Hiroshige: artist of the open road @ the British Museum

This is a wonderfully beautiful show of pure visual, intellectual and aesthetic pleasure.

A leading US collector of Hiroshige’s work, Mr Alan Medaugh, has recently gifted 35 prints by Hiroshige to the American Friends of the British Museum and loaned a further 82 works, and it’s these – plus additions from the British Museum’s own collection and the more modern works in the final section –which make up the contents of this fabulous exhibition. Thank you very much indeed Mr Medaugh!

Ferry on the Fuji River, Suruga Province from Famous Places in Japan c. 1832 by Utagawa Hiroshige. Colour-woodblock print © The Trustees of the British Museum

Hence this exhibition, the first on Hiroshige to be held in London for quarter of a century, and the first ever to be held at the British Museum. The great majority of the prints in the exhibition have never been displayed before, and several are believed to be the only surviving examples of their kind in the world.

The title has two elements, Hiroshige, and the open road, and thereafter is divided into themes or topics. I’ll address them one by one.

Preliminary note

This review relies more than usual on the curators’ own words, which can be found in the large print guide i.e. the complete wall labels, for the exhibition. This is because it is a more than usually scholarly and academic exhibition. At exhibitions of Giuseppe Penone or even Arpita Singh, I can start from my knowledge of western art and the traditions those artists invoke and movements they work within, to generate my own thoughts about the design and style and themes of their work.

This is not that kind of exhibition. It is highly educational about a subject and style remote from most of us. It is a display of immense scholarship which digs into levels of detail – for example about different types of Japanese nature painting, or the subtle influence of Chinese schools of landscape painting on Japanese art – which you and I are just not informed about.

Did you know that a yūjo is the name for a Japanese sex worker or courtesan or that bijin-ga (pictures of beautiful women) were one of Hiroshige’s most popular print subjects? Could you distinguish between Hiroshige’s style and the compositionally bolder style of the Kyoto Maruyama-Shijō school? Or that the tanzaku is the name for the tall, narrow format of a strip of paper used to record poems?

No. Me neither. This is a very information-dense exhibition which is why to write a meaningful review I need to repeat a lot of the scholarly commentary which informs the show.

Hiroshige

Utagawa Hiroshige (1797 to 1858) was one of Japan’s most prolific and popular artists. People at every level of society embraced his calm, lyrical depictions of daily life, nature and the rural landscape. The work of modern and contemporary artists across Europe, the US and Japan reveals his lasting influence.

Born into a low-ranking samurai family in Edo (present-day Tokyo), Hiroshige was orphaned at the age of 12 and inherited his father’s title of fire warden. A superior in the fire department taught him to paint in the Kano school style. By the 1830s he was focusing on what were to become his best-known subjects: tranquil views of famous places, panoramic views of city life, and beautiful depictions of the natural world. Over time he became renowned for his innovative compositions and subtle use of graded ink tones (bokashi).

Hiroshige’s earliest series depict scenes in and around his home city of Edo, such as ‘Famous Places in the Eastern Capital’ and ‘Eight Views of the Eastern Capital’. They depict well-known sights around Edo Bay.

Pleasure Boats at Ryōgoku in the Eastern Capital, 1832-4 by Utagawa Hiroshige. Colour-woodblock print triptych. Collection of Alan Medaugh © Alan Medaugh. Photography by Matsuba Ryōko

Following a career spanning more than four decades, Hiroshige died on the 12 October 1858, perhaps the victim of a cholera epidemic then afflicting Edo.

Avoiding politics

Hiroshige lived at the end of the Edo period (1615 to 1868), when a samurai government ruled Japan from the city of Edo. It was a time of urban growth, but also of famine, social crisis and foreign military incursions. Hiroshige, however, avoided depicting turmoil in his art. On the contrary it was his realistic but beautifully stylised landscapes that earned him greatest fame in his lifetime and continue to win admiration today.

The open road

The samurai government of Japan had banned foreign travel since the 1630s but by Hiroshige’s time there was a growing interest in domestic journeys. Samurai lords with hundreds of attendants made their way to Edo to pay their respects to the shogun. Others set off on business, pilgrimage and sightseeing trips, independently or in organised groups.

