This is the visit where I realised that not all art galleries are created equal.

Another place that’s long been on my “I really ought to go and see that one day” list, my fondness for watching old episodes of Fake or Fortune on iPlayer pushed this one higher up in my priorities. It ended up being stop number one on a multi-venue expedition around the West End and surrounding area, but it was a good starting point. 

I’ve spent longer writing this review than any of the others I’ve written so far (despite one of them causing a mild existential crisis) because I wanted to do it justice without glossing over some of the issues I had. Without further ado, let’s start as we always do with…

The basics: 

The National Gallery sits at the top end of London’s Trafalgar Square (TfL Zone 1). It’s open daily and is free to visit, though you do need to book a timed ticket online. 

The good…

The collection is vast. Truly, breathtakingly huge. There’s enough in there to keep someone busy for weeks if not months. The cast list of artists and works is astonishing – van Gogh, Cezanne, Rubens, Gainsborough, Constable, Michelangelo, Raphael – in fact, all but one of the Ninja Turtles were represented. And that’s only because Donatello was a sculptor, not a painter. 

There’s also an awe-inspiring collection of Monet paintings. By awe-inspiring, I mean that it inspired me, upon entering the room that housed them, to utter the immortal words, “Oh fucking hell, it’s Monet”. Aloud. I was visiting on my own. Because I am a highly cultured person. Obviously. 

I also saw a number of pieces that brought back almost-traumatic memories of school art lessons where we were, for some reason, tasked with recreating these renowned masterpieces (yes, Seurat’s Bathers at Asnières, I’m mainly looking at you). I was a bitter, bitter disappointment to those teachers, I’m sure. I’d say sorry, but really what did they expect from a class of mildly disinterested thirteen-year-olds? Anyway, Bathers was beautiful. It’s nice to see what it was meant to look like. 

Truly, though, it was an almost out-of-body experience seeing these magnificent, world-famous works that close in front of me. I hadn’t realised how vast Water-Lilies was. Seeing the brush marks, the texture on the canvas and remembering who it was that made them, and how long ago, made me feel connected to them in a way I wasn’t expecting. 

The bad…

This could be a controversial take given I was visiting an art gallery, but by the time I left, I rather felt like I’d seen…too much art? There’s something about seeing so much beauty in such a short space of time that dilutes its power and makes it feel less special. It was the point where I walked into a room, internally went “oh, more pictures of Venice”, rolled my eyes and walked on that I knew maybe it was time to cut my losses and visit somewhere else that day. 

The rooms themselves are beautiful, and very ornate in their own right – almost too much so. Like trying to listen to three songs at once, the crimson walls and high, carved ceilings made it much harder to zone in on the paintings themselves and appreciate them in all their glory. I don’t know if this is an ADHD thing, or if it’s heightened for those of us with ADHD, but give me a nice, clean white space for my paintings any day of the week. 

As someone who is both a history fiend and very lacking in art knowledge, I’d also love to have known more about the artists and the background to the paintings. The labels didn’t give me any of that, and left me doing a lot of wondering in amongst the wandering.

The only other gallery I can remember visiting was at the Lowry in Salford, and I think that set my expectations sky high (there’ll be a review of the Lowry – and specifically the permanent L. S. Lowry exhibition – when I finally manage to get back up there for another visit). Because that was dedicated to one artist, it told his story through his art, and I left having learnt a lot about his life and his process, as well as seeing his work evolve as time went on. 

This isn’t a post about the Lowry, but it did highlight to me what I was missing at the National.  I was left with the impression that this was a gallery for art lovers and those who were already knowledgeable, rather than a gateway into the world of art for the uninitiated (like me). And a subsequent visit to another large art gallery only served to highlight it more – so I’m sorry, the National Gallery, it’s not me, it’s you. 

The Gallery’s website has a wealth of behind-the-scenes content, including a look at conservation work they’ve done on some of the collection. I’d have loved to see more of that alongside the paintings themselves – or even in a separate exhibition space. I want to learn things, not just look at pretty stuff! 

I also found that the signposting around the galleries was nowhere near as clear as it could have been. This is likely partly because of the refurbishment work that’s happening around the building, meaning a lot of the paintings have been moved from their usual homes to remain on display, but it definitely isn’t the sole reason. In my attempts to locate the da Vinci, I found myself doing multiple loops of the same set of rooms, coming back in from a different direction every time and having to take a moment to find my bearings. 

I didn’t find the da Vinci. 

On my last visit to Trafalgar square before this one, I have a clear memory of sitting on the wall outside the gallery, waiting for a friend and watching everyone leaving with big smiles on their faces. At the time, I assumed it was because they’d had a great time, and of course it piqued my interest in visiting. On reflection, I wonder how many of them were beaming simply because they’d finally managed to locate the exit.

It only took me three circuits – which involved going both down and back up a flight of stairs – before I managed to find the door that led me back to the real world. There’s a crucial sign missing at an almost-hidden turning, and if you miss it, you’ll end up back where you started again. I was starting to think I’d never again see the light of day, and I’d have to move in to one of the galleries permanently. 

The cafe was eye-wateringly expensive, even by London standards – I spotted bottles of juice for nearly £6, and the very small slices of cake were about the same. The coffee and chocolate & banana muffin I plumped for were fine, but not quite good enough to justify the hefty price tag. It was also hotter than the bowels of Hades in the coffee shop area – it wasn’t a particularly chilly day, so there really wasn’t a need for what seemed like industrial-strength heating, and it made for quite an uncomfortable pit-stop. 

Things I didn’t get to see…

I honestly think I didn’t even scratch the surface on my visit. Had there been more information around, and better signage, I’d have happily spent longer. Because things had been moved around, I’m not certain just how much I missed, but I know I didn’t get to see any da Vinci. Which is a shame, because I was really excited to see if I could decipher all the secret codes that are absolutely, definitely hidden in the paintings. 

So…is it worth the trip? 

Despite my mixed feelings, it’s a big yes. It feels like a humongous privilege to be able to see so many incredible works of art in one place – and even more so when it’s free. There’s definite scope for improvement, but it’s definitely worth a visit. 

At the time of posting this, it’s almost a month since my visit, and I’m getting a definite longing to go back for another visit. With the benefit of this visit to adjust my expectations, a map, and the guidebook I found at my local charity bookshop, I think I’ll get more out of it the second time. I’ll also plan to do it in smaller doses whenever I’m in the area,  just doing one or two rooms at a time, so I don’t succumb to art fatigue again. 

The small(ish) print: This is one in an occasional series of reviews of places I’ve visited under my own steam, with my own money. I’ve done my best to make sure everything’s accurate at the time of writing, and all the opinions are mine.