Posts from the ‘Photography’ Category

Dec 18

It’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas – Part II

Christmas isn’t just about the festive spirit outside of doors, although as I demonstrated yesterday, in London, the tangible celebration of Christmas evident all around certainly helps to get one in the mood. But it’s indoors, in the home, that the real heart of Christmas beats a unified rhythm with the yuletide spirit, and personally, I cannot get enough of the constant reinvention of my home in its Christmas guise, from the comforting glow of my Christmas trees at the break of a still dark winter’s morning, and the spirited twinkling dance of fairy lights to the jig of Christmas pop playing on the radio, to the reflective flicker of candlelight as the day draws to a close, and my home is lit exclusively by the staccato movement of my tree lights and the red warming glow of my candles lit in almost every room.

In fact so fervent is our love for the ambience given off within our Christmas-decked home that my partner and I have a moment, just before going to bed, when we play some choral carols or, even better, monastery chants, emulating a Christmas straight from medieval times, and with that soothing soundtrack, set about sitting, calmly in the subdued light of our Christmas trees, watching the lights and sparkle dance and flicker around the room. It’s almost epiphanaic to meditate amongst such warm Christmas tranquillity, and is almost certainly my favourite time of the day.

Now I’ve already shown you my Christmas decorations in two posts a few weeks back (links below), but this post is, I suppose, further reflections on a theme – my almost poetic interaction with the yuletide spirit manifesting all around me both in words and pictures. Moving to the latter, posted here are some further glimpses of my Christmas expression around my home. I start with my Scandinavian forest, an oasis of calm, an installation of little small Christmas trees intermingled with cute forest animals – I’ve noticed that this simple, white Scandinavian style has really hit it off in London this year with all its woods, and whites and an emphasis on nature. I love nothing more than lighting these beautiful sparkling silver tealights amidst my forest, creating in so doing something akin to a magical Narnia-like wonderland which comes alive under the candles’ gentle flickering.

Talking of candles, one of my favourite parts of Christmas has to be decorating the table, whether it be for the big event on Christmas day, or for a small meal in the run up to the 25th. I usually incorporate as much foliage as I can, including oranges and pine trees, red berries and fir cones, and then set amongst the foliage many candles of different shapes and sizes. Then I like to leave the candles to burn gradually down, lighting up the foliage around them with a warming winter glow.

Moving on to more of my decorations, here is another homage to the Scandinavian Christmas, where the fusion of a glitter covered tree hung with delicate glass baubles appears to emulate droplets of ice hanging in a snow-covered forest.

I also love these photos of my Christmas lights out of focus. One of the great advantages, to my mind, of being dreadfully short sighted (and there aren’t many) is that if you look at a tree having taken off your glasses, the lights blur and intermingle with the sparkle from the nearby tinsel and glittery baubles – it creates a blur of light which is sensational to the eyes, and these photos almost replicate the effect.

Finally, I close my post with a selection of miscellaneous shots, from the lights upon the fireplace of my family home where I will be spending Christmas this year, to the oversized paperchains which my partner, mother and I were making over the weekend (they’re uber fashionable this year, we hear). Check out too the understated extravagance of my little diamond-covered Eiffel towers (fake diamonds, sadly). London may arguably be the capital of Christmas, but there’s always room for a little Parisian glamour to compliment the excesses of the festive season.

Righto, I’m off to share a moment with my Christmas trees now… until the next time, hope you’re enjoying the run up to Christmas!

It’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas – Part I (daily-norm.com)
My Christmas Wonderland, Part I (daily-norm.com)
My Christmas Wonderland, Part II (daily-norm.com)

Dec 17

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It’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas – Part I

It’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas in London, which, as cities go, surely springs to mind as one of the most festive locations in which to spend the Christmas season. It is, after all, the city that brought us A Christmas Carol, and whose foggy streets, holly-trimmed Georgian town houses and fairy-light filled shopping streets fill Christmas cards across the globe, images which are synonymous with the festive season everywhere.

True, we don’t have many cinnamon-scented, mulled-wine quenched Christmas markets, gingerbread houses or ski slopes, and when we get snow, it does generally turn to grey mush within the hour, but what we do have is a series of super-festive ice rinks set amongst backdrops of picture-perfect architectural grandeur, huge trees filling our squares and besides our most important buildings, an almost guaranteed cold wintery climate, and shopping streets crammed full of shoppers from all over the world. It’s the very image of a contemporary Christmas.

For we Londoners, 2012 has been an incredible year, for obvious reasons, but nothing quite tops the icing on the cake than a great festive season. I’m a working man, and my blog, as with my art, takes second place, sadly, in my day to day activities, and therefore I have been unable to go skating, to traipse around the shops for hours on end, nor to meander around the allegedly popular winter wonderland in Hyde Park. However, with what hours I have spared, I have noticed a tangible sparkle of festive feeling laying upon every facet of London like a sprinkle of freshly laid snow. And I’m loving it. So, I decided to share a few of my haphazardly shot photos and Christmassy experiences so that you too can share in the festive spirit which is cursing through the city.

