I remember enjoying myself very much at the Tower of London when I visited as a 14-year-old, and I found that I still feel that way about I now. However, there is much more to see inside of it than I ever knew! There are so many different towers that make up “The Tower” that I can scarcely keep track of them, and I regrettably did not have the time to look at all of them. But I still managed to gain a wealth of information during the visit, both about the complex itself, and about the various objects and individuals that formerly or currently call the complex home as well.

The first stop was the vault containing the Crown Jewels, and I mean that literally. There was an impressive, bank vault-style door close to the start of the exhibit, which, combined with an employee’s inability to tell me anything about how the Jewels are preserved and cared for, tells me that the security of these national symbols is an utmost priority. The opulence of the crowns and other accoutrement involved in the UK’s coronations displayed the outstanding wealth of the kingdom’s monarchy, as well as its longevity. A majority of artifacts in the collection were made and used during the reign of King Charles II, the first king to reign after the execution of Charles I and the following disbandment of the monarchy, and are still in use nearly four centuries later! Though, a significant number of the most famous jewels in the various crowns and regalia were obtained during colonial occupation (of India, most specifically) and subsequently make them remnants and even symbols of English colonialism.

After that, I drifted over to the Fusilier’s Museum, which regaled the creation of a British infantry regiment of the same name in the late 1600s, and told the story of their involvement in conflicts ranging from the American Revolutionary War to very recent military operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. I found the collections of weapons, both those native to the UK and those captured from enemies, fascinating; more importantly, it made me realize just how much military action the UK has taken part in, apart from the Revolutionary War and the two World Wars that I know from history classes back home.

I took a moment to look at the now-famous ravens of the Tower, and then headed up into a smaller tower making up a corner of the wall that divides the inner ward of the complex from the outer ward: the Salt Tower. Built in the late 1230s, and restored in 1857-8, this tower held a variety of prisoners in its upper room over the centuries, many of whom were Catholics based on the carvings left in the stone walls. One of those contained within the room was one Hew Draper, whose description on the informational placard caught piqued my interest.

“Hew, a respectable inn-keeper from Bristol, was accused of practicing sorcery against the courtiers Sir William and Lady Elizabeth St Loe (better known as Bess of Hardwick). Hew denied the charge, although he admitted involvement in sorcery in the past. He claimed he had burned all his magic books. He left, however, a detailed astrological carving here on the wall of his cell.”

Looking at the aforementioned carving, I was thoroughly impressed at the amount of precision and detail present in it (even after being worn down since 1561). Even more admirable is the fact that this diagram and the accompanying grid must have been wrought from memory, given that Hew was a prisoner at the time and not likely to have access to astrological books.

From there I sauntered across a portion of the inner wall of the complex, learning about the defensive strategies of soldiers that lived there and the only successful breaching of the Tower along the way, and then headed over to view the White Tower at the center of the complex. It was certainly interesting to note the architecture of the building, and learn how different eras in British history (Norman, Stuart, Hanoverian, etc.) saw the various rooms of the White Tower used for different purposes. But my favorite part of the White Tower was the building-spanning collection of arms and armor maintained by the Royal Armouries organization! There were suits of armor meant to represent a line of England’s kings, various equipment gifted to royalty by other nations as diplomatic gifts, firearms seized from citizens during the UK’s buyback scheme of 1991, and a basement storeroom filled with racks upon racks of old standard-issue military equipment like muskets, sabers, and cannons!

With my museum itch scratched (and my feet starting to ache), I made my way from the Tower of London to the King’s Cross St. Pancras tube station to meet with a friend of my mother at a nearby hostel she was staying at. She is Dr. Kay J. Walter, a professor of English at the University of Arkansas at Monticello, and we had a nice, if a but late, lunch at a pub called The Rocket that was close by. The drink was good, the food was decent, and the conversation was excellent, covering topics ranging from brain drain in rural areas (and the Southern United States in general) to recent events at UAM involving a Fulbright Scholar. She is a very nice lady, and I’m glad that we met and began a new friendship together!

