Category Archives: Arts

London Journal – Day 26 – Grey Day

When I left London for Prague the sunniest, and one of the warmest, Februaries on record had just ended. It was in the mid fifties and sunny as I rode the train to Gatwick. Not any more! It is still warm, got up to 50F today, but windy and drizzly. Tomorrow will be worse. It is predicted that we will have gales up to 80 mph by evening. People are being told to stay home, and the home office just hopes that the worst is over before the Monday morning commute.

And I have a ticket to see a musical treatment of the life of Sister Wendy in Hackney! I hope I don’t get blown off the platform waiting for the overground.

Today I went by tube to Monument to take a stroll by the Tower of London, across Tower Bridge, to visit the Design Museum. Monument (Bank and Monument) is so named for the monument to the Great Fire of London found next door. Not too much to look at right now:

Monument

I liked the walk down Lower Thames to Custom House and then along the embankment to the visitor centre for Tower of London. The Tower itself is more interesting to me for what the site and architecture hold than for the inners. I’m sure this comes as no surprise to those who have been reading these accounts for any time at all. I walked the perimeter of the site and took loads of snaps. Check the Day 27 Gallery for more shots.

After crossing Tower Bridge in a brisk wind I strolled along Shad Thames and the southern embankment to the Design Museum. They are hosting two shows, “Jean Prouvé: The Poetics of the Technical Object” and “Brit Insurance Design Award Winners, 2008.” Both good exhibits. I particularly enjoyed the award winners. This was quite the contrast to the unfulfilling show I saw in Prague.

I then high-tailed it up to the Barbican Theatre for a matinee of The Harder They Come, a new musical based on the 70’s movie of the same name. What a good time that was. I was lucky to check the web site this morning and get a last minute 5th row seat in stalls for only £10! The book has its problems, but the staging was innovative, the cast energetic and enchanting, the music expertly played and sung, and the whole works was lushly lit. High praise, and the longest standing ovation I have witnessed here, from a standing room only crowd.

Susan Lawson-Reynolds (Pinky) and Roland Bell (Ivan) in The Harder They Come

That standing room only crowd was part of “2008 East: a festival championing the best of East London” This comprises dozens of arts groups, shops, restaurants, museums, etc. all trying to bring focus to the lively arts, entertainment and life styles of this vibrant part of the city. I thoroughly enjoyed my part of it, and would have gone to another show, “Marilyn and Ella” in Stratford, but with train works going on, and the weather threatening, I thought better of it and headed home. A quick stop for Kabob and then settle in to write and listen to the Beeb.

I’ll leave you with this interesting view of a shop window being (un)dressed in The City:

Window (un)dressing

Ta!

London Journal – Day 25 – Double Portrait

Double Portrait

Back in the UK and I spent only a brief time in the flat before heading up to Hackney, and the Arcola Theatre again, this time for another piece of new theatre, “Double Portrait” written and directed by Tom Shkolnik, a young film maker. This is a two-hander starring Jodie McNee and Nicole Scott in a tense character study.

The script is spare, the production interesting, and the acting is above par. What is missing is an end — there just isn’t one. The whole piece has the feel of a test, like Shkolnik is trying out some story ideas, and wanted to do so with audience support. The story is simple enough, and all too complex. A pair of sisters are separated by miles, and by lives lived. Nicole is a teacher in London, Jodie is wayward in Liverpool. Jodie is suicidal and misses her sister, who has taken care of her during the ugly split of their parents. Nicole is gaining independence away from home, and just starting to recover from a broken relationship.

To watch these two spiral both towards and away from each other is difficult, but we are drawn. McNee’s performance as Jodie is haunting and powerful. Her neediness is palpable, and the opening scene literally made me shiver, something which no other theatre experience has done on this trip. Scott’s performance as the more responsible sister is just as moving. She is a giver, in her family, her job and her relationship. In a telling scene she has an awkward visit from her ex, come to pick up his stuff. He wants to comfort her over Jodie, but she finds the strength to send him packing and stand on her own. This is a difficult scene under the best of circumstances, but made more so here by the fact that Scott must play the scene with a non-existent partner.

