I think it must have been March 1986 and I was in London, for a stage at the Tate. I spent a couple of months walking around town in a perennial state of wonder. Staying in Barbican, somewhere, and volunteering at the Tate, sitting in front of Rodin's large Kiss and absorbing every nuance, hint, smell, vibe, accent, taste. everything was New. Not new because I had never been before, but new because I experienced London and the arts alone, independently. I made it mine. I felt I owned the town, its buildings, its rhythm. It was mine and I was an integral part of it. Never scared, always protected, like by an old lady offering you a cup of tea in her finest china.
And last week I went back.
It wasn't, of course, the first time since 1986.
But, again, I felt the same vibe: independence, opportunities, possibilities, openness. Trust.
She allowed me to trust her, again, and so I did.
I visited, in order:
Damien Hirst and his Mandalas and butterflies at the White Cube
Antony Gormley at the Royal Academy:
Tate Modern:
British Museum:
In between, I have seen buildings, streets, more art, little galleries, proper old pubs, parks, the Institute for Contemporary Art, a movie being shot, and the beauty of a city who seems she wore the best dress just for me.
There will be more. There will be more.
onwards and upwards
ღx
© mtomat 2019 - written on 11.11.19 - no reproduction without permission.
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