Inspired by his own explorations, and by East Asian painting traditions and guidebooks, Hiroshige created landscape pictures that were visually inviting and filled with human interest. They offered an imaginative escape for those unable to travel. As the man himself wrote:

[My] drawings present completely true-to-life landscapes to give people just a moment of pleasure without the inconvenience of a long journey.

Landscapes and meisho (famous places) were a safe subject for publishers during the early 1840s, a period of severe censorship.

Evening View of the Eight Scenic Spots of Kanazawa in Musashi Province, 1857 by Utagawa Hiroshige. Colour-woodblock print triptych. Collection of Alan Medaugh © Alan Medaugh

The Eastern Coast Road

But the exhibition focuses on a couple of famous roads in particular. The 500-kilometre-long Tōkaidō (Eastern Coast Road) connected Edo (present-day Tokyo) in the east with Kyoto, the emperor’s capital, in the west. It was the most travelled highway in Japan. There’s a big map of the route of the road(s) on the wall which, like a numpty, I forgot to take a photo of.

The fifty-three post stations along its route provided travellers with places to rest and stock up on supplies. Accommodation ranged from simple guest houses to luxury inns reserved for daimyō (samurai lords). From around 1833 until the end of his life, Hiroshige designed more than 20 series of prints on the Tōkaidō, about 700 works in total.

Nihonbashi, ‘Morning Scene’, from the 53 Stations of the Tōkaidō, c. 1833-35 by Utagawa Hiroshige. Colour-woodblock print © The Trustees of the British Museum

The Central Mountain Road

Later in the exhibition there’s a work from a series depicting a different rout. The Kisokaidō (Kiso highway, also called the Nakasendō or Central Mountain Road) took travellers on a difficult journey through the mountain ranges north-west of Edo, today called the Japanese Alps. It crossed some of Japan’s most awe-inspiring scenery. Steep passes and heart-stopping suspension bridges made it an adventurous route through sixty-nine stations connecting Kyoto and Edo.

Hiroshige depicted the highway in only one major series, which he took over from another artist. It’s represented by a really evocative depiction of a tiny road winding among snow-covered mountains.

Wherever he travelled Hiroshige took a sketchbook which he packed with sketches of different landscapes, and several of them are on display here.

Prolificness

Mention of the 700 works raises a key fact about Hiroshige which is his astonishing prolificness. Hiroshige was commissioned by publishers. The publishers published works in series. If a series was popular, more would be commissioned.

The point of these colour woodblock prints is they were designed to be cheap, affordable, and popular, in subject matter and format. Late in the show they tell us about scientific forensic work which has been done on Hiroshige’s surviving woodblocks and so we think that his most popular designs may have been printed up to 15,000 times before the woodblocks wore down completely.

Throughout his life Hiroshige returned to depictions of Edo, capital of the Tokugawa government during the Edo period (1615 to 1868). He did so in more than 150 print series, including ‘One Hundred Famous Views of Edo’ which covered every neighbourhood, including areas that were not especially famous.

The mass-production of these colour woodblock prints during the Edo period met the demand from an expanding audience for inexpensive art and meant that ordinary people could buy beautifully made but disposable prints for a few pennies.

Print production began with the publisher, who hired the artist, block cutter and printer. Hiroshige worked for around 90 publishers! In a competitive business environment Japanese publishers needed to cultivate as wide an audience as possible. They may have issued variant designs of a single work as a way of appealing to different tastes, which explains the samples here of the same basic design (of a pheasant, say) being reversioned to appear as if in spring, summer and winter, by changing details of the design (adding snow for winter etc).

All this explains why the complete catalogue of Hiroshige’s work amounts to some 5,000 designs for colour woodblock prints, as well as hundreds of paintings and dozens of illustrated books.

Uchiwa (fans)

In Edo-period Japan, warm weather brought a demand for inexpensive, hand-held fans that people could use and enjoy for a season and then discard. A popular type was the uchiwa, an oval fan on fixed ribs with a handle. Unlike folding fans (ōgi), uchiwa are non-collapsible and so allow woodblock prints to be pasted onto their rigid bamboo frame. Uchiwa fan prints were disposable and only a few examples of each design survive.

Several examples are here along with depictions of them in works by Hiroshige and contemporaries, with a copy of a book of stories based on different types of fan by Hishikawa Moronobu.

