There were photographs by other photographers as well whose names I don't recall, but Capas photographs were extraordinary. There was a quote on the wall from Capa: "If you're pictures aren't good enough, you aren't close enough." This was clearly the mantra by which Capa performed his profession. Many of his photos were right up in the faces of the soldiers as they were fighting, including his famous shot entitled "Loyalist Militiaman at the Moment of Death" of a soldier falling to the ground nearly the moment he was shot. There has been some controversy surrounding the photo as people have wondered if the shot was actually staged, but from seeing many of the rest of his photographs of the war, I can't say I'd be surprised if he did manage to capture the moment of death of a soldier. It is a haunting photograph, and it is truly incredible how close he was to the battles, the wounds, the death.
Unfortunately, as we had to be back at the Tate Modern by 4:30 p.m. at the latest, we had to rush slightly through the Capa exhibit and didn't quite get to see all his photographs. But when we emerged from the gallery, the clouds of earlier had cleared giving way to a clear blue sky accentuated by the gentle light of a setting sun. We walked back past St. Paul's and across the Millennium Bridge again, taking photographs all the while. The light hitting the Cathedral was absolutely stunning, which did nothing to cure me of my captivation by that immense building.
The Rothko exhibit was, to say the last, packed. I don't believe I had ever seen any Rothko paintings in person before, but I had studied Rothko second semester of freshman year in an Art History class. Our Professor, the much adored Professor Dorrill, had told us about the Houston Chapel in Houston, TX where eight of Rothko's paintings grace the interior of the octagonal chapel. Professor Dorrill told us that people would visit the chapel and sit amongst Rothko's paintings and weep inexplicably. I was hoping to experience the power of Rothko's work in the Tate Modern but, to be honest, it was difficult to feel anything with the noise and bustle of the crowds visiting the exhibit. I had trouble looking at the paintings one at a time due to their simplicity. I didn't know what to do with them. I felt they were much more powerful as an ensemble, but because of the crowds I couldn't sit and feel myself surrounded by them. I did enjoy the exhibit, it was quite beautiful and a privilege to get to see some of this prolific painter's work, but I found myself getting frustrated with all the people and the constant bustle. Frankly, I was disappointed. Not by the exhibit but by the limited experience I felt I had. I suppose I could have tried harder to feel enveloped by the work, but it was difficult and distracting to constantly have viewers walking in front of me and to be worrying about whether I was blocking anyone else's view.
The Rothko exhibit was, to say the last, packed. I don't believe I had ever seen any Rothko paintings in person before, but I had studied Rothko second semester of freshman year in an Art History class. Our Professor, the much adored Professor Dorrill, had told us about the Houston Chapel in Houston, TX where eight of Rothko's paintings grace the interior of the octagonal chapel. Professor Dorrill told us that people would visit the chapel and sit amongst Rothko's paintings and weep inexplicably. I was hoping to experience the power of Rothko's work in the Tate Modern but, to be honest, it was difficult to feel anything with the noise and bustle of the crowds visiting the exhibit. I had trouble looking at the paintings one at a time due to their simplicity. I didn't know what to do with them. I felt they were much more powerful as an ensemble, but because of the crowds I couldn't sit and feel myself surrounded by them. I did enjoy the exhibit, it was quite beautiful and a privilege to get to see some of this prolific painter's work, but I found myself getting frustrated with all the people and the constant bustle. Frankly, I was disappointed. Not by the exhibit but by the limited experience I felt I had. I suppose I could have tried harder to feel enveloped by the work, but it was difficult and distracting to constantly have viewers walking in front of me and to be worrying about whether I was blocking anyone else's view. There was, however, one painting which I liked the most: "Red on Maroon", painted in 1959. The colors played slight tricks on my eyes with the lighting and it appeared that they changed or faded from a lighter maroon to a darker shade at certain places. This effect wasn't all tricks, there are places on the painting where the maroon fades gently to a darker shade of the color. I found it very pleasing. It also may have been that there weren't that many people standing around it. Regardless, it was my favorite. Tom said some of the paintings reminded him of the gates of hell. They kind of reminded me of electricity sockets.
On the whole, it was a successful day. I was very happy to get to see both exhibits, despite my reservations about the Rothko exhibit. It was a good experience nonetheless. Tom and I took many pictures and it was, of course, good to get out of Norwich for a little while. And London never ceases to amaze me. Every fiber in me craves a city life that Norwich simply cannot supply.
Tomorrow, I must finish a project proposal for a big project due at the end of April for my Dickinson class, Humanities 310. Details about that when it gets underway, but I'm looking forward to putting it together.
Ah, I almost forgot! I saw the movie Milk last night (starring Sean Penn as Harvey Milk) with Emma. It's a fantastic film. It gave me a brief look at the fight for gay rights in San Francisco in the late 1970s. Sean Penn is a phenomenal actor. I recommend it.
That's all for now! Love to all those at home and abroad! Hope all is well in the many reaches of my small world...
-ZMG
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