I had a nostalgic and productive research trip to Edinburgh last week, and came back with a full sketchbook, very sore feet and several hundred digital photographs. As usual, several of the photographs are out of focus or impaired by “barrel distortion”, requiring the attentions of PhotoShop. Should have taken my trusty Pentax, but it’s heavy, doesn’t have a case, and anyway, it’s got a B&W film in it at the moment.
Edinburgh has undoubtedly perked up since I lived there in the 80s, and it was greatly enhanced by the glorious Spring weather. In the space of a day and a half I managed to cram in most of the public galleries in the centre of town, the Royal Scottish Museum (amazing “new” extension), some of the closer private galleries, and Surgeons’ Hall.
Surgeons’ Hall is definitely for strong stomachs only – although it’s now open to the paying public and has lots of new historical displays, the core of the museum is very much as I remember it on my previous visit decades ago . On that occasion my father blagged his way in on our behalf as I was about to apply to Medical School, and the Porter said “I expect the children would like to see the monsters…..” No, actually. But I was impressed by the paintings by Charles Bell, done to record gunshot wounds during the Peninsular War. They’re still there, and nowadays raise a whole load of questions. Originally their purpose was didactic, much as projector slides or digital projections might be used today; issues arising from “consent” were not considered at the time they were made – the fact that the paintings are recognisable portraits would not have been a problem, but would have enhanced the authenticity of the image. That Bell considered the subjects as individuals as well as examples is evident from his notes on their eventual fates. Whether he ever intended the paintings to be on public display is another matter. Compared with his watercolours of similar matters, the oil paintings are dignified and restrained – “finished”, to use the contemporary term.
