We took a trip into town and visited the newly re-opened Walker Art Gallery. It
is now much more accessible for people with mobility problems. And d'you know
there were many more people in wheelchairs that I remember from the past.
Eastertide is traditionally a time that Ross and I spend together and have quality time together.
This year, living together, it will be a time that we spend apart. Earlier in the week, I was actually quite glad of that. I felt that I could do with a little time to myself.
However, even given the problematic nature of the last week or so, Ross and I find it very difficult to remain estranged for any length of time. So, we are communicating more directly again. And yes, that does mean that seed has been spilt. Ross was particularly delighted to get a 6am alarm call which wetted his whistle for the rest of the day.
That nevertheless won't prevent Ross's parents from arriving tomorrow and whisking him off to North Lincolnshire.
Still, I shall make good use of the time. There's plenty do be done in the garden and around the house.
I've got plants to go into the garden which Albert and Grace bought for us last weekend. There's a hebe, lupins and a big buddleia. More exotically, we've got an astilbe which should put out big feathery pink plumes of flowers in the summer, a tradescantia with should give us purple flowers from late summer into the autumn and a Queen Victoria lobelia which should grow two feet tall and give out bright red flowers. I'm also wanting to re-pot all of the indoor plants which are looking tired and jaded and pot-bound.
Friday, daytime, was bright and hot and sunny. I love this warmer weather. Lighter clothes. Electric blanket off the bed. And itchy eye and sore throat. Hayfever is back again.
We took a trip into town and visited the newly re-opened Walker Art Gallery. It
is now much more accessible for people with mobility problems. And d'you know
there were many more people in wheelchairs that I remember from the past.
The main exhibition was of work by George Romney. Billed as British art's forgotten
genius, he inhabits the late eighteenth century alongside Reynolds, Gainsborough,
Stubbs and James Gillray. I'll be honest. I don't
entirely get the genius status. I liked this self portrait. But it's unfinished.
And actually that worked-on look is very engaging.
The society portraiture such as this effort for the Leveson-Gower children just
reeks of today's Homes and Gardens - actually you can see where the
twee-est of society photographers get it from down the the frantic capturing
of creamy skin tones.
There were a number of portraits of drippy youths like the one opposite of Thomas
Rackett, son of one of Romney's neighbours. I certainly wondered. Then the
gallery's accompanying documentation for a portrait of one James Hazard mentioned
a life-long predilection for effeminate young men. I wondered more but thought that
the gallery was being rather coy if I were correct. Then we bought exhibition
catalogue and it mentions not only the life-long predilection but also unresolved
questions about the artist's sexual orientation.
Actually I should have said that there wasn't a shadow of a doubt. This man was a deeply closeted homosexual who painted gloriously evocative society portraits by day, occasional aesthetic young men when he could or when he could trust himself and then, during the night, put his heart and soul into sketches and cartoons for works that he would never actually realise. These cartoons and sketches are the best of the show and, of course, I can't show them to you.
Some historical asides. Romney was friendly with John Flaxman who is celebrated
in UCL with a gallery and sculpture. Romney was also friendly with Emma Hamilton
who scandalised society, captivated Nelson and yet was born Amy Lyon on 26 April
1765 in Neston on the Wirral, daughter to a blacksmith. I also found out that
George Stubbs was born in Liverpool. How things tie together.
The programme for next season at Covent Garden has also been announced. Last year, there felt like lots of things that I wanted to see. But that was also shaded by the fact that I knew that I would be travelling to London at least once a month. This year, I have to ask myself the stark question "Is this worth travelling for?" Mostly, the answer comes back "No".
I think that Ross will want to see the new production of Madama Butterfly and I would be happy to attend that with him. He may even be tempted by Falstaff with Bryn Terfel and Juan Diego Florez which would be a treat. Colin, Roland and I think that we may travel to see a matinée of Verdi's Luisa Miller with Marcelo Alvarez. However, the only production that I really want to see is of Ambroise Thomas's Hamlet. That takes place in May 2003. 49th birthday treat maybe.
It's been a very good Friday.