Wonder and Warmth from Lantern Light...

During a recent return trip to the Tate Britain, I was yet again almost inexplicably drawn to three specific paintings, much as a moth to a flame. Painted between the end quarter of the 19th century up to end of the first quarter of the 20th century, these works have very little in common, apart from their respective representations of the irresistible glow emanating from lantern light. From there, the 'moth effect' operates, as the visitor is mesmerised by the visual effect that almost becomes a physical sensation, radiating a restful warmth of wonder. The first painting shown here, A Fishergirl's Light (1899), by an Austrian artist - Marianne Stokes (1855-1927) possesses a quasi-mystical air with the female figure shown in striking profile against a seascape of muted colours crisscrossed by the nets and sails of the fishing boats. She glances down, as if in prayer, to the glowing painted paper lamp she holds in her clasped hands, leaving us to ponder over the significance of its religious character. Another lantern illuminates the fishergirl's back as with the beads and crucifix of a rosary strung over the bow of boat. The collective lantern light picks up the warmth of the girl's face, neck and hands, offset by the stark crisp white of her coiffe headdress.

The second painting here, is the work of John Singer Sargent (1856-1925) that ensured his success when he arrived in London from Paris; Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose (1885-6). The glow of the lamps draws both the girls and us likewise into the garden scene, with a sense of childlike fascination with the play of light of flame on paper. The girls in their starched white clothing are caught in the twilight, patchily lit up by lanterns and surrounded by convoluted flower petals and the darker carpet of stalks as night starts to fall. The effect again is peaceful yet with a slight tension as the opposites play against each other...

Pastoral, painted after the First World War in 1923-4 by Frederick Cayley Robinson (1862-1927), offers a wistful image of peace with a family group set by a meandering, moonlit river. The air of timelessness is highlighted by the lack of direct cultural references or realist narrative, as the figures stand by their sheep, the father bows his head, thus overting his eyes; the mother holds the lantern down to light up the lambs, whilst the daughter gazes out at us from the silver birch trees. By their feet, moths gravitate towards the lantern, caught in the light...

A Bouillon in Bordeaux... St Jean.

Eager to escape the blazing sun and scorching temperatures during a recent trip to Bordeaux, but above all curious to see what the bordelais version of the Parisian Bouillon restaurants was like, I went into Bouillon Saint-Jean by the train station.

Like the more familiar Paris restaurants, the Saint Jean site is decorated in the art nouveau style with the fluid arabesque forms of the furniture and elegant decor, all of which was brought to life with the gentle lighting that was in contrast with the raging sunlight outside.

Although the restaurant could seat a large amount of people, on my visit everything was very calm. An expanse of immaculately laid tables stretched out, with their spotless white table cloths, gleaming glasses and, of course, the timeless Bouillon menu that offers the signature dishes at incredibly reasonable prices.

Unlike the Parisian Bouillon from last year, this one did not appear to have an upper-floor seating arrangement, but the staircase was enticing nevertheless and I felt compelled to explore!

Most of the tables extend out from below a vast verrière and the impressive globe chandelier......

The symmetrical rows of tables and chairs set out under the warm glow of the lights gave an impression of cool crispness and order alongwith a certain intimate coziness.

The Saint Jean is decorated with a collection of blue-and-white crockery - with plates on the walls and a vast array of dishes and tureens in the glass cabinets.

The effect was striking yet not starchy, as was continued by the displays of framed herbiers (specimens of dried plants)...

As always, I kept wondering about where all these different artifacts had originally come from and tried to imagine the lives of those who had once used them...

What would they think of the family dinner set now being used to welcome visitors from far and wide?

Outside the establishment is the vast mosaic Art Déco facade that in fact indicates the origins of this particular Bouillon restaurant. Interestingly, the Café du Levant was founded at virtually the same time as the Parisian Bouillons; the end of the 19th century. It took on the Bouillon name in 2023 but retained much of its initial identity.

Blazing Blue Skies in Bordeaux...

A very brief work trip to Bordeaux saw me, and the others attending, criss-cross this extremely large, beautiful city by tram and bus in the sweltering heat to reach the congress site.

Just as one of these trams was about to draw up to our stop, it went past a roundabout covered by a blaze of orange, yellow and red lilies and gladioli...

As this was in a less attractive area of the city, some built-up district with none of the charm of the old streets dominated by the majestic buildings of earlier centuries, these incredible flowers were a welcome sight...

Yet again, it proved that beauty is to be found where and when you least expect it. As soon as I was out of the tram, I ran back to admire the flowers, in spite of the traffic circling the roundabout and the 37 degre temperature! If only I could have captured the smell of the lilies in the sun; unbelievable!

Sculpted Intricacies... The Nigg Pictish Cross

My last visit to the V&A museum found me back in the Cast Court, gazing in wonder yet again at these incredible 19th century plaster reproductions of originals from centuries past! Standing against the wall, surrounded by the towering casts of sculptures, architectural features and monuments from across Europe, was a relatively discreet sculpted cross slab, dating back to the late 8th century AD. The Nigg stone is one of several fascinating carved stones of early medieval western Europe, created by the Picts who were a people formed by a confederation of tribes from the lands north of the Firth of Forth in what is today Scotland. The Nigg cross is Pictish Class 2 work ie cross slabs and free-standing crosses bearing Christian iconography as well as symbols in relief used by the Picts, as opposed to 'Symbol stones' (Class 1) and crosses without Pictish symbols ( Class 3). The work on the stone is so intricate that it was mind-boggling!

Nigg - from the Scottish Gaelic word meaning 'notch' - is a reference to the indent in the surrounding hills that are found on the north shore of the entrance to the Cromarty Firth. The Nigg cross once stood in the grounds of the 8th century Christian site to be occupied by the parish church of Nigg some thousand years later, in the 18th century. The stone was damaged in the 1700s, with a section lost from the top part of the cross, yet recovered from a nearby stream in 1998 and reattached to the disfigured work. The sculpted design and detail on the cross bear similarities with other Pictish works from the era, including free-standing crosses on Iona, the St Andrews Sarcophagus and the illuminated manuscript; the Book of Kells. The stone is composed of an elaborately decorated great cross in high relief on the front, set against an asymmetrical background of interwoven serpent forms that create raised bosses. On the pediment above the cross is a scene depicting Saint Anthony and Saint Paul being fed by a raven, as recounted by St Jerome. Looking at the sculpted detail, I find myself in awe at the skill from over a thousand years ago, yet charmed by the quirky figures and forms that seem somehow relatable.