Artful Dodging

I took myself up to Edinburgh to see the “Turner in Italy” exhibition at what used to be the Royal Scottish Academy, now part of the "National Gallery Complex". Auld Reekie is really in a mess. In preparation for the new tram system, the streets have been dug up into a system of trenches to rival the Western Front. Peering down into them you could see exposed the network of pipes and cables and conduits that keep the city functioning – telephone, electricity, water, gas. It reminded me of times spent in the dissecting rooms tracing the paths of the brachial artery or the lateral cutaneous nerve of thigh on formalin-bronzed cadavers in what was, in my case, a rather vain attempt to commit the complexity of the human anatomy to memory.

But the Turners were worth all the crossing and re-crossing of streets and finding a way through the maze of health-and-safety mesh fencing ( hard hats must be worn).

The earlier pictures were great but the later ones of Venice, of the Santa Maria del Salute rising ghostly in the miasma off the canals, were astonishing.

A step round the back took me to the National Gallery proper to pay homage to Velazquez’ “An Old Woman Cooking Eggs” that has been away, starring in the BBC series "The Baroque", and is now back where it belongs. It also gave me a chance to feel the warm glow of ownership as I contemplated the acres of naked flesh that are the Titians, proudly purchased on our behalf, by the government of Scotland. They have spent money on less worthy causes.
All those dimply bums, love-handles and cellulite would certainly merit a stern lecture from the practice nurse on the perils of BMI’s over 25 and the danger to the skin of over-exposure to ultraviolet.
Waving my free pass, I clambered aboard the bus to trundle round the countryside back to the village, my I-pod suitably charged to while away the couple of hours it takes to reach the sticks.
Despite all the twinges and niggles and general falling apart, getting older can be quite enjoyable at times.