Our recent jaunt to Venice and Ravenna provided more than the usual amount of food for thought, so while I ponder further on Titian and Rubens, peacocks, camels, women painters, Francesco Morosini and silence, here are some pictures which I took just because the subjects were so fascinating, and not because I was pursuing a theme. Continue reading
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Of course, a great many gardens in Venice are secret – that is, invisible to the normal passer-by in the calle. But the garden of Palazzo Soranzo Cappello is probably the most famous secret garden in the city (with the ‘Garden of Eden’ on Giudecca in second place). We had been trying to get into the gardens for some years, especially as my book, The Gardens of Venice and the Veneto (2013) says that all you have to do is go into the portego and ask the porter for permission.
I just made it to ‘Artist: Unknown: Art and Artefacts from the University of Cambridge Museums and Collections’, the current exhibition at
Also
Terrifyingly, it is that time of year again … the first Christmas catalogue arrived a few days ago (thank you,
Passiflora, the passion flower, is – perhaps unsurprisingly – a genus in the family Passifloraceae, which is itself part of the enormously varied order of Malpighiales, which includes everything from the willow to the violet by way of poinsettias. The order derives its name from that of Marcello Malpighi (1628–94): it was bestowed by
I begin thus because, as on previous visits, I noticed that the good people of what we tend to call Bruges would rather speak German or English, or indeed Chinese, than utter a word of French. But we were (for a few days only) in Bruges, and not only in Bruges but in the very hotel room out of which, apparently, Colin Farrell jumped in the film ‘In Bruges’. I say ‘apparently’ because although I saw the film on television a few years ago, I disliked it intensely, and can remember very little about it except that I think it didn’t end too well for any of the protagonists? (For some reason, I can never see the humour in ‘black comedy’, only the blackness.)
The nasturtium (occasionally nasturtian, or, if you are an A.A. Milne fan, mastershalum) is one of those plants which it is quite easy to overlook for their ubiquitous familiarity. Simple to grow (and to regrow if you save the seeds), bulking up rapidly, with complex, brightly coloured, endlessly repeating flowers, and leaves with decorative veining and the delightful ability to capture pearls of rainwater in their slightly indented centres, what’s not to like?
… is today hung on display in the Fitzwilliam Museum – or, at any rate, a spectacular likeness produced after his death is. I mentioned
I didn’t mention that at