For Free in the City

2013-05-15 15.46.45Continuing my project to try out new and, where possible, inexpensive or free, things in London, to challenge that assumption that everything here is expensive, I spent a day this week in the City.  Were it not for the rather nice lunch I had(!), I could say that the day cost me nothing other than the public transport fares.

I started out at the Museum in the Bank of England.  Until I visited the Sir John Soane Museum last year, I hadn’t known that there even was a museum at the Bank, but then subsequently on walks along Threadneedle St towards the Tube station, I’d noticed a sign on a wooden stand by one of the grand doors indicating that the entrance to the Museum was around the corner (in Bartholomew St), and each time I would remind myself that I’d like to visit.

Inside, a chronological history of the Bank leads you through the evolution of the building, from small beginnings on Threadneedle Street, through the building of the Soane edifice, to its subsequent remodelling in the 20th century.  I was entranced by some drawings of the construction work in the 1930s, such detail and precision in pen and ink drawings, showing the huge hole in the centre of the exterior walls which seem to be the only remaining sections of the Soane design.  Digging big holes in the City is clearly not a new phenomenon.

The Royal charters signed by King William and Mary are there too; huge scrolls filled with elaborate and densely packed writing, which at first was impossible to decipher, both for its arcane language and ancient script.  We debated for a few minutes whether it was in Latin, until some of the words came into focus as English.

I had a go at lifting up a gold bar (secured within a perspex box and observed by no less than four security cameras), and examining all the security features of a £50 note under a brightly lit magnifier.  And in between, absorbed the history and evolution of the bank from a purely commercial enterprise with an initial capital of £1.2m to its current role as effectively one of the organs of State. There was also a fair amount of pointing at old bank notes, with exclamations of  ’I remember them’ together with the realisation that there was a £20 note in circulation in the 1970s and very early 80s that we had never seen, such a large amount of money was it at the time.

There were interactive displays explaining inflation to children, and a booklet to explain Quantitative Easing to everyone else.  I took one, because, if I’m completely honest I don’t really understand it, and, after reading the booklet, I’m still not sure I do….

From the Bank, via the aforementioned lunch, we made our way to the Guildhall Art Gallery, to discover that in fact it is called ‘The Guildhall Art Gallery and Roman Amphitheatre’.  If I’d spent any time thinking about it I suppose  should have known that there would be art in the City; after all where there is wealth, art usually follows, but my assumption would have been that it was all kept behind closed doors in private collections.

The Guildhall apparently has a very large collection dating back to the 15th century, only a small part of which can be displayed at any one time. As a collection it must truly reflect changing tastes and fashions of the wealthy burghers of London over the intervening centuries.  In amongst the pieces currently on display there were things from both the Victorian and mid twentieth century which were not at all to my taste by artists the curators must clearly be hoping will come back into fashion soon.

A temporary exhibition highlighted the depth in the collection of Portraiture, which was fascinating, including Tudor ladies in the finest of laces, each strand and twist of which was painstakingly replicated on canvas, as well as a Holbein of Henry VIII.  And there was a nice synchronicity in that the lady custodian  pointed us in the direction of two full length portraits of our old friends William and Mary, grantors of the Charter to the Bank of England, which have been in the Guildhall collection since they were painted at the end of the 17th century.

And I mustn’t forget the Roman Amphitheatre; in truth, a few remains of stone walls and two glass cases of artefacts, but displayed very effectively in a darkened basement of the Gallery, atmospherically lit to give the opportunity to appreciate some of the scale it might have been.

The day began with me feeling rather ignorant that I’d not known it was possible to visit these places, and I finished it feeling a little better educated; and you can’t say fairer than that.

The Estorick Collection

2013-05-08 11.03.45I discovered the Estorick Collection thanks to the information accompanying my recent subscription for an Art Pass.  And then, when I saw where it was, just off Highbury Corner, I couldn’t believe that I’d never noticed it before.  It comprises a collection of modern Italian art, with Futurists works as its core.  On the day we visited it was in a changeover period between special exhibitions, so we were only able to see four of the galleries.

It’s a small collection, but well displayed in the rooms of a tall thing Georgian House in Canonbury Square.  We had the place pretty much to ourselves, with plenty of time to look at the works and to discuss them, and then to launch into those conversations about random connections between otherwise unconnected things that always seem to be inspired by looking at art.

What with the paintings, a nice cafe and a small courtyard sheltered by the surrounding trees, it’s a good place to spend a couple of hours of anyone’s time.

