As I mentioned in the last post we were at Tower Bridge close to Heather’s birthday (and mine), and so we’d actually made a weekend of it. We’d had dinner in a restaurant the night before and been in a hotel for that early bridge start. So we had the rest of Saturday and Sunday to enjoy, and had decided to take in some culture.

Saturday Light Show

At The Tate

Having finished with the bridge and had lunch in The Minories we got the tube along the embankment to pass by St Paul’s and cross the Millennium Bridge to the Tate Modern. We weren’t there for a general visit (it’s not Heather’s favourite gallery—though we did have the chance to be fully disturbed by Mire Lee‘s Open Wound in the Turbine Hall) but to see something specific, an exhibition by Anthony McCall.

McCall’s work involves an immersive play of light (and shadow), beams forming structure through a fine mist, their three-dimensional forms subtly shifting around the viewer (there were also some preparatory sketches, and a less striking, if peculiar, film piece as an introduction). The four structured light pieces exhibited are engaging, and changing upon each viewing, a strange landscape to wander. Undoubtedly my favourite was Split Second Mirror but all were good.

By The Southbank

Finished with the Tate (after a browse of the shop of course), we paused in the Founder’s Arms before taking advantage of the night to take in some more < a href="https://www.southbankcentre.co.uk/whats-on/winter-light/">illuminated art around the Southbank Centre. It was a bit hit and miss (and some of it actually quite hard to find among the brutalist maze). Highlights though included Jakob Kvist’s layered Dichroic Sphere and the amusing school children designed lights gracing the windows of the Centre.

As night progressed and hunger set in we made our way back towards the hotel, settling into the local Wetherspoon where we could watch the emergency services dealing with some sort of incident at the adjacent Tower Gateway station before heading for bed.

Sunday Contemporary

Sunday morning found us catching the tube again, heading for one of London’s newest art spaces. Moco Museum is the third in a string of venues beginning in Amsterdam, before Barcelona, and now London. It’s aim is to bring modern and contemporary art to a wider audience. Certainly its London home comes with a sleek and shiny modernity that feels a bit more like stepping into an Apple store than a traditional art gallery.

One is immediately confronted by the sort of big hitting, well known names that offer a draw. A typical Jeff Koons balloon piece , a purple Venus forming an irreverent and giggle provoking (boobies!) welcome. It sets the scene. Nearby another Koons work, a neatly wrapped Easter Egg glints under the harsh white lighting, all sparkle but, perhaps, little soul.

Around the glitz of shiny things were scattered more big names. A Warhol, A Picasso, a circular array of dead butterflies arranged by Hirst.

Upstairs (via the slow and disturbingly shaky lift) things were less well known but still interesting, a series of side rooms offering larger pieces or themes. A flickering heart responded to our gestures, while next door offered a peaceful calm with a Japanese inspired garden. In the central space a illuminated polyhedron drew the eye into ever increasing depths, crystal like structures shifting with viewing angle.

There were less successful things too. A section on NFTs and AI, and some digital art. The mirrored room full of LEDs was fun though, shifting it’s way through the matrix as we stood inside.

The basement floor brought us back to the show pieces. A whole collection of Banksy works, familiar from dozens of news stories and images. Near the end of our tour a collection of “mixtapes” by Robbie Williams of all people. In between there was a ominously looming take on the Michelin Man by KAWS and a happy little emoji cloud.

We emerged eventually, each piece having been the sort of sparkle one gets form a diamond—sharp but ultimately fleeting. It’s all very glossy but there is a wonder if some of it is actually meaningful. But then, if it entertains (and we certainly enjoyed our visit) does it have to be?