There has to be something said for being able to talk to a group of people with the same interests and understandings as ones self. As our class started on Thursday we focused on what we saw the day before, including our feelings on the play The Cherry Orchard. The discussion lead us to the idea of a poignant tension which was clear in the play. Between the fear of the orchard being sold and the general unease of the country's upcoming history at hand, you could tell there was change coming for the family and it's friends.
There were characters you actually felt sorry for and others you believed got what they deserved. The main character, Ranevskaya, many agreed they did not--and have never felt--any sort of pity for her. My feelings were a bit different. She was a character that did not seem to want to change, in her family life or her business; for that she was despicable. As others tried to talk sense in to her she blindly looked the other way, but there was something almost sad in that, her attempts to cling to her past as if they could not change. There was a desperation I feel that we all can identify with, a fear of change that she took to the extreme.
From there however, we moved on to our new days activities. So far we have been lucky enough to have beautiful weather and today was no exception. The walk to St. Martin in the Fields was beautiful and the church itself was magnificent. It is the traditional style of architecture that we now use nearly exclusively in our protestant churches in America. It combines classic and gothic architecture with its very recognizable layout of a church parish and the steeple rising out of it in the front.
I feel I should state that the first time I've seen this church was not this trip, my last trip however, I wasn't paying much attention to it because of Trafalgar Square only steps away from it. Trafalgar Square is a fairly recognizable area in London with it's lions and large fountains. It's a wonderful area that people from tourists to locals like to sit and enjoy the day.
It is also right across from the National Gallery, which is the museum dedicated to all the art I had previously only ever read about and studied in books. Again, it was not my first visit but there was significant change that last time I did not get to enjoy.
If I had to pick any artistic period as my "favorite" I would have to say nearly all the Impressionist. Degas, Cassat, Renior, Manet, Monet, Turner (who techicnally is a preface rather then an actually impressionist) I adore their work. Last time I visited the ENTIRE Impressionist gallery was closed for renovation and I was not able to see any of the work there. This visit, however, it was open and I was able to see not only great works but was able to sit and enjoy the wonders of Degas as there was an entire room nearly devoted completely to him.
Degas is my favorite painter, regardless of his womanizing ways and unsavory personality, and being able to enjoy his almost floating brush strokes and airy style was a treat. Degas is known for his ballerina's, of which there were two in the collection, but I was particularly drawn to the saturated reds of the "Combing the Hair". We were told to try and sketch in the museum (as pictures were obviously not allowed) and my first thought was to try and do that painting, but with it's over encompassing reds and subtle line changes within the shades I determined it was not a great idea and focused on the ballerinas. I have to say the sketching was terrible, I haven't done it in ages and my proportions were off, but it was nice to just focus on what I saw rather then worry about anything else. 
I have to say that while the National is a wonderful place and I would never call something necessarily "bad art" in a museum like that, there was some confusion over the large painting in one of the rooms. Portraits of human beings are traditional, back dropped with a simple color as we focus on the visage of some stone faced long dead man or woman. This portrait was nothing like that, 9 1/2ft tall, there was a giant picture of a HORSE. No back drop to place the situation, it was a (very well done painting) of a horse. I should have done research on the point of the horse, but I was so confused by this iconic large painting of simply a horse I could only, flabbergasted, walk past it to the other areas of the Gallery. By the time evening came, we had been rushed around other areas of London to be dropped off in a impressive building where we would be seeing the old eighteenth century play, School for Scandal by Richard Brinsley Sheridan. I had never read the play, but it had some really amusing scenarios that were atypical of that sort of period play. Disguise, confused identities of parties involved, and of course, scandal. Even the set and its design were eye drawing; there was a fashion show and bright strobe lights; except, the two did not meld well together in-tandem. There were inconsistencies between how the play was being enacted and how it was being perceived that left you jarred, trying to meld the two in your mind. Our final decision was that with more consistency one way or the other it could have been that much more enjoyable.
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