The lights on Regent Street

In its shopping, London is practically unrivalled, and for Christmas splendour, the shopping districts and large department stores know how to lay on a show. The other night I headed to Covent Garden market which, despite being almost paralysed by cold, sparkled like a finely polished diamond. Inside the giant market, huge oversized baubles hang intermittently between giant disco balls and the permanent elegant iron lighting. Meanwhile, in the market square is a huge tree in an even bigger pot, while besides it, mulled wine stalls and hoards of shoppers help to make this one of the most festive areas of London.

Covent Garden market

Covent Garden’s tree

As for me, well I met my dear friend Celia for dinner not far from the market – we headed to the Green Man and French Horn in St Martins Lane – an intimate french affair in the setting of an old pub, with low cosy lighting and some pretty hearty food – I had a feather-blade beef which almost melted away on my tongue when washed down with its rich wine sauce and our accompanying bottle of vin.

Talking of food, a few days before, my friends Cassandra, Jeremy and I headed off to trendy Islington in the North of the city, again an area of London giving boast to some excellent shopping, as well as the slightly more niche antiques and interiors market. However, it wasn’t our homes we went to indulge – rather, we were headed for Feast, a large undercover Christmas food festival, set within the very ramshackled surroundings of the old post office sorting offices, which made for quite the industrial contrast with the very popular festive spectacle below, as stalls from many a local restaurant offered a rich variety of culinary oblation, from glorious cupcakes (pictured), spicy asian cuisine, seared thai beef and mexican enchilladas, to gourmet burgers, Spanish chorizo sandwiches and fluffy pork buns. As for us, well, apart from and perhaps instead of the aforesaid, we managed to gorge more upon the liquid libations provided, from mulled wine, to mulled cider, to mulled wine again. Nothing makes one merry and festive quicker, particularly at 1 in the afternoon.

Back to the shops, and none can doubt the breadth and variety of Christmas shopping on offer in this great city, not to mention the decorative supremacy of the city’s most established shops. In Selfridges, one of my favourite department stores, the 5-floor high galleries are hung with huge dinging bells, which move up and down all day long, bonging a gentle, almost hallucinogenic Christmas tune. In both Harrods and Liberty, Christmas decorations fill a generous proportion of the shop floor space, and queues for the latest quirky bauble wind around the stores. However, for the best decorations, Fortnum and Mason, my favourite of all London shops, does simply the best in my view. Pictured are some of the white decorations they had this year, but just look at their lavish tree and old fashioned staircase. What I would give to import this entire set up into my sadly staircase-less flat! Meanwhile, with the decorations bought and wrapped, head around the corner to Regent street, where a lightshow worthy of the 3 Kings themselves awaits, strung across the busy shopping streets below.

Selfridges bells

and Fortnums decorations

No overview of London’s Christmas would be complete without a quick mention of those wonderful ice rinks. My favourite has to be the rink set within the glorious confines of Somerset House on the banks of the Thames. With flame torches flickering around the blue glowing ice and the imposing facades of the Somerset House quadrant standing majestically all around, this has to be the picture perfect Christmas scene. It’s so good in fact that when studying at King’s College London next door some 10 years ago, I painted my very own homage to the ice rink (below). See also the rink outside the spectacular gothic palace that houses the Natural History Museum in South Kensington. This again creates a remarkable backdrop to an intrinsically festive scene.

Ice Skating at Somerset House (acrylic on canvas, 2002 © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown)

But while being out in the frosty busy streets of London is all very well, at the end of it all, there’s nothing quite like home. This very evening I have just finished gorging upon wooden platters loaded with fresh cheeses, festive chutneys, smoked salmon and ham, while with friends round for the evening, we toasted christmas with champagne in one hand and mulled wine in the other. For Christmas in the city is the jolliest place to be, but share it with friends and loved ones, and Christmas will truly have come home.

Tomorrow, as if you haven’t had enough already, I just have to share more photos of my Christmas decorations, candles, installations and more. See you then.

Nov 22

7 Comments

Lisbon – The Photos: Part II

It’s time for the second raft of my photographic tour of lisbon, a tiny digitalised image captured in time, but helping me to immortalise colourful, beautiful Lisbon in my memories for life. From graffiti galore and trams aplenty, there’s chipped ceramics and cast iron door knockers; beautiful pink bourganvilla casting long shadows across white-washed walls, and triumphal statues standing still and staring boldly across the city. In Lisbon I captured ancient religious icons inspiring solemnity and awe, and the vivid feathers of a peacock, nature’s great gift to us all. There’s wavy paving patterns, dilapidated old doors, and the chestnut seller filling the street with great billowing festive smoke; there’s stone steps in the sunlight, tram wires criss-crossing the sky and elegant fountains glittering in the sun.

This is Lisbon, captured on my camera.