It was a busy but fulfilling day, and, with the issues with my debit card cleared up (or so I thought at the time), I was beginning to relax and let myself enjoy my new surroundings!

The Tower of London stands as a historical monument centered amongst a bustling city. The towers of brick stretch towards the sky, facing the glass towers that reflect the modernity of present-day London. Arriving at the tower, the first thing we encountered was the Traitor’s Gate; the entrance to the tower where those whose fate was death and imprisonment entered but never made their way back out. We casually strolled in through the front gates.

              We began our tour by finding the crown jewels—the collection of royal ceremony objects and crowns acquired by various monarchs. This tangible examination of history was fascinating. I learned a lot about the coronations and the history of royalty in London. Watching Queen Elizabeth’s coronation video was interesting considering her platinum jubilee is approaching. It put into context just how long she has been on the throne and was another example of a stark contrast between present and past. There was a moving walkway that took me past the various crowns worn by the kings and queens. It was awe strikingly beautiful to watch the jewels sparkle and gleam in the light. It was like they had a life of their own, vibrantly shining, and demanding admiration.  I don’t preach any kind of loyalty or support to a system of monarchy, but it was quite a glorious sight to have the privilege to witness. These irreplaceable and invaluable jewels were carefully arranged to create this symbolic piece of history that has been meaningful not only to the people who created it but everyone who has been impacted by them henceforth.

  Does that make the royal crowns a kind of art? Is the study of history itself a type of art in this way? A more abstract concept that can be up for interpretation and impacts people emotionally and throughout our day to day lives in different ways. I love history, if I wasn’t a theatre major, I would probably be doing something with history and writing. It has always fascinated me. I think in a way theatre is the study of history. To be able to step into the shoes of someone else you must understand what they’ve been through, you must find new ways to empathize with people across ways of life and timelines. This is the journey I took as I explored the tower, stepping into the shoes of people who lived completely different lives from me but might have shared a piece of the same spirit and heart.

As I walked up across the tower walls I looked out towards the brilliant blues of the skyscrapers and thought about the people who stood here before me. Was there ever someone like me who stood here and thought about things in the way I do? Did they watch the world forming around them and wonder what it was coming to? Did they experience the kind of hurt, beauty, fear and wonder that we move through today? I pictured a woman standing where I stood, thoughts swirling in her head, feelings bouncing around in her ever-changing heart. I imagined her looking out across the same skyline that I saw, thinking about life. Except she was from a much different time, she only exists now in my thoughts and imagination. The skyline she saw looked much different than the ever-growing city that I gazed out upon. Did she wonder what the future would be like, and did she imagine that it would look anything like this? That made me think about who might be around to remember me hundreds or thousands of years from now. What will that future look like, how different will it be? Is it anything that I even have the capacity to imagine? Will there ever be someone like me who sees the world in the way I do now, even if the view they’re taking in is completely different? This is one of the many reasons we make art; to leave behind a piece of who we are for the people who might need someone to relate to in an unimaginable and unpredictable future.

I walked into the next room and couldn’t believe what I found. It was an exhibit of photo displays comparing the people who used to live in this castle during its early days, compared against modern day people standing in the same positions. The people of the past looked like ghosts, reconstructions, and memories of who they were. Seeing them standing next to people from my time was strikingly similar to the thought experiment I had just been reflecting on. As I looked around the room I immediately began to cry. It was so impactful to think about and have a visual representation of the way we carry on the stories and significance of people through the creation of our own narratives.

