The Room of Enlightenment

The day ended, both literally and figuratively, with a bang.

As the 5^th of November approaches, anxious Britons have begun practicing with small-scale fireworks displays. You know...the 5^th of November?? Guy Fawkes? “Remember, remember the 5^th of November,”? Anyone? Blowing up the Houses of Parliament? Anyone at all? No? No worries. It's like the British equivalent to the 4^th of July. Except not really at all because the 4^th of July is purely ANTI-British. Either way, I'm lucky enough to be able to partake in hooligan tomfoolery, simply by proxy. Tons of kids live in this neighborhood and just as I was returning home from a long day I was startled clear out of my wits by a lighted, sparkling firework shooting straight over my head. If I'd been a mere 20 feet taller those boys would've taken my head off! Thankfully, it hit someone's car tire and wheel well instead.

How appropriate, then, that I should conclude my day with a figurative bang as well; MEANING, people, that I visited The Room of Enlightenment.

As much as it sounds like I went on some mythological quest for Ultimate Knowing and found it!, I, in fact, did not. However, it was by complete chance that I ended up outside The Room of Enlightenment. I was on a type of quest, I guess you could say, after I visited Flat White. I wanted to do SOMETHING today other than go into Central, turn around and come home. So, as usual, my solution is to walk the streets until something interesting finds ME. And, as usual, it did. 

Astrological orbit spinny thinger

Frankly, I'm beginning to think I'm in a city where essentially anything can happen. After all, I've found The Museum of Everything AND The Room of Enlightenment, all in one week.

Bust of Hercules

The Room of Enlightenment

Jokes aside, the truth is that The Room of Enlightenment is inside The British Museum, which I stumbled into while expanding my territory east of Covent Garden which is directly east of Soho. “The origins of the British Museum lie in the will of the physician, naturalist and collector, Sir Hans Sloane (1660–1753). Over his lifetime, Sloane collected more than 71,000 objects which he wanted to be preserved intact after his death. So he bequeathed the whole collection to King George II for the nation in return for a payment of £20,000 to his heirs... The founding collections largely consisted of books, manuscripts and natural specimens with some antiquities (including coins and medals, prints and drawings).”

Main atrium, galleries branch off the sides.

Fun Facts:

1. With the exception of two World Wars, the Museum has remained open ever since, gradually increasing its opening hours and moving from an attendance of 5,000 per year to today's 6 million. 

2. In the early part of the nineteenth century there were a number of high profile acquisitions including the Rosetta Stone (1802). Which I made sure to see!!!

There it is. The REAL Rosetta Stone, inches from my face!

3. To make more room for the increasing collections held by the Museum, the natural history collections were moved to a new building in South Kensington in the 1880s. This became the Natural History Museum.

4. The Museum was involved in much excavation abroad. Its Assyrian collections formed the basis for the understanding of cuneiform (an ancient Middle Eastern script). 

 

5. The Museum celebrated its 250th anniversary in 2003 with the restoration of the King's Library, the Museum's oldest room and the launch of a new permanent exhibition Enlightenment: Discovering the world in the eighteenth century.

A REAL mummified scull in a bell jar. No big deal.

“The Enlightenment was an age of reason and learning that flourished across Europe and America from about 1680 to 1820. This rich and diverse permanent exhibition uses thousands of objects to demonstrate how people in Britain understood their world during this period. It is housed in the King’s Library, the former home of the library of King George III.”

It reminded me of Dumbledor's office. Ok, who HASN'T seen HP?

The displays provide an introduction to the Museum and its collections, showing how our understanding of the world of nature and human achievement has changed over time.

The Enlightenment Gallery is divided into seven sections that explore the seven major new disciplines of the age: Religion and ritual, Trade and discovery, the birth of archeology, Art history, Classification, the decipherment of ancient scripts and Natural history.

Ancient coins and manuscripts alllllll over the place.

I think I spent an hour in this room alone, photographing and circling the perimeter at least 3 times. I wanted to stay longer but I figured security might think I was planning a heist. In fact, I spent so long in this room I hadn't the energy to explore the rest of the museum thoroughly, at all. Again, I’ll need to revisit. Even in my limited viewing of it though I give this place a solid 5-star rating.

