Endless Horizons

John Brack, 'The Car', 1955. National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne.

The Royal Academy in London recently hosted a wonderful exhibition of Australian art. To wander through the galleries was to walk through a retrospective of Australian history, with illustrations. (The exhibition closed on 8th Dec 2013). I was left feeling both enlightened and homesick, and clutching a large catalogue.

Here's some extracts from the Academy's website. The curator chose the theme of 'landscape' to unify things, and a very good choice it was too. Those endless horizons...

Eugene von Guérard, 'Bush Fire Between Mt Elephant and Timboon, 1857', 1859. Art Gallery of Ballarat.

John Glover, 'A View of the Artist’s House and Garden, in Mills Plains, Van Diemen’s Land', 1835. Art Gallery of South Australia . 

Rover Thomas (Joolama) 'Cyclone Tracey' 1991. National Gallery of Australia, Canberra.

The exhibition was so rich that it's impossible, with just a few examples, to do it justice. Just about every Australian artist of any significance was represented. The early colonialists (including my favourite John Glover) were there, with their very European reactions to the landscape. The Aboriginal artists were very strongly represented, and wonderfully curated with excellent explanations of the various schools and how they arose. Off 200 works, one third were by indigenous artists. Then the nineteenth century big guns, all the names (Roberts, McCubbin, Streeton, Drysdale), and so into the twentieth century. Three of Sidney Nolan's 'Ned Kelly' series were hung (though go to the National Gallery in Canberra and see (up to) 25 of them together for the full impact).

Russell Drysdale, 'The Drover’s Wife', c.1945. National Gallery of Australia, Canberra 

Max Dupain, 'Sunbaker', 1937. National Gallery of Australia, Canberra.

Perhaps the most talked-about painting was John Brack's 'The Car' from 1955, but many other twentieth century big names were also shown: Authur Boyd, Grace Cossington-Smith, Fred Williams, John Olsen, Brett Whiteley, Max Dupain...a cornucopia. I found the exhibition a little weak as it wended its way to the very present day, but perhaps just a bit more perspective is needed on the recent works.

However, let me add some kudos for the video work that opened the exhibition as you walked in: Shaun Gladwell's 'Approach to Mundi Mundi'. He sits on a motorcycle and rides straight along a straight road in a flat landscape, the horizon stretching as far as the eye can see. When you arrive at the Sidney Nolan 'Kelly' paintings and contemplate that one where Ned is riding in a similar landscape, the links are obvious.

At this point perhaps the sentimental amongst us (including homesick Australians) should break into a rendition os Dorothea MacKellar's "I Love A Sunburnt Country"...I jest. A bit.

Still from Shaun Gladwell's 'Approach to Mundi Mundi'

A bad reproduction of Sidney Nolan's 'Ned Kelly', but you get the drift....

And the reviews? Mixed, it seems. The ones that the Academy likes to quote:
"Not just a long overdue show but a powerfully atmospheric evocation of a country seen from myriad facets" - The Times

"Australia’s most treasured art comes to London for the biggest show yet seen in UK" - The Guardian

"★★★★ Detailed, comprehensive, omniscient, in places beautiful” The Daily Telegraph

But apparently some reviewers found it necessary to dis the whole lot. While I can sympathise with comments about the limitations of such review-style exhibitions - it was often disappointing to see only one or two works by the really big names - that's inherent in the type of exhibition. Yes, it would be great to see an RA exhibition showcasing just one great Australian artist periodically - as they so often do for, shall we say, 'less-great' Europeans - but they just don't do it. Here's The Guardian's review - displaying not very much knowledge of Australian art history, and agreeing with me on the contemporary stuff.

Brett Whiteley 'Big Orange (Sunset)' 1974

Much Ado and A Curious Incident

Two old friends.

A visit to London means a visit to a London theatre - or two. Here's a couple of real contrasts:

Much Ado About Nothing

'Much Ado About Nothing' - Shakespeare at the Old Vic, with Beatrice played by Vanessa Redgrave and Benedick by James Earl-Jones; Mark Rylance directing. With those kind of names, how could you go wrong? But permit me a little whinge here about the self-indulgence of famous directors. I've been irritated a couple of times by some very obscure plays thrust upon unsuspecting audiences by Benedict Andrews, saved (and sometimes even not saved) by the inclusion of Cate Blanchett. "Oh, Ive always been enthralled by this peculiar and obscure foreign drama since I had to study it in drama college..." - OK, but leave us out of it, please.

In the case of Mr Rylance, for whom I have the very greatest respect, and the two extraordinary performers he cast as his 'young lovers'...well, it didn't really work all that well. It worked, because they all are who they are, but just not that well. Try something else next time.

