What better place to visit in flaming June than central London. The heart of a metropolis that provokes
thought and, above all, inspires.
With air temperatures in the low 20’s centigrade, this was
the ideal opportunity both to explore the capital’s attractions, natural and
cultural, on foot; and also to reside in close proximity to the Houses of
Parliament.
On this visit we (my wife and I along with a daughter and
eldest grandson) experienced a heady mix of being in a place experiencing
historic change as it argues passionately about its future role in the
world.
Our timing coincided with events
such as the monarch’s official birthday and notable anniversaries. These included the centenary of women’s suffrage,
the first anniversary of the calamitous fire at Grenfell Tower and the
seventieth anniversary of the MV Windrush’s arrival from the Caribbean.
These events provided quite a backdrop to our purpose in
visiting, namely to support and enjoy London’s prominent role as a vibrant
cultural city.
My daughter had bought tickets for a top West End show
six months previously, a birthday present that had to be postponed for reasons
to do with my inability to travel earlier in the year.
We had the best seats in the
house in the front row of the balcony to see the Garrick Theatre’s production
of Young Frankenstein.
Directed by Mel Brooks, this is a musical version of his
1974 film of the same name which starred Gene Wilder. I remember as a twenty-five year old seeing
the film when it was released all those years ago; and, serendipitously, it was
screened on terrestrial television in the UK in February this year.
Guided by the sure-footed Mel Brooks again, this stage version is faithful to the film, equally funny but even more entertaining because it is a live “in your face” performance with great music, brilliant acting performances and impressive stage sets.
Guided by the sure-footed Mel Brooks again, this stage version is faithful to the film, equally funny but even more entertaining because it is a live “in your face” performance with great music, brilliant acting performances and impressive stage sets.
The impact of witnessing such a turbo-charged slick
production is pure elation. A show like
Young Frankenstein encourages normal imagination to run riot, to believe that
anything is possible, that lateral thinking can make the world a better
place. I would say it was one of the
best theatrical experiences of my life.
Taking advantage of the gorgeous weather, we spent a lot
of time outdoors in St James’s Park[i] with its pelicans and walking
along the Thames embankment.
En route
from our hotel,[ii]
which was only about 100 yards from Westminster Abbey, we stopped at Parliament
Square. Our attention was caught by the
sight of many women bedecked in the green white and violet tricolour of the suffrage
movement. We soon realised that they
were paying homage to Millicent Fawcett.
Six weeks before our visit, she became the first woman to be honoured
with a statue erected in Parliament Square.[iii] Now she stands proudly next to Gandhi looking
imperiously across the square to the Houses of Parliament.
After crossing Westminster Bridge and with no particular
plan in mind, it was impossible to pass by a small but important
exhibition. Given the prominence of immigration
as a determining issue in the outcome of the Brexit referendum two years ago, the appearance
of an unassuming pop-up exhibition about the Windrush[iv] generation stopped us in
our tracks.
This temporary event
consisted of photographs and panels setting out the story of the brave 492 West
Indian people who responded to Britain’s invitation to help rebuild the nation
after the war. A couple of the ship’s survivors
were present, happy to greet and tell their own poignant stories.
After enjoying an ice cream break on a summery afternoon
and mingling with the happy Sunday crowds, we ventured indoors again to Tate
Modern, a respite from the heat. It is
hosting a major exhibition of Picasso’s 1932 works.[v]
Because I had already bought tickets for
another art exhibition the next day, we decided to save money and take
advantage of the Tate’s permanent collections.
We viewed a magnificent mix of other artworks by Picasso and an Antony
Gormley sculpture.
In addition we saw
modern art by great artists such as Salvador Dali, Dégas, Georges Braque, Andy
Warhol, Louise Bourgeois, the Guerrilla Girls[vi], Bridget Riley and Cildo Meireles.
 |
| Cildo Meireles's Babel 2001, a tower of real radios playing at once, about information overload and failed communication |
The Tate room which impressed me most was the collection by Mark
Rothko, its calming impact. Perhaps the
connection was intensified following the recent 3-part BBC documentary series
on modern American art presented by Waldemar Januszczak[vii]. But what a privilege (and great value) it is
to visit a major gallery and see important paintings without having to pay.
