concludes Saturday in Las Vegas. The tour's 30 previously stops have fans buzzing that Blue Ivy is well on her way to being a next generation powerhouse. Blue first graced the stage at 11 years old during her mother's 2023 Renaissance tour, appearing during the legacy-celebrating anthems 'My Power' and 'Black Parade.' Supporters anticipated her performance at each stop. She performed again during 'Beyoncé Bowl,' the NFL Christmas Day Halftime Show that was just nominated for four Emmy Awards. She danced alongside the icon as she performed songs from the 'Cowboy Carter' album for the first time. 'Even the difference between the Renaissance Tour and now, you can tell she's really grown in her confidence,' said fan and artist Olivia Ellis. 'You can tell she has a different vibe about her.' On the Cowboy Carter tour, she can almost be mistaken for one of Beyoncé's professional dancers. She is on stage for nearly every song and has a solo recreating her mother's choreography from her 2006 'Déjà-vu' music video, a nod to the undeniable similarities between the two. Online videos of Blue display professionalism comparable to her mother's during the Cowboy Carter tour. During a rainy New Jersey stop, she brought out towels to dry her area of the stage before nailing her 'America Has a Problem' choreography. In another unexpected moment during a Chicago show, her earring got caught on Beyoncé's hair. Blue remained calm, removed the jewelry and motioned to the singer that it was safe in her hand as they both seamlessly continued. 'It's the family business,' said Kinitra D. Brooks, an academic and author of 'The Lemonade Reader,' a collection that explores the nuances of Beyoncé's 2016 visual album, 'Lemonade.' 'She is literally studying under the best person doing it out there today. Why wouldn't she take advantage of that opportunity?' In 'Renaissance: A Film by Beyoncé,' fans were given a behind-the-scenes look at the decision-making process the first time Blue was allowed to perform. Beyoncé expressed how nervous she was about her child being in front of thousands of people made her, revealing she initially said no. 'I did not think it was an appropriate place for an 11-year-old on a stadium stage,' she said in the documentary. 'I made a deal with her, and I said, 'If you practice and you show your commitment, I'll let you do one show.'' Blue Ivy fulfilled her end of the deal, and a fan base was formed: the 'Ivy League.' Kerr says Blue's accomplishments inspire her to work harder to achieve her own dreams. 'She worked to be on stage, and look at her now. If I work to what I want to be, I can be killing it like her.' At last month's Cowboy Carter Paris stop, members of the Beyhive and Ivy League finally got what they had been asking for — Blue Ivy merchandise. Shirts with the teen's face and the phrase 'Déjà Blue' plastered on the front were available for purchase. Prior to that, fans were creating their own custom pieces that highlighted Blue and Beyoncé's connection. At the MetLife Stadium show, Ellis wore a custom corset top she painted, showcasing Blue Ivy and her 8-year-old sister, Rumi Carter, on stage with Beyoncé during 'Protector,' a track from the 'Cowboy Carter' album that Rumi is featured on. 'I thought that would just be a really fun moment to highlight on a corset,' she said. 'It's just really cool to see her as a mom because we've all grown up with Beyoncé, and now it's like her show is kind of like a family affair.' Blue Ivy's confidence and professionalism are not only a testament to her hard work, but Beyoncé's motherhood. Mother-daughter duos around the globe filled stadium seats, excited to watch Beyoncé and her daughter display their strong bond for the world to see. In many cases, the mothers have been Beyoncé fans for years and are excited for their daughters to grow up with Blue Ivy, a high-flyer for their generation. Tanazha Baylis took her now 11-year-old daughter, Aria Brown, to the Renaissance tour, where she did not miss a beat dancing along to Blue Ivy's 'My Power' choreography. Brown was so determined to attend the Cowboy Carter Tour that she started selling popular toys, such as slime and Squishmallows, and saving her money. 'She literally was like, 'Mom, I don't know what you're going to do, but I have to go to this concert,'' said Baylis. 'I just had to make it happen after that.' Brown became a Beyoncé fan after participating in a dance recital with a theme centered around the superstar's career throughout the years. Baylis, who says she has always been a big fan, is happy to share these experiences with her daughter. 'It just showed her a cool mom and daughter, and it's just something that she can do as well. Beyoncé is a little older but, with seeing Blue there, it made it tangible for her.' Although there is no solid answer for what the future holds for Blue Ivy, it is widely recognized that the possibilities are limitless. 'We couldn't imagine that Beyoncé would do all of these things that she could do. All we saw were people trying to put limitations on her,' said Brooks. 'I think one of the things that Beyoncé wants us to do and what she wants for Blue is for us to not put those limitations on Blue.'