2013-05-08 12.57.43After our taste of European culture we went for a walk along the towpath of the Regent’s Canal.  Walking the length of the canal at some point is on my list of things to do when the weather and my energy levels permit, but this week we settled for a stroll of half a mile or so from the point the canal emerges from the Islington Tunnel along towards Hackney.

With the overhanging trees, the lunchtime runners and the cyclists ringing their bells to announce their presence, we might have been somewhere far from inner city London.  What is it about a body of water which improves an environment?  Were it not for the water it would be like walking along a road in an industrial estate, but with it, there it was possible at times to imagine we were in the countryside.

We were in search of lunch at the Towpath cafe, and we were rewarded, by being able to sit outside to eat, even if it was a little breezy, overlooking the newly built blocks of flats which now jostle along the banks of the canal alongside the remnants of the light industrial buildings which predate them by decades.  On the way back, we stopped at another cafe for a cup of tea.  It’s all very civilised and I can recommend it as a fun way to spend an afternoon.

Home Tourist – The Foundling Museum

I’ve recently acquired an Art Fund National Art Pass which affords free or discounted entrance to many of the UK’s art institutions.  More pertinently, along with it, came a listing of all the all the member institutions, some of which I’d never previously heard, or if I had, didn’t realise it was possible to visit.

My first visit courtesy of the Pass was to the Foundling Museum in Coram Fields.

Established by a sea captain, Thomas Coram, in the 18th century to look after orphaned or abandoned babies, the charity continues its activities supporting children into the present day.  It sounds like Coram spent a great deal of time and energy cultivating the fashionable ladies of the day to take advantage of the new trend in society for charity to fundraise for the creation of a Foundling Hospital, in an era when there were hundreds of children abandoned each year because of poverty or shame.  At the same time, the artist Hogarth became a significant benefactor, giving art works to the Foundation and encouraging his artist friends to do the same, thereby creating a significant art collection, with which to decorate the hospital.

Seeing these paintings as well as the rather baroque decoration of the restored Court Room, I did wonder how likely it was that any of the children ever actually saw all this munificent generosity.  It seemed more likely to have the purpose of creating grand surroundings for genteel people to be entertained while they were solicited for donations.  A modern benefactor might have wondered if more money might have been spent on the children…..

The social history of the manner in which over the centuries it has been considered appropriate to treat children is fascinating; the clothing and menus, and skills training considered suitable,  as well as the rigour of the rules and the copiousness and formality of the accompanying paperwork.

I spent most of my visit looking at the display of tokens left with the babies by their Mothers as a means of identification for when they might return to take the children back.  Most of them tiny: a nut, military buttons, coins marked or drilled through to make them unique and identifiable, tiny broaches and beaded necklaces.  The collection has clearly been the object of much sentimental interest over the intervening years, as the tokens have been periodically on public display ever since, in the Victorian era, they were separated from all their accompanying paper work, rendering it impossible ever since to reconnect the tokens with the identity of the children.  It is quite a poignant thought that the tokens were considered to be the property of the filing system rather than to be treasured by the children as a link to their absent mother.  The practice of renaming all the babies as soon as they were admitted reinforces the notion that all ties with the past were severed at that moment.

If a mother sought the return of her child, she had to first pay all the costs incurred by the Hospital for its upkeep during its residence, which must have been a powerful impediment to many reunions.  The rule must have been to create a disincentive for parents to simply park a child with the charity for a short time, but it does also probably mean that few children could be successfully reclaimed.  There were however also stories of women returning for their babies, only for the paperwork to have gone missing.

Time prevented me from visiting the Handel memorabilia also displayed in the Museum, but now I know where it is, I’m sure I will return.

How Secret is the ‘Secret Garden’?

IMG_3054I know, I know.  When you go around a stately home, you’re meant to admire the draperies, the wallpaper and the paintings upstairs and the brass pots and pans downstairs.  This last weekend, while I did plenty of that, as well as craning my neck to see elaborate stucco ceilings and stained glass windows, I was also struck by some of the things on display as interesting ‘antique’ curios which we still have in use in our family home, as well as this sign.

Is it possible to signpost a secret garden and for it to remain secret?  By the act of pointing it out to all comers, is the National Trust not depriving it of its secret status?  Or am I taking this too seriously?

And what about the Sitooterie?

It is indeed an area in the garden designed for sitting out it-  a bench beneath the trained branches of a tree. A fairly recent addition to the gardens at Blickling Hall to keep everyone interested, at least the sign entertained me.