All photographs and content © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm, 2001-2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of the material, whether written work, photography or artwork, included within The Daily Norm without express and written permission from The Daily Norm’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Lisbon – Day One: Decadence and Decay (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Two: The Ages of the Sea (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Three: The Prince of Belém (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Four: Alfama the Survivor (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Five: Bye Bye via the Baixa (daily-norm.com)

Nov 21

4 Comments

Lisbon – The Photos: Part I

It already feels so far away, our time in Lisbon. The realities of daily London life, the rush hour on the tube, the cold fronts and the grubby newspapers, the traffic jams and the lack of sun, all play their part in driving a wedge deeper between today and our holiday in the vivacious, exciting and at all times colourful Portuguese capital. Luckily, with a wade of 1200 photographs constantly on slideshow in my flat, I can never truly feel the true isolatory chill of winter knocking at my door, so long as the warm hues of my Lisbon photographs pour life back into my home.

After some 6 posts, you’d think I’d have run out of photographs, but there are many many more I could share. I therefore plan to publish what is really just a handful of some of my favourite shots across two photography posts devoted to Lisbon. These photos don’t really need captions or much introduction. They are, of themselves, a group of varied snapshots of Lisbon, its architecture, its colours, its people, and its more unique facets; a cascade of quick glimpses into the life and the look of an incomparable, soulful and visually titillating city. From the smallest of details, like the tile-lined step of a little town house, to the vast awe-inspiring views over the Tagus river, this is Lisbon, captured on my camera.

Lisbon – Day One: Decadence and Decay (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Two: The Ages of the Sea (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Three: The Prince of Belém (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Four: Alfama the Survivor (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Five: Bye Bye via the Baixa (daily-norm.com)

Nov 19

9 Comments

Lisbon – Day Five: Bye Bye via the Baixa

Four full days in Lisbon was, it turned out, a convenient little break in which to comfortably and conveniently explore the best of the city’s four main regions: the hill of Bairro Alto, the hill of Alfama, out to Belém and back to the large avenidas of the Baixa, splaying upwards from the Tagus and outwards North of the city in a valley between the two hills. Although this was officially our fifth day in the city, the first, once we had arrived, was more of an evening of orientation. Today, with our suitcases packed, and the Lx Boutique Hotel left behind, the bulk of the day reminded available for discovery, with an evening flight giving us time for one last Lisbon hurrah. It was to the Baixa we headed, perhaps mercifully so, as after four previous days of trekking up what are, at times, the steep streets of Lisbon, the Baxia provided plenty of spacious, flat boulevards and squares for us to explore with comparative ease.

Chestnut seller

The Baixa region is far more typical of a southern European city. Built in the aftermath of Lisbon’s deadly 1755 earthquake in a grid-like layout which allowed for wide sweeping avenues and grand open squares, the Baixa really shows off Lisbon to the full. This is where you find the opulent fountains, the monuments, the old palaces and the new shopping districts which are to be expected of a capital city. Here the buildings are largely Neo-Classical, grander and better preserved. The streets bustle not just with tourists but with the working masses of the city. And although the sun was shining hard, the many shops lining the grand boulevards were packed with Christmas goodies, while on the roadsides, chestnuts were being roasted pouring plumes of smoke into the air and spreading a distinctive warming smell of Christmas all around.

We began the day in the Praça do Municipio, and more particularly the City Hall, where an incredibly interesting, and free of charge photography exhibition examined Lisbon’s significant role during WW2. As a neutral country and on the edge of Europe, Lisbon became a place of escape from the toils of Europe. It handled the exile of significant numbers of escaping Jewish refugees, but was also a place of espionage, spies and political deals, as both Germany and England fought to keep the favour of Salizar and in particular ensure supplies of the natural minerals which, once mined, could prove significant to the production of weaponry during the war. But despite all of this, Lisbon retained some element of normality during a time of European strife. For those lucky enough to have escaped the rest of warring Europe, Lisbon was a place of relative tranquility, albeit laced with suspicion, full of secret police and suffering more and more from food shortages as the war went on.

Back in the modern world, and turning from the photos of black and white to the vivid blues of a Portuguese sky, the deep “royal” yellow of the old palace surrounding the impressive Praça do Comércio, and the reds and yellows of the old trams passing through the square, we headed to this former site of the Portuguese royal palace before it became administrative offices of the Republican government following Portugal’s 1910 revolution. Open on one end of the square to the glittering River Tagus beyond, we determined the square to be a perfect location for a coffee, sitting down to do just that while basking in the sun for as long as possible before our later departure to colder climes.

After coffee, we crossed under the impressive triumphal arch to the north of the square, up the Ruo Augusta and into the shopping streets and the great squares beyond. The decay and detrioration of much of Lisbon was not so obvious here, as grandeur dominated and scale took over.

In the Praça Dom Pedro IV, two huge working fountains made a marked contrast to the fountains further North in the city, left to go green with disuse. The square is flanked on one side by the eye-catching Neo-Manueline face of the Rossio Station, complete with two Moorish-style horse-shoe arches and, sadly, a Starbucks. To the North, another grand square, the Praça dos Restauradores boasts a grand obelisk, adorned with sculptures paying homage to those who gave their life during the War of Restoration, while to the East, the Praça da Figuera is home to hundreds of pigeons and the imposing statue of King João I. Here you can quite clearly see Lisbon in its heyday, the grand European capital which was saviour to so many during WW2. You can sense the splendour of the past and see history and grandeur oozing from every building facade and lamp post. And unlike many other European capitals, the squares of Lisbon benefit from the rolling topography of its surroundings, so that in every grand boulevard and Praça, a backdrop of the Alfama and the Castelo de São Jorge, or a straight vista to the sparkling Tagus, provides the visitor with a multi-layered feast for the eyes. A landscape rich in its historical and architectural diversity.