The Nationall POROTRAIT Gallery (Definitely NOT to be Confused with the National Gallery); AND How to Ride the Bus Successfully

My intention and plan for the day had been to visit the National Portrait Gallery and follow that with a quiet coffee in Soho at another of the independent coffee bars. But the NPG was, for me, a bit of a let down after having visited the National Gallery a week ago (which I have yet to write about, because I want to do it justice). The two are connected, joined within the same building, I believe, though you have to access each independently. The NPG had a single wing on the second floor that I liked, a collection of portraits of important men in English history, all done in the classical style of the 1800s. This collection spanned several rooms that bordered a long, wide hallway, interspersed with marble busts of other serious Englishmen. The rooms themselves were quite traditional, to match the dignified air of its residents, with polished wood floors and tall ceilings. Unfortunately, the rest of the building had been restored, at some point, and converted, in the process I suspect, to a flat, white, modern museum that, for me, was visually unappealing. I admit I didn't bother to explore the rest of the museum too thoroughly. I breezed right through because other than the one 1800s wing the rest on the lower levels were all modern interpretations of human portraiture, and photography of recent celebrities. To me, that was nothing unusual; it looked like spreads and glossies from fashion and other high-end magazines.

Not mt style. Sorry.

This portrait of Darwin was near the top of my 'favorites' list in the NPG, partly because I've seen it so often in school, printed in textbooks. Plus, it's a fantastic painting, of course.

A giant oil painting on canvas of the royal brothers. I LOVE them :-D The painting was well done, too; an accurate likeness, I'd say.

But to be fair, I might re-visit it...give the NPG a second chance some cold, rainy day when there's nothing more interesting to do. I feel like I probably missed some great art this time around. But I just wasn't feeling it today.

View out the front window on the second floor of the city bus.

Disappointed, I sincerely hoped Flat White (the coffee bar I'd selected) would make up for a wasted hour-long voyage by bus into Central. Bus rides can be a full adventure all on their own. And by adventure I mean it's about as much fun as having a root canal. The trick to making the ride as bearable as possible is to, first, take into consideration how far you're going. If it's just a quick jaunt up the road, well, you really just shouldn't bus it....you should walk, for chrissake. It won't take much more time and you wont have to spend the £2.20 to get there. But if you ignore what I have to say (it's ok, most people do) and choose to ride the bus three blocks, anyway, be smart about it and stand near the back door; don't sit down. You'll have the ability to move about during the commute and avoid having to get up and down and play musical chairs. You'll also be able to avoid the creepers who will stare you down, the small children who wipe snot on the seats, and the crotchety old men who talk to themselves. And NEVER, EVER sit on the very back seat of the bus because it vibrates to no end and you'll get sick as a dog and leave the bus with a splitting headache and, most likely, a fractured vertebra.

At the origination point; see, NO PEOPLE! The perfect ride!

However, if you're like me and you, wisely, only take the bus for serious jaunts across town (probably because your local tube station is closed for repairs and maintenance work), definitely, definitely sit up top on the second level. Yes, all the long-journey buses are double-deckers so this will always be an option. Luckily, there are trends on the bus. The weird people and the ones who smell bad all stay down below. I could go into specifics of why this happens but I'd end up sounding like a complete jerk. So just take my word for it.

Also, buses have very specific start and stop points. The nearer the bus is to it's originating point the more likely you are to get a seat, and a good one, before anyone else gets on. If you're REALLY lucky, you can snag the very front seat and look out the giant front window....without having the distraction of other people in front of you.

You'll look down on the single-level buses...and probably laugh to yourself

Another good trick, for both bus and tube riding, is to wear your headphones and listen to calming music, whatever that means for you....otherwise you'll start to go insane. Like, seriously. There's too much chaos and too many idiots; you need to tune them out. Pair your headphones with sunglasses and suddenly you're shut off in your own little traveling world. You don't have to hear all the whining children, the cell phone gabbers, and the foreigners who talk extra loud in some other cryptic language. Nope, you've got you're soothing playlist to fill your ears instead. Since I've arrived I've created hours and hours of new, relaxed playlists for this very purpose.

