A brief encounter, an unwelcome diversion, and a bit of a rewind

The last time I wrote a post, I fully intended to write several more in quick succession; I was off for a brief break in the Chilterns and London; I was enjoying myself; I saw some wonderful exhibitions- and then . . .

And then I got shingles and a frozen shoulder (adhesive capsulitis, to give it its proper name).The combination is a common complication, said my GP, after breast cancer surgery. However, the shoulder is not, as it turns out, frozen. My wise and highly experienced chiropractor who, in a previous career, worked in an oncology unit and at a breast care centre, explained that my shoulder joint had dropped and rolled forward. After breast cancer surgery, we tend to sleep on the opposite side from the site of surgery (assuming that we've had unilateral surgery) and continue to do so as long as we experence any discomfort, however slight or spasmodic. (And then, I suppose, it becomes a habit.)

So there we are: post-Massive Inconvenience shoulder compensation. The chiropractor held up a mirror so that I could see the difference between my two shoulders. I could. Still, a minor setback; the shingles are now gradually disappearing and I have (more) exercises to do and more manipulation to come next week. 

Right, having got that out of the way, I can now get back to the 'what I did on my holidays' post.

* * * * * 

So, I went up to London, didn't see The Queen, but did see this inspirational bronze sculpture:

Union (horse with two discs), by the prodigiously talented, Christopher Le Brun. Read more about sculpture and sculptor here.  It stands at the entrance to the Museum of London, which I was visiting to see one of its current exhibitions, London Street Photography, of which more in another post. 

Even though I studied art history (and English literature), these days I feel less inclined to spend time intellectualising exactly what it is that appeals to me about one particular work or another. One can be too cerebral about these things sometimes; now, I just want to be in the moment, experiencing my response, rather than analysing it. 

But back to Union. I found it quite mesmerising and, as sculpture can so often be, profoundly moving. If you have the opportunity to visit the Museum of London - a wonder in itself - do not miss the horse. 

Comments

[Maureen]

Sorry to hear about the extra inconveniences, D. I hope your recovery will be swift and complete.

The horse is fantastic. I look forward to hearing more about it and the other wonders that you saw very soon.
M

[materfamilias]

Yikes! Both shingles and frozen shoulders fill me with dread -- I hope your progress back to health is quick.
The more I see of London, of course, the more there is to see -- we haven't yet made it to this Museum and obviously must put it on the list.

We did some examples of (relatively) early London street photography in the Hoppe show at the Portrait Gallery -- I'd love to see more.

[Friend In New Zealand]

Can't wait to see horse and you. Hope things are moving towards more 16 than 60 in the shoulder department!

[Dancing Beastie]

So sorry to hear of your ongoing health troubles. Not fun. There's a pithy Scots (? and probably Yorkshire as well) expression, 'there's aye summat'. Except that I hope that all the 'summats' wear off in your case!

The horse is beautifully done. I do agree with you about not over-intellectualising one's response to art. Often it is so instinctive that it is impossible to enunciate without killing the moment, anyway. I suspect that this horse has infinitely more presence 'in the flesh' than in a small photo. After leaving school, I spent a summer working in rural Tuscany at an artists' village owned and run by the sculptor Fiore de Henriquez. Her massive, lumpy, semi-abstract bronze phoenix dominated the village, perched on the edge of a terrace above the olive groves, wings spread in imminent flight. Having never 'understood' abstract art before, to my surprise I fell for her phoenix utterly. As evening fell you could lean into its sun-warmed bronze embrace. I have seen pictures of it online but they tell you almost nothing: you had to meet it to understand it.

[60 Going On 16]

Thank you, M. I am getting there . . . and you must carve out some time i nLondon to see the horse for yourself.

Materfamilias: yes, do factor in the Museum of London next year. Too late for London Street Photography but there's bound to be something else that is just as enticing. I made it to the Hoppe on the penultimate day . . .

Well, dear FiNZ, I certainly hope that all be well by the time you arrive in July.

Dancing Beastie: it's the tactile nature of sculpture, isn't it, and its solidity? I remember visiting the Rodin Museum in Paris with my late husband in 1976. He loved it as much as I did but practically had to pin my arms to my sides to stop me stroking everything I saw. What a summer you must have had in Tuscany. There is nothing quite like sun-warmed bronze.