Saturday 12th March 2016

Aunt Lavinia and I to a deeply private breakfast at the Royal Academy, this time for the Monet to Matisse Garden Show. Royston King was there, as usual refusing headphones, and former Mark Fisher and Lady. Royston introduced him as a Lord which he isn’t. Apparently there is much miff in high circles over the failure of titles to materialise. ‘These are perfectly ghastly,’ one of the breakfast Greatnesses declared as we toured privately, sweeping aside an entire room. Attendees are supposed to give money. The one whom I once spied writing a cheque for £25,000 (that was at the Summer Show breakfast), Aunt Lavinia and I saw again at the Antique Fair in King’s Road on Friday.

The Impressionists are ghastly if viewed in a certain way (this show is mainly the Impressionists, despite its title): glaring, garish. In the final room, pink/mauve lily pictures by Monet stretch as far as the eye can see – well, that pink is quite a challenge. This time, after exposure to Monet at the great exhibition in Paris several years ago, I was stuck by two things: the Impressionists (Monet mainly) are bourgeois, not to say suburban. It’s a mistake to think of them as countrified. They were Parisian suburban in origin and they painted their surroundings. Hence the harsh newness of public parks, park planting, plants also that were new at the time and brilliantly coloured – dahlias, chrysthans etc. Glaring, popular flowers. They were also much enamoured of the new pigments which allowed greater brightness of colour than ever before.  My second thought: if they’d wanted to do pleasant tasteful nature pictures in subdued tones, they could have done. The retinal assault is deliberate and violent. It’s what gardens look like in bright sunshine, particularly the further south you go. The bare, stark glare of some of these pictures is actually quite frightening. As Royston remarked, ‘Monet’s painting of a dahlia is so much more than a painting of a dahlia.’ Quite what it is is hard to say.

Afterwards, Royston and I retired to the cafe in St James Park where he is Park Trustee. He told more me about those in high places who missed out on titles and left their wives for young men. Not much new on the Queen although we spoke of her, of course. Within minutes of parting from Royston at Embankment, she drove by – on her way back from Plaistow I found out later. The impression was of two hats, hers and the lady-in-waiting’s, going by with many back-up vehicles.

A Public Park by Monet: A Terrible but Wondrous Glare

Another Public Garden: This is How they Were and Still Are. Not Exactly Lovely and That Sky is Threatening

This is Monet’s Little Garden in the Early Days: Paris Suburbs: Self-Painted

Here is Renoir Painting Monet Painting his Garden: The Perfect Suburban Scene

Ferocious Chrysthans by Monet: They were New then

This One is by Sargent: Watch out for these Poppies

This is The Only Klimt: a Very Different Thing. Utterly Delicious

An Unusual Snow Scene: by Henri Le Sidaner, an Artist Recommended by our Private Curator: Not Much Known. You could Feel the Cold Coming Off this Painting: So Real

And So the Late Monet: One is Stunned by this Room, inspite of Everything: The Greeny-Blue Lily Paintings I Often Don’t like. They Really Do Look a Mess: But these Silvery Mauve Ones I adored