Apart from the elderly character of the lovers, there were the American accents. Shakespeare's 'Much Ado' was transported to England in 1944, a change I think worked. But one reason for this choice (according to the program) was so that Mr Earl-Jones, and others, did not need to alter their usual speaking accent. Perhaps I'm the only one who'll say it, but Shakespeare doesn't translate easily to delivery in an American accent. One's ear has to make enough of an adjustment to old English - old English with a drawl is even harder. I snoozed through much of the first half.

I'm pleased to report, however, that the second half had me far more engaged, principally due to the brilliant duo; and also because the story is so annoyingly sexist (that father should be shot for believing the worst of his daughter so easily...) But I digress... Perhaps I'm making much ado about, er, nothing.

But wait...here's a reviewer who was also unimpressed:

This production came about when Mark Rylance saw Vanessa Redgrave and the great American actor James Earl Jones starring together in Driving Miss Daisy in the West End.
Rylance went backstage to congratulate them and, never a slouch when it comes to oddball ideas, suggested that they should play Beatrice and Benedick in Much Ado. Redgrave jumped at the chance so long as Rylance directed and now here are all three of them together at the Old Vic.
There are moments, quite a few actually, when one wishes that Rylance had kept his big mouth shut. Beatrice and Benedick may be past the first flush of youth, but I don’t think anyone until now has thought of them as old age pensioners.

Ah yes, 'Driving Miss Daisy' was a much better casting decision.

Mathematical curiosities.

A Curious Incident

Across town, at the Apollo Theatre on Shaftsbury Avenue, is the long-running National Theatre production of, of all things, "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time" - not a book you'd think would be easily translated to the stage. Mark Haddon's book about an autistic boy (or at least one at the Asbergers end of the spectrum) has been rather brilliantly adapted by Simon Stephens.

The pivotal and demanding role of Christopher Boone was performed by the young actor Mike Noble when I attended, and -- well, wow! The rest of the cast were very able: his teacher Siobhan - Rakie Ayola; his father Ed - Trevor Fox. his mother Judy - Amanda Drew; and a busy ensemble playing everyone else. Plus a live rat playing 'Toby.'

The set is a cube covered in a an mathematical grid which cleverly acts as everything from a blackboard to a train track. The whole thing melds so beautifully that you're never left wondering what's going on. The story, of course, is brilliantly told from Christopher's point of view in Haddon's book, and that sense also comes across in the play. A 'must see.'

Here's a review (though of a different, earlier, cast).

Otto's

There are only a very few restaurants for which this blog takes time out from its usual frenzy of opera, travel and theatre, but another of those rare moments has arrived.

On Gray's Inn Road in London you'll find the small but delightful Otto's. I have the privilege of being good friends with a good friend of Otto himself (that's only two degrees of separation, so there's something in it, surely.) I've enjoyed several lovely meals at Otto's, with said good friend, and it only keeps getting better.

The food style is old-fashioned French - traditional dishes, some prepared table-side, all delivered with flair and aplomb by well-trained young things in white coats (or Otto himself, who is never far away). Regulars are welcomed like old friends. The wine choice is lovingly discussed. The divine jamon iberico or Scottish smoked salmon is delicately carved tableside. You can have a lovely French duck thing, but you have to let them know in advance. This is slow food. Nice and slow.

The Sunday after my last meal at Otto's, the restaurant achieved a glowing review from London restaurant reviewer Tom Parker-Bowles. You can read it here. I quote a little (I can't resist - the food descriptions are a work of art in themselves):

...there’s nothing arch about Otto’s, an unashamedly old-fashioned French restaurant that acts as if nouvelle cuisine were little more than a long-forgotten fragment of some dyspeptic cauchemar.
It’s a proper, well-behaved, straight-faced sort of place, with immaculate waiters and waitresses clad in immaculate black ties and white shirts...The more cynical might call it dated, but to me, it feels like a proper dining room, a place that has matured like good Burgundy.
Snails arrive mouth-blisteringly hot, and actually have a subtle taste of their own. Astounding. Hare is one beast that could never be accused of lacking punch. And a really visceral specimen would put a tiger off his tea. Here, though, the roast saddle is pinkly restrained, the feral heft more slap than punch. Mulled pear and redcurrant sauce not only offer relief, but push the dish to ever greater heights.
Tournedos Rossini shoves two fat fingers up to parsimony and restraint, a chunk of beautiful fillet steak upon which perches a plump lobe of foie gras. Which in turn is topped with a blizzard of shaved black truffle.  Just writing about it makes the belly sag and the senses cheer.
No-nonsense, beautifully wrought classical French cooking, from the culinary ancien régime.
Because great recipes will always outlast the fickle and fashionable, as long as good chefs are there to do them justice.  At Otto’s they have both, and flawless service to match.

