Arts Reviews

Grade: A Sometimes you want to admire the pluck and inventiveness of an indie developer. At other times, you just want to sink into some thumping AAA franchise that’s thrown all the time, design talent and VC megabucks in the world at the screen. The new Assassin’s Creed has you covered there. Irresistibly, it’s set in a richly detailed and (kinda) historically accurate 16th-century Japan – which means, as all teenage boys will know, ninjas and samurais. Be warned, though: I downloaded the PC version, but the screen appeared to announce that I don’t have an STD so my new game wouldn’t run. Talk about a mixed blessing. Turns out

Rembrandt was ‘largely self-taught as a printmaker’, according to Epco Runia, head of collections at Rembrandt House Museum. ‘[He] learned by looking at examples and simply trying things out,’ Runia writes in the guide that accompanies this fine show (which will travel to Charleston in October and Cincinnati next winter). Etching had only been around for 100 years or so when Rembrandt took the medium up at the age of 20. But once he’d begun, he barely stopped. Rembrandt: Masterpieces in Black and White at Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery is a celebration of a lifetime of innovative and increasingly refined work with plate, needle and acid. In Amsterdam, where

Think of a Mexican painting, and chances are you’ll conjure up an image of an eyebrow-knitted Frida Kahlo, or a riot of exotic figures by her husband Diego Rivera, or a brightly coloured guitarist by Rufino Tamayo. What you’re unlikely to have in mind is an earthy landscape with a dusty road leading to a nascent city, dotted with hyper-real plant life, and an eagle soaring under a vast, cloudy sky. This is ‘The Valley of Mexico from the Hill of Santa Isabel’ (1877), the finest work by a painter who was a household name in Mexico long before Kahlo, Rivera or Tamayo. And from next week, it and many

‘I’m full of excitement waiting for this to dry out,’ Sir Frank Bowling exclaims. We are sitting in his studio, a room in a quiet Victorian yard that survives amid the tower blocks of Elephant and Castle. In front of us a semi-finished canvas – a glorious welter of yellow and orange in diverse modulations – is pinned to the wall. It’s executed in acrylics, a water-based material. Bowling, like Turner – one of his heroes – believes in using buckets of water, sometimes more or less literally. ‘I don’t always use conventional tools to mark the surface,’ he confides. ‘Sometimes marks are made by a brush, sometimes by simply