National Geographic
20 hours ago
- National Geographic
The science behind why Black Sabbath and Ozzy Osbourne's music sounded ‘satanic'
Black Sabbath performs during their Heaven and Hell tour in 1980. The band helped revive the long-feared 'Devil's interval'—a dissonant sound once shunned by medieval choirs—as the backbone of heavy metal. PhotographThe idea that two simple notes—not a song, just tones—could be 'banned' may seem ludicrous. But that's the legend behind the crushing opening riff of Black Sabbath's 1970 debut. With just three ominous notes, guitarist Tony Iommi, alongside the anguished vocals of the late Ozzy Osbourne, unleashed a sound so unsettling it was said to have been forbidden for centuries.'Those notes were banned many years ago,' Iommi told the BBC in 2014. 'It's supposed to have been a satanic thing.' While rock legend has never been the most reliable (see: Ozzy and the bat), this one does have a whisper of truth. Black Sabbath recruited what music theorists refer to as the 'tritone,' —a dissonant interval once avoided by medieval choirs and now known in music lore as the 'devil's interval.' Also referred to as the augmented fourth, diminished fifth, or sharp eleven, the tritone spans three whole tones on a scale, creating a clashing, unstable sound that has long made listeners squirm. But what is it about this ancient musical interval that has unnerved audiences for centuries—and why does it still strike such a primal chord? A history of the 'clang' Despite its sinister nickname, the tritone was never officially banned in the Middle Ages, though it may as well have been. In the stew of compositional standards of the time, this dissonant tonal interval was merely an unpalatable ingredient, but served in a supremely important dish. 'In medieval and Renaissance music theory, which was often characterised by mathematical and philosophical principles of harmony, the tritone did not fit well into the system of 'perfect' intervals due to its complex frequency ratios,' says Christoph Reuter, professor of systematic musicology at the University of Vienna. Guido d'Arezzo, an 11th-century Benedictine monk and music theorist, developed the hexachord system to help singers navigate early notation and to avoid the dissonant tritone. Photograph by VTR, Alamy Stock Photo Named for medieval theorist Guido d'Arezzo, the Guidonian Hand was a mnemonic device for teaching musical intervals. This version appears in Scienta Artis Musicae, a 1274 treatise by Helia Solomon. Photograph by Giancarlo Costa, Bridgeman Images One reason for this concerns the relationship between 'scales' and 'modes', the latter of which gives music much of its character. Major scales such as C, for instance, begin on their namesake note. But play the same scale from a different starting point, and it suddenly takes on a very different, but still musical, flavour. These flavors are called modes. Begin a C Major scale on a D, for instance, and you're using the jazzy-sounding 'Dorian' mode. Start it a note up, on an E, and you're in the exotic ambience of the 'Phrygian' mode. The Aeolian mode, starting on A, creates a somber, minor key atmosphere. But one mode stood out for all the wrong reasons. Things got thorny with the Locrian mode. Built on the seventh note of a major scale—in this case, starting on B in a C major scale—it places unusual emphasis on the interval between B and F. The result is a scale that feels unstable, unresolved, and, to many ears, vaguely threatening. This was more than a matter of taste. In the Middle Ages, modes were the backbone of choral compositions, used to pitch a choir in harmony. As Reuter explains, not only did the tritone contravene the ideal of musical beauty, but it was also hard. 'It was simply difficult to sing purely—especially in a cappella choral works, which were widely used in the church.' Limited Time: Bonus Issue Offer Subscribe now and gift up to 4 bonus issues—starting at $34/year. (The hellish history of the devil.) That difficulty likely gave rise to one of music theory's most ominous warnings: mi contra fa diabolus est in musica, or 'mi against fa is the devil in music.' Referring to the Medieval system of music developed by Guido of Arezzo in the 11th century, 'mi against fa' refers to the dissonance between two tritone notes in overlapping compositions, with the 'devil' likely referencing its tendency to cause mistakes or generally meddle with choral delicacy. At a time when music was meant to reflect divine order, such