Drawing at the Wellcome Collection

20130228_184524(0)The Wellcome Collection was originally created by Henry Wellcome and includes thousands of artefacts associated with medicine and medical science.  Since a massive facelift a few years ago, it is now housed in the original Wellcome building on Euston Road, focusses on medicine, life and art in the past as well as the present and future.

It is free to the public and open late on Thursday and Friday evenings, which is why we were there with our drawing class this week.  We spent the time in the room containing an eclectic array of all sorts of bits and pieces: surgical tools, prosthetic limbs, blood letting bowls, skulls, ancient votive offerings and weird diagnostic models.  It was buzzing with visitors all evening.

I was attracted by the curves and ornamentations on the old surgical saws, even if it didn’t do to think too much about how they might have been used, and what that experience would have been like.  (The huge forceps on the other side of the cabinet were far too redolent of their purpose and made me feel a little queasy….)  It’s fascinating that they would make medical equipment with fancy shapes and engravings; it’s almost as if the plain old sawtooth edge was the least interesting part of the thing.  It was much more about the handle and the frame.

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Home Tourist Up The Gherkin

IMG_2986Even after living in London for many years there are still parts of the City that I really don’t know very well.  In my own defence, I’ve never worked in the Square Mile: I’ve always been a West End girl, the furthest East I’ve been for any length of time was in an office just off the Strand near the Law Courts.

So when I was invited for drinks in the bar at the top of the Gherkin, I’ll admit it, even though it is one of the most recognisable buildings in the London skyline, I had to look it up online to find its address (30 St Mary Axe, for future reference!); and then when I was nearby I kept having to look up to make sure I was still heading in the right direction.  And, when I did arrive, I discovered that it’s right beside the Lloyds building and the site of the massive development that people have taken to calling the Cheese Grater.

Of course I’ve heard of all of these buildings, and seen their outlines from various vantage points from across the River or from one of the bridges, but I’d never before stood on the pavement outside and looked up at them.  And it’s clear these buildings are built for show, shiny and bright.

The bar and restaurant at the top of the Gherkin is a private members affair, so it was quite the treat to be invited.  It’s 40 floors up, a journey involving the presentation of ID, security scanning, and travelling in two lifts, the first to floor 34 and then the second for the final hop skip and jump to the top.  As you’d expect it’s all shiny and glass, and, with no soft surfaces, noisy, but there are views across London in all directions, and with an oddly New York vibe, is a good place to drink champagne.

The protocol dilemma was, of course, whether it would be simply too uncool to take photos?  As I’ve never been cool, it was a question which didn’t detain me long, although the combination of the reflectiveness of the glass, the night sky, the interior lights, and the relative lack of sophistication of my camera, made for some surreal results.

But if you hold your head to one side and screw up your eyes, you might be able to tell that this is Tower Bridge.

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Mystical?

Ailsa has suggested ‘mystical’ as a prompt for a travel photograph this week.  It is a word that sent me to the dictionary, as I had a feeling that it is one for which the meaning has subtly changed in recent years.  My Concise Oxford dates from 1976, when I received it for Christmas, so I knew would give me a base definition against which to test my supposition.

For mystical, its definition is ‘of mystics or mysticism; having direct spiritual significance’.

As an adjective it denotes spiritually allegorical or symbolic; occult, esoteric, or of hidden meaning.  A mystic, is one who seeks by contemplation and self surrender to obtain union with or absorption into the Deity, or who believes in spiritual apprehension of truths beyond the understanding.  Hence mysticism (often derogatory).

For some reason, I like that ‘often derogatory’.

There is little mention of the mysterious or atmospheric with which we might associate the word today, although the allegorical, occult or the idea of hidden meaning, gives a hint of the trend in usage.

Focusing on the idea of spirituality, here is a head in St Margaret’s church in the grounds of Felbrigg Hall in Norfolk.  I don’t know who it is or why it’s on the wall in the church, but there is something satisfying about the simple lines and the smooth shapes, even if his flat head might only be for resting a candle on.

Rereading ‘one who believes in spiritual apprehension of truths beyond understanding‘ has a certain unexpected synchronicity in the wake of the discriminatory decision by the Church of England yesterday not to allow women to become bishops.  Mysticism in action?

Free Exhibitions

Somerset House is dressed for Christmas, and the central courtyard already filled with the temporary winter ice skating rink.  But we weren’t there for the skating, nor even for the Courtauld Institute which is housed in the building; instead we were intent on having something for nothing and visiting the free exhibitions currently on there.