The Tower included many exhibits and sights to see, the armory and the giant ravens who are said to guard the tower. One of my favorites was the prison in the Beauchamp tower. The Tower of London has a history as a state prison. I learned about the fate of the prisoners; some entered the Tower already sentenced to death. Depending on their crime and social status they spent their imprisonment in different ways. Some had beds and servants and were able to move freely about the tower while others suffered psychological torment in dark cells. What I found most interesting was the graffiti on the walls. Knowing that they were spending their last days in this tower, the prisoners etched messages, symbols, crests, and signatures on the wall; one last attempt to be remembered by the people who come after them. Another example of the purpose of creating as human beings, as a comfort that we can express ourselves beyond our lifetimes, we can be understood by people we will never meet. It is a way of escaping death and mortality. I thought about what it was like for them to spend their last days staring out the tiny windows that only allowed for an inch wide slit in the wall view of the street below. Regardless of their crimes, I pitied them.

One carving particularly stuck out to me. It read, ‘Honor all men, love the brotherhood, fear God, honor the king.’ Then there was a line that was thought to have been added after he was sentenced to death, ‘hope in God departed.’ Such a striking message and communication of feelings in so little words.

This day made me contemplate the impact we have on each other; now and in the future after we are all long gone.

Signing Off from London,

Margaret.

The Tate Modern Museum is a collection of more “modern” art pieces. The building itself is more than 371,000 sq ft in floor space area with two separate sides consisting of 4+ floors each.  The Tate began its construction in 1995 at its current location, the old Bankside Power Station after needing a bigger space.

Two exhibits immediately caught my eye and they really resonated with me for personal reasons. The first was the “Marquette of a Monument Symbolizing the Liberation of the Spirit” by Antoine Pevsner. The exhibit shown below is a bronze cage with a hanging ball-like structure in the middle. The way that I was able to understand this piece was finally breaking free of any confinement. Another interesting aspect of this exhibit that I found was how organic the shapes were even though the sculpture is made of straight lines.  To me, this symbolizes the natural stage of fully becoming yourself and finally taking a step into who you are.

The second exhibit that spoke to me was “Flag” by Fred Wilson. This exhibit feature twenty-seven flags from African/ African Diaspora nations. All flags in the piece had no color and were completely black and white. Something that many people do not really know about me is that my mom’s family several generations back is from Rhodesia (Zimbabwe) Africa. As soon as I walked into the room and saw that flag, I immediately felt a sense of pride. Being able to travel thousands of miles away from home and see a huge part of me and my family culture filled me with a word I can only describe as humble. Hearing stories of how my family had to leave and everything that they sacrificed makes me proud to not only call myself American but to be a Zimbabwean as well.

Tate Modern

The building has long been a favorite of mine as a shining example of adaptive reuse. Overall, I’m disappointed to say that both the building and collection felt entirely adequate but didn’t blow me out of the water as expected. Fortunately both architecture and art were punctuated by enough high points that my overall experience was a good one!

Monument for the Living

The first piece I want to discuss is Marwan Rechmaoui’s Monument for the Living (2001). This is one of the last things I encountered on the old side of the museum for crossing Turbine Hall into the Blavatnik addition. Of course, a scale model of a building immediately caught my attention. The description tells us that it is of the Burj El Murr building in Beirut, Lebanon. It was left in an unfinished moment of stasis when civil war broke out. “Originally an office block, it was only ever used as a sniper outpost. The tower is too tall to knock down and too dense to implode, and so continues to dominate the skyline.” I think the art piece itself does not have much value until one hears its name. “Monument for the Living” is an interesting reversal of general protocol: monuments are generally reserved for the dead. In addition, the form, to me, suggested a frame that was the only thing left standing after an attack. Finding out that the frame was actually a remnant of a building that never totally manifested was another instance of subversion in some sense. I also think that a concrete structural frame standing alone can be an oxymoron, it is evidence of life, but is in itself cold and missing its vital life-giving component: people. Thus, overall, I felt that Rechmaoui’s choice in name is what lends the piece its power and identifies its strength, which is to codify a formal and conceptual dichotomy.

