Chagalled!

Interesting week, easily the best day of which was Tuesday last [5th May]when I went to Brussels to the Beaux Art Museum to see the Chagall exhibition. Days later, I still feel excited, remembering. It is a major retrospective of over 200 pictures covering his years from 1908 to the mid 1980s and illuminating his world.  He portrayed repetitively and colourfully the iconography of Jewish village life and traditions, in his case, in Russia, chronicling family affairs, portraying his brother, [killed in the war] and sisters, and illustrating the growing threat to the Jewish way of life before and during World War Two.

His paintings are bright, poetic, lyrical in fact, peopled by iconic red goats, [sometimes white] with lovers entwined, often featuring dream-like figures floating in the air.

There is frequently a feeling of joy in the brightly-coloured images which look child-like at first, though second glances tell a deeper narrative. This exhibition offers an important, profoundly moving, experience.

There is one Chagall church in the UK in Kent, in the tiny village of Tudeley near Tonbridge. In 1963
Sarah, the young daughter of Sir Henry and Lady d'Avigdor-Goldsmith drowned in a boating accident off Rye, in East Sussex. The grieving parents commissioned Chagall to design a new East window in her memory, for All Saints, the modest little church in Tudeley, and gradually, Chagall, [and eventually his workshop]  produced other windows for the church so that by the time of his death in 1985, the last Tudeley Chagall window was being installed. They are beautiful, ranging from bright yellow and amber glass to deep purple and blue hues. The effect as one steps into this very ordinary-looking little country church, is dazzling and unexpected, as far as one could imagine from traditional stained glass but equally arresting. I think this was my first sight of Chagall, sometime in the early nineties, and it thrilled and uplifted me.

 And now, it is time to introduce a little more of 'my area' to this narrative. There is a line of three trees in the square, exactly opposite my study windows;  they had rather scrawny bare branches, forlorn and defenceless, when I arrived but now they are in their salad days, dappled in today's sun, and tender in their greens. I have forgiven the trees now for hiding a little of the architecture; the constant movement of the leaves in the lively wind seem all of a piece with the timeless chimes from the timid little convent bell next-door and the deeper tones, marking each hour, from the Toll Huis in Jan van Eyckplein. As I listen and look, I am conscious of these momentary pleasures that dot the landscape and I savour them. They are among the few special reasons why I came here to live; it wasn't for a quiet life, or to escape from the wonderful life I had in Wye or move from my super family, nor indeed, to leave England which I love. It was for the heightened appreciation of beauty in its several forms here and to find and meet the challenges of living on my own in a different country, near enough to feel safe, far enough to have to grapple with different customs, other ways of living, other unknowns. And I chose this little town because I fell in love with Brugge when I first visited with Eric in 1989.

Here is possibly my absolutely favourite local shop; to the left of my windows, it is a joy to see in daylight and a feast of colour and light till late at night.

Frou-Frou is a lovely little hat shop, and I write as a non-hat person! That seems not to have stopped me from buying two though this may simply be a tribute to the selling skills of the owner and the superb quality of her merchandise. I just love her window displays which change frequently; earlier this week, they honoured Mother's Day. The artistic arrangements of hats, bags, scarves and jewellery are such an asset to this little area and enhance the other, architectural, beauty on show. Here are two irresistible images from this week's presentations [but, now, one will be at the end as I CANNOT work out how to place pictures side by side in a companionable way, as intended!]

Not in 'my' square but a few paces off, in the Jan van Eyckplein, is a cafe [perhaps we should say Cafe Plus] which opened on Monday last, some  weeks after the window message announced its name as Blackbird, promising  that good things were coming soon. And really, good things have arrived! It is a visual knock-out inside as witnessed here, sophisticated dark browns, two levels and wonderfully chic touches everywhere.

And the coffee, salads, breakfasts, teas, wine and champagne et al more than live up to expectations. Since it opened early on Monday morning nearly a week ago, it has been pretty full, or very full, each time I have passed. It is perfectly situated of course, opposite Jan van Eyck's statue at the end of a canal and at a natural point for tourist pauses, but there are plenty of other gustatory temptations in that square. Undoubtedly, its inviting appearance [with the white blackbird and the chic little tables] plus the glimpses of the chocolate-brown, sophisticated interior, combine to lure in the discriminating.

In the hope that this blog does not too closely resemble a scrapbook, here is a little final visual treat, courtesy of Frou-Frou with, now I realise, not too many hats visible! Take my word for it, there are

many, many more inside!. 

I shall leave till next week, more than a mention of the Dutch classes I have started; suffering continues tomorrow for four mornings, of three and three quarter hours, for seven weeks. I am searching for a Slow Learners' Group.