How many times have I traveled to the UK with a scarf, gloves and fleece beanie hat in my packed bag, never to wear any of them? Seems that leaving them behind this year was a big mistake. I really could have used a scarf, and I checked in nearly every charity shop I passed once the weather turned, but never found one I liked. And it was also a mistake, albeit a lesser one, to bring three short-sleeved t-shirts and a pair of capris that I wore only a couple of times.
And speaking of the turn in the weather, what happened to autumn? My first ten days here were warm and sunny; ever since then it's been cold, usually rainy, with occasional sunny (but not warm) days. The weather went from September to November in a nanosecond. Now, the conkers have all dropped and the leaves are beginning to turn, mostly to brown with occasional yellow and a rare hint of orange. I hear that I'm missing stunning autumn colours back in New England -- hope there's a bit left for me to see when I get home. I am, however, seeing lots of pumpkins around as Halloween appears to have caught on in Britain.
This past week I made a concerted effort to fit in more cultural activities and to make an organized route for myself each day in order to do so. I worked in a lot, but no, I never made it to the Monet or Van Gogh exhibitions. I began the week with nearly a clean slate without a definite plan, but the days quickly filled up. The advantage of planning only a day or two at a time is that I was able to work in a number of things that popped up in my inbox during the week. The disadvantage was that I spent a lot of time in the evening or early morning figuring out how the next day would shape up.
Monday was an exception, however. Weeks ago I had booked an early-bird ticket to see Silk Roads at the British Museum -- one of the autumn Must See exhibitions -- and I ended up spending well over two hours there. I, like many westerners apparently, thought there was one Silk Road between Asia and Europe, with trade stops along the route. Well, that's where I would be wrong. There are in fact many, many different Silk Roads, along which goods, animals and humans were bought and sold for centuries. I know next to nothing about most ancient cultures (my art survey course started with the Egyptians, Greeks and Romans -- we didn't learn about Asia or Africa) and so I found the exhibition fascinating and eye-opening. I was astounded by the array of objects from each of the cultures along the routes. Actually being there to experience the exhibition, however, was utter frustration. It was way too crowded, dark (understandable given the valuable objects, but it made for hard viewing) and the other people did my head in. Is it because I'm short and small that people (men, primarily) think it's acceptable to lean over me and breathe on my head? Why did the man standing near me carry his coat draped over his arm so that it obscured the thigh-high object descriptions along the way? That coat, along with the backpacks that several men and women were wearing, belonged in the cloak room. And what's with the man pushing grannie in a wheelchair who kept ramming her feet or her chair into my shins? Consequently, it was hard for me to take many photos, but there are plenty on the BM website linked above.
After being spit out of the exhibition, I worked my way to the little-known toilet that I found by accident last year. It's on the fourth floor just off the north stairwell and there's no signage to lead you there. Then descending the north stairs, I was out the back door (less crowded than the Great Russell Street side) onto Montague Place and and a short walk from the Waitrose & Partners at the Brunswick Centre where the sushi counter sells Forgotten Ends. These are cups of the end bits of sushi rolls, often full of salmon along with rice and veg. The price has risen from £2.05 in 2023 to £2.45 in 2024, but this is still the best healthy, value-for-money lunch around. I took my Forgotten Ends to Queen Square, perhaps the quietest of the public Bloomsbury squares, and sat on a bench to eat it. Afterwards, I got a pastel de nata from the very nice street vendor at the south end of the square (I've been there often).
I thought I'd go to the nearby October Gallery in Old Gloucester Street, which I'd visited a few weeks back, to see the new exhibition, but the door was locked. I had forgotten that it was Monday! As it was turning out to be a reasonably nice day, I kept walking west across Bloomsbury toward Holborn, hoping to see the temporary exhibition in a space in Shaftsbury Avenue that Bow Arts had mounted as part of Frieze. You guessed it -- also closed on Monday.
