Angels wings

 

To the National Galleries of Scotland to see a favourite painting that's been rehung. There's been much criticism of the layout of the new building but we like the way everything flows together.

In summer the place is wall to wall solid with visitors but on a blustery February day we, and a group of sixty or so Czech teenagers, have the place to ourselves. The Czech teenagers  ( bored and slightly irritated as only sixteen year olds on a school trip can be ) settle down and sprawl across the newly laid marble, and each other, on the gallery floor. They then turn their attention to the video games on their i-Phones. Their teachers shout out some stern words in Czech  ( I'm guessing acting responsibly is the core of the message ) before heading off to the cafe for a coffee.... or quite possibly something stronger.  The teenagers stare at their screens , ignore the paintings and glumly discuss why they've been dragged off to Scotland when they could be at home in Brno.

The painting we've come to see now has a wall to itself. Until recently it shared a dark corner with some 'uplifting' Victorian pictures of Highland cattle. As a work of art it is quite simply bonkers: https://youtu.be/FQl7bc3DaT4?t=35

It shows Saint Bride the foster mother of Jesus ( don't even ask where that Celtic idea came from ) being carried across the stormy Sound of Iona to her destiny. There's a hint of danger in  a small Corryvreckan like whirl pool swirling beneath the feet of the sterner looking of the two angels: https://whirlpool-scotland.co.uk/  How many travelers, lacking angelic help, were swept down into its depths ?   Quite possibly my first memory is of coming to Edinburgh as a four year old and being shown this picture.  

The happy seal and the equally happy  seagulls in the corners of the painting impressed me as a four year old and  impress me still. They seem to be smiling.

One angel looks back over her shoulder at the sleeping girl while the other looks ahead. I guess the stern one is the one doing the driving.

It's the sort of picture that rewards a few minutes study. The three wise men ( and shepherds ) woven into the angels tunics, the artist as the 'Holy Fool, the abbey in the bottom corner, and the sea that looks as if its come from a Japanese print.

By the time we leave the Czech teenagers have moved to the Gallery cafeteria where  they are busy ordering chocolate milk shakes. They all seem more than delighted that their trial by culture is over. We, having seen the angels psychedelic wings, are also delighted.