Holy Week

It’s my birthday this week and birthdays mean family days out! So J, C and I visited Tewksbury.

The abbey is quite small – but properly old, dating from the years after the Norman conquest.

The Norman pillars are massive.

I love the way colour is being reintroduced to our ancient churches so that we have more of a sense of the glamour they held in the Middle Ages:

It’s Holy Week this week and, amidst all the splendour of the building, all of the crosses were shrouded in purple, waiting for the miracle of the resurrection on Sunday:

Holy Week

Bored in the Uffizi

I think we have bad habits now, in museums and galleries, or those vast visiting collections that are puffed off at the Royal Academy or the British Museum. It’s partly the crowds of course, and the pressure to keep moving, but it’s also the sheer numbers of paintings or objects. A literary critic once suggested that you shouldn’t try to read more than four poems a week. I suspect you could apply the same rule to paintings. No more than four in a visit – or is that still too many.

Which all goes to say that I found the the Uffizi marvellously tiring, or tiringly marvellous. I grew especially weary of the endless repetition of religious paintings – all those Madonnas, clutching their – often slightly disturbing – babies.

Which made it all the more exciting when we came across this painting by Antonella da Messina – a Madonna for sure, but somehow less removed or antique, more real; more, I thought, like one of us. Her son too, clambered about in a cheerfully unsymbolic way as babies do, and hugged his mum.

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I discovered that da Messina was painting in the 1470s – when all around him were bursting into the gorgeous excesses of the heroic renaissance – and wondered why he wasn’t better known. If you google him, his paintings all have that unfussy but very human directness. They are real people with back stories, bad thoughts and an appraising eye.

Look at these three:

Antonello da Messina collage 3

And this thoughtful Virgin Mary:

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I even like his crucifixion. Well, Jesus is a little staid, but his thieves are wonderfully acrobatic.


You can read about Antonella here.

It’s fascinating that much of the story of the renaissance is about south influencing north – but with da Messina it looks as though it was the other way round.

Bored in the Uffizi

At March

We visited March in the Fens yesterday, hoping to see inside the church there. St Wendreda’s is famous for the angels that decorate its medieval timber roof:

The church is kept locked and a leaflet told us to go to a garage nearby and ask for the key – but we found the system discontinued. Two youths, a while before, had taken the keys and robbed the church – so, sadly this photo is only of what we might have seen.

We did see this on the wall of the modern parish hall next door:

Who knows what those slightly anxious cherubs are up to: it could be a choir practice, or the last trump, or something Pol Pot might have recognised…

At March