Rome's Tier 2 galleries yield surprises and peace

I know few European capitals as well as I know Rome. And yet the city barely features in this blog. All of my lengthy exploration took place before its launch. I'll be changing that situation soon, as we head of to the Eternal City for a long weekend next month.

In the mean time, I've been researching and indulging in some fond memories of past trips. One of the most delightfully self-indulgent was an entire week spent in the city, on my own, for R&R before starting a new job.

By that point I'd already visited five or six times and had spent time at all the major sites. My objective: to spend the whole week exploring the Tier 2 art galleries. The ones that appear in guide books, but are well out of the Top 10 lists and nobody you know has ever been to. Travelling by myself was the perfect situation to indulge in such art historical geekery.

In most cases, there are good reasons these places aren't on anyone's "must see" list. Rome is full of treasures, and in the wider context these places have only niche appeal. Though if lifted out of their current locations and dropped in most other cities in the world, they'd instantly become top galleries. And they offer the chance of some rare peace and quiet. Instead of being shoulder to shoulder with the crowds at the Pantheon or the Vatican Museums, I often found myself the only person in the room at these places.  There are even two that I believe should be on your must visit list. I'll reveal which, and why, at the end.

Villa Farnesina
We start in Trastevere, the hip and slightly aloof district across the river from the historic centre and behind the Vatican. The average tourist will never set foot here, as it lacks any of the major sights or tourist hotels, and isn't on the way to any of them. Which might have been exactly why Agostino Chigi, fabulously wealthy banker to the even wealthier Medici popes, decided to build his villa here. (The name comes from a later owner, one of the Farnese family.) Chigi could get a sizeable riverside plot "away from it all", and still be a 10-minute gallop away from the action.  Unique in a city of bulky, forbidding town palaces, the Farnesina is built on a rural plan, as if someone had picked an agricultural estate off a Tuscan hilltop and dropped it beside the Tiber. Only a few rooms are on show, but you're really only here for one. In between painting papal apartments, Raphael nipped over to whip up the frescos in Chigi's dining hall.  (Pictured above.) The subject is the love affairs of the gods, and it's as if Raphael, freed from the constraints of his usual religious subject matter, poured all of his passion into the work.  It's lavish, lush, exuberant and lip-smackingly delightful.  Exactly ... legend has it ... like the parties that played out beneath it.  It's said that Chigi used to encourage the drunken revellers to throw the gold and silver plate into the Tiber at the end of the evening in a stunning demonstration of his wealth.  Turns out he had nets rigged up below, and the servants would retrieve it all at the end of the party.


Palazzo Corsini
Also in Trastevere, this building is a far more sober affair.  It's a rambling late Baroque place of pastel colours, grand galleries and echoing corridors. I found the collection to be second rate compared to other galleries in the city. It's mostly rather gloomy religious art without many masterpieces, but in dignified, light & airy interiors. The most interesting part here is the suite of rooms belonging to Queen Christina of Sweden. (Pictured at right.) They haven't changed since she died, offering a chance to get to know the 17th century monarch who gave up her throne and went into exile in order to keep her Roman Catholicism.

Palazzo Spada
We're back in the historic centre now. The streets around the Campo dei Fiori bristle with aristocratic palaces, most notably the Palazzo Farnese. It's now the French embassy and not open to the public, but standing below at night and looking into the windows of the grand reception rooms gives you some sense of the splendour.  The nearby Palazzo Spada is a close contemporary, though not quite as grand. It's part government building and part gallery.  Four grand State Rooms are filled with16th & 17th century paintings hung in the style of that time: clustered tightly all the way to the ceiling. The collection includes known masters like Caravaggio, Titian, Rubens and Durer .. so it's much better bang for your art historical buck than the Corsini. But the greatest masterpiece here has nothing to do with painting. It's a garden folly in the courtyard. Now known as the Borromini Perspective, the eponymous architect explored the concept of the "vanishing" point with a barrel-vaulted colonnade and a chequered pavement. Stand in front of it, you'll think the hall stretches at least 50 yards before terminating at that statue in the garden at the end. Unless a gardener strays across the illusion, when you'll see that the statue barely comes up to his waist and the box hedges are dwarf. It's all a trick of perspective to make the cramped courtyard of this urban space look bigger. Now a standard trick of garden design on display at the Chelsea and Hampton Court shows every year; this is where they got the idea.

