Some little bits of what I fancy

London has a lot of museums and galleries and many are free but sometimes it pays to spend time getting to know a particular museum well.

One of my favourite museums in London is the V&A. It bills itself as the world’s leading museum of art and design but what I love is the way that the V&A uses these themes to bring stories to life. Exploring the diverse history of different parts of the world or dissecting the nature of our society and the environment we live in through the lens of human creativity and expression is a wonderful way to spend a few hours.

I’m at the museum every couple of months for the V&A book group and always go early, thinking I’ll pop into an exhibition, explore a specific gallery or take one of the free guided tours to make an afternoon of it. And in ambling around, I’m usually delighted by something unexpected: the view from the top of a newly-discovered staircase or a fascinating item tucked away in an unbidden nook or cranny.

In a place where there’s so much to see, I’ve come to realise that it pays to wander with only the semblance of a plan, to linger and read about the things that simply take your fancy. It also pays to look around – that’s up, sideways, around corners and behind you.

Here’s why.

Dale Chihuly’s Rotunda Chandelier – the Grand Entrance

If you look up as you enter through the main museum entrance from Cromwell Road, it’s hard to miss Dale Chihuly‘s spectacular 27ft (8.2m) sculptured-glass chandelier suspended airily above the information desk.

V+A Blown glass chandelier

The Rotunda Chandelier in the museum’s main reception, viewed from an upper gallery at the top of a staircase I’d never climbed before.

V+A C-up Rotunda chandlier and clock

The view looking up from the information desk on the ground floor. I’m feeling very grateful for the excellent zoom on my camera phone – look at all of that exquisite detail and the individuality of the glass elements.

The chandelier comprises 1,300 blue and green hand-blown and mould-blown pieces – these were made in Chihuly’s Seattle studio and then took five days to assemble – in situ – over the chandelier’s steel frame.

Every time I visit and look up at it, I want to take another photo. It’s definitely one worth lingering over.

Es Devlin’s The Singing Tree

Last December I planned for my visit to include a wander around the Opera: Passion, Politics and Power exhibition near the new Blavatnik entrance on Exhibition Road. However, the tunnel entrance from nearby South Kensington tube station had been closed so I’d been forced to make the 10-minute walk to the museum above ground.

Glad to escape the damp grey day outside, I breathed a sigh of relief as I dashed through the Cromwell Road entrance and tore off my woolly scarf and hat…only to be pulled up short by an hypnotic display of sound and light.

V+A Singing Xmas Tree

As part of the V&A’s annual Christmas programme, set designer Es Devlin combined modern innovations like crowd-sourcing and machine-learning to conceive this Singing Tree. Installed inside the Grand Entrance between 27th November 2017 and 6th January 2018, museum visitors were invited to contribute a festive word or two that became part of this mesmerising audio-visual carol.

The video doesn’t reproduce the carolling voices very well but believe me, being greeted by this after braving a cold and blustery December day was a complete joy.

Rachel Kneebone’s 399 Days – Medieval and Renaissance Galleries (room 50a)

I had arrived a little early for one of the free gallery tours that leave from beneath the Rotunda and rather than stand around waiting (remember peeps, I will never be British enough to wait when I don’t have to), I decided to amuse myself by meandering around the neighbouring gallery.

Rachel Kneebone‘s pillar of legs and arms caught my eye almost immediately.

V+A Sculpture gallery Kneebone's 399

399 Days is a five metre tall column of writhing porcelain figures and it looks pretty interesting from a distance. However it was in getting up close that it became fascinating and I lost the entirety of my 15-minute early-ness poring over the intricacies of this extraordinary piece.

Julian Melchiorri’s Exhale – the Members’ Cloakroom

This surprising gem hangs above the members’ cloakroom desk (which is up the staircase behind you as you come in from the museum’s tunnel entrance). It’s a pretty enough piece but it wasn’t until I read the wall plaque that I really got excited about this one. Peeps, this is a breathing chandelier.

V+A Exhale chandelier

Designer and V&A Engineer-in-Residence Julian Melchiorri combined advances in biotechnology, engineering and architecture to come up with this life-affirming bionic chandelier. The ‘leaves’ of the chandelier contain microalgae: when they are fed with water they remove carbon dioxide from and release oxygen into the surroundings.

(Remember learning about photosynthesis in those high school biology lessons? This is pretty much it peeps.)

Its location is a bit tucked away but don’t be put off. It’s easy to get close to and you’ll be able to spot it as you come up the aforementioned stairs or down the staircase from the upper floor of the European Galleries.

Even as I sit here typing this, I still feel absolutely thrilled by how clever this is – it also makes me wonder how it could be applied more widely in our increasingly polluted world.

Paul Cummins’ Sixteen Poppies – opposite the Members’ Cloakroom

In 2014, the Tower of London marked 100 years since Britain entered WWI with a temporary installation – called Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red – where 888, 246 of Cummins’ hand-made ceramic poppies were planted in the tower moat to represent each of the British military lives lost. Five million people visited the installation between July and November 2014 after which the poppies were sold and the proceeds donated to six service charities.

