Scotch and ice

Art with menaces?

ALTHOUGH I intended to go Italian at the Estorick in this post, it occurred on me that (a) Burns night was coming up, and (b) I was born in Scotland, so I decided to visit the Fleming Collection of Scottish art instead. But before that curiosity prompted me to visit the annual international ice sculpting competion at Canary Wharf. It was a cold day but plenty of spectators, including lots of children, turned up to watch competitors from a number of countries compete, some of them against the clock (something for the Tate to consider for the Turner Prize perhaps?). 

     I was too busy enoying the novelty of seeing Canary Wharf on a non-working day to keep up with who won what, but I felt all the competitors deserved a round of applause just for putting themselves forward for such a public demonstration of their skills (though probably most of them are well used to it). Walking about the area gave me a better appreciation of the architecture and layout of Canary Wharf - I wouldn't say most of the buildings are in any way outstanding, but the overall effect of the office blocks in their setting and landscaping is impressive in a way not typical of London - definitely a New York-by-the-Thames feel.

     The ice sculpting was followed by a first time ever attendance at a Burns Night supper; a very pleasant evening in spite of the fact that no-one else had Scottish connections (I forgot to ask why a Burns Night supper was being given in that case, but don't look gift horses in the mouth I suppose).

      The visit to the Fleming Collection took place the following week. This smallish gallery is in Berkeley Street, off Piccadilly, and originates with a collection of Scottish art set up by Flemings bank, founded by a Scotsman in 1845. When the bank was sold to Chase Manhatten, the collection was separated and eventually given its current home about ten years ago. It is most famous for its holding of Scottish Colourists, a group of four painters active mainly in first three decades of the last century, all of whom were heavily influenced by post-Impressionist French art.

     The gallery was holding an exhibition of one of them, Leslie Hunter, who painted in the United States, Italy and the Cote d'Azur, but whose finest work is arguably a series of oils of Loch Lomand. Hunter is the only painter I know to have been thwarted by geology: he lived in San Francisco for a while as a young man, and was due to have a solo exhibition when the San Francisco earthquake and subsequent fire destroyed all the paintings in his studio. Hunter had limited success in his lifetime, and died prematurely at 54, but nevertheless one of his Loch Lomand paintings was acquired by the French state shortly before his death in 1931. This highlights the fact that the Scottish relationship with the continent and its art was different from England's; the English were still very resistant to modern art during the time the Colourists were part of the French art scene, and the name Fleming itself is a marker of Flemish migration to Scotland, the close ties between Scotland and the Low Countries, and the enduring influence of Dutch art in Scotland.

     A news item caught my eye: a group was ejected from the Musee d'Orsay in Paris because of the alleged smelliness of one of its members. This reminded me that middle class visitors to the National Gallery in the nineteenth century often made a similar complaint about some of the large number of working class visitors, attracted because Trafalgar Square is easily accessible from the East End. A Keeper of the Gallery at the time reported that these visitors were quite unawed by their surroundings; when he suggested to a family party settling down to a picnic in a gallery that this was inappropriate, the mother merely laughed and offered him a glass of gin! A fine example of bringing art to the people perhaps, but it is no coincidence whatsoever that the Victoria and Albert Museum is situated in highly salubrious Kensington, safe from the hoi polloi.