An especially effective device in this production is the presence of the two characters on the same stage (set by Agnes Treplin) the same space, but separated by hundreds of miles and their own, very different needs. This is especially effective under Neil Brinkworth’s thoughtful lighting design. These sisters do need each other, and the director makes us feel this deeply by placing them so close together on the stage while the distances between them grow.

This is a good bit of theatre, but it is only a bit. Presented in the smaller Studio 2 of Arcola’s unique energy-efficient building, such a short and as yet under realised production really should have been promoted more as a work in progress, and billed accordingly. The performances and directing would hold a longer show well, all that’s needed is the rest of the script.

Praha Journal – Day 3 – Art and Antiquity

Sunny and warmer today, after a Wednesday of alternating sun and snow flurries on top of 2-3 °C temperatures, the warmer, sunnier weather was welcome. I don’t know an official high temp., but I would guess 8-9 °C.

It was a nice day, then, to stroll around a lot. I did just that, starting out towards Old Town Square where preparations are well under way for the Spring festivities which start with Easter and really launch the tourist high season:
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I then meandered through Old Town over just about every street. I finally got to the eastern end of Kurlov Most, Charles Bridge, and took some snaps before brunch. Here is a shot of the bridge, and one taken from the eastern end:
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I did not cross the bridge because with that many people it just didn’t look very inviting. Besides, I like looking at bridges in profile. A word about food here. Along the main drag, like where I was yesterday, there are a lot of little stands selling pastry, sausage, chicken sandwiches, etc. Most of these are open early till late, and offer easy eat as you go options. In Old Town, and the other big tourist areas, these options are not really available. Instead there are a lot of restaurants, but they want you to sit down and spend quite a lot for a meal, comparatively.

For example: one can get a plate with kiobasa, bread, mustard and sauerkraut for about 60Kc, which is less than $4. In contrast, a similar meal in a sit-down will cost at least 150Kc, but the bread basket which will be dropped on your table unrequested will cost another 35Kc. By the time you add a beverage you’re lucky to get out of the sit-down for less than 225Kc, about $14. If the sit-down is in a tourist area expect to pay a 100Kc premium on top.

Another example: this afternoon I wanted a soda or juice. I stopped into a little coffee shop which advertised soda for 39Kc, about $2.30. I went to the cooler and picked up a little tiny bottle of ginger ale, maybe 140ml. “75 crown” the proprietor told me – about $4.50. I put it back in the cooler and walked outside. I took a seat at one of the outdoor café and ordered a 500ml lager for 90Kc. That’s not a bad price anywhere, and I was sitting in the sun on Old Town Square, watching the crowd mill around in front of the clock tower, and feeling pretty good about not having my ginger ale.

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In this context then, understand why I was having brunch at 12:30. I had been wandering all over Old Town looking for some place where I could just get a cappuccino and croissant, which one typically sees for 99Kc. There is nothing like that in Old Town. By the time I got to Charles Bridge I gave up and enetered a restaurant. I ordered off a set-price menu, chicken soup, beef goulash with dumplings and dessert for 155Kc. I accepted the offer of a dry sherry aperitif for an additional 60Kc, the bread basket added another 35Kc (the first place to charge me for the bread, grr) the calculated tip at 10% and I had a bill for 284Kc — $17.20.

After brunch I went to the Museum of Decorative Arts. I had high hopes for this, but was kind of let down. They had a featured exhibition on awards in Czech Design which was underwhelming to say the least. It was poorly laid out, and unfulfilling. Next was the permanent collection, which is where my interest really lay. This museum was started by a union of artist and artisan in 1850, inspired by similar groups that had recently been started in Great Britain (now the Victoria & Albert) and another in Vienna. The collection runs to the hundreds of thousands of pieces, of which about a quarter are on display, either here or at the National Museum, at any given time. The current exhibit of the Permanent Collection was curated in honor of the centenary of the current site (a stunningly ornate old mansion).

Well, there are certainly things they like to show off and others they just don’t seem to care about. I think this might be most reflective of national pride — those items from times where the country was closest to self-governed are much more likely to be featured. So there is a lot of cut and engraved glass from the 15th to 18th centuries, but Art Nouveau glass and ceramics gets a total of about a dozen pieces in two small display cabinets. I have half as much on display in my own living room as they have here. Harrumph!