Modern specialists in ukiyo-e (Edo-period popular prints) have counted every known uchiwa design by Hiroshige and concluded that he produced well over 500, far more than any other artist. The subjects range from rustic and urban scenes to still life.

The exhibition doesn’t have any fans decorated by him, but examples of his works which depict fan-bearing geishas, along with a very big portrait-shaped depiction of a young geisha with an older woman carrying different types of fan, by Kitagawa Tsukimaro.

Kachō hanga (prints of birds and flowers)

Hiroshige’s depictions of nature, especially his kachō hanga (prints of birds and flowers), show his intuitive bond with the natural world. Many include a Japanese or Chinese poem inscribed in flowing calligraphy, reflecting the connection between nature and poetry in Japanese culture and the high level of literacy at the time. Hiroshige’s kachō hanga contributed to a sudden flourishing of the genre in Japan from the 1830s and furthered the artist’s popularity.

Crane and asters, Three geese and full moon, Pheasant and chrysanthemums by Utagawa Hiroshige. Colour-woodblock prints. Gift from the collection of Alan Medaugh to the American Friends of the British Museum Centre © Alan Medaugh. Photograph by Matsuba Ryōko

This section was, for me, the most appealing. There are lots of works depicting a wide range of birds, plants and trees, including wonderful depictions of an owl, mandarin duck, cuckoo, parakeet, cockerel, Eurasian jay, heron, wagtail, kingfisher, falcon, pheasant, tit, oriole, you get the picture.

Also, there’s sound. The curators commissioned a 25-minute long audio track combining the sound of streams, waterfalls, rainfall and animals, including birds and crickets.

One of the most striking images is from late in his career when he experimented with putting objects in the foreground so that they dominate the image, and did so with an enormous carp.

An enormous black carp appears to leap into the air high above the samurai neighbourhood of Surugadai in Edo. In popular East Asian belief, if a carp reaches the top of a waterfall it turns into a dragon, symbolising hard work leading to success. People in Edo displayed koi-nobori (carp banners) like this during the Boys’ Day Festival (5th day of the 5th month, now called Children’s Day).

Bijin

After his attention shifted to landscapes in the early 1830s, Hiroshige did not return to depicting bijin (beautiful women) for more than a decade. As government censorship restrictions started to ease in the late 1840s, he began designing bijin triptychs, depicting women beautifully dressed in kimonos which are depicting in loving and yet always stylised detail.

Cherry Blossoms on a Moonless Night along the Sumida River (1847-8) by Utagawa Hiroshige. Colour-woodblock print triptych. Gift from the collection of Alan Medaugh to the American Friends of the British Museum © Alan Medaugh. Photograph by Matsuba Ryōko

Videos and tools

The exhibition includes three or four videos showing modern craftsmen demonstrating the techniques of woodcarving, and painting, which Hiroshige used in his prints.

  • the artist Hiroko Imada demonstrates the bokashi (gradation) woodblock printing technique – this is an effect achieved in the printing process by the controlled application of ink to the woodblock
  • extracts from a film by the artist Kawase Hasui (1883–1957) showing him cutting the omohan or key block
  • Capucine Korenberg, scientist at the British Museum, discusses her work on the different versions of Hiroshige’s Plum Garden at Kameido prints

And, of course, display cases containing tools of the trade, woodblock-cutting tools like a mallet and chisel, an omohan or key or outline block, a baren or printer’s pad, and explaining the techniques

  • kimedashi or relief printing
  • musenzuri or contourless printing
  • kasanezuri or over-printing

Hiroshige’s influence in the West

In the late nineteenth century there was a vogue in Europe and America for Japanese prints, fashions and designs on vases, tea services etc which goes under the name of Japonisme. It was fed by the opening up of Japan to trade in the 1850s which led to the rapid dissemination of Japanese products in the West.

The exhibition has a modest section describing some highlights of this. Most notable are two big names from the end of the century, Vincent van Gogh and James McNeil Whistler.

In a fascinating little section, we are shown an original Hiroshige print – The Plum Garden at Kameido, 1857 – and told that Vincent van Gogh bought a copy around 1887 and then meticulously traced it onto a numbered grid which he used to enlarge the composition to scale onto the canvas for his oil copy, with van Gogh’s numbered grid placed net to it.