Here's another review - equally glowing. Here's the description of the duck dish:

...it feels like a room in which very good things can happen. Unless you're a duck. Otto's has mostly gained attention for its hulking silver duck press, originally fashioned for a luxe hotel in Provence in the 1920s, which takes pride of place in the dining room. For £120 for two – ordered in advance – Otto's will roast you a whole duck, sourced from the same farm that supplies La Tour d'Argent in Paris, the originator of this dish. It is served in two parts, legs first, followed by slices of rare breast, under a stupidly rich sauce made from the juices of the bird, extracted by crushing it in the press: those juices, the liver, cognac, other stuff, a side order of defibrillator. I will just have to find a friend and save up.

Otto. (source)

Here's a press article which introduces you to Otto's story, and his efforts with the duck.

Otto Albert Tepassé is from an Austrian family of hoteliers and restaurateurs. He worked in some of the greatest dining rooms in Paris, including La Tour D’Argent, spiritual home of the pressed duck...
Otto continues his story: coming to London, working at the original Mirabelle, moving on to seemingly every important room in town. Now, he explains, he is older, tired and simply wants to run this, his first restaurant, quietly and well....
...I wanted pressed duck at La Tour D’Argent ever since I read about it as a 13-year-old. I loved the Grand Guignol excess and mad decadence, but it was 30 years later when I finally got there. Now canard à la presse is in London, being performed by a man who understands its tradition. If you love food, I urge you to go to Otto’s, and open your heart both to a piece of pure food theatre and to that rare thing: a meal you’ll remember your whole life.

Otto's 
182 Gray’s Inn Road 
London 
WC1X 8EW 
United Kingdom 
Telephone: 020 7713 0107 
Email: enquiries@ottos-restaurant.com 

Photos are mainly from Otto's website.

Satyagraha

'Satyagraha' is defined by the Encyclopedia Britannica as:

Hindi: “insistence on truth” or “zeal for truth”) satyagraha [Credit: Ann Ronan Picture Library/Heritage-Images]concept introduced in the early 20th century by Mahatma Gandhi to designate a determined but nonviolent resistance to evil. Gandhi’s satyagraha became a major tool in the Indian struggle against British imperialism and has since been adopted by protest groups in other countries.

It's not a term that's caught on like a sound-bite, but Gandhi's application of the principal is certainly well-remembered. At the ENO in London I caught a performance of Phillip Glass's opera based on Gandhi's early struggles in South Africa. On the face of it, this opera might have turned out to be a challenge - over three hours of opera sung in Sanskrit with no surtitles. A friend who'd seen the production a few years ago (it is a co-production with The Met in NYC) described it as "meditative." Hmm..

As it turned out, the whole thing was dreamy, involving, uplifting and mesmerising. It was the first Phillip Glass opera I'd heard (and I hope not the last). The repetitive themes got into my mind. The sharp little changes kept me on my toes.

The cast? M.K.Gandhi was beautifully sung by Alan Oke; Miss Schlesen (his secretary) by Clare Eggington; and his wife Kasturbai by Stephanie Marshall. Everyone was good, I must say. The director was Phelim McDermott from a theate company called 'Improbable.' The production involves video, some extraordinary puppetry, and a number of acrobatics. In fact, the staging, I'd heard, was some of the best ever, and I did enjoy it. However, it's the strange music that has stayed with me. Hypnotic.

The opera text is adapted from the text of the Bhagavada Gita by Constance de Jong. Phillip Glass composed it 1980. This production dates from 2007. The 'action' jumps about in time, so that the Acts highlight different incidents in Gandhi's South African career, in a time-jumbled order. I found it helpful to have some idea of where and when we were. These are my notes from the program, with my own bits and pieces:

Act I - TOLSTOY (Ghandi’s farm)
The Kuru Field of Justice (Indian myth)
Tolstoy Farm (1910)
The Vow (1906)
Act II - TAGORE (mentor of Ghandi)
Confrontation and rescue (1896) (Mrs Alexander rescues Ghandi)
Indian Opinion (1906) (newspaper)
Protest (1908) (burning registration cards)
Act III - KING
- New Castle March (1913)

But even so, when I looked up the opera on Phillip Glass's web site I see that I missed a few things:

"Each act is dominated by a single historic figure (non-singing role) overlooking the action from above: the Indian poet Ravindranath Tagore in Act I the Russian author Leo Tolstoy in Act II, the American Civil Rights leader Martin Luther King, Jr in Act III."

Here's the Guardian review:

"Satyagraha makes demands of its audience. Though not as long as the five-hour Einstein on the Beach, which Glass wrote four years earlier, it is fundamentally a reflective work. Although more operatic than Einstein, not much happens in its three acts, in a conventional narrative sense. There is no dialogue. The text, sung by the principals and the excellent chorus, is entirely in Sanskrit, adapted from the Bhagavad Gita. The music, famously so, is patterned and repetitive. The work has to be taken on its own terms."