Not knowing what to do with myself, and realizing that I was right next to the Phoenix Garden, I headed there to clear my head and get some peace. I hadn't been to the Phoenix Garden in years -- since my last visit it was under threat of closure and then went through a wonderful community-supported clean-up and refurb. Through the work of countless volunteers, the space that was once rather seedy has been turned into a lovely urban oasis. I cheerfully wandered about, taking photos here and there and stopping to sit on a bench. A bloke (another American) saw me taking pix and told me that one of the benches appears in the movie Last Christmas, which I confessed to not having seen. What I didn't tell him is that nearby Denmark Street was the fictional home of C.B. Strike and seen often in the series.
I had a much better plan for Tuesday. On Monday evening, I booked myself a timed-entry slot for Tate Modern to see Expressionists: Kandinsky, MΓΌnter and the Blue Rider, one of the Big Summer/Autumn Exhibitions. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing these paintings, and found it a much more pleasant viewing experience than the previous day at the British Museum (but for the large group of 12-13 year old kids who were there with a school group, along with two beleaguered-looking young women teachers who had virtually no control over their behaviour). I loved taking in the colour, the style and composition of the paintings, and learning about the connections between this group of artists working in the c. 1910-30 time period in Europe. But for Kandinsky, these were primarily new-to-me artists and I enjoyed discovering them with fresh eyes.
Before leaving Tate Modern, I looked briefly at the latest installation in the Turbine Hall, but it was dreadful so I won't say any more.
There was a new exhibition at the Bankside Gallery, where I'd previously seen the exhibition of the Royal Society of Painter-Printmakers. This one was the group show of the Royal Watercolour Society and was every bit as good. Bankside has become one of my favourite galleries. I always see a couple of prints or paintings I would love to own. Maybe one day.
I ate my packed lunch (pita & hummus again) on a bench on the Southbank, looking out at the river, and then hopped a bus down towards the Elephant & Castle to see Cable Street at the Southwark Playhouse. I knew the story of the Battle of Cable Street well. In 1936, when hundreds of Oswald Mosley's British Union of Fascists tried to march through the East End, they were repelled through the combined efforts of Jewish and Irish residents, trade unionists and shopkeepers, men, women and children. I don't usually like musicals much, but this one was recommended highly by a friend. I managed to book the second-to-last cheap seat in the house -- it wasn't an obstructed view, and though the leg room was a bit cramped it was fine. To my surprise, I enjoyed this more than I thought I would even though it was about 95% singing and 5% dialogue. It's always good to try new things. Afterwards, I made my way home in the pouring rain.
On Wednesday, I met my friend Simon at the Royal Academy so he could walk me into the Modernism in Ukraine exhibition as the +1 on his member pass (he quickly walked out the exit as he had a ticket to see the Van Gogh exhibition nearby). This was a summer Big Exhibition, about to end. I learned a ton from it about Ukrainian artists working during times of creative expession as well as under Soviet control of style and subject. Although not explicitly referenced, I could see overlaps with the Expressionism exhibition I'd seen the day before. Not crowded, no kids, well-behaved adults -- ideal viewing conditions.
This one was a bit different, an artist talk that popped up in one of the weekly listings I sub to, so I booked it on the fly. Belongings, an exhibition curated by artist Susan Aldworth, is all about the emigration of her grandparents from northern Italy to Britain in the 1920s and the things she discovered through extensive research into her family history. This struck a chord with me because my grandparents left northern Italy at the same time, destined for the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. She has taken the white cotton nightdress that her grandmother brought with her from Italy, and accumulated various other pieces of white antique clothing -- christening gowns, slips, collars -- to which a group of talented needlework students from Scotland have added bits of text, including histories and grandmother's recipes. The bits of clothing all hang from the ceiling, like ghosts of a past only fleetingly held and partially remembered. When she spoke about her family history, so much of what she said resonated even though I know next to nothing about my Italian grandparents. I had a nice chat with her after the talk about our similar experiences, including our Italian parents having "lost the language" and no longer being able to speak Italian in their quest for assimilation.