In fact Van Gogh and his brother Theo purchased over 400 Japanese colour woodblock prints and Vincent copied a number of them. Further along the wall is a large-scale sketch of ‘The Countryside along the Shore of the Rhône’ in which he consciously tried to adopt the Japanese approach to landscape, seeking harmony of composition over photographic realism.

The Whistler connection is less dramatic: American artist and educator Arthur Wesley Dow published a book which included examples of Hiroshige prints next to reproductions of works by Whistler to show the influence, namely abandoning the quest for photographic realism in an effort to create atmospheric compositions.

A bit more tenuously there’s a not very good 1895 print by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec titled The Passenger in 54 which may, or may not, have been influenced by Hiroshige’s strategy of placing the subject in the foreground so as to eclipse the background setting. This is the kind of thing we’re referring to where, pretty obviously, the tree is the focal point of the image, with the people in the background utterly eclipsed.

The Plum Garden at Kameido from 100 Famous Views of Edo, 1857 by Utagawa Hiroshige. Colour-woodblock print. Collection of Alan Medaugh © Alan Medaugh. Photography by Matsuba Ryōko

Modern homages

This final section brings together a dozen or so artworks by contemporary artists which pay homage one way or another to Hiroshige’s achievement. They include:

  • Julian Opie who produced a set of lenticular prints of the landscape around Mount Fuji (2009)
  • Koya Abe who digitally altered Hiroshige’s print Seba to convey the destruction caused by the Great Tōhoku Earthquake on 11 March 2011
  • Emily Allchurch who has digitally collaged hundreds of her photographs of Japan to create new interpretations of Hiroshige in Tokyo Story
  • Noda Tetsuya who noticed the similarity between the view from Tate Modern looking down on the Thames and Millennium Bridge and Hiroshige’s print, ‘Sudden Shower over Ōhashi and Atake’ and so did a Hiroshige-style treatment of the London view, titled Diary: Feb. 23rd

Thoughts

Magic. ‘Luxury, peace, and pleasure’ Japanese style. Go and see it.


Related links

Related reviews

Royal Academy Summer Exhibition 2017

Took the kids to the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition. This is the 7th or 8th Summer show I’ve been to, so I know the form: of 12,000 or so works submitted by professionals and amateurs alike, some 1,200 are selected and hung in rooms arranged by different curators, picking out or choosing different themes, often with distinct wall colours to give each room a specific character.

There’s always a room devoted to architecture (the ‘room of shame’ as I call it) and one of Big Sculptures. This year there were also two room showing videos, one showing Phantom Rhapsody by Sarah Pucill and The Invisible Voice by Julie Born Schwartz. I have myself produced and directed a number of videos, and then series edited several hundred TV programmes. It never ceases to surprise me how ‘art’ videos have such low production values and use so little of the digital technology which is available. Having watched the showreels of hundreds of directors applying for TV jobs, which consist of scores of inventive clips, impactful short films, novel combinations of music and action, I’m always struck by the way art videos are so often deeply conservative and unimaginative.

And then there’s always work by the familiar Royal Academicians like Michael Craig-Martin, the Matisse-like cut-outs by Gillian Ayres, the saucy cartoonish self-portraits of Anthony Green (e.g. The Pink Lounge), evocative etchings of the Highlands and Islands by Norman Ackroyd, or the scrawny nudes by Tracey Emin – although this year Ms Emin supplied a set of smallish neon sentences spelling out phrases like ‘I Did Not Say I Can Never Love You I Said I Could Never Love You’ and ‘Never Again!’ and ‘And I Said I Love You!’. This last one can be seen through the archway in the photo below, a pink neon sentence hanging from the wall and yours for just £84,000.

View of the Wohl Central Hall featuring Petrol Cargo by Romuald Hazoume and Very Nice Ride by Paola Pivi

View of the Wohl Central Hall featuring Petrol Cargo by Romuald Hazoume and Very Nice Ride (a rotating bicycle wheel studded with peacock feathers attached to the wall) by Paola Pivi (£13,000)

Petrol Cargo is based on the scooters laden with jugs and vessels used to smuggle petrol across borders in West Africa – possibly more a piece of ethnography than art, but hey…

View of Room II featuring Untitled (Violin) by Michael Craig-Martin

View of Room II featuring Untitled (Violin) by Michael Craig-Martin RA (£120,000)

Although you can take a few minutes to read the wall label in each room which gives the ostensible aim and guiding principles the selectors used to make their selection, these would be impossible to guess from the works alone which, in each room, present much the same kind of cluttered random feel.