The high point? The collections of commercial art and photography are wonderful. They have a great collection of photographs by Josef Sudek and Frantisek Drtikol, amongst others. The room is very dim, however, which I think is due to a lack of good conservation materials for these delicate media.

After exhausting those displays, I struck off to the Jewish Quarter to admire some of the oldest buildings in the area. Since I went to see the oldest Christian worship in England, it is only fitting that I visit the oldest Synagogue in Prague. The Old New Synagogue, from the 13th century, is so named because it replaced an older synagogue, and was then superseded by a newer one which later burnt down. So, old new it is. Here’s a snap:
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Next back to Old Town Square, and my lager, then into a private exhibition of posters and other commercial graphics from Alfons Maria Mucha, a favorite son here. He was one of the most influential graphic artists in the Art Nouveau movement and his work appeared on everything from biscuit packages to theatre posters (he was a favored illustrator of Sarah Bernhardt). You have seen his stuff even if you don’t know it, that is how pervasive his work is.

This show, with over 300 pieces (granted, many are postcards and menus) is hefty, and the 150Kc admission was better spent than the 120Kc I dropped at the Museum of Decorative Arts. I passed on the option of the Salvatore Dali add-on for another 100Kc. I’ve seen enough Dali to hold me for a while, and can see a large collection of originals in London if I wish, as opposed to the piles of reproductions and prints here.

You’re now up to date. I will go out shortly to post this, and then I think I may catch some jazz in a local club tonight. Tomorrow I head back to London. My trip here was short, but surprisingly I am happy with how it has worked out, and don’t feel too rushed. I think it helps that since I knew it was short I have been willing to make cuts and shoot for the best.

Ciao ciao!

Praha Journal – Day 2 – Happy Happy

I have just returned from “Argonauti” at Laterna Magika (been misspelling that all along). It is hard to explain what Laterna Magika is. I can give you a list of what is in it: Theatre, Ballet, Modern Dance, Cinema, Stage Effects, Black Theatre, Music, Lighting and more. By the way, Black Theatre refers not to the race of the performers, but to a uniquely Czech form of theatre which utilizes darkness, black drapery, costumes, lifts and prop handlers to produce effects such as levitation, flight, animation, etc. Laterna Magika combines all of these forms in their own special synthesis. Grand scenes play out with cinematic projection onto multiple screens which are often integrated into the setting. Characters seemingly materialize in front of or behind these screens and leap from celluloid to life.Argonatica was produced by commission of the 2004 Athens Olympic Games. You may have seen parts of it if you watched the opening ceremonies. It tells the tale of Jason and the Argonauts, with an entirely new score, choreography, etc. It is simply stunning. If ever back in Prague I will go to see whatever Laterna Magika is staging.

On the way home I grabbed a late night bite from a street vendor on Vaclavski Namesti (Wenslas Square) and ate it while walking home. This path, from the Narodni Divaldo (National Theatre) to Municipal Hall to my hotel, is a major shopping strip. It is like an arcade of arcades, or a mall of malls. The large buildings lining the sides of Narodni are each Palladium of shops, or else large department stores. I must confess to not having ventured too far into these. Some of them have large central courtyard, and into some I have gone, simply to look at the inner vaults of the blocks. This is much like visiting Mew, Close or Alley shops in London.

I was quite exhausted before the theatre. I got up early and, after the hotel breakfast, was out on the streets before 08:00. My trek, briefly described in my earlier posting, was very long this morning. I set out to go get a ticket for Laterna Magika, which would entail going West to the Vltava and then south to Narodni. I decided that I would rather dodge north a short way to the east-to-west leg of the Vltava and then follow its big bend around Josefov (Jewish Quarter) and Old Town to the theatre. This was a good plan, but then I saw Smermuv Most (bridge) and had to cross. On the north bank there is a steep slope above Nabrezi Edvarda Benese, the corniche, to Ledenske Sady, the largest public greenspace in Prague. The views from the top of this embankment are spectacular.

