Escher

I went to the exhibition in Somerset House. It’s really a show of two halves. First, they have an extensive collection of original lithographs, including all the greatest hits. If you have a favourite Escher picture it’s here. I found myself tempted to take pictures of every one, thereby producing a poor copy of the Escher book I’ve owned for fifty years.

Although Escher made his own lithographs, and typically only about 20-30 copies of each work, you don’t get here the strong sense of the artist’s own hand that you would with a Rembrandt painting or a Goya print. It’s almost as if Escher was striving for pure objectivity. There are some pictures, especially early ones, where he seems to be aiming for a sense of romance or sentiment, but it is entirely absent from these almost spookily clean and empty buildings.

In the end, or perhaps always, he went for mathematical rather than emotional depth, and brilliantly achieved it. The exhibition notes rightly say his work is highly esteemed by scientists who see it as a bridge between maths and art. I’m not sure how strongly artists share this feeling.

The other half of the show is some gimmicky fun stuff: a hall of mirrors, a size illusion room, and a couple of ‘insert yourself into the picture’ things. I did succumb to one of those. Escher was rather serious, though, and I don’t think he would have liked this. The exhibition includes some Escher-influenced album covers, but not the incredibly rude and curt response he sent in answer to a flattering personal letter from Mick Jagger. The exhibition mentions that the hippy movement appropriated Escher images, creating day-glo versions with new trippy titles, and says that Escher hated them. But the exhibition still includes a small room full of them.

So you could say there’s something here for serious Escher fans and for those who want something the kids can enjoy. I’m glad I went but have a slight feeling I would have done nearly as well by spending an hour with that old book.

Legion

We finally went to the British Museum’s highly-praised exhibition about life as a Roman soldier. It is illuminating, giving an insight into what was in many ways the heart and epitome of the Empire. Clearly on display here are some of the well-known features that made the Roman army so successful. It recruited anyone who met the height requirement without bothering about where they came from: it taught them basic Latin and sent them all over the place, turning them into loyal, well-off citizens who would settle and stabilise the provinces. There were only so many Greeks or Egyptians, but anyone could become Roman and enjoy the substantial opportunities that went with it.

The exhibition makes considerable use of soldier’s gravestones. One interesting thing about them is that they were often paid for by the dead soldier’s slaves, set free on his death. This reinforces the sense I picked up from the Pompeii exhibition, that Roman house slaves were often treated almost like family: better than the free servants at Downton Abbey.

The exhibition includes many unique and remarkable items, including the only surviving legionary’s shield and some extraordinary cavalry parade helmets which include masks, one of which was supposed to make the rider look like an Amazon. The suit fashioned from a crocodile’s body is probably more weird than representative, though you can see why the curator couldn’t resist it.

It’s a very child-friendly exhibition: so many large cartoons and features with Rattus the cartoon character you almost begin to wonder whether adults are welcome.