And we were very successful in this endeavour: three shows at Somerset House and then two across Waterloo Bridge in the foyers at the National Theatre.  When so many things have a price of entry, it was a good reminder to look out for all the things that are available in London.

Our first stop, after an energising coffee, was Tim Walker: Story Teller, which in truth, we only went to because we saw the entrance as we were leaving the cafe toilets.  It’s not really an exhibition aimed at me, as I simply can’t take fashion photography that seriously, and found the use of a crashed aeroplane as a prop for such things as in poor taste.  I liked the portraits of various achingly cool and fashionable folk, dressed in white against white backgrounds, but not the rest of it.

From there we progressed to Cartier Bresson – A Question of Colour which displayed colour photographs by European and American photographers inspired by Cartier Bresson’s concept of ‘the decisive moment’, alongside several of his original black and white shots.  This was an eclectic collection of people and places, some showing their impromptu nature, making a virtue of unusual angles, or framing them through the back window of a car, or past the front seat headrest and seatbelt.  Although Cartier Bresson was dismissive of colour prints, this exhibition showed how much colour can add to the depth and complexity of a composition with many of them glowing with saturated tones.

Our heads filled with images from around the world we crossed the courtyard to see 10x1o Drawing the City, for which 100 luminaries from the world of the creative industries had each been allocated a square inch on a map of the West End of London, and invited to create a work of art responding to what they found there.  It was fascinating to see the variety of responses on show;  some had done detailed sketches or paintings of very recognisable and familiar views; others had produced architectural type drawings, or tiny details that expressed something specific about a small corner.  One, a sort of repeated tiling pattern of Hungerford Bridge, had us puzzling about exactly what perspective it was representing.

Until, that is, we were walking across Waterloo Bridge and spotted the oblique profile of the struts of the bridge captured in the work.

Once south of the River, and after a bargain ‘Blue Monday’ lunch of discounted sushi, we hit the National Theatre, where there are currently two free exhibitions in the foyer areas.  Landscape photography in the Lyttleton and Jewellery  in the Olivier.

Achieving something new and original in landscape photography must be nearly impossible these days; we’ve seen so many images already.  But it’s the combination of colour, composition and the capturing of the right instant that sets a pretty picture apart from a truly striking one; there were parallels with the ideas behind the ‘decisive moment’ photographs across the River in Somerset House.  I was particularly impressed by one shot of a huge wave crashing against the promenade in a northern town, as well as a collection of images of cold white, with only small details highlighted in a contrasting hue.

And finally, the Jewellery did indeed dazzle, but thankfully not enough that I had to buy some of it, as that might have rather defeated the point of our economical day out……

Water and Lights

Time was, not that long ago, when it would have been fairly hazardous to wander around the Kings Cross area of London after dark, and in truth, there would have been few reasons to do so, dominated as it has been by huge construction projects.  But a couple of nights ago I found myself in the vicinity with a few moments to kill, and so had a little look around.  The last time I’d been at the station, I’d noticed a pathway between two rows of hoardings, into which a lot of people seemed to be heading; so this week I went to satisfy my curiosity as to what is at the end of it.

I was amused to note that the pathway between two building sites revels in the name King’s Boulevard, and terminates at Goods Way.  Satisfied that it was just a cut through the redevelopment area, I was about to turn back, when some undulating lights in the distance caught my eye, and this is what I found.

How easily I am entertained; a few spouts of water and the play of changing lights and colours and I passed a quarter of an hour happily watching the patterns and pulses of water and light in the forecourt of what I believe is one of the buildings of London University of the Arts.

Sometimes it pays to wander…..

Soft – A Travel Theme Photo

Last week I went to rural North Norfolk for a couple of days and stayed in a small cottage on the edge of a tract of farmland.  As the weather was sunny the thing  was to take advantage and to go out and explore the area on foot.

It’s sugar beat harvest time, and the thrum of tractors was in the air during all the hours of daylight; and the pile of beats grew bigger each time we walked by.  Although it wasn’t raining, the evidence of the wet, sometimes deep and slippery mud was showed there had been plenty of precipitation recently, and the frequent passage of the tractor pulling a trailer of newly dug sugar had churned up the path and bridleway.

It all might be a bit CSI, but I was fascinated by the pattern left by the tyres in the soft earth.

Thanks to Ailsa’s travel theme for prompting me to find a use for this photo!

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