Our final treat was a visit to the National Gallery. The attraction was the much heralded
exhibition of almost 70 paintings by Monet, brought together from galleries and
private collections across the world, including one from Dublin City Gallery.
It was billed as a look at his career
through the buildings he painted from Normandy, Paris, London and Venice.
London’s official visitor guide[viii] enticed us:
“Monet
spent his mornings painting London from a balcony at the Savoy. In the afternoon he moved across the river to
paint the Houses of Parliament from St Thomas’s Hospital. Over a year, Monet painted 41 different
versions of Waterloo Bridge, 35 of Charing Cross Bridge and 21 of the Houses of
Parliament. At one point he was working
65 paintings at the same time.”
Apart from the eight works on show of London landmarks
(Waterloo Bridge, the Houses of Parliament and Charing Cross Bridge), the
painting that resonated with me was his image of Dolceacqua Bridge where we stood
on a holiday to Liguria[ix] five years ago.
The previous day when we sat down in the sun taking in
the view up and across the Thames, I wondered (lonely as a cloud) what Cumbria’s lyric poet William
Wordsworth would have thought about inner London 216 years after composing his romantic
paean to the city Upon Westminster Bridge[x].
Dazzled by a mix of music theatre, last
night’s gourmet dinner at the exclusive Ivy restaurant[xi] in Covent Garden, the joy
of fine art on two days and no little sunshine a creative thought occurred that
simply would not go away.
If musicians like Jacques Loussier can extemporize with
Bach’s airs, if Andrzej Jagodzinski can do likewise with Chopin’s preludes and
nocturnes, and with everybody from Rachmaninov to Andrew Lloyd Webber composing
Variations of Paganini’s caprice, why not compose a contemporary version of
Wordsworth’s ethereal 14-line sonnet.
Taking account of the events and places we visited on this
occasion, I present my imagining keeping close to the original masterpiece in form and in words.
Consequently and iambic pentameter notwithstanding, this might approximate to what the bardic wordsmith might have written today Upon Westminster Bridge.
Consequently and iambic pentameter notwithstanding, this might approximate to what the bardic wordsmith might have written today Upon Westminster Bridge.
Earth
has not anything to show more fair
Dull
would She #MeToo be of soul who could pass by
Red
arrows so touching on Her Majesty’s birthday:
This
City, now global financial services centre, doth wear
The
beauty of Boris bikes in the morning rush hour;
Suffrage
statue, edifices dwarfing St Paul’s dome, London Eye
Open
unto fields disappeared, new towers scraping the sky
All
bright and glittering in the smokeless post-Grenfell air.
Never
again will sun more beautifully steep in its splendour
Tate
Modern, National Gallery, and Windrush exhibits; ten thousand selfies
Ne’re
saw I at a glance, never felt a Mark Rothko calm so deep!
Monet’s
fogbound river glideth in plastic at his own sweet will:
Dear
PM, courage calls! The very Houses of
Parliament seem asleep;
That
mighty heart of Young Frankenstein’s Brexit monster is lying still!
To express the romantic spirit of this sonnet, an actor's dulcet
tones would help.
The earthen melodiousness of Liam Neeson’s elocution reciting lyric
poetry by Seamus Heaney marvelled this listener recently. He would add extra gravitas to this offering.
©Michael McSorley 2018
[i] https://www.royalparks.org.uk/parks/st-jamess-park
[ii] https://www.premierinn.com/gb/en/hotels/england/greater-london/london/hub-london-westminster-abbey.html
[iii] https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-43868925
[iv] https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-43782241
[v] http://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-modern/exhibition/ey-exhibition-picasso-1932-love-fame-tragedy/exhibition-guide
[vi] http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artists/guerrilla-girls-6858
[vii] https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b0b49rq2/big-sky-big-dreams-big-art-made-in-the-usa-series-1-episode-2
[ix] http://michaelmcsorleytravel.blogspot.com/2014/01/vacances-sans-frontieres.html
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!
[xi] https://www.the-ivy.co.uk/
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