Thomas Jones

On first encountering the paintings of Thomas Jones, I probably walked right past them after only the most cursory of glances. I surely must have seen them in one of my many visits to the National Museum of Wales when I lived just around the corner from it in a dingy and cold shared house on Colum Road. At that time though, ’93/’94, my interest in art was still at an awkward and an early stage, when I would relegate most anything pre-1880 to a generic boring old stuff category.

Then, on a visit to the Palazzo delle Esposizioni in Rome, in February or March ’97, to see an exhibition entitled Grand Tour: il fascino dell’Italia nel XVIII secolo, I met them again, but saw them as though for the first time. Amongst all the cluttered interiors, the periwigged portraits and serenely classical landscapes, ‘improved’ from Nature, Jones’ little Neapolitan cityscapes leapt off the wall, with their bright simplicity and deep calm.