This bench sits along the Thames, on the South Bank, between Waterloo and BlackFriars Bridges. It’s a nice bench. Since we leave London tomorrow I had my last walk along the river today. And it gave me a gift
I walked around it, to sit down and say goodbye to the river, the bridges and London – found this:
It’s been a lovely time. We fly in the morning. See you on the other side.
In the early 20th Century there was a band of wild men who created an entire new way of thinking about “Art.” They were called Futurists and for those of you who took Art 11 and already know about them, I understand that I didn’t discover them – this being particularly true since they are currently appearing in a retrospective at the Tate Modern here in London. AND for my penultimate (I think) post here I want to tell you about them because they were a real kick.
This painting, by Luigi Russolo, is called “The Revolt.” On the right you can see “the people” pushing up against the hard line of the establishment. It’s the same thing the Futurists themselves were doing. Here’s their major “Manifesto.”
These are our final conclusions:
With our enthusiastic adherence to Futurism, we will:
The dead shall be buried in the earth’s deepest bowels! The threshold of the future will be swept free of mummies! Make room for youth, for violence, for daring!
As I wandered through, alone and more available for being by myself, (this one is Carra’s The Funeral of an Anarchist) I felt that I knew these guys. Yes they denigrated women (more on that in a second) but their rebellion, their anger, their passion, their desire to change everything – that was familiar. Of course I never wanted to destroy; none of us did. But the feelings of anger, of disappointment in the ways of the world, the desire to find new ways to say things, those were familiar — and swept me back to the determined, impassioned girl I was then. I can only describe my reaction as delight.
You’re going to tell me that this is the kind of blind passion is just what was wrong with the 60’s. And for those who transformed these feelings not into art but into primitive acts of violence – they were wrong then and they’re wrong now. That’s what is so amazing about art. You can act, and express, through representation instead of concrete acts of violence and hatred. That’s what these enraged men did. Meanwhile, the women artists were pretty angry, as you can imagine. One of them, Valentine de Saint-Point, although she agreed with their ideas, had some of her own to go along with them. Like this:
“Women
are Furies, Amazons, Semiramis, Joans of Arc, Jeanne Hachettes, Judith
and Charlotte Cordays, Cleopatras, and Messalinas: combative women who
fight more ferociously than males, lovers who arouse, destroyers who break down
the weakest and help select through pride or despair, “despair through
which the heart yields its fullest return.”
I wish I knew more because there’s so much more to this; the impact of Cubism on all
of it, the way it affected artists in nation after nation, and, most of all, the sheer energy of
art that, instead of freezing a moment, seems to set it free and follow it.
You’re going to love Borough Market, right across from the London Bridge Tube Station and just off the Thames.
Amazing olive bread
Do you believe these? Gorgeous! (My favorite picture)
Well,that’s that. Here we go out, take a left and hit the Thames River Walk. It was a lovely day.
OK so I’m in London and a friend posts this on my Facebook page. And I should be telling you more about London and that we’re leaving for Paris this afternoon (on theEurostar!!) for the weekend but this is just fun.
ALSO on that same Facebook page though, from Moms Rising, is this:
Kristin Rowe-Finkbeiner “…we are now lagging behind the rest of the world in closing the gender gap. According to the World Economic Forum, the US ranks 31st of 128 countries overall, but 76th in educational attainment, 36th in health and survival, 69th in political empowerment, and 70th for wage equality for similar work. In the representation of women in our Congress, we rank 71st.”
Reps. Maloney, Biggert reintroduce Equal Rights Amendment
So when you’re finished laughing at Kevin and Dave, think what we can do about these devastating numbers! I’ve just gone to work at Causes Managing Editor at Care2 and we have an active women’s rights section there – and we all know plenty of other places to raise some hell. Somehow, seeing it all aggregated like this makes it worse, no?
It’s late and I’m tired from a probably too-long walk and probably too much work. So I’ll leave you with this picture of the wonderful St. Paul’s Cathedral, taken from the very center of the Millenium Pedestrian Bridge that crosses the river from the Tate Modern to this old masterpiece and the bustling legal community close by.
