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| The walk across the Millennium Bridge |
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| Lunch at the Tate |
The Millennium Bridge is an attraction all by itself. On one end of the Bridge is the glorious cathedral of St. Paul’s which unapologetically eclipses the entire skyline, on the other end the Globe Theater and the Tate Modern. As you cross the bridge, the Tower Bridge parallels your walk in the distance and the Gherkin building, in its fabulous disguise as Faberge Egg, shocks the view. With so many sites all within 360 degrees of each other, it’s hard to decide which way to turn first! Walking the Bridge itself would have been treat enough for the day, but I was greedy for all of London, so I headed straight for the Tate Modern.
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| St. Paul's Cathedral one one side . . . |
The imposing brick walls, with the words “ENJOY GREAT ART FOR FREE” written in the topmost corner, was as stark a contrast to St. Paul’s cathedral if there ever was one. But I was getting used to this by now.
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| . . .the Globe Theater on the other. |
This was a city of paired opposites, with no shortage of reconciled contradictions anywhere. Shakespeare’s Globe Theater was heavily patroned that day by a school group that was taking improv lessons on Macbeth, this precluded any other shows for the day. Sadly I walked away from the ticket office with hopes to return for a peek inside another day. So, onward to the Tate! And so, I walked next door.
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| The front entrance to the Tate Modern |
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| Venus and her laundry |
The Tate Modern is a juggernaut of a building. The front entrance looks like an airplane hangar. The descending platform that slopes from the open walled entrance reminded me of the Death Star platform where the Storm Trooper Army stood. I grabbed a map and an exhibition pamphlet; there was a lot to see here. I was going to have to sit down and plan it before making another move. Ok, time for lunch and some planning. I made my way up the museum restaurant ordered a latte and the special of the day and started figuring out what I was going to see.
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| I don't get it. |
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| I don't get it. |
Ever since I was a little kid my parents used to take me and my sisters to museums. I grew up knowing the difference between a Modigliani and a Giacometti. I could tell a Picasso from a Mondrian from a Munch, and a Hepworth from a Brancusi from a Henry Moore. Museums have always been a part of any travel or vacation plan we ever made.It was mostly my dad who taught the rest of the family “good art,” from “not so good art.” I painted all through high school and still dabble a little in it today, but the story behind the art and the artists has always interested me more than their actual works themselves. Already on this trip I had seen the French Impressionists, the Dutch Masters, The Classicists, the Neo-classicists, so now it was time for the Cubists, the Futurists and The Vorticists? Ok, I’m in!
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| The Cubists, my favorite |
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| Interactive stations |
I admit, for all of my love of art, artists and paintings, and going to museums and galleries, I still don’t understand a lot of modern art. Most of the time I find myself thinking, this is really a giant waste of space and resources. Two chairs stacked on top of each other with a “Do Not Touch” rope around it and an information placard and that’s art?! No wonder the entrance was free! Who would pay to see this? All flippancy aside, I realize there is always more to the story, the point of view, the angle of the piece than just two chairs stacked on top of each other, but really? My four year old, if I had one, could do that!
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| Lichtenstein |
But in all fairness and impartial deference to these struggling, albeit occasionally self-indulged artists, I took my time through rooms of plastic dead birds stapled to the wall, dirt piled up on stacks of wood, a Venus in front of a pile of laundry and a film on “The History Nothing” (three minutes of soundless static and TV snow) followed by a film on a Cuban revolutionary rolling around in feathers for La Gente. I gave them their due worth.
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| Plugged in |
Ok, now time for something a little more prosaic. Where’s Jackson Pollock? It really says something about the disturbing and incomprehensible magnitude of the art displayed, when someone looks for respite in the soothing lines of Jackson Pollock’s controlled chaos, but I did. Stopping by to say hello to Rothko, Mondrian, Dali and Calder, I found Pollock and sat with him for a while. In the wall behind me a crowd covered Monet’s wall-sized Waterlillies, but no one was too interested in Pollock for the time being and I was glad to have the seat to myself.
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| Miro |
My favorite room? Why the cubists of course. I spent a lot of time with Picasso and Braque, I was sad to leave them. I felt personally slighted every time someone gazed at them too quickly, or worse, passed them by without even looking at all. As luck would have it, I was privileged to have been there the week the Tate Modern hung the most expensive painting ever sold at auction! Picasso's 'Nude, Green Leaves and Bust,' sold at Christie's for $106.5 million last year was on loan to the UK for the first time ever! I was humbled and awe struck to be in its presence. I could see why too, it was as vibrant as if he had just painted it (and it was painted in 1932).
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| Giacometti |
Matisse, Cezanne and the Fauvists, took honor as my second favorite room, and rounding out the top three, a Japanese photographer, Shikanosuke Yagaki, who I had never even heard of before took the third spot.
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| Pollock |
Yagaki's avant-garde, Bauhaus inspired black and white prints, haunted me. Well, I guess this expedition to the Modern Hall of cotton balls glued to drinking glasses, and torn tires hanging from the ceiling madness, really did contribute to my self-evolution, because I learned about Yagaki, the day was now done, so I went home.
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| Shikanosuke Yagaki |
Well not quite, I stopped by on my way out to say hello to a Giacometti and a Modigliani on my father’s behalf, said a quick hello and goodbye to Roy Lichenstein and then ran into Weiwei.
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| The most expensive painting ever sold at auction. Picasso's 'Nude, Green Leaves and Bust,' sold at Christie's last year for $106.5 million! And I got to see it! |
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| Tate latte all gone |
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| Tate latte |
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| Picasso |
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| More I don't get it. |
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| More Picasso |
The Millennium Bridge is an attraction all by itself. On one end of the Bridge is the glorious cathedral of St. Paul’s which unapologetically eclipses the entire skyline, on the other end the Globe Theater and the Tate Modern. As you cross the bridge, the Tower Bridge parallels your walk in the distance and the Gherkin building, in its fabulous disguise as Faberge Egg, shocks the view. With so many sites all within 360 degrees of each other, it’s hard to decide which way to turn first! Walking the Bridge itself would have been treat enough for the day, but I was greedy for all of London, so I headed straight for the Tate Modern.
Well not quite, I stopped by on my way out to say hello to a Giacometti and a Modigliani on my father’s behalf, said a quick hello and goodbye to Roy Lichenstein and then ran into Weiwei. 
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