A path extends west from Ledenske Sady to Prazsky Hrad, Prague Castle. Within the castle walls are St. Vitus’s Cathedral and several other architectural gems. Most of the buildings are open to the public, with entrance fees of about $10 per building. I demurred. I have so little time here that the last thing I want to do is spend it couped up in byzantine buildings with immense crowds of people, which is what these sites draw. There were hundreds, if not more, just at this one place. As it was I spent over an hour within the castle walls, without ever stepping into a building, other than the coffee shop to get a hot chocolate.

Then back down a winding path into the Little Quarter and back across the Vltava. On the eastern end of Manesus Most is the Rudolfinum, a grand hall, the Museum of Decorative Arts and the Old Jewish Cemetery. There was a concert underway in Rudolfinum, so I gave it a pass. Next was the Decorative Arts Museum. I am a big fan of Bohemian pottery, and Art Nouveau in general. There was a mass of young people outside the entrance. I figured they were waiting to go in, but soon realized that they were just hanging out. I have no idea why, but even though there are wide sidewalk on either side of the entrance, these kids just crowded onto the stairs smoking cigarettes, eating baguettes and chatting or texting. The whole thing made no sense to me. Pedestrians were forced to walk into the street to get around this mass.

Whatever. I went in. Turns out the new exhibit opens on Thursday, so I decided to just see it all tomorrow so I only have to pay one admission.

Next was the Jewish Cemetery. Oh my gosh, once I found the entrance I gave up on that. There were easily a thousand people just waiting on line to get in. There was no way I was going to join that line. On to the theatre and my ticket! Since I was so close to Old Town Square and it was almost noon I ventured there to see the clock again, and then went southwest on Narodni to the theatre.

Here is a sculpture set into the facade of a building on Narodni, it celebrates the success of the Velvet Revolution on 17, November, 1989:

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As I have already noted, I got a good seat, and enjoyed finding my way in the hustle and bustle of the noontime crowds. That done, I went in search of a meal. By the time I got to a restaurant it was already 14:30! I had certainly taken my time. Part of this was simply trying to familiarize myself with the area, the layout of streets, etc. I had a good time. I also missed the heaviest snow of the day – a flurry that lasted about a half hour. My meal was very nice, and then back into the street and home. I got to take a brief nap from 17:00 to 18:00 then left to get to the show on time. I got to theatre early enough to have a cognac at a nearby bar first.

Here is a shot of Narodni Divaldo from my earlier treks.  This view is looking west down Narodni with the Vltava in the middle distance and the Divaldo on the left:

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So, I was walking home with my late snack, nearing Municipal Hall, which marks the junction between the big modern shopping street, Old Town Square and Revolucni, the street my hotel is on. An attractive woman in a fur coat asks me for a light, in heavily accented English. I don’t have one I tell her. She asks where I am from. “America,” I tell her. “Oh, that is nice city,” she replies, “Where you going now?” “My hotel.” “So soon?” “I got up early.” “Don’t you want some happy happy?” That’s it, I have just been propositioned in not just a new city, but a new country and continent as well. I walk away shaking my head not looking back.

The coat was the first clue; it was obviously a gift from a man who neither loved her nor knew her well, the way it matched her hair in a most unflattering way.  That and the fact that she spontaneously spoke to me on the street, that’s a clue too.

That said, I did successfully give directions to a young Frenchman today!

Speaking of French, I wanted to share this photo of a sight on the bluffs to the west of town.  This is called “The Trifle Tower” by locals.  It is a 1/3 scale replica of the Eiffel Tower built for an exposition:

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When I got to the hotel there was a throng of female Italian college students, 18 and 19 year olds if I had to guess. There were so many of them all packed into the entrance it was like the mess at the museum earlier in the day. If it weren’t for the chaperone stepping in and shooing them over to one side they would not have even let me in.  Lots of “Scusi” and “‘Grazie” involved here.

Good night, more tomorrow.

Ciao ciao!

London Journal – Day 21 – Teaching Shakespeare

There is an article in The Guardian today that caught my eye. The
story is about the importance of starting to teach Shakespeare to
children at age 4 instead of waiting until teenage years. Here is my
favourite quote:

Michael Boyd, artistic director of the RSC, said: “Really, the right time to learn Shakespeare is when children are fearless, when they are used to trying out new language.