Both history and architecture collided to stunning effect in one of the last surprises of the trip. En route to the Rua de Santo Antão, famed for its fish restaurants, we passed through the Largo São Domingos, a little square sandwiched inbetween its grander neighbours, and, passing the fairly innocuous facade of São Domingo thought we may as well drop in. What we saw upon our entrance made me gasp out loud.

Unmentioned in my travel guide, and not at all obvious from the outside, the interior of this church made my heart miss a beat. Not because of the usual offerings of elaborate gilded beauty and over the top baroque decorations. Quite the opposite. Apparently (so I have learned subsequently), the church suffered a huge fire in 1954, with the result that its interior ornamentation, surface marbles, stone work – pretty much every embellishment was completely destroyed. Having never been renovated, but only the ceiling painted a terracotta orange, the church is utterly bare of all ornamentation, showing its raw and tender bruising and wounds with the dignity of a religious martyr; its statues now unrecognisable, its stone work covered in huge great cracks, holes and patches of damp and detritus. Where the sun streamed in through the southern windows and hit various aspects of the architectural damage, it looked like the church had been submerged for centuries under an ocean gloom, only recently recovered and showing the acid wounds of its salty submersion, or like the cobweb covered, partially decomposed wedding banquet of Dickens’ Miss Havisham. And this deeply inflicted damage was all the more obvious and painful because this church has not been left as ruins. Rather, as a fully used institution, the tidy pews and perfectly smooth ceiling mark a dramatic contrast to the wounds inflicted underneath. This was an unmissable experience, a moment of great epiphany and one which no visitor to Lisbon should miss.

So the day was proceeding fast, and all that really remained for us to do was to sit back, in the glaring autumn sunshine, and enjoy a perfect plate of squid and octapus and a few glasses of ice cold white wine, whiling away the remaining hours before the inevitable return journey began. Time to reflect on a grand tour through a compact but multifaceted city, from castles to rivers, and art museums to stunning churches; time to appreciate the wonderful Lx Boutique Hotel, the great food consumed, and the fantastic restaurants found to recommend and maybe return to one day; time to enjoy the heat of summer once more, before the start of a long frosty winter back in London.

Like the fall of autumn leaves on a windy November day, the scenes from that sun-drenched lunchtime are now dissipating away, as I sit here, returned to London, back in the darkness of a winter’s evening. Distracted by the work I must return to, the practicalities of ironing, and washing, and making myself food, my connection with my holiday grows weaker by the minute, as the warmth of the sun is forever shrouded in the weak light of November, and our shiny red cockerel is the sole remaining proximity to the spirited Portugal of our holiday’s brief acquaintance. But with this blog, my separation is tempered, my ties with Lisbon reforming as I reconnect through cyberspace and share my experiences with you all. Day five is over, but my memories have only just begun.

Still to come: Lisbon – the food, and many more photos. See you then.

Photographs and content © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm, 2001-2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of the material, whether written work, photography or artwork, included within The Daily Norm without express and written permission from The Daily Norm’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Lisbon – Day One: Decadence and Decay (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Two: The Ages of the Sea (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Three: The Prince of Belém (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Four: Alfama the Survivor (daily-norm.com)

Nov 18

8 Comments

Lisbon – Day Four: Alfama the Survivor

On 1 November 1755, the shape of Lisbon was changed forever. 20 churches collapsed, fires ravaged the city, a gigantic tsunami washed up on the shore causing widescale flooding, an estimated 15,000 Lisbon residents lost their lives and over half of the urban landscape was reduced to rubble. The cause was an earthquake so large that it is now recorded as one of the deadliest in history, an earthquake which was felt as far away as Italy but for poor Lisbon, the fabric of the city was literally raised to the ground.

The Alfama and the Castelo seen from below

Recovering from that destruction, the city was rebuilt, and the large swathes of grid-patterned streets which fill the centre of the city today are the work of the Marquez de Pombal and the major reconstruction of the capital. However to the East of the city is one noticeable exception. Up on its hill, above the low lying centre, the area of Alfama missed much of the destruction. Many of the buildings survived and the flooding never got this far. What results is a true slice of Lisbon history, an area which, as the name suggests has Moorish origins from the city’s early beginnings, and whose twisty compact streets and steep stairways retain the Moorish layout and the medieval construction of what was once the whole of Lisbon up on its commanding hill. The Alfama is less grand, for sure, than the wide boulevards and piazzas below, but utterly idyllic in its picturesque imperfection, its windy wobbly streets, its cracking facades and cobbled paving, its coloured houses and chipped ceramics, its flower pots, laundry hung streets and plant-packed balconies. In the Alfama one felt the true heart of Lisbon, a little dilapidated treasure trove of pictorial and historical delight. And that was exactly where we headed today.