Images from ENO website.

Eat, Pray, Laugh

It was a privilege to catch a session of Barry Humphries' 'Farewell Tour' of the UK (I think it's already toured in the antipodes). Dame Edna, who's been around since the mid-1950's will be missed. The show filled the London Palladium, a big old theatre dating from 1910, and the audience were in stitches. This could have been because of the thoroughly non-PC jokes, or it could have been because the English find Australians ridiculous. In any event, a great night was had by all.

We were regaled in the first half by the gross Sir Les Patterson, who managed to enquire if there was anyone left in Poland? "It must be the Marie Celeste of Europe." The farting and toilet jokes wore a little thin after an hour or so; but before Edna joined us for the second half, we segued into a wonderful Humphries character named Sandy Stone.

The Guardian reviewer, like me, is very fond of the character Sandy Stone:

"But my favourite Humphries creation is Sandy Stone, a suburban oldster who reminisces about a contented, if unfulfilled, life from beyond the grave. "Since my cremation," Sandy announces, whistling through his false teeth, "I've kept a pretty low profile." But Humphries is at his best when Sandy talks of the treatment inflicted on his wife as a "care recipient". There is a Swiftian anger in Humphries' account of the way the strict job demarcation of the "wellness team" prevents them helping an old woman writhing on the floor in agony. Even the way Sandy's wife is taught to reply to the simplest question with "fantastic" when she means "yes" is an index of society's casual disrespect for senior citizens."

Edna then does her thing, involving those foolish enough to take seats in the front rows. Her material is well worn, but still produces many laughs. The show ended with the touching appearance of Barry Humphries himself, having shed all his characters (excepting only Edna's fingernail polish), to bid us adieu. He ended with an anecdote from his earliest days in theatre, when he'd been mis-cast as a Shakespearean Lothario in tights. "Why do they always laugh when I go on?" he asked his director. "It's not the tights," the director answered. "You're just naturally ridiculous." So true.

The Georgians and Their Manners

Georgians at The British Library (source)

The British Library usually has great exhibitions, and this one is no exception: Georgians Revealed: Life, Style and the Making of Modern Britain (til March 2014). The occasion is said to be the 300th anniversary of the accession of King George I in 1714. George IV died in 1830. So a little over a century is covered. As the subtitle suggests, the Georgians years really were the years that made modern Britain - so much that flowered in that century is clearly evident today, or is an obvious precursor to modern-day life. The life of the middle-class, that is, for this is the century that made them. The poor are mentioned now and then; the great generals and statesmen hardly at all, the prostitutes (of which there were many) never. Even the four "Georges" are introduced only at the beginning of the exhibition. This is about the flowering of the British middle class, and all that has meant for the western world.

When George I was enticed over from Hanover to establish a new protestant constitutional monarchy (George never did learn to speak English), England was set on the road to the dominance that helped it establish one of the great empires. Success in continental wars, innovative manufacturing, improved transport systems -- the country was driven on by technological inventions and entrepreneurial drive.

A page from Thomas Chippendale’s first furniture catalogue of 1754. (source)

The emerging middle class proved to have the tastes of the middle class today. Design and fashion flourished, new entertainment arrived, a new consumerist culture emerged. The printing presses began turning out newspapers, magazines and marketing print en masse for the growing middle class of merchants and professionals. They had money, and they wanted new buildings, new parks. The middle classes formed about one third of the population of Britain by the end of the period. There were emerging concepts of taste and politeness as the middle classes emulated a small but powerful elite. They built and furnished their homes in the latest styles, shopped for luxury goods, socialised at balls and assemblies.

It's this time that I think we can 'blame' for the bizarre cult of politeness that infects the modern Briton even today. The middle class Georgians, in an effort keep up with the aristocracy, who probably couldn't give a toss about "manners", set out all kinds of rules of etiquette in widely read books. The Victorians continued the fad, and in the 21st century you can still find a kind of twisted version. 'Being polite' was elevated above being sensible, so that even today in Britain you may find yourself being berated, rudely, for being, er, rude. You've transgressed some esoteric Georgian rule of etiquette, perhaps. Walked too slowly? Bumped into someone? Looked them in the eye? Cue tirade.

This is Victorian, but you get the drift...

In Georgian times the cities were still rough places of dirt and noise and only gradually improved as
elegant new streets and squares were built. The time of George IV was the time of architect John Nash, responsible for The Regent's Park and it's glorious surrounding Georgian buildings (and for turning Buckingham Palace into a palace). Georgian taste ran to classical architecture, expansive lawns and exotically planted flowerbeds.

The population of Britain trebled to 24 million and the East India Company imported luxury goods like tea, coffee, and sugar. Shopping became a social activity (sound familiar?) The fashion industry was born. But on the dark side, many luxury goods depended on slavery for their production. The British anti-slavery movement emerged in the 1780s but was not abolished until 1807: a dark episode rarely discussed these days.