The Belongings exhibition was in the arcade of Bush House, former home of the BBC World Service and now part of King's College. It's a short walk from there to the October Gallery, which I'd tried unsuccessfully/forgetfully to visit on Monday to see the new exhibition. There I headed to see an exhibition called Forest Figures by Alexis Peskine. The pieces were all large portraits, made by hammering nails of different sizes into wood. I really can't describe them well, so just click the link and have a butcher's.
I finished the day at the Offer Waterman Gallery in Mayfair (very posh) where I saw a retrospective exhibition of Portraits of London by Frank Auerbach. Since the 1950s when Auerbach moved to Camden Town, he has regularly painted the surrounding area -- Mornington Crescent, Primrose Hill, Hampstead Heath, Regent's Park. I'd heard of him but had never seen his paintings before. They are big, thickly painted, abstract yet detailed, reflections on his city and his world. People say that Auerbach, now well into his 90s, can still be seen painting or sketching on the streets near his studio.
At Autograph, I saw two photography exhibitions that were due to close within days and I'm so glad I was able to work these in: Ernest Cole: A Lens in Exile and C. Rose Smith: Talking Back to Power. Cole, originally from South Africa where he documented the violence of apartheid, lived and photographed in New York City, primarily in Harlem, in the 1960s and 70s. Smith explores the legacy of slavery and the cotton economy in the American south, in large-format, formal self-portraits in which she wears a starched white cotton shirt and poses amidst the opulence of southern plantation mansions. Both exhibitions were very powerful and once again I was cognizant that I had to come to the UK to see and learn more about my own country.
I rambled southward through Shoreditch and down Brick Lane in Spitalfields until I reached the Gilbert and George Centre in Heneage Street, where I saw London Pictures, their latest exhibition (though these are older works) comprised of newspaper headline posters, grouped by categories such as money, sex, knives, etc. There was a cluster of women in the gallery, obviously an art appreciation group, with an art ponce (man) who was explaining the works to them in a jumble of word salad and bollocks.
Northward I walked, stopping in Spital Square to eat my packed lunch before catching the 205 bus westward to the Victoria Miro Gallery in a Wharf Road warehouse between City Basin and Wenlock Basin. I had a ticket to see the Yayoi Kusama exhibition there. She's the dot lady. The big draw of this exhibition is the Infinity Mirrored Room (see this video from the website, but beware of the strobe lights), which was very popular when it had been at Tate Modern a while back. I was underwhelmed by the lights and disco ball effect. I did, however, like the colourful dot paintings grouped in the upstairs gallery space, though I could do without the "Every day I pray for love" text painted on many of them. I really hate vacuous text like that.
Back on the 205 bus, I rode eastward to the Whitechapel Gallery to see political art by Peter Kennard. These posters and illustrations are no doubt well-known to Brits, especially anyone who was politically active or attuned over the past five decades. In the days before Photoshop and graphic design programs, he created powerful photomontages of social commentary that exposed relationships of power, race, war, economics, etc., and rallied people to action.
Getting back to NW3 proved a challenge as the Northern Line going northward was suspended, so what should have been a half hour journey took nearly an hour. But that wasn't the end of my day. After eating a delishious sandwich that I got cheap from a neighbourhood caff using the Too Good to Go app, I walked the short distance to St Mary's Church to hear a talk on humour by author Andrew O'Hagan, part of the Primrose Hill Lecture Series. I enjoyed the talk a lot and will be bumping his latest book Caledonian Road to the top of my reading pile next to my bed at home.
Sunshine and blue skies returned on Friday! It was a delightful day full of catching up with friends, seeing some more art, and replenishing my store of vitamin D. I started the day by meeting up with my friend Judy at the Serpentine Gallery and pavilion in Kensington Gardens. I always make a point of visiting the temporary pavilion, designed each year by a different architect or designer, that serves as an outdoor gathering and hang-out space. This year's is a star-shaped design, with each point having a different function -- cafe, children's climbing space, book nook, function space, and entry. Clever, but not my favourite pavilion.
