It's Still Sunny in December

Before I begin, I'd like to make an unrelated speech. As some of you may have noticed (or not) I've had an anonymous reader leave comments on a few posts and while I love feedback these comments have been predominantly negative. But their pointed aim in my direction isn't what concerns me. Though no one enjoys criticism, of course, and even constructive criticism can be hard to hear and to accept the fact remains these responses are directed very specifically at my love of this city and my desire to stay here, and that concerns me. Having moved around so much I, for one, know how necessary it is to love where you are. It makes a huge difference in your quality of life and your day to day happiness. And having finally found the spot where I feel most at home I think it's something to celebrate, not condemn. I mean, have you seen much negative feedback in these posts about this city? For me, there's nothing bad TO say. In my opinion, too few people are happy with their life circumstance. So I ask: What need is there to lift and eliminate that feeling of success? Please, if my enthusiasm is wrong then more of you ought to come forward and enlighten me. Illuminate the true path(s) to happiness.

Secondly, suggesting it is unwise to continue to educate myself seems to me to be astoundingly flawed advice. In this instance, it was suggested my repayment options from school loans would be wildly out of control, and beyond the fact that this is downright untrue I would like to point out the number of PhD students that graduate every year. Further, not only can I guarantee that the majority of them are in some kind of debt, I can also guarantee they're smarter than most people “out there”, including those persons who suggest education, at any cost, is unwise. I hate making broad “in society” comments but today I'll make an exception: Where would we be as a society if there were no doctors or people who pursued higher education or who did research of any kind? If there was no one willing to push the boundaries of human knowledge and understanding progress would stagnate. It's as simple as that. So to anyone who thinks higher education is not worth it – whether that “it” be time or money or whatever else could fill the category – I would recommend keeping your reasons to yourself because no argument to that end will ever influence my mindset. And just for the sake of clarity, so that I don't have to navigate through any more negative commentary from anonymous readers with too much sand in their panties, I'll add that my proposal for a my PhD research project was accepted at my chosen school and I was told that (and I quote) “the application [to the school] is merely a formality” at this point.

Now that I've made my speech and ideally deterred additional, unwarranted comments from strangers who, by definition, don't know me from Adam and therefore have no reason to be meddling in my business as if they do, I'll continue with a post that resembles the others in its style. Ahem.

I forgot to add two places to the list I created yesterday:

Senkai. On Regent Street, overlooking the curve in the road and, at this time of year, a glittering lights display. We went for cocktails one chilly night, I was ill-prepared for the weather, as usual, and though I was freezing I have to say I looked pretty fabulous. But enough about me. Senkai is a restaurant and lounge, and since we were there only for drinks we only saw the lounge side. “Christopher Delalonde, MS, (Champagne Piper-Heidsieck UK Sommelier of the Year 2010) designed a comprehensive wine list, whilst the award-winning Ignite Group mixologists (remember Purl?) bring you an innovative, Asian inspired cocktail list amongst perfectly constructed classics.” Plenty of delicately blended, fruity drinks for me. I recommend the Parsnip Cup, Babicka vodka shaken with homemade parsnip purée, coconut and vanilla syrup, fresh lemon, hint of ginger, strained into an absinthe rinsed glass. Sounds really weird to have pureed root vegetables in a drink but it was excellent. Also, the big news is that it was recently visited by the British pop sensation Pixie Lot.

Galvin at Windows Bar. On the 28^th floor of the London Hilton on Park Lane in Mayfair, this bar offers an unforgettable view of the city, one you can't find anywhere else due to the lack of skyscrapers in London. Up above the city, so high that nothing blocks the view, you can pick out specific sites all across the cityscape. It's an experience limited to this one very specific spot in this gigantic city.

Now today, I did a bit more exploring on my own. I went a bit deeper into The Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea and was delighted to find streets even more lovely than those I've already seen and walked down. Anyone who says this city isn't absolutely gorgeous is insane. Just look at these photos if you don't believe me. These places ooze wealth.

But my intended destination was not the random side streets, although they're always a delightful perk. No, I was told I really ought to visit the Saachi Gallery near Sloane Square. Like all the museums, this one was also free to the public and featured modern art in 15 galleries. According to the website, “Many artists showing at The Saatchi Gallery are unknown when first exhibited, not only to the general public but also to the commercial art world. Many of these artists are subsequently offered shows by galleries and museums internationally. In this effect, the gallery also operates as a springboard for young artists to launch their careers.” Oddly enough, the one recurring thought I had as I walked from Gallery 1 all the way to number 15 was that I ought to have my art in there. It's really...just....so....much....better than....this stuff. I guess if I'm going to have a gallery showing I need to get off my fat butt and do some more art, then, right?

I've said it before, I do enjoy all art forms and I do get a kick out of this contemporary stuff but without those little note cards next to the art with at least a mini explanation to accompany the out-of-context blobs I feel quite lost. I prefer to know the artist's intentions because there is no way on God's green Earth that I can figure out what this is supposed to be/mean/represent/demonstrate:

The geek gets the girl.

Frankly, I have more fun photographing the art and the people with the confused looks on their faces, trying to puzzle out the art, themselves.

 

Lost beyond recovery

BUT! But, but but.....!!! In the basement (because all the best and most interesting things are in basements) there was the best room in all of London. YES, in this whole city, I found the single best room. The whole thing is like a giant optical illusion. When you walk through the door, the first thing you see is a ring of people leaning over a railing that extends only a small way into the room itself, in an arc. The majority of the room is actually inaccessible. So as you enter you naturally approach the railing. I should add that every room in the whole building is purely white, in case that wasn't clear from the above photos. The only color comes from the art. So in this basement room you notice, as you approach this railing, there is no art on the walls. The same with the ceiling. You look down and it appears as if there are screens, like movie screens, on the floor. You wait a moment for something to happen and nothing does. You look side to side and everyone to you left and right is looking down at the floor, still. You look down, too. You look harder. It appears as if maybe those aren't screens, maybe there's a net of this weird floor, like almost a nylon-leggings material stretched across the surface giving this dark grey-black wash covering. Then it hits you. You're looking into a liquid; a bottomless black lake. You notice the smell that's almost like gasoline, very pungent and reeking of chemicals and you're aware it's coming from the lake that fills this room. Not a ripple disturbs its surface. You imagine if something were to drop in it would sink without any noticeable disturbance, swallowing anything in one gulp. The surface is so smooth and reflective it's like a black mirror image of the ceiling above it. With every passing moment the urge to drop something into the lake becomes stronger. You wonder if you were to stick your hand in it if would be as cold and oily on your skin as it looks. And despite the fact the room is not really all that big, the perception of space is convoluted by the mirroring in the surface and your inability to see below the surface lends to the notion of a bottomless well. It's a very mysterious room, definitely the kind of room belonging in a basement. Here are some photos (I'm SO glad it was allowed), completely unedited:

After my gaze into the black mirror lake (sounds like I looked right into my own soul) my day became pink and frilly and rather reminiscent of a precious cupcake. The Chelsea Teapot is delightfully charming and seemed to me to be the perfect place for tiny girls in pink dresses to have a birthday party. It was so girly, flowery, and downright adorable it was impossible not to feel brightened. A few moms were there in pairs with their young daughters in tow, drinking teas from delicate china tea sets and enjoying tall pink drinks with bendy straws, respectively. Sitting far in the back with a book I felt effectively distanced from the cold outside and in the 

brightness of the pastels in the room it 

felt much more like springtime, instead.