After a month of my anticipated silence on this platform, in the midst of suitcase shuffling, 23 hour flights, and rubbing sore limbs after moving about all day, I have returned with some souvenirs in photographic form.
Notorious for its rich culture and intricate architecture, London has always held a special place in my heart. Primarily aided by my 2011 obsession with film photographers based on the United Kingdom, I’ve always wanted to visit the dreary beaut that is London. Having finally recovered from my jet lag since landing about a week ago, I have begun the process of editing small portions of images I had captured over the course of my short few weeks abroad. Surprisingly, of the many photographs on my hard drive, these ones of Tate Modern are some of my favourite. Of course, the scenery is indescribably awe-inspiring and formidable, but there is something so spectacular about unassuming observers waltzing around an art gallery on a drizzly morning.
Having taken Visual Arts as a subject in high school, I’ve been in and out of art galleries more frequently than I have visited my friends’ houses (true story). But since 2014, when I started university, my admiring of any form of art became largely reduced to the double-tapping of Instagram posts and re-blogging of Tumblr images, or purchasing photographic essays (I recently ordered Margaret Zhang’s In the Youth of Our Fury); so to be able to closely gaze at paint strokes and dance around sculptures has been one of the highlights of this trip. Don’t worry, though. I have a lot more scenery-oriented content lined up. But for now, pardon me as I admire Jane Alexander’s piece once more.