V&A, Round One

Beatrix Potter: Drawn to Nature. Nice title and that’s what I expected: a nice, polite exhibition. I didn’t expect to feel profoundly moved. But the familiar drawings and stories called up memories of listening to my daddy tell me bedtime stories about adventurous rabbits, with a whoosh of feeling safe and warm and cared for and loved.

The exhibit is geared to appeal to ‘little rabbits’ with a glowing mousehole at floor level, drawers of objects with PLEASE TOUCH signs, and scampering mice shadows.

TIL: it wasn’t all floofy bunnies. Miss Potter was curious about all creatures great and small. She drew and painted bats and terrapins, and she was particularly enamored with fungi. Her walking stick had a built-in magnifier for examining details of the natural world.

Miss Potter also drew on the postcards she sent, collected a treasure trove of objects she used in her illustrations, included her grandmother’s cane chair in the miniature world she created. She had no use for the limiting expectations of society for a woman of her social class, left 4,000 acres of bucolic landscape to the National Trust, and coaxed a dwindling breed of sheep back from the brink of extinction. In many ways, she was far ahead of her time. Did I mention she loved dogs?

The finale of the exhibit immersed the visitor in Beatrix Potter’s world with a floor-to-ceiling video loop of her beloved lake district. It spoke to the nature lover and knitter in me. Well played, V&A. Well played.

It was noon and time for a light lunch of Winter Quiche and Caeser salad.

Really, why would you eat anywhere else?

I was working my way down the hall of sculpture when Truth and Falsehood, by Alfred Stevens, stopped me in my tracks. Truth in the act of tearing out the forked tongue of Falsehood. Sign me up.

This couple’s funerary monument. I can imagine the sculptor murmuring to the client ‘something that suggests eternal rest, perhaps?’

Wandered through another section, I found some delicious Indian works on paper and many fascinating small works, like this woman with a hawk.

My eye was also caught by this drawing of a lapidary drilling a hole in a gemstone.

I find myself more interested in images of people in the act of working than lushly attired royalty striking a pose. Not that I don’t adore embroidery and rich fabric. I’d just rather see the seamstress and tailor working on it than the monarch wrapped up in it. The needlework on display here is a whole other realm of delight, but that will have to wait until tomorrow

I’ll end with this bit of bonsai magic in the inner courtyard. Someone has got kickass pruning skills

Back tomorrow.

British Museum, Round Two

Walking along the street is nearly as interesting as the curated exhibits. 

• Don’t know what they are selling but I like the vibe, dear stranger.

• Redemption is always welcome.

• It’s spring, by golly.

• There’s more than one Queen in this town.

• Before there was Harry Potter, there was this.

Back to the business at hand… it was another fulfilling morning at the British Museum, the first hour spent examining the Parthenon marbles. Details like this carefully rendered underside of a rider’s foot.

Or this fight between a Lapith and a Centaur. Not sure how any man can look at this without wincing. I call this round for the centaur.

I drifted around a leaf on the tide of humanity streaming through the rooms until I alighted in the main hall in front of a massive lion.
I sketched him until noon, then broke for lunch in the Member’s Room. Cheese and pickle, on a seeded baguette. Toasted. I am so spoiled.

Afterward, I turned left into the rooms dedicated to the Enlightenment. One of the exhibits noted that the founding collection was funded by a fortune reaped from that stain on the soul of humanity, the Slave Trade. More ironic than an anvil.

I ended up on a bench in front of a marble sculpture of Cupid. A charming figure, though far from subtle (note the object next to cupid’s leg). More sketching ensued.

Headed back to the hotel to meet my daughter Emily, coincidentally here touring with her band, Dehd. She Ubered over after wrapping a promo photoshoot. Check out their latest release.

Tomorrow, the Beatrix Potter exhibition at the Victoria & Albert.

British Museum, Round One

I’ll draw a veil over the rigors of the overnight journey from home that culminated in an arrival day that’s still a blur. Let’s just say no one is immune from bad luck, random disappointments, and unforseen difficulties. Instead, I’m starting with the morning I woke up in the city of London. Coincidentally, the English turned the clock forward, so the whole city probably felt jet-lagged. I found a fine coffee shop with an excellent brew and convivial atmosphere just up the block, but the bus route I’d scouted was unavailable due to road closures so instead, I walked. The sky was blue, the air fresh and cool, the traffic minimal. The streets pretty much reeked of charm in the early morning. Pots of spring flowers bloomed in front of homes and shops alike. All along the way, I noted places I want to come back to.

I passed a man walking along reading a hardcover book he held out in one hand. I discreetly gawked, but how different is it from reading an iPhone while you walk, as every other person is doing?

The line in front of the British museum stretched for blocks, but it moved very quickly once underway.

Inside, I began with the dimly lit and hushed experience of the Stonehenge exhibit. I was captivated by the 3D print of oxen skeletons, the bones rotated upright, illustrated with CG. So extra. What an ingenious way to display this find. It rouses the imagination.

More than the collection of stone ax heads, flint arrowheads, and jumbled carnage of bones from an ancient battlefield, I was moved by the skeletal remains of this woman. She was buried tenderly holding her infant in a sling.

Afterward I dallied with the Greeks and Romans, and spent quality time with mosaics.

The Egyptian wing echoed with the sounds of children talking and laughing, raucous as a schoolyard recess. Cheerful but, whoa, loud. As a member of the British Museum, (oh yes, yes I am), I was given access to the Member’s Room, a calm oasis with a cafe, library, and WiFi that I took full advantage of.A welcome discovery was the area of floor-to-ceiling books and cabinets of curiosities was relatively serene and even possessed an unexpected sense of humor.

A kind woman took a photo for me in front of a wall of mosaic. I assumed Covid had put an end to such courtesies but happily I was wrong.

Earlier than I would have liked, my eye and feet gave out and I limped back to my hotel. The empty streets of the morning were thronging, but not unpleasantly jammed.

Tomorrow it’s back to the British Museum, this time to linger over objects that caught my eye, and to discover new ones. Sketching may be involved.

Countdown: T-12 days

The bulk of planning is complete, now it’s tweaking last-minute additions. Instead of far and wide, I’m going deep and focused, staying true to my love of art and history.
Most days have a booked entry ticket for one venue in the morning that could stretch until the museum closes or I could take the afternoon in a different direction. The V&A just announced the end of timed tickets April 5th. I expect the other major museums to follow suit. I’m glad for this, as it lets me off that particular leash – If I am feeling the National more than the V&A I can swap them around.
I know I can’t fit it all in, but with my strong itinerary in place I’ll be able to explore enticing byways whenever time and energy permit. I have a side list of places I’d like to include and will see how each day goes.
I just learned today about opportunities to go Mudlarking, an exploration of the Thames at low tide that’s sponsored by the National Trust. I wish!