And they're not as far apart as you'd think, each revealing a beauty and opulence within their respective cultures. They're not natural bedfellows, however. I'd probably recommend seeing them with enough time between to let your brain digest. But I had the day off, I'd spent the money to get to London, so I thought I'd tackle both.
Veronese first. Lush, opulent, sun-drenched splendour … like going to Italy without having the hassle of Heathrow. This painter was one of a handful that glorified Venice in the 16th century, and if you've ever visited that city you've seen plenty of his work. (My favourite, however, being inland within the Veneto, where he worked with Palladio at the magnificent Villa di Maser.) In Venice, his work is often wrapping around you on palace walls, drifting above you on ceilings or looming over church altars.
The Venetians are pretty far down my Italian art hit parade, to be honest. I think of them as dark and gloomy; the Accademia … their prime museum … a somewhat oppressive place. But Veronese, as his name hints to us, wasn't Venetian-born. He was a child of Verona, city of pink streets and pastel stone. And a child of cloth merchants who made their fortune kitting out the bling-loving Italians with sumptuous silks, brocades and cloth of gold. All of this is richly on display here. Veronese is perhaps the finest painter of clothing ever. It's no surprise that a costume expert is one of the commentators on the audio guide.
So is one of the directors of the Royal Opera House. Everything about Veronese is big, including his
sense of drama. (So big, in fact, the show is up in regular galleries rather than in the usual exhibit space, which couldn't handle the size of some of the works here.) Most canvases here tell exciting stories, capturing the climax in a celebration of beautiful people and fine architecture. Here, a catwalk-ready St. Catherine marries the baby Jesus. There, the family of Darius meets Alexander the Great, all looking like models at Renaissance fashion week even though they've just wrapped up a war. St. George is about to be martyred; surrounded by bad guys; angels swirling above him, all framed by a magnificent set … it's the show stopping scene you get at the opera before the curtain falls for intermission. I was particularly impressed by two massive adorations of the magi, hung facing each other. The annual deluge of cheap Christmas card reproductions has dulled our senses to the pageantry and wonder of this tale. The glorious kings and their gifts, the humble crowd of shepherds and their animals (Veronese also happens to be one of the best dog painters in European art), the strange setting, the loving little family at the centre. It's worth the price of admission alone to stand between these two, note the differences and similarities, and recover the wonder of this particular Christmas story.
It's only in the last room where Veronese starts looking like a typical Venetian. At the end of his career he got darker, graver, more serious. The room is necessary to complete the picture of his career, but it does end things on a gloomy note. I prefer the rest of his work, colourful and bathed in an eternal Italian sunlight.
If the Vikings had had more sun, perhaps they wouldn't have gone wandering. Which would have saved many communities from pillage and plunder … but would also have deprived us of the wonderful works on display here.
The British museum is clearly on a mission of image transformation, from the piratical raiders of the North to a complex society rich in art and trade. This show does indeed plumb those depths, but it's still the savage beauty of the weapons and the technical prowess of that ultimate tool of raiding, the Viking ship, that are the stars of the show.
We attended on a members' open night; the first since we've joined the museum. We quickly realised this was not a way to get a quiet, considered view. The exhibit was packed shoulder-to-shoulder, three people deep, a crowd level I haven't seen since the Da Vinci show. This was a real shame because, especially in the early galleries, the items are small and require detailed examination. Jewellery, drinking horn mounts, portable trading scales, all richly ornamented and indicative of a sophisticated culture. But there was really no time or space for contemplation.
Maybe it was the crowds, maybe the fact that we didn't do the audio guide, or maybe the fact that we're too well-informed on this topic already …. but neither of us emerged learning much that was new. My husband, of course, is far from the average visitor on this topic. Half Danish, nephew to an archeologist who spent much of his career digging stuff like this up, regular childhood visitor to Roskilde, it would have been hard to impress him. His favourite part was a full scale model of the Jelling Stone. King Harald Bluetooth had its intricate carving done as a monument to his parents; the copy here restores its vivid, original painting and comes closer than anything else here in connecting us to a world that could be as vibrant and colourful as Veronese's.
Member's night did come with Viking weapons experts in period costume on hand for demonstration and discussion. Which ranked right up there with the Jelling Stone for Piers. He may look like a city
banker, but there's a Viking in his soul.
Lacking any of my own Nordic DNA, I think I'm going to need another visit on a quieter day if the Vikings are going to leave me with the same feeling of wonder and delight as Veronese did.
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