This may be a bit rough. I am trying a blog entry for the first time in a few years! There had been problems with folks accessing the entries from FB last time around. Here goes, though. Yesterday’s adventure, compliments of a recommendation from Nigel Grant, was a visit to the Klimt Immersion Experience at ‘The Brick House,’ located just off Brick Lane, a pleasant walk from the Aldgate Tube Station. I was familiar with Klimt from seeing some of his works in Vienna at the Belvedere Museum. The exhibition was done in an interesting way, starting with a multimedia presentation on the Secessionist Movement (the Viennese Art Nouveau movement).

This brought “The Kiss” to life in a different form.

In the next part of the experience, we moved into a dark room where Klimt’s works were deconstructed and then slowly reconstructed on the walls of the room as each work moved around the four exterior walls and the walls of an interior cube in the center. Plenty of seating was around the exterior. Classical music played in the background. Beethoven’s 5th stays memorably with me, as a child of Huntley and Brinkley’s newscasts in the US.

This part of the exhibition was something that allowed me to simply sit back and be amazed at the brilliance of the art, and to enjoy the interplay of form and color on the walls as the they morphed into new shaped and stylized symbols. For me, always hanging over it, was the sadness of knowing that Klimt died young and the terrible connection his works later had with the Nazi terror of World War II, but, at least, ultimately, some small justice was restored to, at least one family.

After leaving this part of the experience, I thought the whole thing was over, but a surprise awaited me. There was an offer of a Virtual Reality viewing of Klimt’s works (for a small additional fee). I jumped at the chance. Let me admit that I have not been really high in many decades. This was the closest my memory comes to what that was like. The way the works were shown (there were snakes and fish and beautiful women and flowers and landscapes and colors and music). All of these were coming at me and moving away. I had such a blast sitting there simply experiencing this. It was definitely worth the extra “five quid.”

A final note about Brick Lane. It is one of those wonderful ethnically alive streets one sees in London. I saw so many great looking Indian restaurants that made my mouth water along with all kinds of shops and tourists and Londoners of every description walking along. It is definitely a place I will be returning to. I really hope that the next UK PM and her government (in all likelihood it appears to be a “her’), will find a way to avoid economic disaster this winter for the people and small businesses all over the country, but especially for the thriving small businesses, just coming back from the pandemic and the families who are afraid of freezing this winter.

I can never resist the British National Portrait Gallery.  For those following my obsession, there is still no sign of a portrait of Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall and future Queen Consort.  The late Diana, Princess of Wales, and the retired Philip, Duke of Edinburgh remain prominent in the gallery of most recent British persons of importance, along with such cultural icons as

Amy Winehouse (a portrait I really find touching).  The gallery had brought out a different selection of 20th Century portraits.  These included two by Patrick Herring, this self portrait

and this portrait of T.S. Elliot.

Patrick Heron is one of my favorite artists and it was a real treat to spend some time with these two works.

Also on display was this portrait of a lady I like to think of as one of my neighbors in Bloomsbury, Emmeline Pankhurst, one of England Suffragists who lived for a time in a house that sat just across from Russell Square. I love the way the portrait shows her strength and dignity.

The second of the Cultural Interludes was a visit to the Victoria and Albert Museum (the V&A) with my “Greatest British Friends” Nigel and Gwynne.  We started in one of my “happy places,” the Cast Courts, described on the V&A website this way “Opened in 1873, the Cast Courts display copies of some of the world’s most significant works of art reproduced in plaster, electrotype, photography, and digital media. The cast collection is famous for including reproductions of Michelangelo’s David, Trajan’s Column, and Ghiberti’s Gates of Paradise, amongst many others.”  I don’t know exactly why the Cast Courts are so important to me.  Perhaps its the fact that many of the pieces are cast from churches and cathedrals, but being placed in the bright and well planned courts allows me to appreciate their form separately from their function in a way that is sometimes difficult with some architectural features.

We had a nice break in the V&A Cafeteria.  We were supposed to have had breakfast together, but a communication breakdown had us eating in cafes about 50 yards apart on Judd Street.

We also enjoyed a visit to the furniture collection.  Including these beauties that Nigel briefly helped fabricate in the pre-computer days.  The day ended much to quickly and I had to see the Grants off at Saint Pancras Train Station for their return to Kent.

This is an excerpt from a piece by John Amato:  “Our ‘Cousins’ remain in the front row of ancient family history – in the window of our memories with all the fancy curtains pushed back; with all the crispy plastic upholstery taped up and hidden from the company. First, second, or third cousins – doesn’t mater — they are the direct line to the mother ship across the mighty Atlantic–they are the red vein of striking the friendship ring before friends on the block.”

The other night, I had dinner with my cousin JoAnn and her husband Frank who were in London before taking off for Wales and Scotland.  JoAnn is technically my first cousin once removed.  She is 7 years younger than me.  Her Mom, Marion, my first cousin, is 19 years my senior.  I mention this because we are blessed to be part of a rather large family.  Marion’s brother Steve is 23 years older than me.  His oldest child is less than a year younger than me.  My youngest first cousin is ten year younger than me-33 years younger than Steve, our oldest first cousin.  There are 20 first cousins in total.  JoAnn is among, at least 40 of the next generation.  JoAnn’s mom and I have always had a special bond.  We all lived within a few blocks of each other and were regular parts of each others life.  Marion’s kindness to me stretches back to my earliest childhood when my dad was in a terrible accident and she smothered me with love and attention.  It continued through college and beyond when I knew Marion would always have my special dish of struffoli waiting for me when I came home for Christmas.  But here we were, all grown up, having dinner at one of my favorite neighborhood restaurants in London.

As London’s late Summer heatwave has continued, I have taken things pretty easy.  I find that my first week of this long visit is a week of transitioning and taking it slow.  After a few days of bustle, I took a “neighborhood day.  I revisited several favorite spots, including, Russell Square.  The park was full of life.  People from around the world were strolling and chatting.  Kids were running and squealing.  The fountain shot water into the sunshine.  Caffe Tropea, the lovely Italian Cafe was doing a booming business.  Ah London!