So I finally made it to the National Gallery. Slightly sheepishly, I’ll admit I found most of it dull.
I went round in chronological order, and it was a pretty depressing start. Lots of religious pictures and historical portraits. Dull. Only the slightly ghostly sketch of the Madonna & child by Da Vinci really held my attention at all from the pre-1600 galleries.
Things picked up a little as we headed into the 17th century, with the Dutch & Flemish seascapes being the first section that I really loved. Even better were the impressionists, and best of all the Turners, which I loved. (Now what does it say about me that virtually all the paintings I loved were landscapes of some kind? Very few of the portraits held any interest for me.)
Still, overall I only really connected with a much smaller proportion of paintings (no more than 10% I reckon) than I typically do at Modern art galleries, which was no surprise to me. I just think I prefer modern stuff, something that was confirmed on the way out when I finally got to have a look at the latest occupant of the Fourth Plinth in Trafalgar Square. Much more fun than a painting of a dead king.