Seamless

As a counterpoint to Monument for the Living, I next want to highlight Sarah Sze’s Seamless. Filling a room between galleries, I was drawn to this piece for its loads of potential energy. I thought it was a Rube Goldberg machine at first sight, and it seemed like it could spring to life if only a switch was flipped, or a ball was pushed. The description tells us that “Seamless connects familiar objects from everyday life into a three-dimensional network.” I had hoped that there would be some underlying logic to Sze’s choices on what to include, beyond the compositional. For instance, I thought perhaps the objects might be assembled in the order they were used: from morning to night as they moved across the room. I was hoping for too much, but I loved the way this piece interacted with the space. Pieces of the museum were cut away to allow the work to interact with the wall plane, affording an interesting view of the in-between space of the museum’s pristine galleries. Overall, I felt that this piece was a different sort of “monument for the living.” Rather than a single giant (in real life) object which holds history and speaks in socio-political undertones, here is a collection of small and insignificant objects in which the assembled whole is greater than the sum of the parts. They are a different type of documentation, or proof, of life as it is lived day-to-day.

[now playing: Life and How to Live It – R.E.M.]

There’s a kind of loveliness that’s almost too overwhelming to look at directly, and walking through rooms and rooms of hearts in bold color, beating in canvases, beating in clusters surrounding them, at the Tate Modern today made me a little dizzy—if I’m allowed to be a bit sappy and sentimental for a while. The first exhibit I passed through, Infinite Geometry, was made up of geometric designs inspired by the idea of seeking of order. In Nabil Nahas’s Eclypse 1978, for instance, interlocking squares in red, sea green, and purple cluster against a woven background as a shard of black intrudes into the piece. The wall text explains that designs from this period “focus on ideas of infinity and interconnectedness. The repetitive and modular structure of poetry is important” (Infinite Geometry). Indeed, once you make your way to Saloua Raouda Choucair’s Poem Wall it becomes unavoidably clear that something about poetry, like painting and art, demands organization. Choucair’s blockwork piece links together in a complex network of white, wooden pieces that fit together with only the slightest gaps. It’s cool and calm, but certainly not soulless, and I guess when I think about poetry that is what I think of: how am I to deliver an emotional experience in a logical way? How best do I organize my words so that they can make their way to someone else without the obstruction of poorly ordered thoughts (I say as I write an overtly wordy sentence)?

Choucair’s design surprised me in it’s ability to link the concepts of art and poetry, a relationship that I’ve always suspected existed, in such a streamlined way. It also made me wonder, as I stopped to take a second glance at Virginia Chihota’s Fighting One’s Self, about what the best way is to communicate pain. Fighting One’s Self almost presents itself as an interior view of a womb. A white figure curls inside a vein-blue circle with their hands clasped defensively around their face. The wall text aptly describes these brushstrokes as “watery” (How can colours help us look inside ourselves?) as the figure’s emotions blur in a wash of color. There’s something so incredibly visceral about the internal nature of Chihota’s work being presented for a massive audience to see, and in a way that kind of vulnerability is brave, but part of me wonders if a piece like this should be viewed on its own because of the strength of the impression it leaves. Tate Modern is filled with so many testaments of the work that people do after the wreckage of trauma, but after Chihota’s piece, I spent a little less time with the rest of them. 

Books often hit me in a similar way. I brought A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara to read on the plane and two-hundred or so pages in, I just couldn’t continue. Yanagihara’s novel, a finalist for the National Book Award, is essentially a character study of suffering that keeps traveling deeper and darker for over eight hundred pages. The older I get, the more I realize how sharp experiences of grief can be and how important it is to feel them in their entirety, but also how unnecessary it is to be continually steeped in tragedy. There’s a kind of logic to processing emotion that, I think, works like Eclypse and Poem Wall are getting at as they organize the intricacies of being human into neat boxes that you can jump into and out of at will. Sometimes, sharing our experiences of pain, failure, and even just quiet disappointment through art creates community, but I question the kind of art that leans into the indescribable simply for the sake of provoking a few stray tears from an otherwise content audience, which if you can’t already tell, I suspect A Little Life to be guilty of. Then again, some confessions of internal suffering, like Fighting One’s Self, just require a bit of breathing space to process what the artist has just handed to you.