View of Room II showing Volute IV by Paul de Monchaux (£36,000) and Full House by Sean Scully (NFS)

View of Room II showing Volute IV by Paul de Monchaux (The bronze sculpture on the floor – £36,000) and Full House by Sean Scully RA (the big painting – Not For Sale)

My kids quickly devised a game called Find The Most Expensive Work in The Room, though this didn’t stop us just liking things we liked, such as Aeronautics by Alexander Vorobyev, bottom left and heavily channeling Paul Klee – and Frederick Cuming’s slightly disturbing Children’s Playground, Sicily. These were in Room I which was absolutely crammed with works stacked next to each other. It’s an interesting effect. This is how the Victorians displayed their pictures – without the enormous reverent white spaces we’re used to in normal exhibitions. It tends to make you make much quicker, more sweeping judgments: Yes, No, No, Yes.

Room I featuring Aeronautics by Alexander Vorobyev (botton left - £6,000) and Children's Playground, Sicilty by Frederick Cuming (bottom right - £7,200)

Room I featuring Aeronautics by Alexander Vorobyev (bottom left, £6,000) and Children’s Playground, Sicily by Frederick Cuming (bottom right, £7,200)

Sometimes works catch your eye. Or the arrangement of works. So, simply having two works by Bill Jacklin RA next to each other more than doubled their impact – though both have a hint of the Jack Vettrianos about them.

Hub I (£55,000) and Umbrella Crossing IV (£35,000) by Bill Jacklin

Hub I (£55,000) and Umbrella Crossing IV (£35,000) by Bill Jacklin

Room V is dominated by Natural Pearl, a sculpture in steel by Nigel Hall RA. On the wall, at the top, to the right of the doorway, you can see two of the bright, attractive decorative works in the style of Matisse’s cut-outs by Gillian Ayres RA. These come in signed editions of 30 at £4,700 a pop.

Room V featuring Natural Pearl by Nigel Hall (£189,600)

Room V featuring Natural Pearl by Nigel Hall (£189,600)

The woman on the right in the photo is above is holding a flute of champagne. because in the centre of the largest room is a bar serving champagne among other intoxicating drinks at Royal Ascot prices. So there were lots of white middle-class people sipping champagne and considering post-colonial works such as Inheritance by British artist Zak Ové, noted for ‘his documentation of and anthropological interest in diasporic and African history’.

Inheritance by Zak Ové (£21,600)

Inheritance by Zak Ové (£21,600)

Next to this pillar are two works by Mozambique artist Gonçalo Mabunda, both called Untitled throne and made out of decommissioned weapons used during Mozambique’s civil war in which over a million people died. They’re clearly related to the famous Throne of Weapons in the British Museum made by Cristóvão Estavão Canhavato as part of the same project titled ‘Transforming Guns into Hoes’, part funded by European charities.

One chair costs £14,400 and one costs £15,000 – the kids suggested that one costs more because some of the ammo is still live – and that the only way to find out which one is to sit on them both and see which one blows up! Nothing in Art, I explained patiently to my son, is that exciting or dangerous. When curators describe a work of art as ‘dangerous’ or ‘risky’ they don’t, in fact, mean it.

Untitled thrones by Gonçalo Mabunda (£14,400 and £15,000)

Untitled thrones by Gonçalo Mabunda (£14,400 and £15,000)

In a corner of room VI were this set of figurines a little over a foot tall, each with an individual name (Taigen, Monika etc) by Japanese artist Tomoaki Suzuki and retailing at an impressive £24,000. My son calculated you could buy 480 Action Men for that price.

Taigen, Monika, Larry, Dasha, Rosie, Kadeem and Kyrone by Tomoaki Suzuki (£24,000)

Taigen, Monika, Larry, Dasha, Rosie, Kadeem and Kyrone by Tomoaki Suzuki (£24,000 each)

Amid so many so-so abstract paintings, I was attracted to sculptures of the human form. This one-off mannequin, a ‘unique fibre-glass sculpture, hand-painted with Dutch wax pattern, bespoke hand-coloured globe and steel baseplate’ is by Yinka Shonibure RA and titled Venus de Medici. (Hanging on the wall to the left is Métamorphose de Papillon by Abdoulaye Konaté – £35,000)

Venus de Medici by Yinka Shonibare RA (£162,000)

Venus de Medici by Yinka Shonibare RA (£162,000)

Looking into it now, after my visit, I notice that this room, Room VI, was curated by Yinka Shonibare and was probably my favourite, with half a dozen big striking sculptures.

