Michael Mackenzie discovers the National Portrait Gallery has more to offer than old, dusty paintings.

My grandfather recently admitted to me that he never much liked the National Portrait Gallery because “it’s full of portraits of old rich people” he’s barely heard of. In many ways, I can see his point: a lot of the grand, finely painted portraits portray their subjects proudly, imposing a presence onto the belittled viewer that can leave you wondering why you came along; was it only to be made to feel inferior to these ostensibly larger-than-life figures? Walking through one of the larger gallery halls you might sometimes feel like Elizabeth Bennet wandering through the gallery at Pemberley; only landing upon the recognisable faces of Mary, Queen of Scots, David Hume, or Robert Burns after a lot of indifferent wandering.

However, after what their website describes as a “dramatic renovation,” the gallery has attempted to open its doors to as many people as possible, notably with its inclusion of the small exhibition Hot Scots: a series of small, clear and humanising photographs of Scottish celebrities like David Tennant, Karen Gillan, James McAvoy and of course, Sir Sean Connery. Those like my grandfather can have little to complain of here. These portraits are not imposing, nor are they esoteric, and they are even pretty to look at.

The beauty of these photographic portraits, and those that are not of celebrities elsewhere in the gallery, is quite different to the beauty of a grand painting. David Tennant, for example, is not looking particularly bonny in his portrait, but there is beauty in photographs like this just as there is beauty in a painting by Lucien Freud. The subject may challenge the viewer with a bold stare back, but however they look at us they offer their face up for examination. You can lose yourself in the intricacies of a photographed face as you may have stared and stared at the layers of fat in Naked Man, Back View.

That’s not to say the old paintings aren’t beautiful too; though you appreciate these for the differences in style, the changing conventions of presenting portraits, and the realism of representation. When staring into these faces, the emphasis inevitably falls on history. You can look at the several portraits of Bonnie Prince Charlie and imagine what he really looked like. Some portraits you can imagine as people on the street; a bizarre thought for people hundreds of years old. There is even the opportunity to see from-life face casts of the infamous Burke and Hare, alongside the faces of Coleridge, Keats, Mendelssohn and Haydn. As the gallery stands now, it attempts to represent Scotland and its people throughout history. It is striking how romantic this portrayal is. Perhaps this is most fitting in a gallery that urges us to remember a past we did not experience.

Even in Alexander Moffat’s Poets’ Pub, a representation of the Edinburgh literary scene in the mid twentieth century, there is an extremely romantic depiction of Edinburgh’s bohemian world. Poets and novelists sit around Hugh Macdiarmid just as they do James Hogg in William Allan’s The Celebration of the Birthday of James Hogg. Scotland is famous for its romantic attachment to history, but to compare the literary scene of the twentieth century to that of the Scottish enlightenment is incredibly naive.

Thankfully, with the more recent work of Calum Colvin and his contemporaries, Scotland is portrayed as infected with consumerism, feeding from the remnants of a dead culture. As pessimistic as it may seem, these often more experimental works are refreshing amongst walls and walls of nostalgia.

Regardless of the overall portrayal of Scotland, there are incredibly famous portraits in the gallery. That one of Robert Burns, those ones of Walter Scott, Henry Raeburn, and David Wilkie. You can even have a closer look at the more famous paintings in the Touchscreen Gallery where you can admire the tiny detail of James VI/I's face.

Equally as stunning is the architecture itself. The Grand Hall, with its massive murals and arches, is mesmerising. There is even a Hogwarts-like ceiling of astrological symbols and golden stars. You can have a calming rest in the Grand Hall admiring the walls and ceiling, in a space that seems far, far away from Queen Street.

For those who share the views of my grandfather, the re-opened gallery will be a stunning surprise. Even while it tries to encapsulate Scottish culture, it proves itself to be a fantastic and beautiful place in Edinburgh’s cultural scene. It provides an exciting new look at the very, very old.