What I hadn’t considered walking through walls of geometric designs and swaths of abstract color, is that sometimes beauty, too, overwhelms us: the smell of honeysuckle in the rain just might bring me to tears at the right time of the afternoon, joy in a friend’s eyes can be so specific and so strong that I have to look away, and trees (always trees) with their soft-breathing canopies of branches overhead become too generous and ancient to understand when studied at too close a distance. As I was struggling to concentrate on any one specific piece out of the seas of storied paintings and the seas of people pressing in with their curiosity and their own stories and their own hopes to find something recognizable in the remnants of brokenness on the walls, I wandered into a nearly empty room. After the buzz of color and patterns at the beginning of the Artist and Society exhibit, comes an almost blank hall containing the works of Agnes Martin. Past this, another room of paintings focuses on the use of the color white. 

As you enter into these spaces, the thrum of conversation dwindles. No one stays very long to ponder over what might be hiding underneath the surface of the pale gray and pink stripes in Agnes Martin’s Happy Holiday and Faraway Love. There is no great mystery here. As a little kid running past me with her dad said with a sort of aghast gesture of her hands in the air, “Daddy, everything here’s just…kind of…blank.” Yet, in this space there’s also respite. The quiet makes the room grow a little wider, and the vast landscapes of barely visible pastels provide sanctuary from the bursts of dizzying color before. As the wall text indicates, Agnes Martin once said that she wanted her paintings to communicate what she felt when she was surrounded by the desert she lived in (Agnes Martin 1912-2004). “I want people, when they look at my paintings, to have the same feelings they experience when they look at a landscape…it’s really about the feeling of beauty and freedom,” the exhibit quotes (Agnes Martin 1912-2004). In a way, the absence of beauty is also a kind of freedom. A little break from the heart, how it aches, how it wonders and loves and doubts, is as liberating as a walk on your own in the desert even if you’ll be back again soon. 

More tomorrow, 

Kath

Sources

Agnes Martin 1912-2004. Wall text, In the Studio Exhibition, Tate Modern Museum, London. 

How can colours help us look inside ourselves? Wall text, In the Studio Exhibition, Tate Modern Museum, London. 

Infinite Geometry. Wall text, In the Studio Exhibition, Tate Modern Museum, London. 

Hooray! A week in London! I can’t believe how quickly the time has passed. Today was a laid back day for me, and at the time of me writing this post I am relaxing in bed with the new season of Stranger Things playing off to the side.

Our group started today with a walk to the Tate Modern museum. On the way there we passed some beautiful sights like the Borough Market, and the Millennium Bridge. We then reached the Tate Modern, which was filled with modern contemporary art. Despite this, my first stop at the museum was the cafe! I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, so it was a must. I got an egg sandwich and a drink that was a mix of apple and orange juice – both were so good!

Onto the more relevant parts of the Tate Modern. I am personally not the biggest fan of art museums; however, there were some very interesting pieces on display! The first piece that stood out to me was the View from the Window by Marie-Louise Von Molesiczky from 1925. This painting depicted a view of roofs seen from Marie-Louise’s flat from the early 1920s. The paint in this piece was dabbed onto the canvas, which created a mottled effect while also being painted with very free brush strokes. This piece interested me mostly because of its canvas size. I liked how narrow it was, as well as its color palette. Even though the canvas size was on the smaller side, there was a lot you could tell from the areas that were visible. You could tell that it was a stormy, snowy night, and buildings seemed to be piled on top of each other. It really makes me wonder about Marie-Louise’s outlook on her every day life, and if this scene somewhat reflected that.