Palazzo Altemps
Yet another cardinal's palace in the same neighbourhood, this one is just behind Piazza Navona. The collection here is mostly classical statuary, and, frankly, if you've been to the Capitoline or the Vatican Museum, this is going to be a Roman nude too far. It's not the collection I found noteworthy, but the setting and the sense of peace. The Renaissance palace rooms (above) contain nothing but the statues, standing in splendid isolation beneath timbered ceilings, bathed in light pouring in the big windows. In most other galleries in Rome, there's rarely an unadorned space. Here, there's an almost austere modernism.  And few other people to disturb your contemplation. If you start to miss the lavish decor, there's a painted loggia overlooking the interior courtyard that will make your jaw drop.

Palazzo Barberini 
Up by the Spanish Steps and the Trevi Fountain you'll find the stupendous pile Maffao Barberini built for himself on the way to becoming Pope Clement VIII. He used the place as an alternative papal palace, explaining the ridiculously grand central hall. It's this throne room you're here to see, its towering double storied height crowned by what many feel to be the artist Pietro da Cortona's greatest work.  It's a tromp l'oeil tour de force, an allegory on Barberini power with family members, gods and saints swirling towards heaven through columns and clouds. The effect is so persuasive you feel you're at the bottom of a well, looking up hundreds of feet. It's vertigo inducing. We also meet Borromini here again, this time in an exquisite, oval spiralling staircase.  There's an art collection best known for three paintings: Raphael's La Fornarina, Caravaggio's Judith beheading Holofernes and a Hans Holbein Henry VIII.

Palazzo Doria Pamphilj
Everything above is now in government hands. Not so this Palazzo, still owned by the descendants of the 16th century Dorias who moved here to extend their power base from their native Genoa. Thus there's much more of a family story here, with an audio guide narrated by the current Prince. There have been ups and downs, though perhaps nothing so interesting as the current generation, where the joint brother and sister heirs recently battled over the right of the Prince's children ... born of a surrogate mother to be adopted by the Prince and his male partner ... to inherit. Nothing like a bit of scandal to enhance great architecture. The rambling place is reputed to have 1000 rooms, and though the interiors are mostly baroque there are pockets of 18th and 19th century renovation. The undisputed masterpiece here is Velazquez's portrait of Pope Innocent X (an ancestor), but the most visually dramatic sight is the grand hall that runs in a square all the way around the interior courtyard, encrusted with statuary, gilt, mirrors, paintings and lively frescos.

My choice? I think the Farnesina and the Doria Pamphilj both deserve to be better known. The Farnesina is perhaps the greatest thing Raphael created; it's certainly one of the most beautiful rooms in Europe. And much easier to get into than his Papal interiors people shuffle through on the way to the Sistine Chapel. Doria Pamphilj is also unique, but in this case because of the continuity and family ties. It lives in a way the static, state-owned galleries cannot. As evidenced by its website, filled with offers of special events and private tours.

If you've ticked the boxes on Rome's must see list, consider one of these for a bit of variety.

National Gallery shows us a different, brighter Goya

Judging from the shoulder-to-shoulder crowds at the National Gallery, my resolve to slip in to see the Goya exhibit before it closed was a common thought across art lovers in reach of London. The last week of the show, which wrapped today, ran at capacity. It wasn't a great viewing experience, but I'm glad I made the effort. Because most of what I thought I knew about Goya and his world was wrong.

My misconceptions are typical, explained the curator in the introduction within the show's excellent audio guide. Killing them is exactly the point behind Goya: The Portraits.