“That is very young children’s daily existence, new words aren’t a problem. You need to get them before they lose the habit of singing songs and have had the fairy dust shaken out of them.”
Teach children Shakespeare at four, says RSC | Theatre story | guardian.co.uk Arts

London Journal – Day 20 – Home Front Readers

UK readers now make up 10% of this blog’s readership, compared to 50% US.  I at least find that interesting.  Those posts most commonly read by Brits are the theatre and arts reviews.  One of these, of Thin Toes, is now prominently featured on that show’s Facebook page.

Thanks for the attention ladies!

It does make me think that perhaps I should have said more about some of the shows I have seen.  In particular, A Prayer For My Daughter, at the Young Vic.  I mentioned the show, but never said what I thought of it.  I will correct that now.

The script for Prayer, by Thomas Babe, takes us back to a grubby police office in 1970’s New York.  Two detectives bring in a pair of suspects and try to get them to crack while agonizing events are unravelling outside the office and inside the characters.  This is a tense piece, and gives the audience little time to breathe.  The set is perfection; Fourth Of July, and the detritus is all around.  A well crafted soundscape and pitch-perfect lighting complete the illusion.  The peculiar space of the Young Vic studio space is used to its utmost here.

The performances?  Where to begin.  The program says “brings together some of the strongest acting talent.”  True, true.  I give a special nod to Colin Morgan for his performance as Jimmy Rosebud.  He is captivating and lets his character build from within over the length of the show, until he has the other characters, and the audience, completely roped in.  Then he explodes in a tour de force soliloquy in which the force of his blubbered monologue is even more daunting than the weapon he brandishes.  Keep your eye on this young man.

Colin Morgan

My dream show — How about Colin Morgan and Helen Millar in Mamet’s The Woods?  Hand out smelling salts in the lobby!

London Journal – Day 20 – Please Reboot: Diversion Ends

Please Reboot

Mother’s Day falls on 2 March this year in the UK, so I celebrated by having a bag breakfast in Paddington Street Gardens with a copy of the Independent On Sunday (free DVD of Luis Buñel’s Viridiana today).

On my way from Paddington Street I stumbled across a really nice little market. London is dotted with farmer’s markets every weekend (and some weekdays) and this one in Marylebone had everything you could want. There were bee keepers selling honey and dairymen selling cheeses, butters and creams, livestock keepers selling pork, beef, lamb and poultry, every vegetable and salad green imaginable, the list goes on and on. I picked up a lovely smoked cheese, but otherwise controlled myself – I leave for Prague in a day and a half I cannot fill up the fridge before I do. I will find another market when I return.

I then had a leisurely stroll down to Leicester Square and got a 10th row seat for Insane In The Brain by the Bounce Street Dance Co. at the Peacock Theatre. Along the way I saw the sign above over Piccadilly. Note the mouse pointer lurking middle bottom. This sign needs a reboot.

Then I simply wandered about trying to decide what to do. What did John Lennon say, “Life is what happens while you’re making other plans…” Well, that was my day. I wandered from Leicester Square to Covent Garden where I watched one busker sing opera and another sing James Taylor (quite well). Then up to Hoborn and Bloomsbury and all around there. Back down to The Strand and Fleet Street, and finally back to the Lycium Tavern for a cognac before my matinee show.

Insane In The Brain is a retelling of One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, as a street-dance ballet. Highly charged doesn’t begin to cover it. The music is Hip-Hop and loud, the dance is gravity defying and energetic.

The telling of the story is very well done. I haven’t seen the film in a long time and kept finding myself going “Oh yeah, I remember this part.” There was a cute, cheeky bit, during the illicit drinking scene, where they paid homage to Flash Dance and Fame. The send up was effective but well intended too. The audience ate it up. I enjoyed the show greatly.

Well, one does get hungry at these late matinees, so it was back to the neighbourhood and Sunday Roast at The Volunteer. Lamb today, not as good as The Green, not by a long shot, but very cheap and still good. Cauliflower in cheese sauce, I like that!

I’ll end with this street sign I found laying flat on the tarmac

Diversion Ends

London Journal – Day 19 – Off West End Theatre

Okay, a slow start today. I need to take a break.

