The return

On the day that I was feeling at my lowest a couple of weeks ago, I read that the National Gallery would be opening on the 8th of July, and I didn’t hesitate for one moment in booking a time slot. I texted my friend D to see if she wanted to come along, which she more than did. Gone are the days of just rocking up on the fly when you fancy it; now it’s all about keeping numbers restricted in public places which in turn means nothing is spontaneous anymore. But better something than nothing. So, me and D where there on the first day, donning masks like the majority of all the visitors. The gallery had been shut for 111 days, a record; during WW2 it only closed for TWO DAYS.

There were reminders that things are not what they used to be.

One of the things I’ve enjoyed most about lockdown is that you get to see/do the things you never bothered with BC (before Covid), whether it be walking in a new to you part of the local woods, or down a street you’ve never been down before, or reading that book you’ve been meaning to for years, and finally sitting down with it and turning the first page. There’s now a one-way system in the National Gallery, and only three designated routes (A, B, C) that you can take. We had originally planned to just walk the B route thinking you were allowed only one, but when we were told that you could do all three, as long as you started with A ( you couldn’t walk back on yourself) we decided to start at the beginning. I have ALWAYS ignored the Renaissance galleries in the past. The era just never spoke to me. But now, stuck in a one way system, I had to look at the paintings and they were fascinating and a nice change to the kind of art that I’m into. As always we played the “Which one piece of art would you take home with you?” and this painting from the 1330’s was D’s. We agreed that it would look awesome in her flat.

We then turned around to look at this picture and got the worst giggles. As in tears streaming down our faces, stifling our laughter as it was so quiet (whilst wearing masks - a very very surreal moment that I will always remember). And feeling so bad because of the subject matter. But look at Mary’s face. She is not convinced. We reckon the artist was trying to paint her looking upset, but instead it looks like she thinks Jesus is pulling her leg with a fake wound. That and the fact the she looks a hell of a lot like Putin. Oh boy.

I’m not mad on religious iconography, but the carving, gold paint and the details of this guy’s beard were so great.

This small painting of a bird was my take home piece. I thought it quite symbolic of my lockdown; becoming a bird watcher whilst stuck at home.

Everyone was making sure they were not too close to each other, and the whole experience felt a bit unreal. No one talked loudly, and it almost felt like we were all looking for comfort or answers from the cultural past.

This painting had masked figures in it, referring to the Plague. These guys were the ones collecting the dead, and this is what they looked like back then. Pretty sinister, huh?

And this painting of these two kissing made us feel slightly uncomfortable from a social distancing point of view.

But not as uncomfortable as looking at this beast. I mean… Apparently he was a cross between a bat and snake? Any which way, he’s looks pretty pissed off with whoever that is trampling on him with their fancy shoes.

This room is usually full of tourists and school classes, but alas, they were not there. I hope they can be one day soon, especially school kids, as their worlds have narrowed so much this year.

Once out of the Renaissance rooms and on to route B, we walked through the Dutch and Belgian rooms. Those dudes could paint.

I really liked this lady’s contrasting outfit to what else was going on in this room.

A lucky discovery that day was the Nicolaes Maes exhibition, who was a Dutch former student of Rembrandt’s. His paintings were out of this world. Sadly we had kind of peaked by this point, so I might return one day with fresher eyes, so I can take it all in more.

Moving closer towards the Impressionist room we spotted this tiny painting. I love love love paintings of the mundane everyday. I think I’ve mentioned it here before, but I love the fact that someone took the time to slowly capture something that we all know, and give no attention to whatsoever.

This painting by Claude Monet made me have all the summer feels. It looks so inviting - for that last cool dip on a hot evening before the sun sets. You know what I mean, right?

Ahh, hallo Vincent. Hoe gaat het? Always a treat to look closely at his brush strokes. Kusjes.

This is one of my favourites of all the paintings at the National Gallery. It’s called ‘The Little Country Maid’ and was painted by Camille Pissarro in 1882. Such a beautifully captured little moment. I loves it.

And finally, D, next to some Bridget Riley dots on the way out. It was such a well needed treat to go and feast the eyes on beautiful things made by humans for a change. What an amazing species we are; both so clever and so stupid, so strong and so delicate, such creators and destroyers. Waaaah. Went a bit deep there! Enough already. Have a great weekend and may the sun shine on you wherever you are <3

The wig factory

The first year we had Buddy he didn’t moult at all. “Amazing!” we thought, “a long haired cat that doesn’t shed!” we exclaimed. Well, I don’t know why he didn’t shed fur that first year, because he now does it ALL THE TIME, like a normal cat. A normal cat on cat fur shedding steroids. So we, I mean Mr Famapa (he’s got the special touch - Buddy won’t have anyone else do it), helps him out, and brushes out any excess fur so all of it doesn’t end up in his belly. So what does Mr Famapa do with all the brushed out fur?

He makes wigs. Makes total sense, right?! Wigs for some of the follicly challenged toys around the house. I’m sure Yoda approves.

And K-2SO from Star Wars: Rouge One, who also gets a wooly hat for all those chilly nights spent on the shelf.

I love the creativity on Yakface here. Not just fur, but whiskers too (cats shed their whiskers as well).