Another piece I took interest in was Untitled (Cravings White) by Lee Bul from 1988 and reconstructed in 2011. This piece took me by surprise when I first saw it. I turned the corner and boom! I was terrified, because honestly- what IS that? That feeling is what made it appeal to me. I feel as though art is supposed to invoke a powerful emotion from its audience whether that emotion is good or bad. Being terrified of this piece made me want to learn more about it, and seeing the video that was supplied alongside it made me even more intrigued. The video included people wearing the original piece and crawling on the ground in public spaces. I don’t understand this piece fully, even with the video supplement, but I think that is the point of it. I strongly believe that it is meant to confuse the viewer, and it was successful at that!

After viewing a few galleries, I hit up the gift shop at the museum and got some cute earrings! I’m glad I got to take a piece of art back with me, no matter how small it was. I definitely have a newfound appreciation for certain pieces, and hopefully at other art museums I will be able to analyze the different works in a more meaningful way because of this experience.

I then made my way to another museum- the Sherlock Holmes museum! I have wanted to go to this museum since I found out I was going on the study abroad and now I can finally say I’ve done it. The museum was Sherlock’s home at 221B Baker St., and the building was so beautiful! There were great tidbits of information scattered around, and it seemed like virtually everything was placed in each room with purpose. I will say that there were some pretty scary mannequins inside, so I skipped out on those rooms; however, from my quick glance inside, those rooms were just as great! I would love to go back and take more photos, it was all visually stunning.

That was essentially my day! I had some more sushi from Wasabi, and have been in bed watching Stranger Things, just like I mentioned at the start of this blog post. Tomorrow will be a busy busy day, so be prepared… We have the National Gallery, the National Portrait Gallery, and the musical Lift to go to, wish me and my feet luck!

Today was the day we got to check out the Tate Museum Of Modern Art. I am not a huge fan of Modern Art in general. I think this is due to the fact my exposure to modern art has been limited in scope. Most of what I have seen is on the internet being “memed”. Canvases of white or a single orange line on a black canvas. So I am excited to see what the museum has to offer. 

The first piece I have found that really stood out to me was in the Optical illusions section named Supernovae by Victor Vasarely. Many optical illusions can be done and shown over an electronic screen. But this one, was a real life optical illusion. It is a series of black squares across a rectangular grid. It is separated into several sections. The top left is a black “abyss” like section where the white space between the blocks gets thinner and thinner creating a void like effect. The top right is the exact opposite. The space between the squares gets larger, eventually overtaking the squares and leaving a white space. Then on the left it is white squares with black dots in them. From left to right this pattern continues, but the dots get larger and larger until they overtake the white space. But the most important and interesting of this whole that makes it all come together, is the gray dots. Now, these gray dots can see throughout the whole piece. They are seemingly delicately placed just beyond the four corners of each square. But if you try to pick a gray square to focus on. It will disappear. Poof, just like that. You can only see these squares in the peripheral of your vision. How neat!

The second piece I found very interesting was the exhibit called “Number 185”. This is a piece made entirely of Driftwood.  Leonardo Drew found these drift wood pieces and then as he described it “weathered it like nature”. He painted and scratched and wore these pieces down much as mother nature would have, and actively does. It is a combination of different textures which gives depth, but also tells a story. Examining the piece it looks like a city on a shoreline of rock next to a vast ocean or lake. The large driftwood suggests structure, closely compact but seems to have some further story to tell than just straight line organization. Where as the “shore line” is made up of evenly sized wood that neatly fits into each slot perfectly.

I can’t stand modernism. In my personal opinion, it is almost entirely pretension wrapped in good marketing. Meaningless works with value attached only by scotch tape and the words of “artists” “art critics” and other rich snobs and con artists looking for a dollar. Some good art sneaks through by sheer force of luck, and the performative ideologies of those willing to make dollars on the artists’ pennies. In my opinion, art is not a commodity, unlike a painting. Modernism is the feigning of ideas, value, skill, meaning, and whatever else have you, for the sake of social and monetary status. It is snake oil sales, doublespeak, and at best is a lesson on how to pay close attention to that man behind the curtain. Because his tricks are not a happy ending Dorothy, they are LITERALLY A F#@&!NG URINAL

After my ranting about a man who took a urinal, signed it, and called it art and managed to ruin what modern art could have been, leading to thousands of pieces of work barely worth being printed on a coffee cup or t shirt and just as many artists trying to one up the guy who taped a banana to a wall and sold it for thousands. Honestly, some of this garbage could be art to me, if it weren’t so tied up in its millions of dollars and made up meanings.