I decided that I have had enough of West End Theatre. Don’t get me wrong, I have enjoyed all of the big West End shows I have seen, and with the exception of Speed The Plow, I have seen them all for half-price or less. But, I realised that I am enjoying the edgier shows found in the off-West End venues even more. These shows, up till now including A Prayer For My Daughter, Grapes Of Wrath and Thin Toes all have been powerful, well acted and well produced, and I haven’t spent more than £15 to see any of them.

So, this morning I went on line and Googled “Off West End” and found myself at Off West End a website run for this unique theatre community. I used their handy tools to narrow my search to shows which would be going on tonight, and found The Living Unknown Soldier, at Arcola Theatre, a show based on a real event which explores the tenuous line between memory and reality.

The show, like the three examples above, was brilliant. It is based upon a written account of a man who from 1919 to 1942 lived in an asylum in France suffering from amnesia following his service in The Great War. The reviewers have uniformly liked it, and I agree with their take.

The script ably tackles the fungible space between reality and perception, memory and truth, and the pathetic (I mean that in the classical sense) circumstance of the poor man at the centre of this exercise. Throughout the play people try to come and claim this lost man as their own father, son, husband. He has none of it. “I feel like an innocent that you are all trying to pin a crime on” he complains at one point. You are shocked at this, because the woman trying to claim him at this point, ten years into his sad lot, is one you really want to be the one.

It is hard to pinpoint any particular performance, or performer, for praise in this production. This has a lot to do with a production choice made by Simple8, the company presenting this show. The cast rotates through the various characters, especially the soldier. It is quite literally a tag-team effort for most of the show, where one actor will touch and trade places with another and take over the role of the soldier. This is an effort to make the audience not think about the particular appearance or physical characteristics of the soldier but rather to focus on his lot. It is painfully effective.

I will draw attention to Tom Mison who for much of the show plays a reporter sucked into the story, and to Stephanie Brittain for her performance first as an asylum nurse and then for an important part of the action as the soldier, and lastly as a maid who comes to claim her husband despite his abusive past. They, along with Tony Guilfoyle as the long suffering doctor, turn in nuanced and complex performances which help to provide the mortar necessary to hold together this otherwise centrifugal show.

I honestly hope that the BBC gloms onto this show and makes a worthy teleplay of it. The world needs to see this show, and it will only ever happen through a public outlet like the Beeb.

A side note, the theatre, Arcola, is a green space, and this show is the first presented, probably in the world, with a zero carbon footprint. The theatre is equipped with a biomass heating system, a fuel-cell power plant and mostly low power LED based theatrical fixtures. It all worked quite well, and I think this is the shape of things to come.

The next production at Arcola is Double Portait and I will try to attend.

London Journal – Day 18 – Shrines and Casket Casts

Leicester Square again this morning.  Score: Stalls, row H seat 5 for Cabaret! I’ve been needing a musical, after all of the heavy dramas I’ve seen of late. Not something too light, mind you. No, some singing Nazis ought to do the trick.

Then back onto the Piccadilly line to South Kennsington to visit the Andipa gallery for a rare exhibit of Banksy. South Kennsington is posh territory. A detached home in Kennsington just sold for £80million if the papers are to be believed, making it the most expensive home sale in the world up till now (not for long, we are assured, there’s a £95m offer in the works nearby). The streets from the tube stop to the gallery are lined with exclusive shops and galleries. The odd piece in all of this is the Michelin House and Beidendum (below) . It is a lovely building, but as if someone erected a grand McDonalds museum on Park Avenue in the 50’s in Manhattan.

This shrine to the bulbous rubberman is charming, in its own way, and the Art Nouveau style is right up my alley. Out of place here, though.

From that shrine to commercial success of a century ago I went to a shrine to commercial success just as unlikely, in setting and style. Banksy is a street artist, a graffiti talent who can do with a stencil, paintcan and boundless wit what few other artists in the contemporary realm can. He can engage a larger public, as Warhol did, but he can provoke them to think and talk about larger issues, something Warhol I don’t think ever really tried to do.

