Tuesday in London...
Sep. 1st, 2008 06:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rhythmaningI woke up with a hangover, the result of too much port and sleeping in a strange bed.
After breakfast of more strong coffee, I went back to Piccadilly to see the Hammershøi exhibition at the Royal Academy, The Poetry of Silence. It was a curious exhibition: all about the light (which I liked) and alienation (which I didn’t). Some of the images were exquisite: a beautiful balance of light and shadow – very washed-out with a limited colour palette.
In most of the paintings, the subject – the person in the picture – was turned away from the viewer. This gave a deep impression of absence – a real emptiness within the pictures - and made them reminiscent in feeling to Edward Hopper’s paintings.
I then spent an irritating forty five minutes in Starbucks, trying to get at my email; I succeeded in the end, but it was a struggle.
I walked down Piccadilly to Hyde Park, past Number 1, London, where I was prompted by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
coughingbear’s recent photograph to try my own…
I was heading for the Serpentine Gallery. I was last there at Christmas, when we went to a very beautiful exhibition by Anthony McCall; it being Christmas, I didn’t get around to writing about it then, which is a pity, because it was just brilliant: it was as if McCall was building sculptures out of light. And you could walk through them.
This time around, I wanted to see the Frank Gehry summer pavilion. I am not aware of seeing any of Gehry’s buildings before, and I was expecting something full of curves, like the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao. What I saw was quite different. Still full of organic structure – it is largely built of wood – it has instead a wealth of straight lines and glass, creating angles and shadows. I stayed a while, wandering around it. There was a lot of beauty in the details.
I walked from Hyde Park down Exhibition Road, and I was struck by the facia of Imperial College. I don’t remember noticing this when I was last there, during the Proms last year (though I guess I had other distraction). In the broken sunlight it was really striking: lots more glass and shadow. And stunning reflections.
Dinner that evening was another family affair, with my mother, my brother and his wife, who was over from the States (long distance relationships… Don’t ask!). We met at the SMWS in Greville Street and ate downstairs in the Bleeding Heart Tavern. It was comfortable sitting surrounded by whisky – albeit that we were drinking wine and beer – and they are now doing the full bistro menu from the Bleeding Heart, rather than just steak sandwiches. If we had known this before, we’d probably just have stayed there. As it was, we moved downstairs, confused by the rabbit warren of restaurants Bleeding Heart have on one site. I was disappointed by the food – my “medium rare” lamb was well done and not rare at all. The wine – a New Zealand red mix of cabernet sauvignon and merlot – was really good.
My brother and his wife and I went back up to the SMWS for a night cap whilst my mother headed home. We drank a heady Ardbeg, which set me up for the short walk back to Old St.
After breakfast of more strong coffee, I went back to Piccadilly to see the Hammershøi exhibition at the Royal Academy, The Poetry of Silence. It was a curious exhibition: all about the light (which I liked) and alienation (which I didn’t). Some of the images were exquisite: a beautiful balance of light and shadow – very washed-out with a limited colour palette.
In most of the paintings, the subject – the person in the picture – was turned away from the viewer. This gave a deep impression of absence – a real emptiness within the pictures - and made them reminiscent in feeling to Edward Hopper’s paintings.
I then spent an irritating forty five minutes in Starbucks, trying to get at my email; I succeeded in the end, but it was a struggle.
I walked down Piccadilly to Hyde Park, past Number 1, London, where I was prompted by
coughingbear’s recent photograph to try my own… 
I was heading for the Serpentine Gallery. I was last there at Christmas, when we went to a very beautiful exhibition by Anthony McCall; it being Christmas, I didn’t get around to writing about it then, which is a pity, because it was just brilliant: it was as if McCall was building sculptures out of light. And you could walk through them.
This time around, I wanted to see the Frank Gehry summer pavilion. I am not aware of seeing any of Gehry’s buildings before, and I was expecting something full of curves, like the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao. What I saw was quite different. Still full of organic structure – it is largely built of wood – it has instead a wealth of straight lines and glass, creating angles and shadows. I stayed a while, wandering around it. There was a lot of beauty in the details.
I walked from Hyde Park down Exhibition Road, and I was struck by the facia of Imperial College. I don’t remember noticing this when I was last there, during the Proms last year (though I guess I had other distraction). In the broken sunlight it was really striking: lots more glass and shadow. And stunning reflections.
* * *
Dinner that evening was another family affair, with my mother, my brother and his wife, who was over from the States (long distance relationships… Don’t ask!). We met at the SMWS in Greville Street and ate downstairs in the Bleeding Heart Tavern. It was comfortable sitting surrounded by whisky – albeit that we were drinking wine and beer – and they are now doing the full bistro menu from the Bleeding Heart, rather than just steak sandwiches. If we had known this before, we’d probably just have stayed there. As it was, we moved downstairs, confused by the rabbit warren of restaurants Bleeding Heart have on one site. I was disappointed by the food – my “medium rare” lamb was well done and not rare at all. The wine – a New Zealand red mix of cabernet sauvignon and merlot – was really good.
My brother and his wife and I went back up to the SMWS for a night cap whilst my mother headed home. We drank a heady Ardbeg, which set me up for the short walk back to Old St.