The Alfama was a joy to walk around. We had no itinerary, no predetermined destination, other than to gradually climb the winding streets upwards until reaching the Castelo de São Jorge, the castle which crowns the top of the hill. On our way we passed Sé, Lisbon’s principal Cathedral – an impressive castle-like structure from the outside, although rather gloomy on the inside; we saw the Casa dos Bicos, the conspicuous property with diamond-shaped stones adorning its facade; we marveled at the stunning views over the Eastern Tagus from the Miradouro da Graça; and we dropped into little antique shops, tiny stores crammed with ceramic cockerels, port and postcards and little chapels branded with ancient blue and white painted tiles.

Diamond-shaped stone facade of the Casa dos Bicos

The Cathedral Sé

The blue and white tiled facade of Santa Luzia

View from the Miradouro da Graça

Eventually, as promised, we found our way to the Porta de São Jorge, the imposing castle gate which leads, not onto the main Castelo de São Jorge directly, but first into the ancient residential district of Santa Cruz, a tiny maze of little streets, strung with washing and adorned with pots and flowers, all of which is packed into the castle walls of this ancient citadel. We couldn’t resist exploring these streets, and although the labyrinthine quality meant that we managed to go round in circles on at least 3 occasions, we did manage to find an extremely charming little wine bar, Instinctus (Rua Santa Cruz do Castelo) where the equally charming owner treated us like guests in a family home, preparing traditional but beautifully presented, fresh and delicious bacalao (cod) and sardines, and recommending that all important Portuguese wine – a merlot grape grown in the south of the country. It rushed to our heads like a tidal wave of silken chocolate. It was delicious.

The Santa Cruz district may be small, but after lunch we managed to stumble into another cute cafe, where we indulged in the requisite coffee and a couple of pastel de natas. All this before we once again swayed along the cobbled streets and into the main complex of the castle.

The Castelo de São Jorge emanates directly from the Moorish era, captured in 1147 by the Christian King Afonso Henriquez who transformed the complex into the residence of the Portuguese Kings. The castle did not go completely unscathed in the 1755 earthquake, and many of the ramparts remained in ruins until 1938 when Salazar began a complete renovation. Rebuilding the “medieval” walls and adding gardens and the peacocks who wander around today, the result is a castle which looks both ruined and well-kept – it is an example, I think, of what they called “controlled-clutter”. Old wells, fallen pillars, large weathered stones and rusting old canons surrounded by a bounty of plant life, all set within grounds whose outer terrace boasts incredible views over central Lisbon, the Baixa, Bairro Alto and out towards Belém.

As the sun set over Lisbon and the skies gradually yellowed behind the silhouette of the 25 de Abril bridge, so too did our time in this great city start to draw to an end. Tomorrow we will leave, albeit after a further few hours of exploration. For now however it was time to leave the castle, whose ramparts were growing chilly in the increasing autumn winds and the fading peachy-hued sun, and attempt to make our way down the hill through the winding Moorish streets while we could still remember the way.

Back down in the Lx Boutique Hotel, we had a great dinner to prepare for – a tasting menu at the 100 Manieras, a restaurant whose exquisite cuisine deserves a post all of its own.

For now however…Boa-noite.

Lisbon – Day Two: The Ages of the Sea (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day Three: The Prince of Belém (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day One: Decadence and Decay (daily-norm.com)

Nov 17

13 Comments

Lisbon – Day Three: The Prince of Belém

West of central Lisbon, in an area separated on the tourist map by a large swathe of un-chartered city (at least by the travel guides – presumably the neighbourhood is deemed unattractive to tourists) is the area of Belém. It’s quite a hassle to get to. You need to take a tram (or a taxi which actually, so we found, doesn’t cost all that much more) which, sadly, is not one of the rickety old pre-war types, but a modern sleeker affair (well I say sleek by way of comparison, but in fact most were covered with graffiti, their seats falling apart at the seams and the polythene sponge falling out). The tram journey we embarked upon was not altogether successful. The tram was rammed like the sardines for which Portugal is so famous, but the journey didn’t take us far. We got almost as far as the Ponte 25 de Abril before the tram stopped, without reason, and we were all unceremoniously ejected from the tram. Not knowing an alternative way to travel, and being literally shooed away by the driver of the equally packed tram behind, we set out on foot. This took us under the mightly Ponte 25 de Abril which literally towered above the streets of this Lisbon suburb. In fact it looked as though the various concrete plinths holding up the bridge were planted in people’s gardens, as the huge red metal form soared right above an entire residential district. It made for quite a paradoxical sight.

Having walked past the bridge, and with Belém still some distance away, we were lucky enough to coincide with the arrival of another, much emptier tram as it approached a bus stop. We were away. And we even got a seat, albeit no longer cushioned by the long disintegrated polythene padding that once sat upon it.

