aglow

The nasturtiums are aglow. The dahlias are aglow. The chillis are burning brightly as they turn a beautiful shade of fiery red. Even I feel aglow as I contemplate all this autumnal glowiness. 

 

Did you know that nineteenth century scientists believed that nasturtiums contained phosphorus and that they emitted light when they were in shadow? And that if Degas had been allowed to name them, the artists in Paris who became known as les Impressionistes would have been called les Capucines (French for nasturtium) and that the bright flower would have been their emblem? Ah, what a missed opportunity.

(Even as I was taking photos of my nasturtiums in a jam jar, the camera was overwhelmed by the super-vibrant colour and glow that made it diffcult to pick out the lines and contours of the flowers. The scientists may have been proven wrong, but the eye still says they were onto something.)

 

I know all this now because I have been reading the catalogue of the Impressionist Gardens exhibition. And I have been to see the fabulous nasturtiums painted by Fantin-Latour, Monet, Caillebotte and Guillaumin in the exhibition itself.

 

Edinburgh isn't the most glowing city ever. In fact, much of its appeal lies in its subtle gloominess, overcast skies, elongated - almost etiolated - buildings, and grey sea-and-stone location.

 

But even Edinburgh was emitting brightness and basking in soft sunshine on Sunday, and on Monday, when it was typically cloudy and wet on my return visit to the exhibition, I couldn't help but feel that the gallery is the place to go for some glow before the exhibition closes. 

 

It is undeniably spectacular. In very grand, temporarily colourful rooms are about 100 paintings of flowers, gardens, parks, potagers, fields and orchards which fill the space with richness and warmth. It's wonderful to walk round a busy exhibtion and to listen to so many visitors exclaiming with delight. It just doesn't happen with terribly highbrow or conceptual or modern art that you hear people sighing with pleasure, and enthusiastically discussing their favourite picture, the one they would hang up in their own home. It may be popular, middlebrow stuff, but everyone in there was aglow, and that's a nice, warm feeling. 

Comments

[Penny]

Gosh, What eye-searing, vibrant colour! I have a self sown nasturtium which has just burst into flower in a gloomy corner of the veg patch and it's true, they do seem to have their own light source. Very cheery for a grey morning, thanks!

[Sue]

I wish I had nasturtiums, dahlias and chillies glowing in my garden but I do have a tree full of quinces glowing like lanterns and filling the garden with fragrance.

[knitlass]

Nooooooo, please dont give the wrong impression! Edinburgh is a dry place - because of the easterly location. Today the sun is glorious, and I am uncomfortably warm on account of the sun streaming into the windows and burnishing my desk with autumnal rays. It does rain sometimes, but you know, it's not as often as people think!

[Cath W]

Etiolated: what a fabulous word, perfectly describing my indoor plants after we returned from 5 weeks in Australia and New Zealand. It has now been written on the kitchen chalkboard as our 'word of the week' - thank you!

[Rebecca]

Such a wonderfully colourful post Jane, makes my heart sing. Today in Suffolk the sun is shinning and the landscape glows, so life affirming after three of the gloomiest days in a row.

[Juicyfig.blogspot.com]

Glorious colours - and use of on e of my favourite words 'potager' - ooohhhh, lovely!

Kath
x

[Kristina]

It's so strange, I just woke up from a dream about orange nasturtiums and the first thing I saw was the same flower on your blog. :)

[debbie]

What a wonderful analogy! Vibrant flowers and enthusiastic museum attendees. I'll take "middlebrow" art any day of the week!

[Rachel]

Oh this has made me feel so Autumnal...what beautiful colours, Jane!

After going to MOMA last weekend and being bored to tears by the artwork on show, you can give me middlebrow crowd pleasers any day!

I wonder if anywhere in New York sells Nasturtiums...

[Julie]

The photo of nasturtiums reminded me immediately of Flaming June. They're lovely photos, very painterly.

[Beth]

Gorgeous flowers and chilies. :)

[Frieda Oxenham]

Glad to hear you managed a visit up here, Jane! The exhibition was so wonderful I wish everyone could pay a visit in person to soak it all up!

[Claire Garland]

how lovely Jane, I love this time of year.
do you like my autumnal knitted quinces?
http://dotpebbles.blogspot.com/

[Lisa]

You are right - those flowers hardly look real. It looks like you let a child loose over your photograph with some day-glo paint.

[Charlotte]

Love the nasturtium pics, l've been eating mine!

I'm also very jealous of your trip - Edinburgh is one of my favourite cities and what's not to love about the Impressionists? To my mind, their paintings are high, low and middle-brow, just depends how you want to interpret them. If you want to interpret them at all, that is.

[Annette]

Those nasturtiums are incredible. They appear to be light from the inside.

Wishing I could attend what must be a delightful exhibit.

[Marit]

Thank you for sharing these stories about the nasturtiums. They are one of my most favorite flowers, still glowing outside in the early autumn garden. Most people consider them common and simple. I just love them...

; )

[Gary King]

Delicious snaps...and a perfect example of my favouritest colour.

Grey: the silent hero, the force behind the power. Here lending us a watery podium of sophisticated emotion to temper those boisterous, tangy blooms.

People often ask me why grey makes me feel so 0alive, and this picture may help as a way of explanation. Thank you Mrs B!

[little pink room]

I have to agree with Knitlass, that pic of Edinburgh is a very typical day here. It's got the most beautifully blue clear sky most days. I have been mesmerized by it on an almost daily basis since moving here from London 3yrs ago. The exhibition is fab. Glad you made it up here to see it. Love your nasturtiums - have you seen them used to decorate cakes? So pretty! Aoife x

[RachelL]

I think I've only commented a few times before, but wow! That vibrant orange colour is just the thing to perk me up and get the creative juices flowing as I look out at the pouring rain! What I love about your posts is the educational bits as well as the entertainment! Thanks for both :)

[Victoria]

Fantastic colours. Wish it could be bottled. x

[Poppy Basil]

Snap! I've got a glass of multioloured nasturiums on the kitchen table too. They are gorgeous flowers.
Colours to make you happy.

[Virginia]

And nasturtiums taste good too. At least the flowers do. I don't know about the rest of the plant (or even if it is edible. Should look that up)

[Lesley]

Oh, they are called capucines in French? Brilliant! That suddenly made me realise the shape of the hoods of the Capuchin monks, for whom the capuchin monkeys are named ... and all of which give us cappuccino. Coffee with 'a hood' of foam. I'd always imagined a tonsure rather than a pointy hood.
Nasturtiums ramble everywhere here in the gardens of Perth's older suburbs. Hardy and usually overlooked, they are very beautiful.

[Mary]

Thank you for alerting me to this exhibition-We made the trip up to Edinburgh last weekend too,and it was well worth it. I really liked the way it had been linked with a self guided tour of the Edinburgh Botanic Garden. Did you get to see that while you were there?