There are so many people convinced that a canvas with one or two colored squares on it is worth so so much (and ill admit it does look cool but it is not millions), and others working to keep up the lie by tacking on more and more “it’s about capitalism (society, poverty, the nation, sexuality, the human experience, or whatever else they can come up with)” stickers and pricing it at a million, it just becomes exhausting at some point. The saddest part is when real artists either get lumped in with the rest or get nowhere when the modern art industrial complex didn’t want them. With what could be done in modern times, modern art could mean so much more (and that’s easy when the bar was set on the ground and only sunk further since). It would be nice if half of it meant anything at all. Support local art, question everything, and find your own meaning in things if you can. Like I said earlier, this was my opinion. Everyone has one. Art is your own. Art is culture and humanity. To be human is to be both art and the artist.

-Ulrich Abroad

Blog 4: The Tate Modern

By Isaac Overman

May 30 2022

We departed for the Tate at around ten o’clock. The ride was pleasant and the day got on without a hitch. I decided to spend my time at the Tate following Shiloh—knowing his love for the building and the style of art. This was because I rarely enjoy modern art. My first impression was that the building itself was incredible. Both the original and added wing were impressive and lovely to behold. This was increased by Shiloh’s expertise and allowed me to appreciate it even more. The two pieces that really stood out to me where: “Monument for the Living” by Marwan Rechmaoui constructed between 2001-2008, and “Birth” by Jackson Pollock painted in 1941.

The former spoke to me because of it simplicity and beauty but also because of the story behind it. From first glance it just looks like the bare bones of a building built 1/100^th of scale. But knowing the backstory about how it was too expensive to finish and too dangerous to go near because it was used as a sniper tower during the civil war in Lebanon at the time really spoke to me. It was impossible to finish but was too heavy to pull down. In a way that kind represents life.

Pollock is more complicated for me. First of all, because I didn’t know that it was a Pollock and secondly because I liked it. If you were to ask me my thoughts on Jackson Pollock I would say that total chaos does not speak to me through art, but this piece was a far cry from his normal chaotic messes. This one had life, pain and complexity to it. I found myself entranced by it and honestly could have spent many more minutes looking at it. Shiloh and I made it trough every nook and cranny of the Tate including the new addition which left more than a little to be desired. My overall review of the Tate would be that the collection itself was lacking. Compared to Le Louvre or Le musée d’Orsay in France the quality of works just was not there. This is not to say that I did not enjoy the Tate because I actually did. Just as an art museum it needs a more robust catalog. The building itself was amazing though.

Foodie note: In case anyone else was curious, Shiloh and I walked across the bridge and enjoyed a Michelin Bibbed (not quite a star but still top 75 in London) restaurant called Bancone. It was about 50 euros between the two of us for drinks, mains and a shared starter. They serve homemade traditional Italian. This is a must try for anyone who wants a truly special dinning experience. Very solid 9.5/10. There are two locations but we went to the one in Covent Gardens which is the original. It would be a good idea to make a reservation if you plan to visit as it was packed at 2:30 on a Monday. Best thing I have eaten so far

May 30

Today we went to visit and explore the Tate Modern Art Museum. I was actually really excited to tour this museum as I have an immense love for art and find modern styles to be the most obscure, yet intriguing.

In the gallery, there was a film running of the choreographies that inspired this piece, including Stavinsky’s Les Noces and Rainer’s Continuous Project Altered Daily. In addition, the whole piece is made using a single watercolor pigment, despite it looking like multiple shades of paint.