Nearing the end of another of those day long adventures through the city of London, I found myself (quite against my will) at the Tate Modern, which I remembered from being there during its opening season as being essentially an empty shell filled with things of "art" that did not interest me. So, with feet that were hesitant to walk any more, I stayed in the bookstore and glanced through what they had on offer while my partner decided to look around without me.
Upon returning, I was told that I should really go and see the Ai Weiwei piece that they had put up, ostensibly after he was detained that many months ago (and since released). The statement posted indicated only the first part, without mentioning the second. Well, allow me to say that all I could think of is how the seeds in the original exhibition were stepped on, destroyed, and it made me think of how there has been little or nothing from the once vocal artist and think that he may have become one of those very seeds.
With this sobering thought and being more than exhausted, I longed to leave the confines of that museum. Fortunately, while fleeing, I caught sight of a delightful portrait of Marguerite Kelsey by Meredith Frampton (1894-1984) which absolutely called out to me to relax and have a drink or two.
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| best seat in the house- open, empty, devoid of art and people in general. |
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| voices heard or unheard |
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| a life of leisure spent |
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