Georgian dancing at the Assembly Rooms. (source)

Sociability was central to middle class Georgian life. There was a huge increase in public entertainments. There were new theatres (dozens still around today), and Assembly Rooms for dancing and gambling. Pleasure gardens and masquerades were hugely popular.

Drawn from the copious vaults of the British Library, there is on display a number of wonderful written artefacts (also known as books). There are the small tomes on etiquette, music, or what to discuss over the tea-table. There are huge, gorgeous volumes with illustrations of wild flowers. There is a particularly poignant small leather attaché case filled with chits documenting a young beau's gambling debts, left behind when he had to flee to the Continent to escape his creditors.

Visit, and understand a little more about the curious creatures who are the British.

The floor of the final room of the exhibition is a giant map of Georgian London, with each individual street clearly visible.
(source)

Information from the brochure accompanying the exhibition.
Pictures from the British Library website, and this review.

Grayson Perry

Grayson Perry explaining 'The Adoration of the Cage Fighters' (source)

I'm not sure how I could have lived in London for more than two years and not have become aware of Grayson Perry. He's so, well, noticeable. But for whatever reason, my first introduction to this Royal Academy artist was the display in Burlington House of his tapestry series 'The Vanity of Small Differences'. This is such a detailed and slightly overwhelming work that it's difficult to know where to start in introducing it to you - assuming you were as ignorant of Grayson Perry as I. You can read about the tapestries and see them on the Victoria Miro Gallery site.

Let's just say that the work chronicles the life of a fictional modern character - a kind of contemporary 'everyman' - named Tim Rakewell. His progress from birth to death deliberately references 'A Rake's Progress' (1732 -33) by William Hogarth, which in eight paintings tells the story of Tom Rakewell, a young man who inherits a fortune from his miserly father, spends it all on fashionable pursuits and gambling, marries for money, gambles away a second fortune, goes to debtors' prison and dies in a madhouse.

Perry's six tapestries have titles which make you think you've heard that before...what exactly is the reference...?

The tapestries on display (source)

'The Adoration of the Cage Fighters' you can figure out: the Adoration of the Magi... a baby is born...there's a Madonna-like figure...There's also a plethora of modern symbols and imagery, plus text, a riot of colours and detail that can keep you absorbed for ages.

Each of the six images, to a greater or lesser extent, pays homage to a religious work.  Including Masaccio's Expulsion from the Garden of Eden, Matthias Grünewald's Isenheim Altarpiece, Rogier Van de Weyden's Lamentation and three different paintings of The Annunciation by Carlo Crivelli,  Grünewald and Robert Campin.   

The images also reference the pictorial display of wealth and status in The Arnolfini Portrait by Jan Van Eyck and Mr & Mrs Andrews by Thomas Gainsborough.  Woven into each tapestry are snatches of text, each one in the voice of a participant in the scene illustrated. 

Each image also features a small dog, reminiscent of Hogarth's beloved pug, Trump. (source)

'The Agony in the Car Park' moves along Tim's story, with Tim's stepfather as a club singer. Grayson is said to be interested in exploring questions of 'taste' -- we're hit with all kinds of almost strident images.

And so we move on to 'Expulsion from Number 8 Eden Close', as Tim and his girlfriend leave home under the watchful eye of Jamie Oliver, 'the god of social mobility'. But have they been expelled from the Garden of Eden? The symbolism rages.

'The Annunciation of the Virgin Deal' - a pun for which Perry could thank Richard Branson, of course, sees Tim become an instant internet millionaire. 'The Upper Class at Bay' visualises the problems of new money, and old.

'Lamentation' shows us Tim's death in a car accident. The text reads:

'We were walking home from a night out, these two cars, racing each other, speed past. Middle aged men showing off, the red one lost control. The driver wasn't wearing a seatbelt. He didn't stand a chance. The female passenger was ok but catatonic with shock. I'm a nurse. I tried to save the man but he died in my arms. It was only afterwards that I found out he was that famous computer guy, Rakewell. All he said to me was "Mother". All that money and he dies in the gutter.'

If you ever get the chance to see these tapestries, grab it. There are so many things to say about them -- here's a few: the themes are cliches and are cliched, and that's the point. Visually they are so riotous, in-your-face and absorbing that you can be swallowed up for hours; they are about taste and they are tasteless too. The references back to religious works is cerebral and clever and merits close pondering. The Hogarth reference - he who had such a sharp eye for his own day and age - is not misplaced. Go see them.

And meanwhile, there's Grayson Perry...Royal Academician, 2003 Turner Art Prize winner, ceramic artist, cross-dressing transvestite, TV show host ('All in the Best Possible Taste with Grayson Perry', 2010) and examiner of English taste. Well, who better? Wiki page here.

