I hadn’t visited the capital in years. This city, which I once known so well, was alien to me.
The previous night I had been in Buckingham for a birthday party. I slept well at the Travelodge, but woke early and decided to take the train from Bicester into the city.
The day was frosty yet bright. I was reminded of Steve McQueen’s recent film, Grenfell, with its drone shot of fields … that turn into suburban sprawl … then the city itself.
Marylebone feels the most innocent of London termini, a little toy town station in the West End.
In certain areas of London, you find embassies and I like to guess the country behind each flag. This, I learned, is the flag of Angola—possibly the only flag to have a machete on it.
There was a plaque for Tony Ray-Jones, a photographer whose work is like a precursor to Martin Parr.
After seeing it on Google Maps, I couldn’t resist walking to the street where the Ziggy Stardust album cover was shot.
London, near Oxford St, is covered with flags. England feels like a foreign country to those in Scotland. We only get such displays next to Rangers pubs.
The architecture near St James’s Palace was so baroque …
… we are in a fantasy of England.
I saw a hexagonal building … the home of the Ministry of Justice … and the site of a house lived in by Jeremy Bentham, inventor of the Panopticon. Finally, a funny architectural joke!
Tate Britain had a big show devoted to 80s photography which I devoured. I was particularly struck by the unusual ways of displaying the images, especially those of Wolfgang Tillmans.
Here is the inside of Tate Britain.
I am addicted to the speed of Lime bikes and try to guess where I am going without looking at the map.
After twenty minutes, I ended up in Farringdon and saw a hawk killing a pigeon. A portent?
I walked east towards Hoxton…
… where I found the gallery of , whose writing and podcasts I have greatly enjoyed. They stocked ‘Make Art Beautiful Again’ hats and I couldn’t resist buying one.
Someone who did make art beautiful was Peter Hujar whose show at Raven Row was sublime.
It was a pleasure to travel on the tube, particularly the awe-inspiring new Elizabeth line (not pictured).
The energy of London is infectious and too much to cram into one day. I can’t wait to return.
If my nervous system hadn’t been thoroughly disrupted by my smartphone, this would have been me sleeping peacefully on the last train home as we entered Glasgow Central station.
Read about Patrick Keiller’s London here:
