Streets of London : Dancing to the beat

This week has been mainly given over to genealogy, so we've been heavily into family history research and all things to do with births, deaths and marriages. Amazing, but some offices are still unwilling to send certificates as email attachments: which, in our case, means we have to visit once to fill out the appropriate requisition forms, then a second time to collect the found results, as our mailbox here is communal and anything left there is more likely to wind up in the trash than find its way to any rightful owner, so it is wise not to trust any snail mail delivery.

Still we found time for a few art galleries and street fairs in the week. The first was Courtland Gallery in town where we were treated to an art talk on Van Gogh's Self Portrait with a Bandaged Ear, which was so illuminating. We once went to an exhibition in France where we were given iPods loaded with enormous detail about each stop along the way. Such a brilliant way to learn: to have more than you need. You could drill down to more levels of extended detail for any item that really interested you, until you reached your saturation point. I would love that optional detail to be offered in art galleries, too.

Our talk highlighted how Van Gogh was heavily experimenting with colour at this time, particularly daubing complementary colours close to each other, to intensify the colours. He continued to vigorously demand of his suppliers the very best grinds for the best prices and many suppliers ground their pigments coarsely, especially for him to experiment. We were shown how he placed his complementary colours on even the tiniest features, like an eyelid, something I had never noticed before. Such clever, reasoned use of colour in this, one of his very late paintings, would not really have been possible unless he had still been thinking very clearly. As well, his analysis about his own work stayed so acute and so focussed, so it is good to know that Van Gogh's demons allowed him that clarity and capability about his passion.

Later in the week we visited the Saatchi Gallery, an amazing space in Sloane Square over many floors and many huge galleries, which were all, literally, chock full of people when we were there. Young folk in the main. Vibrantly interested in the many different works; hanging out around them arguing, discussing. I spent as much time watching them as I did looking at the works, as it is not every day you see such crowds trying to fit into an art gallery. The exhibitions seemed tailor made for them, too. Many galleries had to do with photography: the art of selfies, exploring why folk took so many images of themselves and these were such a hit. None of us had expected to have our interest so engaged by so much of it, and that became a real treat in and of itself. We became quite captivated by it. Other works often displayed subject matter in different and mind-bending ways.

We fitted in some fun street markets selling great food, and one our favourite shopping area of Fulham even had street entertainers. And a genuine Pearly Queen in her traditional East Ender costermonger garb.

The street market at Chelsea, just a suburb along, had an entirely different vibe. Here there were oysters on the half shell and champagne topped with strawberries served in long plastic flutes while sitting around chatting on the bare pavement of the sidewalk or the square, in your best gear. Not a problem, in lieu of any seats. In your pink sneakers decorated with pink pompoms, and that was just some of the guys. Others had gold shoes in rounded heels, uneven dangly ear rings and french cuffs that rolled out from three quarter length coat sleeves. All very trendy and on display, and fun. No wonder there are selfies. It was here in the 60's that Germaine Greer and Clive James hung out, haunting the cafes, bars and parks, talking, arguing, sharpening their skills. We see it still a'happening here today.