A clear view from the front window. Just ignore the weaving traffic; it's too scary to watch. Trust in your bus driver. They can maneuver like there's no tomorrow.

Keep an eye out for useful ads on the bus, as well.

A side note: you can always tell who lives and works in London this way. All the locals wear headphones on the public transport systems. They know their route like back of their hand so they don't need to listen to the loudspeaker instructions at tube stations (nor do they need to stop to read the maps). They don't need to pay attention to which stop the bus is approaching because they know the city by heart, already. Locals can tune out the rest of the bustling city...because after a while the constant movement becomes less of a thrill and more of an inconvenience.

It really doesn't take long to memorize the order of tube stops, which lines go where, how to connect most effectively from bus to tube to train, and the fastest, cheapest ways to get to your destination. I've learned it all in just over a month. Granted, I've been to London before and spent a few weeks using the Underground in the past...but that hardly counts.

Anyway, back to the real meat of this story ;)

I think I spent the same amount of time I had browsing the portraits at the NPG as I did looking for Flat White, the coffee bar I'd planned to visit after my museum expedition. Now, either Google Maps is way off or those streets in Soho are just so twisted I can't find anyplace specific without circling around the blocks seven times like a madman. And there are LOTS of potential blocks to circle. The trick is always knowing which way is North (or S, E, or W...take your pick), which I always do. I never get lost, not here or anywhere. So while I did have to back track once or twice I always knew where I was, generally speaking.

And here I thought I was getting so familiar with Soho. But hey....I'll give myself the benefit of the doubt this time because Flat White IS quite hidden, unspottable until you're practically inside the doors. It's on a non-drivable street just a few blocks North of the NPG and, currently, the buildings on this street are under construction/are being renovated, or something. So the scaffolding and the cones kind of hid Flat White. Also, though I looked up the street view as well, I didn't recognize the tiny black awning amongst the street vendors, who were nearly blocking the entrance anyway. Though the streets of Soho are less busy during the week, with only the local artsy-fartsy type meandering about, a businessman or two spattered in the mix here and there, this street was quite loud, due to the construction.

I ducked in to Flat White and thankfully it turned out to be a tiny haven from the busy street. I guess I've said that about most of the cafes and coffee houses I've visited but it's still just as true. You go into these tiny places and they're just so cozy, it makes you want to curl up with a blanket and a book in a dark corner and just hide away for a day or two.

So what else would I order other than a flat white if I was AT Flat White?

Nothing else, that's what. As pretentious as their website sounded, the staff there was very nice and very smiley. I chose to sit at one of the very back tables in the single, long room, away from the doors and the noise in the street. A wise choice, if I may say so, because it also afforded me the comfort of peace, distanced from the constant hubbub at the register (or till, as the Brits call them).

Granted, this photo makes it appear to have a white interior. You know what? Forget it.

The interior of Flat White is, ironically enough, all black. Seats, tables, walls, and wall art – which were all pictures of cameras....just FYI, I guess. As if they were trying to melt right into the black seats, everyone seated was dressed in all black and blended right in to their surroundings. Well, for that reason and also because everyone in Soho is unnaturally skinny; you look at them sideways and they disappear. I always feel unnaturally fat and round visiting that part of town, mingling with both female and male waifs, looking like they just floated in riding on a cool breeze. I think their layers of black leather coats, wool sweaters, and heeled black boots weight more than they do.

Like this supermodel, Freja Beha, spotted shopping in Soho.

 

No, I didn't see Kate today. But she IS one of those beautiful, albeit skinny shoppers in London.

 

I'd go back if I was with someone, to people watch and chat, but if we're making comparisons I prefer Sacred, so far. Just a better vibe, for me, I think. Flat White, since its so hidden, was almost cliquey. Most people in there seemed to know each other. I, as usual, was the odd one out. At least I'd worn all black, too ;)

The Museum of Everything

Selfridges department store is an American brainchild. Yes, the Best Deparment Store in the World title (2010) was given to the Oxford Street, London retail giant that began with an idea in the mind of Gordon Selfridge, the Wisconsin-born son of a small-time storekeeper, who transformed shopping into entertainment.

