Reflections on the artwork in the Scottish National Gallery
After wandering around the Scottish Academy building in Edinburgh, wondering where the entry might be on what appeared as a ‘blind’ building offering no invitation, we strolled along the open space on the side of this classical massing. All one discovered was that there was a removalist's van unloading at the only point that looked like it might be an entry, leaving one puzzled.
So we continued on along this public plaza, past this surprising loading dock, to find yet another 'statement' structure behind this classical mass that also seemed to lack an entry. It was another formal, bulky building that offered the same challenge: to find the entry if you can. On what seemed to be the front of what turned out to be the National Galleries of Scotland, hung a large sign: Yours to discover. One could read this message as a confronting requirement for all visitors - to discover where the entry might be. Our best and most hopeful guess turned out to be right, but there was no certainty until we opened a door and entered the foyer of an interior that had obviously been totally refurbished. We congratulated ourselves and took time to reorientate by moving into the café for a coffee and a treat before approaching the art: galleries can be challenging.
Strolling back into the foyer, we opened yet another huge door and found ourselves in a room full of typical 'Renaissance' images spread high and low across the walls. It seemed just too much for a beginning, too daunting in its subject matter and scale, so we retreated to the floor plans in the foyer and chose the Scottish display, thinking that this might be an easier perusal, a more gentle initiation, and turned to take the stairs down to Level 2.
The stairs were a smart set of neatly detailed spiral treads that circled down and around what one assumed might be a circular lift; perhaps a duct? We moved into a new foyer space that led into the Scottish art on the right, and down to the gallery shop and café on the left, on Level 1, a space that opened out into the adjacent terrace and the parkland.
The Scottish art proved to be just right for our mood, offering an array of the work of talented local artists from a variety of periods in various styles. The display path led one through a variety of connected areas that gathered works based on theme or time. One progressed through this delight until eventually arriving at the Scottish ‘Mona Lisa’: Landseer's Monarch of the Glen, that image that has been popularised on everything from tea towels, frig magnets, and calendars, to plates, mugs and biscuit tins. It was the image that accompanied the Yours to discover message over what one had assumed to be the front entry of the building. Was the challenge really to find this iconic painting that was secreted away in the most distant corner of the Scottish section, creating something of a draw-card in the same manner that shopping centres locate the larger, more frequented outlets to enforce the journey to get there past an array of smaller, less significant shops?
It was here, at this terminus, that the eye confirmed what it had been glimpsed elsewhere in the display: the serious problems with reflections. While much of the artwork was behind the gloss of glass that mirrored light, the varnished surface of oils proved to be just as much a problem as the protective pane.
One had noticed and admired the new building work that has been done in this gallery, not only in the old building, but under it too, creating a new entry and some pleasant spaces for both the display and the shop/café,# all carefully and thoughtfully detailed. While it was thoughtful of the architects to open up these gallery spaces to give glimpses of the beautifully treed, inner-city park, it was the glare from these sources that one frequently had noted as being the cause of awkward reflections.
At the ‘Monarch,’ one discovered that the problem was more complex, with lights, exit lights, and other reflected objects finding their way as an overlay onto the grand beast. Sometimes a green, laser-like spot appeared on the head, looking just like the aim of a hunter getting ready to pull the trigger.
Having observed this unwanted interplay, one started to see all types of reflections on the artworks as one retreated to go into the shop, peruse the range of curios, and then move back up to Level 3, to finally tackle the classical display that had been glimpsed on our original approach: now was the time for the 'Renaissance.'
The vertical transition from Level 1 to 3 was tricky. The first lift only went to Level 2; here we walked around until was discovered the lift to Level 3. It was a circular lift with glass doors, a clever design; but why the vertical fragmentation?
The 'Renaissance' collection was impressive; but the eye had now been trained to see reflections, and this display did not disappoint. Indeed, the octagonal planning offered a fitting geometry to allow some interesting 45 degree interplay. The top lighting gave a new surprise: glare from above that hazed a lot of the higher paintings.
One moved on quickly, being disappointed, believing that any display seen in this gallery might prove to be problematical, such were the number and seriousness of the glare and reflection issues caused by various sundry light sources. Why was everyone not complaining? It seemed that we have all been trained to not see reflections; or if we do see them, to ignore them in favour of the preferred image that is on display.
The proposition that we have ways of not seeing is as worrying as that which tells us about our ways of seeing, suggesting that we can create any world we might choose to implement for our own purposes, to confirm our desired preferences, whatever they might be.
The issue with reflections in art galleries has been raised before – see: https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2014/02/reflections-and-shadows-california-here.html. It needs to not only be considered again, but should be seriously studied so that we do not get carried away with clever ideas that only enhance these reflections that do disturb the enjoyment of the presentation.
While sitting waiting to leave the building from Level 1, after browsing the classical section, it was noticed that the architects of the extension/refurbishment had had their name chiselled into an old stone face, as well as getting the name of the project engraved into the external stonework: WESTON LINK MMIV identified the project but did not explain its special role;# and JOHN MILLER + PARTNERS ARCHITECTS MMIV identified the firm that designed and detailed this project. It was all rather quaint and ‘ancient,’ reminding one of the text one might find on a Roman mausoleum.
Perhaps the care and attention applied to these smart ideas could have been given to the problem of reflections to allow the art to be displayed without the unwanted interference of this annoying glare that transforms works into new unwanted collages of light, shade, and ghostly images.
It was a disappointment that lay, like the reflections themselves, over the appreciation of some lovely work, for the gallery is excellent in many ways. It is a carefully considered and well-detailed project that enlivens and opens up a fairly bland, brutish Greek Revival building, one of the many with features that Ruskin had counted in Princes Street on his way to the public lecture he gave in Edinburgh in November 1853. It is the building that offered that initial Yours to discover challenge, be this the mission to 'find the entry,’ the ‘Monarch,’ or whatever: might it be a variation of the Delphic Know Thyself? On Level 1 the architects had solved the entry problem with the new, lower entry that connected the gallery to the terrace that opened up nicely to the park. It was a clever transformation that revitalised the building with this civic gesture.
We did retrace our tracks to go back to the Scottish Academy Building, eventually taking a punt at the entry. We were met by a security guard who told us that the place was closed for a re-hanging. We turned and walked away, still not knowing whether this minor rear door was indeed the entry, or just another service point. It left us something to reflect on.
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Google’s Gemini explains:
The Weston Link is an underground space at the Scottish National Gallery in Edinburgh, completed in 2004 as part of the Playfair Project. It connects the National Gallery to the Royal Scottish Academy building via an underground route. The Weston Link houses visitor facilities, including a restaurant, café, shop, and lecture theatre.