V+A Red Poppies

The sixteen poppies on display just opposite the Members’ Cloakroom were purchased by the V&A as a tribute to the sixteen members of its staff who died in the War – their names are also inscribed on a memorial tablet at the Main Entrance on Cromwell Road.

Main Cafe, designed by James Gamble, William Morris and Edward Poynter

And finally, when all is said and done, there’s nothing better than having coffee and cake in the glorious historic rooms of the museum’s main cafe.

V+A Cafe montage

The Gamble Room

The museum’s founding Director, Henry Cole had learnt a thing or two about public refreshment while running the Great Exhibition in 1851 and believed that a museum restaurant would be a way to encourage people to enjoy culture. Well ahead of other museums (that did not invest in catering until the 20th century), Cole invested in the world’s first museum restaurant at the V&A, opening the Gamble Room in 1868 followed by the opening of the Poynter and Morris rooms on either side.

These three rooms form the hub of the V&A’s main cafe and any of them are an especially pleasant place to rest your weary legs after wandering around the galleries. If you are lucky, someone might be playing the piano in the Gamble Room. In any case, I’m  a big fan of the restorative benefits provided by their Black Velvet cake…

black velvet cake 1

Black velvet – that means chocolate Guinness cake with Prosecco frosting peeps.

Oh yes, that’s definitely something I fancy and it’s not for sharing!

In the meantime, if you fancy a cultural boost to your creative spirit, I’s recommend a visit to the V&A. And if you are a fan already, please leave a comment and let me know what little bits of the V&A you fancy…and where I can find them!

The joy of faffing

It’s a chilly old Sunday here in London and I’m tucked up under a cosy throw wondering what I am going to write.

Somehow I’ve landed in this small pause and with the busy-ness of the rest of February ahead of me, I’m trying to make the most of it. But waiting is an odd feeling isn’t it? I can see my careful plans ahead of me but am forced to pause, itching to get on with things. I find it hard to do nothing and in the absence of something to do, I’m prone to a bit of faffing.

For those of you unfamiliar with the term, faffing means busy-ing oneself with unproductive or nonsense activities. Case in point: I was looking up an appropriate definition of faffing for the link in the previous paragraph when I learned of an alternative definition – apparently faffing during freshers’ week refers to a particular form of – ahem – acquainting oneself with a university’s newest arrivals.

Faffing.

*Snigger*

Anyway in thinking about February so far, it has dawned on me that it has been quite the month for faffing. (Of the nonsense kind – keep it clean peeps!)

It’s been a month where the weather has swung between the crisp blue-skies of below 5⁰C and the giddying heights of double-figure days. Last night it reached 10⁰C – that’s after a week of nights below zero – and for fear of over-heating, I removed the extra blanket that’s been on my bed for the last two months. But today it’s been sleeting on and off, there are snow showers forecast for this evening and the mercury is slated to dip back to zero again by tomorrow morning. With the weather faffing about like this, the blanket needs to stay within easy reach. So I faffed about this morning, draping it carefully over the end of the bed to ensure I could roll it up-and-over or fold it back-and-across as needed from my position beneath the duvet.

It remains to be seen whether my bare feet will survive the transition from my cosy new slippers to blissful sleep…

slippers

…or whether I will be forced to faff about with bed socks.

Faffing.

*Sigh*

Then there’s the clothing conundrum, i.e. the number of layers required to venture comfortably outside the flat. Do I wear the padded ‘sleeping bag’ coat or dial it back to the flannelette-lined waterproof (not seen since Paris in November) and layer-up underneath? Will my ears be warm enough beneath my raspberry knitted beret or do I need my woolly beanie – with pom-pom of course – to keep my shell-likes toasty?

beanie

I’ve miscalculated a bit lately and have ended up faffing about en route, desperately managing scarves and on-again-off-again headwear in an effort to reach the optimum level of toastiness. And the result? I’ve turned up more unkempt/sweatier than I would have liked. And that doesn’t include the hat-hair.

Faffing.

*Grrrrr*

So here I am, tap-tap-tapping away at Gidday HQ. The television has been blinking away across the room and has segued from Colombo to Miss Marple to The Durrels with the snug complacency of a winter’s afternoon best spent indoors. I am looking forward to tonight’s regular telly – a bit of vicarious ice-dancing (courtesy of Dancing on Ice – yes I know the Winter Olympics are on) before finding out how it all turns out in the final episode of BBC’s latest slow-burn thriller, McMafia.

In the meantime I have some batch cooking to do for the week ahead. I’m thinking about reading a chapter or two of my latest business book (Not Just Lucky) or maybe more of the Aussie tale (Kate Grenville’s The Secret River) that’s got me completely hooked. I could always continue with my recent flurry of clean-outs, embarking on a new drawer or cupboard to explore, cull and reorganise. Or there’s my Amazon Watchlist – it beckons with a list of movies “soon leaving Prime” (where they are free to view) that I’ve earmarked for soon-ish viewing.

But here I am, still faffing about writing this blog post instead.

Faffing.

*Aaahhhh*

Seems to me it’s the perfect way to spend a Sunday.