Today the sun finally put in an appearance, for the first time since I arrived on Wednesday. It's been unusually dark, even for this time of year when the lazy sun barely crests the horizon before slipping back down in mid-afternoon. All week thick clouds have filtered the sun's feeble rays, making southern England a director's dream—ideal for shooting a film about nuclear winter.
So what do we do today when the sun is out shining for all it's worth? We go to the V&A to see the photography exhibit "Twilight", a collection of photographs shot during the magic hour between sunset and nightfall. The exhibit was poorly lit, the photos were dreary, and I couldn't get out of there fast enough. Plus I don't like stage managed photography, with artificially posed people in falsified settings. Some photos these days are more scripted than bad films. (My daughter disagrees with me about this, which makes me think she's been brainwashed at that fancy school she attends.)
I did, however, enjoy the photos by Chrystel Lebas, especially her short Blue Bell film, shot in the woods of Wiltshire during a spring evening. She aims her camera at nature, which doesn't take well to stage management.
After the V&A we walked down Regent Street, to peek in shop windows and see the lights. They've had the same snowflakes up for three years now, but I still love them.