instability struck a deeply discordant note. But uncomfortable tonal combinations weren't isolated to Western music. Many cultural styles—from the Middle East to Japan—had their own 'forbidden' tonal conventions, and different reasons for shunning them. Similarly to Western modes, certain Indian ragas omit certain combinations of notes—the varjya svaras—in their compositions, as certain notes are prone to unbalancing this intensely mood-driven music. Traditional Japanese music, such as gagaku, is often played in formal settings, employing tonal combinations that were sympathetic to the conventions of ma (negative space) and wa (unity), thereby avoiding discordant tones. By contrast, the Arabian maqam system embraces tonal combinations that Western ears might label dissonant. Its use of microtones and quarter-steps creates melodic tension and release through an entirely different framework of rules. So is the discomfort we feel from dissonance—like the tritone—truly universal? Maybe not. A 2016 study found that members of the Tsimane', an Indigenous community in Bolivia with limited exposure to Western culture, didn't find dissonant chords any less pleasant to listen to than their more pleasing counterparts. Isabella Czedik-Eysenberg of the University of Vienna believes this shows that 'while dissonant intervals such as the tritone have distinct psychoacoustic properties, the emotional and symbolic meanings attached to those–such as being associated with 'evil'–are likely culturally learned.' This 1970 publicity photo shows Black Sabbath early in their career, shortly before their sound helped shape the heavy metal genre. Photograph by MichaelBlack Sabbath's self-titled debut album, released in 1970, opens with the ominous tritone riff that helped define heavy metal's dark, dissonant sound. Photograph by MichaelWhy does the tritone sound so unsettling? One reason is auditory roughness—the jagged, irregular quality of a sound that our brains often associate with danger, says Czedik-Eysenberg 'Roughness is a particularly interesting audio quality—research indicates it can play a role in communicating danger [and is] a key feature in biologically salient alarm signals, such as human screams,' she notes. 'But auditory roughness also plays a very important part in the perception of extreme vocal techniques used in metal genres. Guttural and harsh vocal styles, for example, are often described by listeners as brutal, monstrous, or demonic.' But how we respond to sound isn't just biological—it's shaped by experience. 'Our responses to sound arise from the nervous system that broadly speaking we all have in common—but context is everything,' says Victoria Williamson, a music psychologist and co-founder of the sound wellness app Audicin. 'Some frequencies and sound textures are more difficult for the human inner ear and brain to process, a physiological clash that can trigger reactions from overstimulation to stress, disgust and even pain.' 'However,' Williamson adds, 'our psychological reaction to sound is predicated on what we have been exposed to during our lifetime and the associations we have created. That is 100 percent unique to each of us.' Back in 17th-century Europe, that exposure was changing. While medieval music prized harmony and order, the Baroque period embraced contrast and emotion. By the Classical era, it had appeared in works by Bach, Beethoven, and Wagner, among others, often to evoke drama or darkness. In Camille Saint-Saëns's Danse Macabre, the tritone famously opens the piece with a musical scythe swing. (Here's how Beethoven went from Napoleon's biggest fan to his worst critic.' Since then, the 'devil's interval' has appeared everywhere—from the theme of The Simpsons to the sirens that jolt us into high alert. And in 1970, Black Sabbath picked it up again, building the haunting foundation of heavy metal on its dissonant tension. 'Black Sabbath music will trigger the deep emotion centers of the brain like the amygdala, but rather than experience fear or discomfort the listener is drawn in. In theory it makes no sense,' says Victoria Williamson. 'The more this music drives the release of emotion and stress, the more it will trigger the reward and motivation centres of the brain like the ventral tegmental area, nucleus accumbens and the prefrontal cortex. Over the years the brain will get used to the dopamine rush it gets in the presence of this music. This can help explain why Black Sabbath fans have been so intensely loyal over the decades.'