Mūgogo - The Crossing By Naomi Wanjiku Gakunga (£17,500)

Mūgogo: The Crossing by Naomi Wanjiku Gakunga (£17,500)

When there are lots of paintings, of wildly different styles and aims, hanging cheek by jowl, it’s difficult to sort out your responses to them, or to really pay attention to each one. You tend to be attracted at a quick glance by the colour, the design, the subject conveyed (whether it’s a figurative work), and so on.

For example, the semi-abstract works on the right are probably the better pieces, but by this stage the visitor is over 750 works into the exhibition (!) so the rather exhausted eye tends to be drawn to the easier-to-process figurative images on the left.

Corner of Room VII

Corner of Room VII

In the above photo, the image of the door open into a room is Postern by Suzanne Moxhay (£895), to its right is Sic Transit Gloria Mundi (After Piranesi) by Emily Allchurch; on the right wall are Of by Elizabeth Magill (£10,000) and Baroda – Tree Of Art by Katsutoshi Yuasa (£2,500).

Room IX is dominated by a vast work by Gilbert & George, the latest in their huge stained-glass-window style works divided into panels and generally depicting crude and vulgar subjects – I am still reeling from the similarly huge works depicting turds and piss, such as Spunk Blood Piss Shit Spit (1996) which I saw at Tate a few years ago. The example here was relatively restrained Beard Speak, made up of panels containing the text of adverts stuck up in phone boxes – from the days when there used to be phone boxes.

Beard Speak by Gilbert & George

Beard Speak by Gilbert & George

I preferred two sculptures by women artists: Amy Remixed by Sarah Gwyer (£7,500): my daughter told me how much work it must have been to colour and then sew together all these sequins, beads and so on.

Amy Remixed by Sarah Gwyer (£7,500)

Amy Remixed by Sarah Gwyer (£7,500)

And, nearby, a wonderful sculpture of an old sailing ship made from fake and real pearl necklaces, bracelets and tiaras, Wing Wo by Ann Carrington (£31,560) maybe a reference to the gold and precious stones so often transported across the seas in the high period of piracy in the 17th century.

Wing Wo by Ann Carrington (£31,560)

Wing Wo by Ann Carrington (£31,560)

I was intrigued enough by this to search the internet for an explanation of the name.

Luckily the final room, the Lecture Room, felt much airier and spacious, a big room with a manageable 20 works, including Und Du Bist Maler Geworden by Anselm Kiefer (NFS), Painting For B by Secundino Hernández (NFS) and two bright abstract works by Fiona Rae RA, She Pricked Her Finger Cutting the Clouds (NFS) and Many-Coloured Messenger Seeks Her Fortune (NFS).

View of the Lecture Room including, from left to right, Und Du Bist Maler Geworden by Anselm Kiefer, Painting For B by Secundino Hernández, and She Pricked Her Finger Cutting the Clouds and Many-Coloured Messenger Seeks Her Fortune by Fiona Rae RA

View of the Lecture Room including, from left to right, Und Du Bist Maler Geworden by Anselm Kiefer, Painting For B by Secundino Hernández, and She Pricked Her Finger Cutting the Clouds and Many-Coloured Messenger Seeks Her Fortune by Fiona Rae RA. The sculpture is Bumps In The Road by Huma Bhabha

Better online?

So many ways of seeing and being and expressing and depicting – quite bewildering. It is worth commenting that it is in many ways more satisfying to view works via the online search portal.

Seeing works online, in isolation, helps you to:

a) notice them at all among the scrum and hubbub of the packed walls displays
b) dwell on their merits

It’s beyond the energy of most gallery visitors to pay close attention to over 1,000 art works. There are 48 just in this photo below, and it shows less than half of one room.

It dawns on me that it may be a good idea to spend some time scrolling through the works online, deciding what you like, and only then visit the exhibition to see them in the flesh…

Lots of pictures

An awful lot of pictures


Related links

More Royal Academy reviews