Meeting Samuel Palmer

My only (temporary) disappointment with our recent visit to the Ashmolean was the disappearance of the Samuel Palmer drawings. I remembered them being in a glass topped display cabinet, covered with aged green velvet covers, which one had to lift in order to worship these little masterpieces.

I can't remember the first time I discovered Palmer's work, but I am sure it coincided with my arrival in Oxford. I do remember an instant connection with his pastoral scenes and unlike some of my other early mentors, he has remained a firm favourite.

In the end we went to the information desk and were told that the drawings were now in the Print Room; would we like to see them? By now we'd been traipsing about for three hours and our eyes were on stalks, but it was too good an offer to refuse. Within five minutes we were reverently examining six of Palmer's most popular works, which I am sure many people will instantly recognise.

The light was such that flashless photos (allowed) did not come out terribly well ; but the nature of Palmer's technique - thick lines of inks and gums combined with washes - means that even professional reproductions are not true to the originals; the raised surfaces can be just detected even in the postcards sold in the museum shop. Here they glint with a blue-ish hue.

Another thing a postcard does not really capture is the exquisite detailing - everywhere there are points of interest and captivating little scenarios. These works were created when Palmer was still young. He seems to have had a fairly difficult life, losing his mother when he was thirteen, which seems to have coincided with his decision to become an artist; somewhat parallel to my own experience.

For me, these are his best works, created when he was only twenty and in one of what must have been one of the happiest periods of his life, when he lived at Shoreham, surrounded by like-minded young visionaries inspired by William Blake and a romantic, nostalgic yearning for a simpler, rustic life. Familiar as I am with these artworks, I still found new things to delight, such as the tiny focal points, which lead the eye beyond the foreground to miniature landscapes and the hint of lands beyond. Most of all, it reminded me of the tiny patches of the Cotswolds which still retain their pastoral beauty.

At last we remembered more prosaic things - our tired feet and that it was past lunchtime. We said a fond farewell to Samuel Palmer and swiftly headed to the Three Goat's Heads, one of the best pubs in Oxford, and a meeting with another Samuel. A pint of Samuel Smith's Imperial Stout, a welcome, if earthy comedown from our artistic wanderings.