For your Halloween Party, REAL scorpions in mini vodka bottles

Part of their Halloween Clothing Exhibit; dead celebrity mannequins!

The store on Oxford St

Little did I know but Selfridges is, for a limited time, home to one of the world's most controversial art exhibits. The Museum of Everything inside Selfridges department store Britain’s only museum dedicated to art by the untrained, unintentional and unknown artists of our planet. Since 2009 it has exhibited in London and across Europe and welcomed over 200,000 visitors. But these exhibits come and go. A total of 4 Exhibitions have passed through London and I was lucky enough to stumble upon this, the fourth, during a typical day of shopping and exploration in the city.

Zoomed in...

However, I had no idea what I was looking at until days later.

The corner display window, from the outside.

That same window display, but looking at it from inside the gift shop. Turns out this was actually an installation piece from one of the featured artists.

The day I found The Museum of Everything was the first day I'd ever been inside Selfridges. During my initial self-guided tour I visited several of the 5 or 6 floors displaying retail merchandise, including the gourmet food court. But I managed to miss or overlook the Museum. It wasn't until I passed by the storefront windows again later that same day, headed for the # 74 bus back to Putney station, that I noticed all the quirky art surrounded by “Everything” displays. I decided after passing dozens of these unusually decorated windows with these peculiar displays that I had to go back inside, first. I wanted to see what these spinning, inflating, moving nonsense...things....were all about. 

Here they all are....and they did all move about in some way......

 In Order:

E

V

E

R

Y

T

H

I

N

G

Thanks to James Barnett: http://makemeaoffer.blogspot.com/2011/08/museum-of-everything-exhibition-4.html

On the main floor of Selfridges was The Museum of Everything gift shop. I thought, or assumed, “This is it.” The Museum of Everything is literally just a weird gag to get people into the store to buy weird merchandise with the word “Everything” printed on, well, everything in black and red scripted writing. Mildly interesting but kind of a let down. A huge build-up of giant moving art pieces led to a really, really random little room within this gigantic store? Really?

Well, what they hadn't made clear is that there really IS a museum INSIDE the store. Which I only realized because I needed to find a bathroom before my long bus ride home, so I wandered downstairs. - - - - > Random tangent here: it's nearly impossible to find public restrooms in London. The only places that even have restrooms, usually, are restaurants, and of course those are only available for paying customers. Well, restaurants AND giant museums and department stores. Ok, just take my word for it; they're not easy to find.

The crayons of everything

Anyway, on my mini bathroom expedition I spotted a red and white striped tent-like hallway entrance jutting out into the store. At its opening were two dainty women in navy blazers looking very much like flight attendants, welcoming customers into the tent-covered tunnel. I recognized the same “Everything” label and the red and black script-writing theme, so obviously this linked to the store room upstairs, somehow. Not understanding what this was all about AT ALL, I stood close by while Flight Attendant #1 described that THIS was The Museum of Everything. And it was a FREE exhibit. And that was about it. That's all she said. But “FREE” was all I needed to hear. That's good enough for me. So I went in behind the customers who'd spoken to Flight Attendant #1 while Flight Attendant #2 handed me an ultra-long flier, which I didn't read but pocketed as a souvenir.

One of the Art pieces, duplicated and for sale

Now, normally I do read all available printed literature within an art exhibit to fully appreciate what's on display, particularly in unusual, contemporary, confusing art exhibits. But for some reason I didn't this time. Maybe I was eager to get home, subconsciously. Perhaps I was feeling lazy after 5 hours of walking around one of the busiest cities in the world. It hardly matters. I realize in hindsight it was a mistake to ignore the exhibit's explanations, and I'll explain why shortly. Just be patient.

My first reaction was surprise. Which gave way to mild anger and frustration. And then apathy. And then I left.

The first room inside the museum.

I was surprised because there were dozens of little, connected rooms seemingly hidden in this giant store. And each of these rooms was plastered with art, clearly original creations, mostly paintings and marker drawings, most very colorfully done. Prominent “No Photography” signs were plastered everywhere and cameras and curators were strategically placed to ensure there was, indeed, NO photos being taken. A whopping £1,000 fine was attached to the crime so I wasn't at all photographically tempted for that reason. But also because it looked like one giant display of a child's work. I kept thinking I might see something more indicative of adult-made art but none stood out as such. I was confused.