In no time we had arrived at Belém. Situated at the mouth of the River Tagus, where the river opens out into the vast Atlantic Ocean and the end of continental Europe, the region is inextricably linked with Portugal’s golden age of travel and discovery. As a result, the area has sprung up with a surprising wealth of monuments, churches and gardens despite its distance from central Lisbon, and is consequently a must of the tourist trail. Amongst those many monuments is the more contemporary and yet no less striking Monument to the Discoveries (Padrão dos Descobrimentos). Standing prominently on the Belém waterfront, the immense angular monument was built in the 1960s to mark the 500th anniversary of the death of Henry the Navigator and features likenesses of many of Portugal’s great Discoverers, including Vasco de Gama and Pedro Alvares Cabral (the discoverer of Brazil). Having been commissioned by the Salazar regime, it’s not surprising that it is quite blatantly arrogant in its prominence and unapologetic historical propaganda, and it has something of a look of a communist monument about it. Still, there’s no denying its impact, nor the splendour of its location, overhanging the Tagus against a backdrop of the 25 de Abril bridge.

Bolstered by the good weather, and having gawped to our satisfaction at the Discoveries monument, we headed on a pleasant river-side stroll, stopping off at an Ibiza-esk all white chic waterfront bar for a requisite morning coffee and a touch of sun-inspired abandon. Next on the agenda though was the Torre de Belém, a little fortress emerging straight out of the sandy beach like a child’s sandcastle, but with all of the strength of the war machine and guardian of the city which was its design and purpose. For a fortress, the tower was surprisingly elegant in its intricate stone work and heavily adorned terrace, whose balustrades and battlements were of such varying shapes and sizes that they reminded me of the chimneyed rooftop of Gaudi’s Casa Mila in Barcelona.

Up a very steep and very narrow winding staircase, with regular stops as tourists attempted to squeeze past each other with unfortunate proximity (there was sadly no one-way system – these castles weren’t built for tourists, after all) we eventually made it to the top terrace. Ahh, up there with the sun on my face and the brisk ocean wind ruffling my hair, with a view across the Atlantic, sweeping down towards central Lisbon and the vibrant red suspension bridge beyond, I felt like the Prince of Belém, guardian of the city, King of the Castle.

But of course all dreams must come to an end. I was, after all, being butted in the back by the large cameras of the bustle of overzealous tourists nearby, each one leaning over the battlements attempting to capture the best view of Lisbon and the Monument of Discoveries in the foreground. Time to leave, and back along the river, where a luncheon at Portugalia, a traditional affair, ensued, but with a picture perfect view of the Monument and a face full of sun. One can’t moan.

Belém is like a tourist paradise. There’s so much to see and do, and with light fading fast, we did not repose unduly. For the soaring towers and the elaborately crafted Mosterio dos Jerónimos awaited, a vast monastery complex which also benefited from the riches brought back to Portugal during the Age of Discovery, and rather appropriately hosting the burial place of one of the greatest discoverers of them all, Vasco de Gama. The Nave and the Portal of the large adjoining church were undoubtedly stunning, but my favourite area was the sun-soaked tranquility of the stone-wrought cloisters, engraved with a multitude of carved creatures and plants, geometric patterns and soaring gothic arches. Also there was the cute little lion-shaped fountain (dried up, like many of Lisbon’s water features), heraldic animal of St Jerome.

Almost ready to drop, but with one place more to go. The Museu Colecção Berardo Arte Moderna e Contemporânea is another cruicial stop on Lisbon’s art trail, an impressive collection of art from the business mogul and collector José Manuel Rodrigues Berardo which boasts some 1000 works and provides a rich compendium of a century of modern and contemporary art including Picasso, Dali, Warhol, Francis Bacon, Henry Moore, Jeff Koons and, to my great pleasure, a huge swinging mobile by Calder. The gallery could easily compete with the almost unconquerable Tate Modern, not least because in guiding visitors through a chronologically curated ordering of modern art, it presented all visitors with a visually interactive education of the multifaceted changes which rocked the world of contemporary aesthetics.

Henry Moore

The Museum of Modern Art

Calder Mobile

Quite exhausted, we were in no mood for the tram. Leaving a sunset-softened Monument of Discoveries behind us, we rushed off along the riverfront in a taxi which cost us only 20 centimos more than the tram, and refreshed by the comparative convenience of the journey were much buoyed to find opposite our hotel a bar of utterly indulgent romantic boudoir-resembling beauty. Draped with lavish scarlet damask wallpaper, and crammed full with gilt-framed mirrors, chandeliers and art nouveau lighting of every size and variety, statuettes, an amplitude of armchairs, flickering candles and all species of paraphernalia straight out of the Versailles court, this bar (appropriate called the Pensão Amor, looked more like a Moulin Rouge brothel, but was so excessively indulgent that as I sat there drinking tea, and then (inevitably) port, I began to redesign my entire hallway in my head to emulate it.

The lavish darkness of the Love Pensão

Can things get any better than this? Well they did at dinner – a feast fit for the Prince of Belém himself, in the restaurant of celebrity chef Henrique Sa Pessoa – Alma. But let me lavish praise no further – that exquisite dinner needs a post all of its own. Until then… Let Lisbon sleep, and our feet recover in time for Day 4 of our own age of discoveries.