(source)

Leadenhall Market

Leadenhall Market.

Recently I was following a walking tour guide around the City of London, that One Square Mile that not only houses the Bank of England, the London Mayor's House, but is also a palimpsest layered on top of ancient Roman Londoninium. What might you find here?

The tour guide was looking for - of all things - Harry Potter sightings. One of the best he found was Leadenhall Market, a cheerily restored Victorian market now full of nice delis, flower shops and upscale pubs. Once it would have been a sea of poultry, meat carcasses, vegetables, dirt, manure and shouts of the vendors. And the smells. There would certainly have been smells.

From Wikipedia:

Leadenhall Market is a covered market in London, located on Gracechurch Street but with vehicular access also available via Whittington Avenue to the north and Lime Street to the south and east, and additional pedestrian access via a number of narrow passageways.
It is one of the oldest markets in London, dating back to the 14th century, and is located in the historic centre of the City of London.
The market dates back to the 14th century. It is open weekdays from 7am until late, and primarily sells fresh food; among the vendors there are cheesemongers, butchers and florists. Originally a meat, game and poultry market, it stands on what was the centre of Roman London. A number of commercial retailers are also located in the market, including clothes shops and a pen shop.
The ornate roof structure, painted green, maroon and cream, and cobbled floors of the current structure, designed in 1881 by Sir Horace Jones (who was also the architect of Billingsgate and Smithfield Markets), make the market a tourist attraction.
From 1990 to 1991 the market received a dramatic redecoration which transformed its appearance, enhancing its architectural character and detail. The redecoration scheme received a special mention in the Civic Trust Awards 1994.The market is a Grade II* Listed Building, being listed in 1972.

Nice these days.

But here's the thing that excited my tour guide and the J K Rowling fans who had joined him: Leadenhall Market was used to represent the area of London near The Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley in the film 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone'.

This doorway once led to 'The Leaky Cauldron', a pub for wizards.

From the City of London website:

​Leadenhall Market dates back to the 14th century and is situated in what was the centre of Roman London. Originally a meat, poultry and game market, it now features a variety of vendors as well as commercial shops, restaurants, cafes and pubs. Starting as the site of a manor, Leadenhall has survived changes in use, rebuilding, and even the Great Fire to become a popular destination for city residents, visitors and workers. In the early 1300s the Manor of Leadenhall is listed as belonging to Sir Hugh Neville. Within a few years the area around the manor becomes a popular meeting place for first poulterers, and then cheesemongers.
Former Lord mayor Richard 'Dick' Whittington gifts Leadenhall to the City in 1411 and Lord Mayor Simon Eyre replaces the manor hall with a public granary, school and chapel in 1440, as a gift to the citizens of London. The market is enlarged to provide a site for selling poultry, grain, eggs, butter, cheese, herbs and other foodstuffs. Over the next 200 years Leadenhall Market is a centre of commerce and further markets are added for wool, leather and cutlery.
​In 1666 Leadenhall Market suffers only a small amount of damage in the Great Fire. Rebuilding after the fire, the market becomes a covered structure and is divided into the Beef Market, the Green Yard and the Herb Market.
In 1881 the City's architect Sir Horace Jones - who was also the architect of Billingsgate and Smithfield Markets - redesigns Leadenhall. His designs replaced the earlier stone structure with wrought iron and glass - a structure which in 1972 is given Grade II* listed status.

The Poultry Market remains at Leadenhall until the 20th century, by which time all shop units are let for the sale of meat, fish or provisions. By the mid 20th century the shops are also being used for general retailing and leisure and by the end of the century Leadenhall Market has evolved into one of the City's five principal shopping centres.

Looking at the beautifully clean and vibrant Victorian buildings of today it's hard to imagine the noise and smells of a 19th century market, but if you look closely at the shop fronts you will see the wrought iron hooks where produce used to hang.

As well as the connection to 'Dick Whittington' Leadenhall Market has played host to a few other famous names:

Harry Potter

Part of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (the first film in the blockbuster series) was filmed in Leadenhall in 2000/2001. The market was used to represent the area of London leading to the popular wizarding pub The Leaky Cauldron and magical shopping street Diagon Alley.

Leadenhall Market is a popular choice as a filming location and can be seen in many other movies including: Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy; The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus; Hearafter; and Love Aaj Kal. The pop group Erasure also filmed their music video for Love to Hate You in the market in 1991.

Enjoying a pub dinner.

Lamb Tavern.

Victorian ceiling.

Exterior: 'Leadenhall Market'

During the 18th century 'Old Tom' was a celebrated character in Leadenhall. He was a gander who managed to escape his fate of being slaughtered along with 34,000 other geese. He became a great favourite in the market, even being fed at the local inns.

After his death in 1835 at the age of 38, he lay in state in the market and was buried on site.

