London Calling: Part 2

After touring the plundered, national artifacts of countless civilizations, Erika and took a short Tube ride down to the Tate Modern, an art museum along the south end of the Thames. The Tate Modern is one of two British Art Museums (there are four Tates; the others in Liverpool and St. Ives) under the Tate name, the other called simply Tate Britain. The Modern is an amazingly huge building with a massive brick obelisk jutting out from the middle of the front wall.
"Now that is a Tower," said Erika, as we approach the Tate Modern from the Millennium Bridge footpath.
The previous night, having seen the Tower of London, Erika was a little disheartened by the lack of a Tower. The Panopticon style obelisk was certainly more tower-like, but it was completely empty. A huge tower for the sake of a huge tower.

The museum features work in the post-impressionistic art period and forward. Picasso, Warhol, later Monet, Klandinsky, the Expressionist, the Futurist and other sorts of strange art movements were all well represented in the sprawling galleries. Sadly, my two favorite German Expressionist (Paul Klee and Gustav Klimt) were left out, but I did get to see the insanely vibrant work of Wassily Klandinsky. I will admit it: I don't get modern and contemporary art. My tastes in art tend to err on the side of Impressionism. I could look at Monet's "Haystack" series for hours. A lot of the art was very strange. One room featured massive cartoon animal heads in various bright colors, cut from glass and steel. The animal heads, eight in all, were simple silhouettes ranging between 8 and 12 feet tall. Another room features a huge table and four chairs. The table was built just like any real table would be built, but was instead close to 15 feet tall, complete with chairs. There was one exhibit that featured sticks with various primary colored bands that ran up the length of the stick. Apparently, the artist would take his sticks to other galleries (back in his hay day) and "install" the project in rival artists' shows. The sticks, the sign said, expressed the freedom of art as they could be "installed" in a variety of way: leaned against the wall, laying down, nailed to the wall at various angles, etc.

It wasn't an entirely horrible experience, and I left with a slightly better appreciation for modern art than I arrived, but there were still a fair amount of head-scratching moments. Erika was happy, as she loves abstract art and the Tate Modern is stuffed to the gills with plenty of that.

While at the Tate Modern, we wanted to get some food, and wandered to the top floor where there is a restaurant. Erika expressed some concern as museum cafeteria food can sometimes be a little sketchy. This was no ordinary cafeteria and was more of a full service restaurant. Erika got a cold salmon salad and I ordered an assorted smoked meat plate with salad and a crusty roll so that I could make a really highfalutin sandwich. The food was beyond description good. We later found out that there was a dinner menu that we were too early for, but still, I could not have asked for better food. We followed that up with some desserts and tea (Erika ordered an apple crumble, and I got a scone with fruit preserves and clotted cream).

What makes eating at the Tate Modern that much better than even the best food was the view. We overlooked the Thames with St. Paul's Cathedral in the distance. The restaurant is on the seventh floor, so most of the skyline can be seen, but we were a few tables from the window so our view was slightly more limited. If ever in London, and you would like a delicious, albeit expensive, meal with a killer view, than the Tate Modern is certainly for you.

After that, we wandered by St. Paul's Cathedral, which looks a lot like the Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. It was one of the more massive buildings I have ever had the privileged of walking by. We had hoped to catch mass there the next day, but we couldn't find the schedule. Unfortunately, we didn't get a chance to get in, but if the outside is any indication of the grandeur of the inside, I am sure it would have been a spiritually enlightening experience.

This little detour, and a miscalculation of time, gave us a rather hurried tour through Covent Garden and Trafalgar Square. We had hoped to see both, but needed to get to Haymarket St. for Waiting for Godot. We essentially ran through both to get to Leicester Square and Haymarket St. just in time for the show. We missed the first two minutes or so, and had to spend a chunk of the first act in the lobby watching through the glass. At an opportune moment, they hurried us in. Our seats were in the back row, against the glass at the far back of the first balcony. That said, we could see everything on stage, unhindered. Really, I doubt our experience would have been much worse sitting any closer.

The show was, simply put, amazing. Sir Ian McKellen is an unrivaled actor, and did a solid job as Vladimir. Roger Rees, who apparently grew up in Aberystwyth, was a nice compliment as Estragon. Matthew Kelly was a little overblown as Pozzo, but Pozzo is an overblown character. Ronald Pickup did an amazing job as Lucky, which is not an easy role to play. The treat, though, was McKellen. It is a rare opportunity that one gets to see such an amazing actor play a role he was seemingly born to play.

Erika was a little unsure of the play at first, and my description might not have helped.
"What's this show about."
"Two guys and a tree. They wait for Godot."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Really. Well, there are two other guys, but for the most part, it's two guys doing things waiting for Godot."
"Oh....good."
That said, she genuinely enjoyed the experience. Beckett's play is at times funny, and at times cripplingly sad. The whole time, though, it is distinctly absurd. McKellen, though, did a nice job of playing the absurdity down so that even though nothing was making sense, it all seemed as if it could have happened. It is a show that is closing soon, but if you happen to get an opportunity to see McKellen in anything on stage, I suggest that you take it, and without hesitation. You will not be left disappointed.

In the middle of the show, the oddest thing happened. At most American sporting events, particularly baseball, there are roving men with satchels of food, selling hotdogs, soda, beer, ice-cream and some small novelties. At the intermission of the show, two young women came down the isles and sold ice-cream cups at three pounds a pop. This is, evidently, a tradition, and I am not one to let an experience go by. While Erika used the restroom, I bought us a double chocolate chip ice-cream cup, and we enjoyed it together waiting for the show to come back on. It was surprisingly nice to have that refreshment served.

After the show, we meandered in the rain over to Piccadilly Circus, which is like the Time Square of London. Unlike Times Square, though, the buildings were really old. It was an odd juxtaposition to see these ancient buildings where I am sure old businesses and apartments were once held bedecked with huge TV screens and light-up billboards. Unfortunately, due to the rain, exhaustion and the darkness, we only managed to take a quick look before we headed back to Acton. The next day, we were on our way back to Aberystwyth.