Personal, Places, Stories, Travels

London diaries III: Celino and The Tate Modern

LONDON: MUSEUMS & FRIENDS

There were two things I absolutely loved about my trip to London. On a personal level, the reencounter with friends I have known for years and who have been very influential in my life. From an objective point of view, the museums. London is an extraordinary place when it comes to world-class art, and I believe there are few places on the planet that can rival that aspect. I have just visited four art museums + a couple of galleries, but art is everywhere in London, really. From the subway to the streets, including markets, cafes and abandoned public spaces. We can argue against the ways the British got hold of a lot of foreign art in their possession. For instance, the British Museum ought to be named after “The Museum of Culture Representation in Britain”, or “The stuff we got by means of British Imperialism”, or quite simply, “Shouldn’t we be flying to Asia, Africa, and America instead?”. But instead of focusing on the political ethics of the whole thing, the goal of this article is to tell you about moments of enlightenment I experienced in London. These are a synonym to art and friends, so I decided to combine one museum to each friend I met in the city. This is thus the first part of the series Museums & Friends.

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Travels

London diaries II: an unexpected encounter

I had decided to start a very brave coffee-less walk from King’s Cross, along the Regents Canal, in the hopes that the Camden Lock Market, which I would find along the way, could fix the issue. My attempts at searching for a place to work at, with a proper cappuccino on the side, hadn’t been very successful that morning. Nevertheless, the Regent’s Canal looked promising in all it’s picturesque features, with green all around and some astonishing architecture to catch a sight of. That walk was certainly one of the favorite things I’ve done in London.

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Travels

London diaries I: OH. wow.

London welcomed me in the usual grey skies terms and overwhelming fashion I was expecting. You get in and then out of the tube and you’re immediately part of this crowd of slow tourists and stressed out businessmen, a general mass of working class bodies, plus the fashion oriented creatures, and the immigrants, and the hipsters, and the homeless, and whatnot; the soundtrack being this babylon of an endless series of accents and languages, and cars and sirens and trains and honks and construction works and live instruments and advertisment and friendly voices who tell you to mind the gap, watch your possessions or that, actually, you have just arrived to your destination. This is the epithome of the Western fast-faster-the fastest type of pace (European style) but then there’s also this contrasting feeling of steadiness and solemny exuding from every monument, every corner, every stone. So much History concentrated in just one city.

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