I’m also sure Moomin is into his new locks; that long hair does look darn good under a cowboy hat, don't you think (and no, I don’t know why he’s blue, or so big compared to Moominmamma and Moominpappa)?

Lots of different hair styles going on here. They’re all so goooooood! The last orange dude reminds me of Beethoven. Oh yeah, and side note: might be time to dust the top of that cupboard, and yes, maybe the book/CD shelves too (CDs?!!! why these are still out is beyond me - talk about dead technology! It’s not like we have anything to play them on either)…

This Kokeshi doll has the biggest wig of them all. It doesn’t look it in this picture, but it’s biiiiig.

But why stop there? Why not actually make a real wig for a grown man? *

And if you get bored of one style, you just brush out a new one. Win win.

* what’s up with Mr Famapa’s eyes, you may ask? Nothing. It’s not that he wants to remain anonymous or anything, it’s just that googly eyes run in his family. <3

In Real Life

Hey. How you doing? I’ve been having a few blue days recently, but feel much better now. I felt that I’d lost my footing a bit, and have had a little existential wobble; I think I’m having a delayed reaction to all the crazy shit we as a world have gone through in the past few months. But I’m working on it, and as always, it’s how one reacts to things that matters - you can make it either easier or harder for yourself. I’m missing the things that feed my soul; the cold swimming (which of course is over anyway as it’s SUMMER), taking pictures and looking at art. I also miss having something more concrete to look forward to, and the whole “everything is up in the air” reality is taking it’s toll. So, let’s time travel, and look at some art, yes?

Almost a year ago now, we went to see the Olafur Eliasson’s In Real Life exhibition at Tate Modern. It was one that I knew I could bring Mr Famapa and Oomoo to, knowing that they would enjoy it as well. My friend Z came over from Amsterdam too, and we all enjoyed it immensely. Now you’ll have to forgive me as I don’t remember everything about the exhibition, so I’ll try and explain what’s what the best that I can. This black room had a stream of mist falling to the floor, and with the spotlights shining through it there was a faint rainbow effect. So beautiful.

Aaaahhhhh, this was so cool. There were a couple of these Turner Colour Experiments in the exhibition, where Eliasson had taken out the colours used from certain paintings by J M W Turner, and made digital colour wheels of them. You can read more about them here.

This room had a mirrored ceiling, and half of a black plastic tube circle, which of course became a whole circle with the reflection in the ceiling. Post-lockdown this picture highlights something we took for granted just four months ago - walking around indoors with strangers, and not fearing them and an invisible illness.

Anyway, enough of that crap. It’s getting boring now. SO. This big glass sphere was in the second room as you walked into the exhibition (where they showed Eliasson’s earliest works). It was stuck to the wall, and you could just about make something out by looking into it.

Turns out the sphere was placed in a hole through a wall between two rooms, and that while you were standing on one side trying to figure out what it was all about, everyone on the other side of the wall got to see you looking funny and distorted, and slightly confused.

Genius.

This room was where all cameras and camera phones got whipped out as not only are shadows in general cool, but multiple multicoloured ones even more so.

One huge wall (Moss Wall) in one room was covered in living reindeer lichen which filled the room with a really strong smell. It reminded me of dark December days in Sweden when I was growing up, as we’d count down the advent Sundays leading up to Christmas Eve with an advent candle holder, with the then obligatory white moss and mini mushrooms decorations around the candles.

This kaleidoscopic mirror thingie (I’m pretty sure that’s it’s official name) was lined up in a window with two other shapes. There was a little queue of people taking pictures through it, of course.

Back in the mist room. I came back a second time a few weeks later, and they’d sectioned the “mistfall” off so you couldn’t walk through it anymore, so I’m glad we got to experience it as intended. Or maybe we weren’t even be able to walk through it in the first place?!

Hey Z! You’re taking a picture of me taking a picture of you! Because that’s what we do. This was in a mist room, or more like a fog tunnel, where the fog was so dense that you’d lose each other if you didn’t stick together.

The fog changed colour as you walked through it.

Eliasson made some paintings using glacial ice blocks melting on top of washes of pigment colour, and this is one of the results. A lot of his art highlights the melting of the ice caps, in various ways. It’s kind of weird how we’re all on hyper alert against a virus, when the climate crisis heading our way in just a couple of decades is the real effing deal. You can’t self-isolate or vaccinate your way out of that one. Arghh, there I go again… Sorry!

Now where was I? Oh yes… there was a huge glass box full of Eliasson’s models in the first room of the exhibition. It’s so interesting to see the process through which artists work and feel their way to their finished art works.

In the lifts, and the stairs and corridor of the floor that the exhibition was on, there were lights that referenced back to Eliasson’s huge Turbine Hall installation The Weather Project back in 2003, which still is one of my favourite art experiences ever. The orange light cancels out all other colours, and I remember that I wore a bright red winter coat back then, but that you couldn’t see the red at all. I’m so glad these lights were here so Oomoo could experience being colour blind for a little while too.

And finally, my pal and other other half (the original other half being Mr Famapa of course) Z taking pictures inside a kaleidoscope of sorts that you could walk through. I don’t know how long it will be until there is an exhibition of this scale and type again, but I really look forward to when there will be one to go to. See, something to look forward to after all! One day, y’all, one day.

10 minutes from yesterday evening

7.57pm

7.59pm

8.07pm