Inside the galleries, we saw two exhibitions. Lauren Halsey's installation in the south gallery called "emajendat" is a fantastical creation of a "funk garden" full of images and iconography associated with the neighbourhood in South Central Los Angeles where her family has lived for generations. Bright, colourful, imaginative, fun but also social commentary, it mixes past, present and future into an entire environment. So much to look at!
In the north gallery, we saw/heard The Call, a collaboration between artists Holly Herndon and Mat Dryhurst. This incorporated sound (singing), artificial intelligence and installation. I don't think I really understood what it was all about. Afterwards, we walked around Kensington Gardens to look at a new mural by Dr Esther Mahlangu and sculptures by Yayoi Kusama (the pumpkin photo at the top of this post) and Gerhard Richter and then had lunch at a great little caff in Bayswater called Sheila's that I had pinned in Google Maps years ago as a "want to go" spot.
My afternoon meetup was back in NW3 at Camden Art Centre with friends Simon and Barbara. We first had a look at the new installation of rather zanny art called I Am The Last Woman Object by Nicola L., comprised mostly of soft sculpture bodies and body parts. The purple "fur room" was particularly kooky. Our heads spinning a bit from all this wacky stuff, we retired to the caff for tea and cake and a good long natter.
I decided to cut myself some slack over the weekend and not push to do too much. On Saturday morning, I walked to and from Parliament Hill Farmers' Market (30 minutes each way) at the base of Hampstead Heath to purchase one last loaf of walnut & raisin bread and an olive stick. I thanked the baker for keeping me happy in bread during my stay here. I'm really going to miss those tasty carbs when I'm back home.
In the afternoon, I took the tube (big mistake -- crowded due to closures on other lines) to South Kensington and headed towards Chelsea, hoping for a nice stroll through posh, quiet streets with posh, private gardens. Along the way I popped into the newly-opened Royal Society of Sculptors where I saw two rather meh installations, Assembly: Abraham Cruzvillegas and Celeste. But the building has been nicely refurbed and the loo is superb.
Turning southward towards the King's Road, I was peacefully enjoying my ramble away from people and traffic when it started to sprinkle and then really rain. Stupid me, seeing no rain in the forecast, went out only in a cardigan and fleece vest. Fortunately, the streets are tree-lined and London planes have nice big leaves that prevent much of the downpour from reaching the pavement. I soon reached the King's Road and nipped into a temporary gallery space to see the annual exhibition by the Wapping Group of Artists, one of the oldest continous, amateur, plein air painting groups in the country. Some of the work was really very nice and I enjoyed seeing the various artists' takes on riverside scenes. I didn't buy anything.
The number 19 bus stopped right outside the gallery, so I hopped on board and rode to Denmark Street, arriving to find that the rain had stopped. Two blocks away was the site of the Bow Arts Frieze sculpture installation called Take a Seat that I'd tried to see on Monday. It was weird, kind of funny, but mostly strange.
A few blocks onward, I caught the number 68 to Upper Woborn Place, where the bus stopped right across from St Pancras New Church. The Crypt Gallery in the church had a retrospective exhibition of wire sculptures by David Begbie. From there, the number 1 bus took me back to Belsize Park for a long, hot bath and dinner.
And Sunday was even slower. In the morning, I walked up to Burgh House in Hampstead where I saw two very good exhibitions by women, one a painter and the other a photographer. The exhibitions here are always by artists with connections to Hampstead or are about Hampstead scenes and people. I saw About Women: Photographs by Dorothy Bohm and Marie-Louise von Motesiczky: (in)Visible Women, both of which I enjoyed, particularly the photography.
After a quick lunch back at my gaff, I headed off for the Southbank. My first stop was Borough Market -- I was on a mission (successful) to procure something from a specific trader there for someone back home.
And that, dear readers, wraps up another week in the Big Smoke. It's all downhill from here.