So English.

London Arts Again

London.

Visiting London, so theatre, opera, galleries are a must. The British capital is an overwhelming cornucopia for an arts lover. Here's the round up from a recent week:

* 'Relatively Speaking' - Alan Ayckbourne

* 'Gloriana' - Benjamin Britten

* Vermeer: The Art & Love of Leisure - The National Gallery

* Lowry and the Painting of Modern Life - Tate Britain 

* Life and Death in Pompeii and Herculaneum - British Museum

* Summer Exhibition - Royal Academy

Felicity Kendall, Jonathan Coy, Kara Tointon
in 'Relatively Speaking' by Alan Ayckbourne

'Relatively Speaking' - Alan Ayckbourne

Who wouldn't want to see the lovely Felicity Kendall on stage? And she surely do not disappoint in the clever comedy from the 1960s. Her co-stars were Jonathan Coy, Kara Tointon and Max Bennett, all excellent. It was directed by Lindsay Posner, and delightfully designed by Peter McKintosh.

While I'm a little wary of 'yet another' Alan Ayckbourne play, this one is very cleverly plotted. Check this link for information and this short synopsis:

Ginny goes to the house of her older lover in order to end a relationship and retrieve some compromising letters. Matters are complicated when her current partner also turns up and meets the wife of the lover, believing her to be Ginny's mother, leading to misunderstanding and confusion.

Guardian Review
Telegraph Review

Felicity Kendall

'Gloriana' - Benjamin Britten

My visits to Covent Garden have been fewer and more carefully chosen this year, but there was never any doubt that Britten's 'Gloriana' would make the cut. This rarely-performed Britten opera has been staged for his centenary year, and despite some hard-to-please reviewers, I found it gorgeous. 

It has a somewhat curious history, having been commissioned to commemorate the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II in 1953. face with this invitation, Britten chose a story of Queen Elizabeth I, in the dying years of her reign - the elderly Queen enarmored of the dashing younger Essex, whose death warrant she eventually has to sign. The exquisite production at ROH places the performance - in Elizabethan costuming - as an amateur drama play in a village hall in 1953 -- with a young Queen Elizabeth II in the audience.

The moment at the end when the young Queen faces the old Queen, though an addition to Britten, is a great moment of theatre.

In a village hall somewhere in England, 1953

Toby Spence and Susan Bullock

Richard Jones directs a production of Britten's Gloriana for our time. Commissioned by the Royal Opera House to mark the coronation of Elizabeth II in 1953, the opera explores tensions between affairs of state and affairs of the heart.
Benjamin Britten's Gloriana was commissioned by the Royal Opera House to mark the coronation of Elizabeth II in 1953. William Plomer drew on Lytton Strachey's Elizabeth and Essex to create the libretto, which artfully combines modern and archaic forms of English. Britten's score is similarly diverse: it mixes the sounds and manners of Tudor England -- from lute songs to courtly dances -- with the composer's own distinctive style.
Moving from the pomp of state ceremony to the intimacy of the Queen's private rooms, Gloriana depicts the public and private faces of the Virgin Queen, and the deterioration of her relationship with the impulsive Earl of Essex. [ROH]

The Guardian review This reviewer seems rather disappointed - or hard to please? I certainly agree with one of his comments: Brindley Sherratt's Blind Ballad Singer is a superb cameo.

Brindley Sherrat - the blind balland singer

As the reviewer describes it:

...an exercise in post-second world war nostalgia. This opera about the first queen Elizabeth is presented as a historical pageant put on in a municipal hall somewhere in England (Aldeburgh's Jubilee Hall perhaps?) to mark the coronation of Elizabeth II, where it's performed in front of the newly crowned queen herself. Throughout the performance, the trappings of am-dram are ever present: producer, prompter and St John Ambulance man hover in the wings, a local musical teacher conducts the choir; there's some suitably naff dancing, while in the Norwich scene (a pageant within a pageant within an opera as it becomes here) the royal monogram is spelt out in vegetables, as if at a harvest festival.

Vermeer: The Art & Love of Leisure - The National Gallery

This blog has already waxed lyrical over Vermeer, and the exhibition at The National Gallery was cleverly curated around the music of the time, with some lovely original musical instruments on display, alongside the paintings. In the Sainsbury Wing.

See the paintings here.

