Art for art's sake

My art education was sadly neglected. In secondary school, I was into drama and had a great drama teacher. I went on to study drama at university and then had nearly 20 years working in drama with secondary age students. Music lessons were awful and seemed to consist mainly of us teenagers refusing to sing the songs of Robert Burns. I'm delighted to say music in schools has improved tremendously since my day but back then I got my music education at home. Art lessons consisted of drawing and since I couldn't draw, I was happy to give it up at school and take Latin instead.

I don't remember an art teacher ever talking us through a picture. I now love going to exhibitions with my friend Lorna who is an artist and draws (sorry!) my attention to things I'm not educated enough to notice on my own. That said, I've been to many an art gallery and museum and recognise all the 'big' pictures people rave about, even if I'm not sure what makes them great. I've even bought a few pictures, despite the fact I don't really know what I'm doing.

I've tended to buy pictures based on how they make me react. One of my pictures is of a street in southern France. It's sunny in the picture and it looks so hot the cobblestones look like they're about to melt. Another is of a coracle sailing to Iona - almost an abstract but it makes me think of the beautiful west coast of Scotland where I lived on and off for 15 years of my working life.

The Impressionists by and large leave me cold. I don't get what they're trying to do. And some of the paintings are just a puzzle:

Would Monet have painted better if he'd gone to Specsavers and could see things in focus?

And in Manet's picnic painting, why is the woman the only person with her kit off?

But today at the Burrell, I had a wee epiphany - and here's what caused it:

It's by Manet and it's called Roses in a Champagne Glass. This is not a very good reproduction. In the original, the glass has a slightly blue tinge. It's toaty. But it's a lovely painting: you could almost reach in and lift the yellow rose out of the glass. But you wouldn't because the arrangement is just perfect. I looked at it for ages. Seeing this picture led me to google his other flower pictures when I got home. And then his portraits. In fact, the picnic picture up above isn't a good representation of his portraits of women: as far as I can see, although Manet's women quite often look straight at him he's not trying to get inside their heads, but to show their character. They are cool, these women, not trying to please the painter. I like that. So that's my art education started then. I'm off to google some more!

By the way, the Burrell is well due its planned refurbishment. I was annoyed when I heard it was to close for a couple of years but now I can only say bring it on! Apart from the buckets put out to catch leaks from the roof, the floor coverings are pretty worn, the toilets are dark and nasty, the lift creaks and the whole place - frankly - smells from the minute you walk in. The shop needs to be redesigned: there's too much in it and it's too hard to see what's available. And I can't believe the Burrell put on an exhibition of their Impressionist paintings but didn't have postcards on sale of all of the pictures. The cafe needs air-con and a serious re-think. I was at the new Greek museum in Athens just after it opened and its cafe is fabulous - somebody from the Burrell needs to have a look. Tourists will pay for fresh food but scones (one of Scotland's great gifts to the world!) in plastic are a complete turn-off and putting 'freshly made' on a shrink-wrapped sarnie is not going to sell it. Most alarmingly, there wasn't the smell of fresh food, not even coffee, as I went in - what's that about? 

But still, I got a lot from my visit and I hope to get more when the Burrell re-opens - in when? 2016?