Lisbon – Day Two: The Ages of the Sea (daily-norm.com)
Lisbon – Day One: Decadence and Decay (daily-norm.com)

Nov 15

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Lisbon – Day One: Decadence and Decay

The time had come to escape the freezing London cold; the dark afternoons and the desolate faces; the post-winter desperation of the human races; coughing and sneezing spread between packed commuters on the tube; time to head south for the sun, for warmth, for good food. Swapping London for that other great European ‘L’, we abandoned the swift descent into winter and gathering approach to Christmas. We have come to the land of rich tawny-deep port wine, the ceramic cockerel and the vibrant yellow tram; where life is a little slower and architecture decadent and tired. We’ve come to Lisbon, the rolling, rambling hilly maze of streets which adjoins the grand Tagus river and sits at the heart and soul of Portugal as its capital.

As a regular to the Spanish side of the Iberian peninsular, there is something familiar about Portugal, which I now visit for the first time, but also something tangibly different. Wafts of garlic, of almonds and the thick smoke of strong cigarettes fills the air as it does in neighbouring Spain. However here there is something altogether more hardened, more real; you look into the faces of the Portuguese and you can read a thousand tales, of toil and struggle, of monotony and difficulty; you feast upon the pungent flavours of the food, noting the strong, crudity of the elements, the untempered brilliance of the colours, and the sharp contrasts of the flavours. In Lisbon, the Portuguese do not so much fiesta by night – rather, walking the streets of Lisbon at night, as we did shortly upon our arrival, we felt there was something close to menace in the air – something unsettling and almost unforgiving or discordant echoing off the cracked decaying buildings and shady streets.

Lisbon’s streets are littered with photographic inspiration…

I could not help but notice on our arrival a resilient attitude and a robust confidence, as though the country, which stands on the edge of Europe has hardened itself to the battering forces of the Atlantic ocean spread all along its Western coast. Portugal’s struggles are not just geographical however. The well-known financial woes of the country are tangible all around its capital. We were immediately struck by the huge number of empty properties right in the centre of town. Huge decadent palaces, abandoned to disrepair; once gloriously colourful tiles chipped at the corners or missing great sequences; elegant iron balconies left to rust, and plaster, paint and concrete cracking and falling apart; many of the buildings are covered with graffiti, and some have been left to the elements to such an extent that grasses and moses have started growing over the walls and in between great cracks growing deeper every day.

This is the Lisbon of today, a city of fading grandeur, whose geographical location and undulating topography provides a breathtaking backdrop to a European city which was once, clearly, a city of exceptional elegance and architectural glamour, but which in time has been left to slowly deteriorate and wither, a once pert fresh rose left to stagnate in the brown waters of a once crystal clear vase. But for all this, Lisbon has lost very little of its beauty. In its fading glory, it is a withering beauty, a tired duchess whose wrinkles grow deeper everyday, but whose innate elegance is lost on no one. The bigger the cracks, the more excited I became – for my camera, this decay is like a gold mine of sparkling inspiration, and Lisbon lets set to provide plenty of that.

Lisbon’s glamour is not all faded…

But for all the sadness, the financial misfortunes and the architectural deterioration, Lisbon is a city with a strong undercurrent of creativity and panache. We found this immediately in the guise of our hotel – the Lx Boutique Hotel, which exudes boutique sophistication from each of its photograph-covered, wallpaper lined walls. Our bedroom, with views over the Tagus, oozes Parisian chic, with oversized frames, velvet armchairs and wall stickers emulating contemporary baroque. Meanwhile our bathroom is a glass prism, stood, self-contained to one side of the room, complete with handy blinds set within the glass for the purposes of a little privacy. Meanwhile, conveniently located adjacent to the hotel is the Restaurante Confraria Lx where we headed for sushi and where, feasting upon a plate of some 34 sushi pieces, we ate sashimi so fresh that the fish almost melted away on our tongues and evaporated like a cloud.

The Lx Boutique Hotel

Our bathroom cube

The hotel’s reception

Day One in Lisbon is over, but already we have discovered the best of two worlds – decadence combined with contemporary style. Looks like Lisbon has vintage chic done to a tee.

More tomorrow! But in the meantime, here are my photos of the deterioration visible on many of Lisbon’s streets, from graffitied walls and filled in windows of empty houses, to marble monuments left to turn a slimy shade of green – yet through it all there is beauty and character – the great contradiction of decadence and decay.

Nov 7

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York’s Stained Glass Sensation

My love affair with Yorkshire stained glass started in St Helen and the Holy Cross in the little Yorkshire town of Sheriff Hutton. I was attending the wedding of my dear friend Celia and her husband to be, Tarquin. Asides from being dazzled by the highly unsurprising beauty of the bride, and the elegance of a church bursting with autumnal flowers, berries and warming candles, I was mesmerised by the occasional burst of multi-colour flooding into the little stone church through its wonderfully intricate stained glass windows. Depicting biblical tales with exquisite attention to detail, I stared in wonderment at this unexpected artistic gem set within the ancient walls of very small local church.

