SUNDAY, OCTOBER 28
THE VICTORIA AND ALBERT MUSEUM
The Victoria and Albert was fantastic, worthy of a day or more, though we gave it only half of that. Our exploration of this magnificent building and collection began among white marble sculptures, many so exquisitely carved they spoke over time and place, frozen in momentary, timeless gestures. The ceilings are high. Cream-colored walls curve upward, and a fountain brings the peaceful sound of running water inside.
A turn and we discovered halls and walls of Renaissance and Baroque paintings. Another and we passed through a vaulted entrance and a small gift shop, and soon were viewing a contemporary exhibition of Islamic art and architecture. Further down the hall fashion from all times and countries was on display.
Most people had come to the museum to see a Frido Kahlo retrospective. Unfortunately, having not planned ahead, we were unable to get tickets. Instead, we visited a smaller temporary exhibition of photography. The photographs varied from traditional portraiture to painterly and mystical. One featured photographer enlarged and manipulated grand, sepia daguerreotype landscapes, some of which contained derelict colonial buildings in them. In other photos, we were disturbed to find representations of peoples of color and indigenous peoples decidedly anthropological by comparison to other portraits of others. White people were photographed as humans; peoples of color and indigenous peoples, more as objects for study.
We couldn’t leave the museum without visiting some famous 20thC works, Van Gogh’s sunflowers, and a Picasso mother and child painting I’d never seen before.
Full to the brim with art, we headed to the cafe, which was like cream fraiche on a scone. We entered thorugh the loud, grand atrium with hand-painted floor tiles, large, carved and hand-painted columns, gold trim and massive stained-glass windows. It felt like an oddly incorrect Lewis Carrol Elizabethan film set peopled with our contemporaries.
We found a table in a small, side room, painted greens and gold, at once art deco and Moroccan. Tables were full of lively diners. Children ran around, laughter filled the room. Students throughout Europe were on break for a week so this museum, like the British Museum the day before, was unusually busy. But it was the last day of school break, and so as the day lengthened, people returned home and crowds thinned.
A blustery 5 degrees and a whipping wind accompanied us as we headed first to the Chelsea Dermalogica, only to arrive just as they were closing, and then to Westminster Abbey.
CONCERT IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY
On Sunday evenings, Westminster Abbey offers free organ recitals and I thought this would be a good way to get in for free and hear classical music. Nearly an hour before entry, a line forms outside and we were there for the duration. Chloe cuddled up behind me whenever the wind gusted. About 100 people were welcomed in.
The unheated cathedral, at first, felt warm compared to the frigid air outside but as we sat on the cold pews, listening to the not-so-inspired organ recital of Edward Elgar’s Sonata in G, Opus 28, the cold crept through the stone floor like ants running up our legs.
Because it was dark outside, the expansiveness of the cathedral wasn’t as apparent as during daylight, but there was an enchantment about being inside the church at night. Candles burned all around and only soft, empty light moved between repetitive hallway columns like misty apparitions sneaking through passages between pews and alcoves. The organist played on top of a small square structure and was out of sight. Our eyes rested on a dormant, entrance alter. At the end of the 45 -minute performance, sub-organist Peter Holder, who looked not older than 15, appeared atop the box and took a bow.
We ran to the train as if we could escape the cold, ate at the Thai restaurant around the corner from our Airbnb, and went to bed contentedly full of London.
STREET PHOTOS FROM THE DAY
