New York Part II: The Met

The Metropolitan Museum of Art. You could spend days here, get lost amongst the Pollocks and the Hoppers, the Modiglianis and the O'Keeffes. Samurai armour, Ringo's gold drum, Tiffany stained glass, ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. We only spent an afternoon, though I have in the past visited on an A-Level art trip, but still, just the tip of the iceberg. Gutted that we missed the Alexander McQueen retrospective, Savage Beauty, by just a few weeks.

The week that was

The first week of January 2011 was wonderful. Time spent back in London, with friends, with M. There were a couple of days at work, but mostly I had time off, coming back down to earth with a bump this Monday when I was back in the office, and on a late shift to boot, having kissed a hurried, tears-threatening-to-spill-over goodbye to M on the Green Park Jubilee line platform as he headed off to Heathrow and I to my desk.

But back to my almost-week off, the week that started 2011. There was a Sunday trip to Columbia Road, to buy the first bulb flowers of the season, blue hyacinths, white tulips. A visit to The Natural History Museum to see The Wildlife Photographer of the Year Award, which I loved, as ever, a brightly lit carousel as we left, lights in trees. Cocktails on Wednesday night for C's birthday, fairy lights, bare wooden floors, discarded shoes, sweet potato chips, a walk home through the drizzle. Thursday saw heavy rain and a trip to Borough Market, side-stepping puddles, clutching hot apple cider in our hands, eating Raclette melted over new potatoes and cornichons from paper plates. Heading then along the river to Southbank, a hot chocolate and a cappuccino whilst we dried off in the BFI bar, sinking into deep velvety sofas, then on to the Landscape Photographer of the Year Award at the National Theatre. Relishing these midweek days off. Friday was pizza at the Italian Coffee Company, strings of molten cheese, a dusting of oregano, and a brief trip to The British Museum, to say hello to the mummies. Another birthday drinks, squashed into a crowded bar behind Waterloo, windows steamed up with drying umbrellas. Saturday we braved the packed V&A, to catch the last weekend of the Diaghilev and visit the Shadow Catchers: Camera-less Photography exhibition. A walk round the cold, deserted, central courtyard as we killed time between entry slots, a stroll to upstairs, to less visited galleries, flattened brass instruments suspended from the ceiling. Sunday we lunch at Polpo, somewhere I have longed to go for ages, drink Aperol Spritzes, eat small plates of delicious Italian food, enjoy this final day in London, together. In the evening we go to the Tate Modern to see the Gauguin, transported for an hour or so to the vivid colours of the Tahiti of the artist's mind. Then we walk along the river, London's lights reflected on the dark water, to The Royal Festival Hall. M takes me to up Skylon, where we slowly sip two of their exquisitely crafted cocktails, talk and talk, try not to think about the morning.

Skylines, Sunflower Seeds

On Saturday I walk from Waterloo, along the Southbank, past the second-hand book stalls near the BFI, past the National Theatre, to the Tate Modern. London is grey and cold, flat-looking. I am hoping to see the Gauguin, to immerse myself in bright colours, lush vegetation, exotic Tahitian women, but it is booked up until the evening so instead I wander through the Turbine Hall to Ai Weiwei's Sunflower Seeds, part of the Unilever Series. One hundred million sunflower seeds stretch out across the vast hall, each one unique, hand crafted from porcelain.

I find it hard to comprehend the enormity of the project, the time, the patience.

w4m - 23 - (London)

I have just discovered Missed Connections (via Goodnight Little Spoon - though I'm sure I have seen links to it somewhere else before, I just never followed them until now). Sophie Blackall is an illustrator based in Brooklyn, New York who started a blog containing her own illustrations for some of the many 'missed connections' adverts that appear daily. She writes this: 'Messages in bottles, smoke signals, letters written in the sand; the modern equivalents are the funny, sad, beautiful, hopeful, hopeless, poetic posts on Missed Connections websites. Every day hundreds of strangers reach out to other strangers on the strength of a glance, a smile or a blue hat. Their messages have the lifespan of a butterfly. I'm trying to pin a few of them down.'

Pure brilliance, check it out if you have a moment.

(all images from Missed Connections)

Sleeping Beauty

image via artnet

For my birthday this year my Dad bought me membership to the Museums Association which means free entry into lots of exhibitions and galleries across Britain. I have been pretty bad about using it, so yesterday made the effort to visit the Hayward Gallery after work, en route to supper at Anna's. The current exhibition at the Hayward is called 'Walking in my Mind' and features the work of ten different artists, who have each created a piece of installation art to represent their 'individual mindscape'. There was one particular room, that created by Chiharu Shiota, that stood out most for me, perhaps because I had the Seeds and Stitches's fairytale post from Monday in my head. Shiota's room was filled with a network of black threads which crisscrossed each other over and over, reaching from floor to ceiling and wall to wall, but structured so that they created an arched walkway around the room. Suspended in the centre of the room were five white dresses, ballgowns or possibly wedding dresses, that hung there, entangled in the black threads. The whole thing was very fairytale-esque, and Sleeping Beauty in particular sprang to mind, with the castle and sleeping princess encircled by a wall of thorns. When I visited the artist's website, the image on the homepage made me think of Sleeping Beauty even more...very haunting, and rather suitable for a distinctly chilly summer's day.

image from here