Pages

Tuesday 31 January 2012

Leonardo Da Vinci, Painter at the Court of Milan.

"It changed my perspective on life. The man was just a genius in so many areas"

So I sort of had to go. 


Drawn by the glamour of the idea that these paintings may never all come together again, especially not in our lifetimes, the above comment from a friend visiting from the states solidified a desire to see what all the fuss was about. However, when the radio brought Adele to my ears and my eyes slit open to see that it remained dark outside, da Vinci was not exactly my favourite man. The excitement of the previous evening and the denial of the ugliness of a 5.30am alarm were reduced to an all too familiar rendition of "Someone like you" on the radio. But one has to 'mind', on these sorts of occasions, because it's not everyday that one finds the likes of someone like Leonardo da Vinci and the passion he clearly had for his work - I thus got out of bed.

Trafalgar square, the houses of parliament, and an already growing queue of expectant bodies slowly visible as the sun rose made the time immediately bearable. The act of waiting became part of the event, and the collective experience of early morning mixed with expectation of what the day yet concealed quickly excited conversations over clutched thermos flasks. I am no self-proclaimed art-buff and my knowledge of art history is limited -as it seemed with many queue'rs, but this just seemed like an experience that, whilst living in London, one would have to have a damn good reason to miss.

5 hours and 2 lectures hurried-to later, we got our tickets. By 1.30, we got underground and into the rooms of paintings that were buzzing like hives with intrigued, inspired spectator bees....

Walking the galleries is a mixed bag of experiences. The first room takes a bit of battle and when you're not quite in the museum mind-set yet it takes a little patience. In scenes that completely informed me of why we are are a nation known for loving to 'stand in line', people were forming natural neat queues to shuffle past each painting or sketch and read each plate. It was slightly painful but at that point concentration is high enough that you don't quite mind. Don't worry. When it get's to room 2 and beyond the spaces open up and people tended to forget the need to push their bag into your lower back and hurry you on in the most passive aggressive method possible for a gallery. You're free to just walk away from them without the fear of losing your revered 'place'. I'd advise getting a headset guide, lose yourself in it and forget the amount of people. Despite some of the grumpy spectators who seem to want their own private viewing, it really isn't a problem.

The exhibition takes its temporal focus from his invitation to Milan, accompanying the group of varied specialists that Duke Ludovico Sforza was enticing to his court. Room 1 draws you to the workings of da Vinci's mind. The first item is a modestly sized drawing, which when studied depicts his beliefs in the connections between sight and observation, imagination and beauty, and memory. Complex sketches of the inner workings of the brain -although biologically flawed to 21st century minds- reveal a mastery of close, detailed, continued observation that streaks throughout the gallery and the rest of his work.

This leads me to what I found most fascinating in the layout of the exhibition. The obsessive sketches that da Vinci produced in the run-up to his famed masterpieces are all laid out around the walls surrounding the pieces. Whilst "The Lady with the Ermine" stands alone on a wall in the centre of room 2, it is encased by the workings of the artist before it's completion: close studies of  the movements, gestures, bones and sinews of the hands, practice at defining the fur of a mammal thought so beautiful that it would die rather than soil it's fur. It is far slicker than the usual confusion in museums where each room seems to have 4 doors to other rooms and one needs a map in order to make any sort of logical pathway through. Instead, viewers are invited to look at these smaller works as a method of unpacking the larger works which would otherwise be arguably unfathomable to the untrained eye, - to many otherwise a marvel without a meaning. It is a credit to the gallery that they have acquired such an array of his works to be displayed.

I had read that some felt the exhibition was "bulked out" with da Vinci's drawings and other works, but this shouldn't put anyone off. The volume of work that is not actually his own but the work of pupils is at times slightly frustrating, but opens up avenues of thought about the nature of art in 14th/15th century Italy, and throws further light on the sheer meticulousness of his style. Although his own paintings and sketches greatly aided an understanding of that style, the work of his students did something quite different. Under his instruction his protegés completed work that has often been mistaken for his, and has lead critics to dispute the artist of all bar one of da Vinci's paintings. His instruction meant that this talent could be copied brilliantly, but not entirely achieved without his absolute dedication to his subjects. Feeling quite pleased with ourselves, we managed to identify the works of his pupils in the first few rooms - more than a mere method of bulking through conglomeration, the inclusion of such works were a clever way of engaging spectators and lessening a sense of ignorance, I felt.

Walking through the exhibition there are just rooms full of beautiful, intricate paintings, finished with gold halos, glassy eyes and individual strands of hair. Most impressive to me were his sketches of material. Uninspiring as it may sound, he accompanied close-up copies of hands and feet with countless observations of the folds of cloth and the ways in which light falls upon different materials in different positions - even a close look at the sleeve of one of his portraits will reveal this incredibly close attention to detail that I just found astounding. The most impressive spectacle however has to be the two versions of "The Virgin on the Rocks". The rather ghoul-like faces of the second version stare back at their former selves, more idealised, more perfect, and with halo's added in by a "concerned" on-looker later on in time. The paintings reveal a philosophical shift in the artist's thinking as he moved from his previous focus on natural representation to a new, devout style and a belief in the artist's mind as a reflection of the vision of God. - a philosophical journey manifested in the structure of the exhibition itself.
With so much to say for itself and it's artist, it is incredible to think that this second version only came around in part because of a financial dispute meaning the first had to be sold, (or that's what the guide said). Now if you are Dan Brown, you might disagree with me on this one.....

Surprising to me but incredibly entertaining, were the moments of true personality that catch your eye when studying da Vinci's work. His studies of the grotesque figures alongside the idealised beauties of the world were used in some pictures to reflect his disregard for the courtly beauty that was so often revered above all else in art and life. Laughing out loud is perhaps not something someone might expect from a very serious exhibition about one of the most famous artists in history, and is not entirely congruous with the "feel" of the event. But da Vinci had a great talent and a sense of humor to go with it, it seems. 
Look closely at the top left hand corner of this sketch, for example. 
Genius.

Painter, sculptor, philosopher, teacher, scientist, inventor; the list goes on and makes me feel more unaccomplished with every word... 
So, if you have a free morning to spare - (who's busy at 6am?), take your self down to Trafalgar square. See the sunrise for yourself, (take lots of warm woolies!) but most of all treat yourself to the indulgence of a few hours staring at this man's work, before you have to fly somewhere to see it all individually...

National Gallery, London. 9th November 2011 - 5th February 2012.
There's still time - go!

No comments:

Post a Comment