National Geographic
a day ago
- National Geographic
The picturesque Spanish villages that tourists haven't found—yet
Slightly up north of Madrid and Barcelona, nestling at the foothills of the Pyrenees, lies the region of Aragon, rich in history and natural beauty. Here, green hills hug the soaring mountains and dense forests open up to flowering meadows. Down in the valleys, ancient castles hide among the olive groves, endless vineyards disappear into the horizon and centuries-old villages bask in the Mediterranean sun all summer long. Aragon's historical claim to fame reaches all the way to America. Known as the Kingdom of Aragon in the 11th century, it became a precursor to the modern-day Spain, when King Ferdinand of Aragon married Queen Isabella of Castile in 1469. About two decades later, the royal couple financed Christopher Columbus's voyage to the New World. In recent years, beautiful nature and booming gastronomy placed Aragon on the map again, yet so far it has managed to evade mass tourism. Clinging to the banks of the Ebro River, Aragon's breezy capital Zaragoza remains uncrowded—even in summer. So do its medieval villages that are sprinkled throughout the countryside. Marvel at historical treasures Zaragoza boasts an amalgam of architectural styles, including Romanesque, Baroque, Gothic, and Renaissance, as well as the Mudejar, a mix of Islamic and Christian styles, that is prominent in the Aragon region. Visit the Alfajería Palace— parts of which date to the 11th century—to see some of these features harmoniously blending together. Unusual for a relatively small city, Zaragoza has two cathedrals: La Seo, which hosts a tapestry collection, and Catedral-Basílica de Nuestra Señora del Pilar, famous for frescos painted by Francisco de Goya. About an hour north of Zaragoza sits Loarre Castle, built in 1085. Today, it's better known for its appearance in the 2005 Kingdom of Heaven movie, in which Orlando Bloom rides his horse up the castle steps. Another hour north brings you to the Monastery of San Juan de la Peña, a unique sanctuary carved out of the mountain, now a museum. La Seo is home to a world-class collection of Flemish tapestries. Photograph By Dorothea Schmid/laif/Redux Explore medieval villages In the second half of the 20th century, Aragon struggled with the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War and World War II. 'Farmers couldn't feed their families, so they went to big cities looking for work at factories and many villages were nearly abandoned,' says Aragon-based Alba Cruells, whose company Spain Insights offers custom tours of the region. 'Today, the trend has reversed. People are returning to their ancestral homes, reviving the region, which sparked rural tourism.' One of the oldest Aragon villages, Alquézar retains much of its medieval looks. Traverse its labyrinthian cobblestone streets and Plaza Mayor, the main square, where centuries-old houses still maintain massive wooden doors once used to let horse carriages pass through. Note the still-intact animal hooves nailed on or above the doors—medieval residents believed that they warded off witches. (Why Menorca's capital is one of Spain's most underrated cities) Visit San Vicente in Roda de Isabena, the oldest cathedral in Aragon with a beautiful cloister. In Ainsa, take a stroll down the main street to see the Traditional Arts and Crafts Museum that displays medieval household items ranging from spinning wheels to iron tools. Keep an eye out for Apartamentos El Pozo: About 10 years ago, when the owners renovated the basement, they discovered a 15th century mikve—a purifying ritual Jewish bath, which temporarily turned the building into an archaeological site. Today you can see the bath through the glass cover on the first floor—the doors are open. The Collegiate Church of Santa María la Mayor dates back to the ninth century. Photograph By Tolobalaguer/Shutterstock Indulge in local specialties One of the region's most famous specialties is frutas de Aragon, sweets made with candied pears, peaches, apricots, cherries, and plums, dipped