After all, the best conversations are those that one stumbles upon after seeking shelter from the rain since the stolen moments of spontaneous meetings frequently bring a sense of intimacy. There is no shortage of rain in London and this year's spontaneous "meeting" also came about: a temporary exhibition planned by the British Academy of Arts did not materialize and thanks to the inventiveness of László Baán, the director-general of the Museum of Fine Arts, a Hungarian show quickly stepped in. Thus, Treasures from Budapest was given one of the most prestigious venues in the world to exhibit at.

The Royal Academy of Arts, which is accommodated in Burlington House, did not win its international status because of its dimensions but rather on account of what it encapsulates.  The opportunity to put on an exhibition here, at one of the world's centres of culture and fashion, is a true privilege. This is not an area of town where Hungarian tourists or ordinary Englishmen can be spotted consuming fish and chips wrapped up in newspaper. Piccadilly, set in the heart of London, is so elegant that it is easy to imagine that people take their refreshments from silver table sets even in basement flats. Just a couple of hundred metres away is Hyde Park corner, where demonstrators and self-appointed speakers jostle with one another, while only a couple of minutes away in the other direction is Piccadilly Circus with its attendant evangelists and sandwich men all trying to out shout one another. It is almost impossible to attract attention here. But the Hungarian exhibition still succeeded in doing so.

Ye who enter here...

Stepping into the exhibition hall, János Frank's volume titled Exhibitions - Rituals sprang to mind. The overture is dramatic. Visitors are greeted by an almost four-and-a- half-meter high, gilded pine and lime wood Saint Andrew Altarpiece. It is the work of an unknown master and is astounding even to Hungarian eyes as it is set in a hall flooded with blue and orange light.   

By opting for this effect, curators Prof. David Ekserdjian and Joanna Norman raised the level of expectation to such a height that we almost began to worry if visitors would be satisfied with the rest of the exhibition. But size did not matter.  We only had to take a look behind the altarpiece to see that our concerns were groundless since a mere 12-centimeter high crystal female bust attributed to Giovan Giorgio Lascaris, an artist hailing from the 1500s, was attracting just as much excited attention.  

Thanks to the generosity of the Museum of Fine Arts and the National Gallery visitors' attention did not wane when looking at the other pieces on display: the exhibition comprises two hundred works (paintings, drawings, sculptures) which are arranged chronologically, spanning from the early Renaissance to the 20^th century and including masterpieces from the enticing Leonardo da Vinci, through Raphael, El Greco, Manet and Monet through to Gauguin and Picasso.

The best of Csontváry

What primarily interested us was what visitors see from us, the Hungarians. We heard laconic comments as well as some that brought a smile to our faces: "Where were these pictures up until now?", or in reference to the Esterházy Madonna, one of the exhibition's pieces that had created the most interest: "Was Raphael a Hungarian as well?" We set people's minds to rest by telling them that he wasn't, but others were shocked to discover from the caption on Mihály Munkácsy portrait of Liszt's that "Franz Liszt" was in fact a son of Hungary. We were still able to surprise people after all! Indeed, a little point of interest: London museum-goers, who are cheerfully chatting and are often ready to make a sketch, came to a standstill in front of Tivador Kosztka Csontváry's grandiose canvas titled Pilgrimage to the Cedars in Lebanon, which rendered them speechless.  

"It was a good idea to borrow works from the Hungarian National Gallery's collection and to show people that there were other noteworthy, classical painters apart from Ádám Mányoki or Jákob Bogdány, who are more well known in England, as well as avant-garde artists from later periods, such as Csontváry," said Mátyás Sárközy, a journalist living in London and a correspondent for our magazine. At the same time Csontváry is a more difficult painter to classify than Sándor Bortnyik, Károly Ferenczy or József Rippl-Rónai. However, our attempts to find arguments for our national hero were in vain since the museum attendant unexpectedly cut us short (in England people are not expected to reverently remain silent in museums).

The explanation for this interruption soon became clear: our visit fell on 11 November and on this day at 11.11 a two minute silence is held in the United Kingdom. This is the time when the British remember the end of World War I and its fallen as well as the soldiers who lost their lives in subsequent conflicts. The Royal Academy of Arts fell quiet too.  During the silence a blonde haired girl stepped up to Csontváry's painting.  She had obviously decided to devote her commemoration this year to Csontváry's cedar. She observed the painting from a respectful distance and her concentration was broken only by the giggling of a child. After the two minutes had elapsed all she could say to my questions was: "What amazing colours!"  

English humour, Hungarian merit

"There is some art that you have to get used to and that needs time to be recognised," said one of the curators, David Ekserdjian. Art historians are discussing Csontváry's art and are trying to classify it, and, despite the bewilderment of western art dealers, he is a potential international star. Who knows? In any case, Csontváry, a former assistant pharmacist from Pécs, definitely attracted at least one nice blonde follower. All he needed was two minutes of silent attention.    

There is a famous Scottish joke according to which if a drop of petrol is free, a tankful filled up drop by drop shouldn't cost anything. It would be conceited to try and draw long-tern conclusions from British humour, but Treasures from Budapest is an exceptional achievement and it has attracted at least a drop more of attention to Hungary. However, it is a significant case of image building if a writer for Le Monde recommends London as a tourist destination quoting this Hungarian exhibition. Following on the heels of the success in England, a prestigious Parisian venue is planning an exhibition from the Museum of Fine Arts' Esterházy Collection early next year, and the Royal Academy of Arts is holding out the prospect of an exhibition due to open on 30 June 2011 under the working title of Hungarian Photography. If the latter can be realised, it will certainly no longer be necessary to sneak the word "Hungarian" onto captions next to works by Márton Munkács, Brassai, Robert Capa or László Moholy-Nagy.
    

 
INTERNATIONAL PRESS REVIEWS

The Financial Times: "It is two decades since the Velvet Revolution, but central Europe's leading museums remain the Sleeping Beauties of western art - repositories of masterpieces largely unseen beyond the former Iron Curtain countries since 1939. In an art world dominated by global travel and the blinding familiarity of over-reproduced images, these collections offer a uniquely fresh and thrilling perspective. The Museum of Fine Arts in the Hungarian capital is the greatest of them, and the visit to the Royal Academy of Treasures from Budapest is to be welcomed as a feast of surprise and delight."

The Guardian: "I've never seen such a generous loan from one country's museums. [...] This is a true blockbuster, practically a museum in itself, stuffed with surprises and marvels. Hungarian collectors [...] bought some supreme Italian works. But here you see those paragons alongside carved wooden saints from Hungarian churches in a way that expands your sense of the variety and greatness of the continent's heritage. European art through Hungarian eyes is a landscape made new."

Le Monde: "The works of Greco, Goya, Dürer, Veronese or Delacroix make a trip to London worthwhile."