The comparison with Warhol is not incidental, I think Banksy seeks this comparison. He has even cribbed from Warhol in pursuit of his own mark on the world of Pop Art. Where Warhol sought out and craved attention, however, Banksy is so elusive that there is no documentation on who he even really is — no name, no confirmed sightings, and no retail chain of evidence connecting him to the sales of his works.

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The show was marvellous, there were about 20 or so works in all, none of them direct from the artist but instead from the secondary market. Some are literally pieces of walls removed from buildings. The prices ranged from £10,000 to £250,000 each, and ¾ of the show was sold already, even though it had opened just an hour before I arrived. The piece above (not a photo from the show, but this piece was in the show) was tagged at £25,000 or so. All told there was about $10 million worth of work sold in a few hours, if the gallery folk are to be believed. I heard one on the phone with a reporter, which conversation leaves me in some doubt as to his veracity, however.

Ah yes, shrines. They are fungible things, as my next stop revealed. The Victoria & Albert Museum has two entire galleries devoted to the Cast Courts, which are an oddity in that they are collections of plaster castings of burial crypts, statuary, etc. from various royal courts. So, if you want to admire the replicas of actual historic artefacts, now made historic themselves by dint of their being displayed for so long at the V&A , have at it. This kind of reflected significance is lost on me. Unfortunately, the ceramics, musical instrument and several other galleries were closed for various reasons, leaving the V&A a disappointment for me. Onward!

Oh, but first, here is a passage that struck me, from a replica of a monument for Emily Georgiana Countess of Winchilsea and Nottingham:

I
When the knell rung for the dying
soundeth for me
and my corse coldly is lying
neath the green tree

II
When the turf strangers are heaping
covers my breast
Come not to gaze on me weeping
I am at rest

III
All my life coldly and sadly
The days have gone by
I who dreamed wildly and madly
am happy to die

IV
Long since my heart has been breaking
Its pain is past
A time has been set to its aching
Peace comes at last

E.G.W.& N.

Call me sentimental (big surprise there) I like it. The countess died young, just 39 years, and had suffered the last of them. So, this was her parting gift to her husband. The beautifully sculpted monument by Lawrence Macdonald was his gift to her.

The next stop was the Science Museum and the new Listening Post exhibit. This is a wonderful piece, a visionary synthesis of technology into art. It is an enveloping experience: a machine which trolls Internet chatrooms, forums and social networking sites for words and phrases and then integrates them into sound, light and motion through spoken and written word. It is beyond verbal description, so I will stop there. Chase the link above for more details. I spent about a half hour in the exhibit, and it was time well spent. I attempted to take some snaps, but they are not so good. Go to http://www.fortunespawn.com/gallery/ and search for Listening Post to see them.

LL has asked about the weather here. It has been wonderful so far. Daily highs in the mid fifties F, or 10 – 15 C, and sunny. As a matter of fact, it has been the sunniest February on record, which in England is saying something. Not the warmest, but in the top ten, and dry as well. Today it started to rain a little, only the second time in the 2 ½ weeks I’ve been here.

In the rain I opted for the pedestrian subway back to the tube, and home again for a bite and nap before theatre.

The show? Oh it was good. I will say that the nagging problem with big name theatre in London is the masses of foreigners who have no sense of decorum. I know how absurd and elitist that may sound, but bear with me. The talking, and rustling of candy wrappers, crunching of crisps, etc. during shows on the West End is worse than anywhere else I have ever gone to theatre. Tonight it was the French family behind me on the right, the 20 year old daughter constantly leaning over to her mum and chatting away, despite my frequent shushing, and the German couple behind me to the left, who must have had a three course dinner, and discussed it all, during the show. What were Germans and Vichy doing at Cabaret to begin with? 🙂

Oh, but back to the show. I was pleased, even before the show started, with the staging. The sculpted drop which serves as main drape had the word “Will-com-men” spelt out in three ranks, with the centre of the O a large iris, as in a camera. The play upon which Cabaret is based was itself based upon a collection of stories by Christopher Isherwood called “I am a camera,” and this nod to origins was welcomed (pardon the pun). This particular staging (brilliantly designed by Katrina Lindsay) is very true to the original feel of Isherwood’s stories, very tawdry and served with lashings of gratuitous nudity. In other words, a delightful night out. Now if only we could exclude the Axis Powers from the theatre…