in rich dark chocolate. The local lore states that Aragon was the first place in Europe where chocolate arrived from the New World, brought by the traveling monks, who perfected the recipe over the years. Stock up to take some home at Pastelería Fantoba in Zaragoza or browse the city's Central Market where you can also pick up Jamón de Teruel, Aragon's prized ham made from pigs raised in the mountainous Teruel region before curing for 12 months. (15 of the best Spanish food experiences) On the countryside, stop at Quesos Bal de Broto in Sarvisé for local cheeses and a tour of its aging cellar. At Alquézar's family-owned bakery Panaderia O'Forno, treat yourself to a dobladillo, a thin and crispy pastry filled with almond paste. Then proceed to the nearby village of Buera to see Torno de Buera, an olive oil museum that features an 17th-century olive oil press. You can also taste some of the oil varieties, which surprisingly differ in flavor based on where in the region they come from. Wine-tasting choices abound here, but Enate in Salas Bajas stands out. A winery and art gallery, it's a place to sip a heritage vintage while learning about contemporary Spanish art. Zaragoza's Central Market has been selling local food since 1903. Savor the ultimate farm-to-table gastronomy Some of the best dishes in Aragon are found in local villages where produce literally comes to the table from a farm across the road. 'Some of Spain's best chefs are moving to the countryside for that super fresh produce,' says Cruells. 'Many rural restaurants join the 'zero kilometers' movement, in which ingredients travel as little as possible.' One of them is Molino de Larués, a cozy spot in the village of Larués; it boasts unique dishes like tomato-and-cherry soup with a dollop of ice-cream. Local chefs take pride in minimizing waste by using all parts of an animal. It's not uncommon to see dishes like 'stewed pigs' cheeks' on the menus—a tender, juicy delicacy you can try at La Cocinilla in Torla-Ordesa. For tapas, head to Nyibeta Degustacion in Buera to savor ternasco de Aragón—slow-roasted lamb with potatoes, and fideuá de pulpo—an octopus with short noodles. Aragon's chefs love experimenting with mixing bold ingredients too: In Zaragoza, stop by La Flor de Lis for a tomato-rabbit salad dressed with a pine nut vinaigrette and thyme-flavored ice-cream. Aragon chefs and restaurants pride themselves on sourcing ingredients from within the region. Photograph By Nano Calvo/VWPics/Redux (Top) (Left) and Photograph By Francesco Bonino/Shutterstock (Bottom) (Right) Hike, bike, and fly From glacier-covered peaks to majestic waterfalls, the Pyrenees are spectacular. Ordesa and Monte Perdido National Park offers trails for all hiking levels as well as cycling and mountain biking routes. For a thrilling hike, take Ruta congosto de Entremón in Sobrarbe Geopark, where the paths, etched on the edges of forested cliffs, can be so narrow that you must hold on to ropes to keep walking. (8 of the best beach cities in Spain) Similarly exhilarating is a trek through the River Vero Canyon that begins outside of Alquézar and weaves through a network of passageways mounted on steep cliffs, overlooking gorges and waterfalls below. The Pyrenees-Mont Perdu area is a designated UNESCO World Heritage Site. Photograph by Francois Laurens / Hans Luca/Redux 'If you're uncomfortable with heights, these walks are probably not for you,' cautions local guide Guayo Mulero. But if you crave the adrenaline rush, try 'flying like a bird' over the mountains at the Tirolina-Ordesa zipline, Mulero suggests. It's said to be the longest in Europe and the fastest in the world with a speed of nearly 100 miles per hour. A nomadic New Yorker, Lina Zeldovich shimmied with belly dancers in Turkey, cooked a zebu stew in Madagascar, fished for piranhas in the Amazon, paddled away from a calving iceberg in the Arctic, sipped a drink made from a venomous snake in Peru—and always lived to tell the story. She is the author of the book, The Living Medicine, part of which takes place in Tbilisi, Georgia.
