London and Cambridge

The problem is, I always travel to attend meetings at their venues.  I never ask them to come to mine…

300 road miles, on the back of 10,000 by air, and I’m admitting to a friend that I’m feeling a bit grumbly at still living out of a suitcase.

My next week of meetings seems scattered all over England.  Worse, fall has definitely arrived, making for a cold wet week of driving.  The skies are low and the rains are falling everywhere I go, already.

But I know that Art can light the darkness if I take time to seek it out...

So, starting in London and tied to a late train by my railcard, I struck out walking to explore American expat Cy Twombly’s works at the Gagosian Galleries.  His paintings and photographs turned out to be a bit too abstract for my taste: they seemed careless and unfocussed, absent the minimalist romanticism that critics say that they found.

 

I much preferred taking street photographs as evening spread across the city.

    

Cambridge, today, was all breezy drizzle and glistening leaves.  My meetings and visits went well, but it was also nice to go out and enjoy the surrounding pastorals.  Vivid colour filled the garden centre’s and country roads around Fowlmere, lit the leaves in reflected sunrise at Wolfson, accenting the woodland’s contemplative quiet.