Put sound to picture as curator Betsy Wieseman explores the fascinating role of music in 17th century Dutch painting and society in this accompaniment to 'Vermeer and Music: The Art of Love and Leisure' which runs from 26 June - 8 September 2013.
'Vermeer and Music: The Art of Love and Leisure' offers an opportunity to enjoy a selection of 17th century Dutch masterpieces alongside period musical instruments, with accompaniment from the Academy of Ancient Music. Featuring five rare works from Johannes Vermeer, including three paintings of women with musical instruments from 1670 - 1672, which forms the culmination of the exhibition and offers a unique opportunity to view these works as a trio. [source]

Lowry and the Painting of Modern Life - Tate Britain 

Over at Tate Britain I queued to see a very popular exhibition of a British painter I'd never come across before: L S Lowry (1887 - 1976). His paintings seemed at first to be a version of naive art, but on closer inspection are very much more. For me the most interesting aspect of the exhibition was the incredible documentation of Britain's industrial north in the early twentieth century. Those 'dark satanic mills' you hear mentioned - Lowry lived amongst them (as a tax collector, of all things) and documented them not only with visual accuracy but a deep and moving connection to what he was seeing.

I saw the industrial scene and I was affected by it. I tried to paint it all the time. I tried to paint the industrial scene as best I could. It wasn’t easy. - L.S.Lowry

Exhibition website

For Lowry modern painting needed to represent the remaining rituals of public life: football matches and protest marches, evictions and fist-fights, workers going to and from the mill. Without his pictures, Britain would arguably lack an account in paint of the experiences of the 20th-century working class. [source]

Lowry at Tate Britain.

Life and Death in Pompeii and Herculaneum: British Museum

Portrait of baker Terentius Neo and his wife. Pompeii, AD 55–79. 

The special exhibitions at the BM rarely fail to please, and the current one on Pompeii and Herculaneum is proving incredibly popular. Tickets need to be booked days ahead. I was very keen to see this one, as the artefacts would presumably come from my part of Italy -- I have visited the sites of Pompeii and Herculaneum, and the Archeological Museum of Naples. The exhibition and the catalogue were not very forthcoming on exactly where the exhibits usually reside, but apart from a few which 'belong' to theBM itself, they seemed to be from the Naples Museum or from something called the
La Soprintendenza Speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Napoli e Pompei. All I can say is that the Soprintendenza has some real treasures.

At the BM.

Compared to what the Italians manage in the treasure-filled but cash-strapped Archeological Museum of Naples and at the sites themselves, the BM has done it's usual marvellous job of curation. The Exhibition traces the events of the eruption of Vesuvio, but also focusses on what the remains, preserved by volcanic ash, teach about the everyday life of Roman people in AD 79. Brava, BM.

BM's Exhibition Website

In Spring 2013 the British Museum will present a major exhibition on the Roman cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum, sponsored by Goldman Sachs. This exhibition will be the first ever held on these important cities at the British Museum, and the first such major exhibition in London for almost 40 years. It is the result of close collaboration with the Archaeological Superintendency of Naples and Pompeii, will bring together over 250 fascinating objects, both recent discoveries and celebrated finds from earlier excavations. Many of these objects have never before been seen outside Italy. The exhibition will have a unique focus, looking at the Roman home and the people who lived in these ill-fated cities. [BM press release] 

A fresco showing a garden scene, AD 30-50

Plaster cast of a dog, from an ash cavity in Pompeii.

Guardian review of the BM Exhibition.

Summer Exhibition - Royal Academy

Installation view of Gallery I with Marilène Oliver's 'Dreamcatcher' (detail).
Summer Exhibition 2013. [source]

Each year the Royal Academy holds a 'Summer Exhibition' - everything is for sale. There were some things this year I'd love to hang on my walls, but sadly my selections (two lovely paintings by Academician Anthony Eyton) were somewhere north of the £20,000 mark. Ah, well. It was fun to imagine which I'd choose to take home from the more than 1,000 works displayed.

Royal Academy website

Now in its 245th year, the Summer Exhibition remains a much anticipated highlight of the arts calendar, serving as a unique window on to all areas of the contemporary art world. It is the world’s largest open-submission exhibition, displaying more than 1,000 works in all styles and media, including painting, printmaking, photography, sculpture, architectural models and film.
All works are fastidiously selected by a panel of celebrated artists and architects from across the disciplines, and it is their task to narrow down more than 10,000 entries to those that go before the public. The majority of the works are also available to buy, offering an unrivalled opportunity to own work by high profile and emerging artists.

On the facade of the Royal Academy building:

El Anatsui's work on the facade of the RA.

El Anatsui has garnered much international acclaim for a range of spectacular site-based installations. This large-scale bespoke piece, created for the Royal Academy, measures 15m x 23m and is entitled TSIATSIA - searching for connection. It will hang from the balustrade of Burlington House for the duration of the Summer Exhibition. The sculpture is an intricate, shimmering, metallic ‘wall-hanging’ created from aluminium bottle-tops, printing plates and roofing sheets, amongst other materials.

And inside:

Grayson Perry RA is showing his series of six tapestries entitled The Vanity of Small Differences, telling the story of the rise and demise of Tim Rakewell, inspired by Hogarth’s A Rake’s Progress. See the tapestries on the Victoria Miro website.