Goya's most frequently-reproduced paintings are dark, disturbing things. There's The Third of May, 1808, where a Christ-like peasant with haunting eyes compels our attention at the very second a brutal French firing squad takes his life. In Saturn Devouring his Son, a cadaverous man has already consumed the head of the bloody body he holds, and is now working on the arm. The last major Goya show in London focused on his abundant sketches of nightmares and witches. An artist emotionally traumatised by the Peninsular War. Dark, sinister, morose, brooding. That's what I thought of Goya. And I didn't have much desire to see more of him.

But Goya lived for more than 80 years, and in his lifetime he was mainly known as a portraitist. Like Reynolds or Gainsborough in England, though working a generation later, he captured the most dynamic and interesting people of his world with panache and flair. Yes, the portraits were beautiful. Even better, the subjects were compelling. In many cases, downright sexy. And Goya has the skill that only a few portraitists have of including a twinkle in the eye, plus an animation in the face, that gives you the feeling these people will step out of their frames and get down to partying once the paying public departs.

History tells us that Goya was a gregarious and gracious man who liked to spend plenty of time socialising with his subjects. He often became their friends. And, of course, the more friends he made, the more he became a part of the social circle he was depicting. It was a virtuous circle that brought him plenty of business. It also leaves us the legacy of portraits lovingly created by someone who both liked and understood his subjects.

The portraits are at their most magical in the years before Napoleonic troops swept into Spain and triggered the Peninsular Wars. At this height of the Age of Enlightenment, Goya was running with liberal aristocrats dedicated to education and the arts. Who also dressed with exquisite style and seem to have been almost universally good looking.  The Duke of Alba, casually leaning against his piano forte holding the manuscript of the Haydn composition he commissioned, showing off how well he fills out his riding breeches, is a thinking woman's pin-up.  His widow, an assertive and sexy woman in a froth of black lace, has been one of the show's most popular images. In the family portrait of the Duke and Duchess of Osuna, the couple show off their allegiance to the ideas of Rousseau by including their offspring looking like natural, informal children. One of them holding the hand of a clearly doting daddy. Unsurprising to modern eyes, but revolutionary at the time. Years later, one of those children had become the Marchioness of Santa Cruz and trusted Goya ... the family friend she'd known all her life ... to paint her in a daringly sensual recumbent pose channeling the muse of music.

Goya's talent for depicting costume made looking at the clothes almost as much fun as drinking in the personalities. Indeed, a historic costume specialist was one of the experts who made the audio guide so interesting. Detailed embroidery on women's fine muslin wraps. Gold braid and medals on military uniforms. Exquisite details on gentlemen's waistcoats. Ladies' intricate hair styles. Lace, feathers, buttons, jewels. It was dressing up treasure box.

Goya was official court painter for much of his life, both before and after the Napoleonic. The pre-Napoleonic Bourbons weren't particularly effective, but they were clearly genial hunting companions. George IV's hunting dog, gazing adoringly upward, is even better to look at than the king's cheerful face and lavish hunting costume. Look at the portrait of his son and successor, Ferdinand VII, however, and you understand that Goya wasn't a flatterer. This new king's clothes and stance are grand, but the look on his face says "I am a pompous idiot". The relationship between the two, unsurprisingly, did not flourish and Goya spent his final years in France.

Many of the National Gallery's recent shows have been anchored by its own paintings, augmented by works from lots of other British collections. Another delight of this show was the almost complete unfamiliarity with the art. Plenty from the Prado, as you'd expect, but the sources were various and wide. Many came from private collections and others rarely left their home countries. Shows often boast that they're bringing together a rare group of items never shown together before, but it seemed more true than usual here.

Exhibition prices have been going up steadily at all of London's museums ... not surprising given the load they carry for funding government-mandated free entry. I've questioned whether some recent shows were worth the price. Especially when seeing the £18 cost of this one. I'm happy to say it was worth every penny.