You can see it there – the street name in English and, I think, Bengali – the street brought to life in Monica Ali’s wonderful book. Brick Lane was a sensation, well reviewed on both sides of the Atlantic and beyond, as well it should have been. Reading it, a reader not only felt the feelings, but also heard the voices and smelled the cooking smells of a crowded immigrant neighborhood in London’s East End.Well we went there today, expecting to see the veiled women, street food and crowded food markets that orient us in a neighborhood like the one we lived in as we read Brick Lane. But the book was published six years ago. And Nazneen, her sad husband, lover and daughters have surely moved on.
You can get an MRI in 24 hours in London. Of course it will cost you L250 and is not covered by the National Health Service — but you can get one.
How do I know this? I walked into a spa-like place on Drury Lane to find a massage for my husband and there on the reception desk was a brochure announcing the opportunity. Why? NOT because National Health doesn't provide MRIs, but because you can wait as long as 6 months to get one. That's one of the legends of National Health that looks like it 's at least partly true. Then I had a tiny experience of my own.
A small disaster and quick work. I was up very late last night talking to a friend in DC -' til 2 AM. So when I got up this morning I was a little raggedy. And in the process of slicing bread the knife slipped and I stabbed myself in the left hand. Bled like anything. There I was, alone in the apartment, bleeding and imagining sliced tendons or non-stop bleeding or God knows what.
Yes, those are polka dot trees, adding a little color to the South Bank promenade from Waterloo Bridge down toward Parliament. I’m loving these walks although with the Sotomayor hearings (not carried on the BBC, at least in the cable systems in this apartment, (which doesn’t offer CNN either until evening), I feel pretty cut off from home. I’ve chosen just to go with it though. It’s so lovely to work for a while, spend an hour walking along the Thames, then return, take a shower, read Wired while I eat lunch and then work once more, and it’s only five weeks, so I’m just going to enjoy it.
That old rascal Samuel Johnson told us that when we were tired of London, we’d be tired of life. I know it’s summer when any city is inviting but this week is cool and bright and breezy and London is full of British school groups and kids from everywhere else too, and we have an apartment right in the middle of Covent Garden (well NOT the market, God forbid, just the neighborhood) and our older son and his new wife are only 40 minutes away and we have friends here, too. So how could we be tired?
What you see here is the view from Waterloo Bridge (and yes that’s St. Paul’s Cathedral in the background.) This morning I went out and walked all along the Embankment, over where the trees are, then crossed a bridge just out of view on the right and returned via South Bank, London’s wonderful (relatively) new arts and museum area. My entire walk was around three miles and I’m realizing that it’s much easier to do the walking when there are new things to look at, not just the old neighborhood or, as lovely as it is, Rock Creek Park.
The wonder of a great city is that it’s always changing, that even the most trivial journey is full of surprises. On my way home tonight I came across a group of teenagers – one of dozens of g The wonder of a great city is that it’s always changing, that even the most trivial journey is full of surprises. On my way home tonight I came across a group of teenagers – one of dozens of groups we’ve been seeing ever since we got here. The reason they’re all sitting on the sidewalk is that they’re exchanging addresses and spelling them out – different nationalities, different spelling. Kind of an EU photo.
Of course there’s lots else going on here. Huge waves of immigration, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, what looks to me to be an appalling amount of youthful alcohol consumption and unemployment all take their toll. There’s something about the place despite those issues though. The day after the 2005 subway bombing that killed 52 people, Londoners got back on the train and went to work. They did that all during the Blitz as much of the rest of the world watched them face down Hitler almost alone.
Cities are supposed to change. That’s what makes them exciting. Even so, London has seen more than its share: waves of immigration that have transformed it, an early history of wars and fires and plagues, contemporary royal scandals and of course the “troubles” between Belfast and the rest of Ireland and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. After all, who would have believed before it arrived to help celebrate the Millennium, that there would be a ferris wheel right in the center of town? They call it the London Eye to make it sound fancy but it’s still a ferris wheel, here in same town that has a real live queen living in a real live palace? It’s pretty amazing.
I’m thinking that while we’re here I can try to get past some of what I’ve written here and learn a bit of what it’s like to truly li
ve here. It’s got to be different from wandering around with no need to be on time or face the traffic or crowded mass transit and infinite numbers of tourists and, incidentally, deal with what appears to be an enormous amount of alcohol consumption – especially by men. I’m hoping to keep you posted as I make my way. I hope you’ll come along.
Just in case you wondered if we were really here, I took this photo. Kind of weird to see phone booths all over London since they’re almost completely gone at home. Hardly profound but there you are.