I continued to wander. None of the labels next to these pictures revealed any helpful information other than the name of the artist and their chosen medium, followed by the country in which it was made. In the center of one room two park benches were placed back to back. Resting on one was a laminated, ring-bound booklet (also printed in the black and red script I was so familiar with at this point) which I glanced at from a hovering, standing position. It appeared to be an interview. I read a few lines. The person being interviewed was the “headmaster” at an art institute in Japan, it seemed, but it was no ordinary art institute. No, this was an art institute, apparently that didn't teach art; more of a long-term artists retreat where attendees could create art....or not. Ok, big deal, I thought. So some bored adults pretend to be artists for a while? And then they exhibit it in London? In the most popular shopping center in the city? 

Isao Hayashiguchi, Japan

My anger rose; I shouldn't have given up my art degree so quickly, I thought, ironically. All I needed to do was go to Japan, apparently, and pay enough to get into this art institute/retreat and then I would've been hooked up with my own art gallery in London! Holy.....man, did I miss out! And these aren't even GOOD, I thought. Frustration.

Two examples of art from the exhibit.

As it happens after I visit modern art exhibits, my irritation with what some people popularize and label “good art” or “creativity” gives way to apathy. It's too much effort to care about people's perceptions and poorly made decisions. So I left The Museum of Everything.....disillusioned, it turns out.

Marco Schmitt, Germany

It wasn't until days later that I realized I had witnessed one of the more controversial displays of art in London. Yes, this is a collection from artists across the globe, all untrained, self-taught, and self-guided. These artists are, however, all have developmental and learning disabilities and created their art in progressive art workshops. The founder of the exhibit, James Brett, has always taken a democratic approach to art. “There was one [studio-workshop] in Japan that was just one room run by a woman whose son has Down’ Syndrome. He was very creative and one day one of his mates came round to draw and paint. Then a few more came and now there’s a whole studio. It’s art, not therapy, even if it’s also therapeutic.” 

 

Miles Howard-Wilks, Australia

One of Brett's goals with this exhibit is to challenge people's perceptions of what is art, especially those people within the upper echelons of the art establishment. “I would not say they are bigoted, but they do reflect the segregation in society. I want this show to challenge the larger art institutions, not in an aggressive way, but ask them as the arbiters of taste, why they won’t show these works which really reflect why anyone does anything creative.” But it’s the fact these artists may not think of themselves as such which he is drawn to. “These days so much is about market and career. What these artists do often reflects a much purer creative gesture.”

Katsuhiro Terao, Japan

Sheltered within this tent-like space, the rawness of these creations contrasts starkly to the materialism of the shopoholic atmosphere just outside. Whether or not that was the intended effect, I can't say. All I know is that there is a definite distinction between 'inside' and 'outside' the tent. Part of the nature of the exhibit is to leave most of it up to interpretation by limiting what's explained by the staff and by the printed material. 

 

by Adam Hines, USA

None of the specifics are on the website, either. This was done intentionally so that people wouldn't bring preconceptions to the show, Brett reported. As for me, I've now dug around the web quite a bit and sifted through lots of info and reviews on The Museum of Everything in order to talk about it here with actual understanding. Personally, I love the cheeky little website:

My favorite part, actually, was the whistler's audio on the very first page. This will sound weird in this context, in association with this exhibit and all, but the whistler made me think of my dad who, if any of you know him, can whistle like a pro. He sounds just like the guy on the Everything site. Click the hyperlink above to listen.

Click HERE to read a teeny-weeny bio of the artists. Worth a quick glance!!

I recommend reading through the site a bit because its creator has quite a lively sense of humor and each subsequent page has its own sound effects that are all very bubbly and funnily quirky in their own way.

Plus you can visit the museum yourself, if you want. Just click the hyperlink and browse the 10 rooms of the gallery right there on your computer.

 And if you end up sticking around longer than you expect to, there are facilities attached to Room10.