
Dusk



After the Courtauld we sat in the Somerset House courtyard for a while, enjoying the sun and some sparkling water, shown here, casting interesting shadows.

We went to see Hepworth in Colour a couple of weeks ago at the Courtauld Gallery. I was not truly familiar with her work but these were stunning pieces, abstractly illustrating many of the principles of composition and design that I have been discussing with my u3a photography group. Highly recommended if you’re in or near London. When we were finished we emerged into the Courtauld’s permanent collection and a seriously sumptuous collection of some marvelous and familiar Impressionist works.






Everyone who visits must take a picture like this but it’s seemingly impossible not to when you havea camera in your hand and are confronted by the sight.


We went to see the Zurbaràn exhibit at the National Gallery, which featured quite a few crucifixions in deep chiaroscuro. I was curious to see this detail, the shadow cast by the nails in Christ’s feet tell us the time was 3 o’clock, the biblically recorded time of the event.

We took the train into Victoria, then made the mistake of walking to the National Gallery past Buckingham Palace just as the changing of the guard was set to begin. We were penned in and were allowed to go neither forward nor backward for about 20 minutes, stuck in a crowd of tourists with volunteers warning of pickpockets. But, of course, nothing can be said to have happened unless it’s been captured on a phone.


Last month we went to see the big Tracey Emin retrospective at the Royal Academy. The best work, for my taste, were the large paintings from her latest period, which she considers a kind of rebirth. For me, the earlier work was very much like reading a teenage girl’s private diary, full of adolescent anger at people who “just don’t understand me,” and extremely narcissistic (to be fair, private diaries probably are all mostly narcissistic, albeit not often shared publicly). I took a lot of pictures – here they all are in roughly reverse chronological order (click on any one of them to see them all full-sized):





















































MATERIALS AND OBJECTS 5
NALINI MALANI
Nalini Malani’s ‘video shadow plays’ combine video, shadow and sound to tell multiple stories. In this
work, she creates a tribute to women’s lives forgotten throughout history.
Each cylinder in In Search of Vanished Blood is reverse painted and features images of
dispossessed people, mythological figures and surgical instruments. They cast ominous shadows
which shift across the projections.
The artist draws inspiration from a range of sources. We hear Cassandra, a figure from Greek
mythology who predicts the future but is cursed, so no-one believes her. Referencing texts from
German writers Christa Wolf and Heiner Müller, Indian writer and activist Mahasweta Devi, Irish
author Samuel Beckett, and others, Cassandra anticipates violence against women during periods of
political upheaval. Her story unfolds through stop-motion animations inspired by both historic and
recent wartime atrocities.
The title of the work in Search of Vanished Blood is from the poem Lahu ka Surag 1965 by Pakistani
writer Faiz Ahmed Faiz. Lines from the poem appear over Cassandra’s veiled face. People who have
experienced violence reappear through the endless loops of recurring shadows, creating a sense of
lost hope. The sequence ends with a gesture in American Sign Language that expresses a longing
for democracy.
Malani’s work reflects her commitment to feminist activism. In Search of Vanished Blood amplifies
women’s voices to express Malani’s belief in humanism – the strength of what we have in common
rather than what divides us.
Nalini Malani, In Search of Vanished Blood, 2012-20.
Born 1946, India pre-partition (now Pakistan), works India and the Netherlands
Curated by Beatriz Cifuentes Feliciano.
Assistant Curator, International Art and Jess Baxter, Assistant Curator, International Art
from the Tate Modern information placard




We happened to be viewing Hockney’s iPad-drawn mural at the Serpentine Gallery North in London the very day he lay dying elsewhere in London. This tree-house painting was in the garden outside behind the coffee shop and I crouched down to include the flora growing in front of it to make it fit into the scene more organically.


from below and above


I went to Photo London this year at the new location at Olympia. And I happened upon Joel Meyerowitz showing his work.


I created panorama of the photobook area with 4 or 5 images and captured the woman in the black jacket on the right in 2 frames, breaking photography’s claim to capture a moment in time.



Although we had timed tickets for a Monday morning, upon entering the Lee Miller exhibition we were met by a scrum just to get close enough to read the introductory text. This continued, annoyingly, throughout the otherwise excellent and well curated exhibition, breaking Miller’s career into 11 phases. As we wanted to see it all, it took 2½ hours, patiently waiting for other viewers to move on before we could stand, briefly, in front of each image.


As always, I was as taken by the interior design and architecture at the Tate Britain as I was by the art shown there. Of course, the grandeur (and symmetry) of these temples of art makes a strong statement of its own.


We went in to the Tate Britain in London, to see the Lee Miller show. On the block leading up to the Tate, walking from Victoria, we saw this long row of pollarded trees.