The Glasgow Boys
Sep. 6th, 2014 10:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
osprey_archerWhile in Glasgow, I stopped briefly at the Kelvingrove Museum. "Briefly" is not really long enough to see the Kelvingrove, which seems to be a museum of everything ever, but I did have time to explore the exhibit about the Glasgow Boys, Glasgow's native impressionist movement.
And, of course, I got some pictures.
The Coming of Spring, 1899
The Swans, 1899. (More swans! They were everywhere this trip.
These are Hornel's late paintings, and one of the wall texts described them disdainfully as "saccharine," but I like them: enough so that I got a postcard of one of them from the Scottish National Gallery four years ago, when I studied abroad, and have never brought myself to send it to anyone because I like it so much. His paintings seem to me to suggest stories: there is something alien and fairy about these strange impasto settings that the girls wander through.
Here Ouse Winding Slowly through a Lovely Plain, Alexander Roche, 1918.
Roche had a stroke and lost the use of his right hand. He retaught himself how to paint using his left, and this is one of his left-hand paintings. Isn't that impressive? I never would have guessed. The dappled sunshine and the reflections on the river are so tranquil and lovely.
And, of course, I got some pictures.
The Coming of Spring, 1899
The Swans, 1899. (More swans! They were everywhere this trip.
These are Hornel's late paintings, and one of the wall texts described them disdainfully as "saccharine," but I like them: enough so that I got a postcard of one of them from the Scottish National Gallery four years ago, when I studied abroad, and have never brought myself to send it to anyone because I like it so much. His paintings seem to me to suggest stories: there is something alien and fairy about these strange impasto settings that the girls wander through.
Here Ouse Winding Slowly through a Lovely Plain, Alexander Roche, 1918.
Roche had a stroke and lost the use of his right hand. He retaught himself how to paint using his left, and this is one of his left-hand paintings. Isn't that impressive? I never would have guessed. The dappled sunshine and the reflections on the river are so tranquil and lovely.