The Sheriff Hutton windows

But this was only the start. The following day, drunk on the exuberance of the blissful wedding celebrations of the previous day, I stumbled into the cobbled idyllic streets of York’s medieval centre. The town is a chocolate-box paradise of Dickensian British charm – there were little teddybear shops in creaky crooked houses, oak-framed windows glittering with Halloween and Christmas paraphernalia, and the world famous Betty’s tearoom, with its delightfully old fashioned shop downstairs, manned by two perfectly polite, tie-wearing shop assistants, straight out of Victoriana. But wherever you go in this picturesque little town, the imposing gothic structure of the immense York Minster is never far away.

Having had our fill of Betty’s tea room, and of course a requisite Yorkshire pudding, we headed straight for the Minster. The Minster is an impressively sized and decorated Cathedral, and one of the largest of its kind in Europe. It is in fact the second largest Gothic cathedral in Northern Europe, with its present architecture dating back from 1230. Unsurprisingly, the cathedral is rich in its gothic decorations, its medieval carvings of creatures and kings, its shrines and chapel, its intricate choir stalls and equally sumptuous organ pipes. But above all things the Minster is famous for its exquisite stained glass, and of those there are many.

Upon entering the Minster, we initially gawped at the entrance fee – £9, not including a tour of the tower, although owing to the gloom which had descended upon the city, we thought it was probably safe to give that a miss. Having bought our tickets, and swallowed the cost, we began to understand why the admission price was so high. Not only is the cathedral brilliantly preserved, with interactive displays for the visitor and a host of curiosities and architectural splendor to view, the Minster is undergoing a major renovation of those very same windows for which it is so famed.

The “orb”

The windows, which are the largest examples of surviving medieval stained glass windows in the world, are a spectacular display of medieval craftsmanship. Some 2 million individually painted pieces of glass make up the cathedral’s 128 stained glass windows which need constant renovation and cleaning in order to preserve the masterpieces for future generations. However, so often it is impossible to fully appreciate the true intricate beauty of a window on this scale, from the ground. On our visit however, we were in luck. Of all the windows, the most stunning is the Great East Window, the likes of which was undergoing renovation when we visited. Usually this would be cause for complaint, but not so on our visit – rather, having opened a new “orb” to display freshly renovated panels from the great window, we were afforded the invaluable opportunity to study the intricacies of the windows, lit from behind, in all their detailed beauty.

The results can be seen from these photos I took inside the orb. It’s hard to believe that these intrinsically contemporary images stem from the medieval period, with their gorgeous details such as leafy damask backgrounds, radiant angelic faces, and the use of vibrant coloured glass which, when cleaned, gleams to stunning effect. I was so overawed by the beauty of these windows that I felt compelled to devote an entire post to their glory – how sad that the entire window cannot always be so admired in its details. But without a stairwell allowing visitors to reach the top of the window and the various levels in between, there will inevitably be beautiful panels such as these which will forever be confined to the sky-like heights of the cathedral, viewed in detail only by those charged with the window’s renovation. How fantastic then was this opportunity to see a few of those panels up close. Suddenly that £9 entrance fee seemed excellent value.

The orb will remain at York Minster until 2015. The restoration of the Great East Window is expected to be completed by the summer of 2016.

Metal ‘orb’ unveiled at Minster (bbc.co.uk)
Poems Are like Stained Glass Windows (artipeeps.wordpress.com)

Nov 6

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Autumn Harvest II – Surrey and Yorkshire

A couple of weeks ago I extolled the virtues of crispy cold auburn-gold autumn, and the voluptuous harvest of fine photographic fodder it provides. From elegant mushrooms and rosy red leaves, to strange wirey bare branches and deep orange sunsets. Since writing that post, autumn has born more photographic fruit.

The first opportunity for Autumnal appreciation presented itself, surprisingly, in the form of a work-related residential course in Surrey. Staying in the deep Surrey countryside, in a country house hotel at first shrouded in a thick mysterious fog, it felt like we were characters in a Victorian melodrama, confined by the fog to the immediate surrounds of a great grand house, unable to see what lay beyond. This made for some particularly decadent photographic shots, not least of the old cast iron railings and topiarian garden emerging from amidst the mist.

On the third day however, that thick smog cleared, and what revealed itself were magnificent far-reaching lush verdant grounds, tinged golden by a gently autumn sun, and revealing amongst their treasures REAL red toadstools! I thought these were just the things of fairytales – I was so excited to stumble upon these glorious red treasures in reality – it felt like stumbling upon a pile of rubies in the rough.

The second opportunity for autumnal admiration was a trip up North to cold crisp Yorkshire, the land of rolling dales, dry stone walls, pleasant farmland and old crooked towns, in other words the idyllic scenes of old England which appear to exist no where except annually upon a Christmas card. These surroundings were the location of the wedding of my very dear friend Celia, author of the Lady Aga blog no less, not to mention award winning cake baker extraordinaire. As soon as I breathed in the fresh crisp air of Yorkshire, I was in love. Those rolling hills looked never better than on a cool Autumn day, when the long shadows formed stripes across the countryside, and the crisp auburn trees dressed York’s imposing gothic Minster in a colourful autumn wardrobe.

Enough of all my ramblings, here are the photos, glimpses on a changeable english climate, from fog to sunshine, in warmth and in cold, all quintessentially autumn.