Christopher at Yale

Obviously as the two year anniversary of Cherry's death draws closer I have been thinking even more than usual about this and the differences that this has made to my life. Curiously, this was underlined by a recent adventure suggested by Christopher. He was over here for a meeting in Washington and flew to New York to see some friends; he suggested we meet at New Haven halfway between New York and Newport, two travel hours for both of us - train for him, car for me. Everything on the way worked perfectly; I even found a parking space directly in front of the station entrance. So it was no more difficult than picking someone up from Pewsey, though it took a bit longer.

Everybody raves about the pizzas of New Haven so of course we went to one of the most famous such venues, 'Modern Apizza', fortunately arriving just before all the big crowds. Neither of us indulged in the ultra speciality - white clam pizza. Mine (anchovies) was fine - though I wouldn't rave about it, Christopher could only eat half of his - though he took the rest away in a box. They were both 'small' ones, 12 inches across. Quite often, in fact, I have found that food in the US isn't really up to the hype - though I haven't been to the 4th Street Diner for a while, admittedly. I had a similar reaction to a recent staff lunch visit to the famous 'Pasta Beach' in Newport, where the 'server' spends ten minutes telling you what's in everything in exhaustive detail. It was perfectly OK, but nothing out of the ordinary I thought. Maybe this reaction is due to the huge improvement in British restaurants over the past couple of decades ? 

Anyhow, the other thing they rave about in New Haven is the Yale Museum of British Art, and that really is worth raving about and also gets me to the point of this transmission, which is one small example of the difference between then and now. When Cherry and I went round art galleries, our interests and tastes were very different. I like romantic stuff and paintings that help illustrate something I am studying in some way; Cherry who after her course at Oxford knew far more about art than I did (though I think I was the one who introduced her to it) would often go round the galleries largely separately, liaising every now and again. We'd then gather for coffee, compare notes, identify the painting we would take away with us if we could, explain why and then go back and inspect the paintings in question before departing.

These pictures  illustrate my interests, Lawrence of Arabia (for the family history when it comes - my father knew him when he was in the RAF- and the painter Augustus John lived in nearby Fordingbridge) ,  an Admiral or two  (obviously),

an idealised picture of corn-reapers also for the family history though I suspect that conditions were not quite as harmonious for our ancestors in Sussex as they are portrayed here !) 

and a picture of Hayes (where we Tills used to live when I was a small blob of squalling humanity long, long afterwards).

I also liked the portrayal of Sir Jonathan Steele's cottage on the rise in Hampstead as you come down and see London laid out before you. No family connection - but just generally good for the historical inspiration and will get me writing the historical novel I have always meant to write.
 

 

I noticed though that Christopher took a picture of a deliberately garish modern painting which was a play on the classical 18th Century rural portrait, with a black woman with a gun substituted for the white self-satisfied male aristocrat leaning against a tree his wife in billowing skirts seated demurely beside him that you normally see. This was an exploration of social and gender stereotypes in art and society - an appeal to reason, not sentiment.

He also spotted a mirror image of the Queen and cleverly took a picture of us inside it. His tastes and interests in art are more like his Mother's than mine. Typically I had passed by the Queen image with hardly a second glance; he was the one who saw its possibilities... 

 

So the fact of indirectly identifying the differences  was the same, but we didn't sit down and discuss our responses and tow the other back for a second look, partly of course because there was no coffee place (there never is in US museums and houses - another crazy inefficiency in the US way of doing things !) and partly because we were running out of time and wanted also to do a little tour of Yale University. Would we have done it if we had had time ? I don't know. Maybe, and maybe we should next time.

 

Of course we enjoyed the canter around the famous Yale University, chilly though it was getting. Grand Victorian buildings, gracious and stately,with large leaf covered areas for walking and reflecting on matters of moment. So all-in-all a very successful visit well worth the effort - perhaps especially for the Museum both for the building itself and for the collection which was splendid, and its extent overwhelming - they seem to have more British art than the National Gallery !

 

Christopher and I then parted company outside the Union Station with expressions of mutual esteem, he to his two hour train journey  back to New York me for the long drive home.  By then it was getting dark of course so getting back wasn't   quite so easy, especially the country roads section I was taken on at the end of the run. Vera (the voice of truth - my sat-nav) had also warned me of a crash up ahead on the I 95  which delayed me for about 5 minutes with police cars rushing past. When I got to the blockage I was surprised to find myself having to ease round a light aircraft, which had come down a few minutes before. No-one was hurt I heard later, but they had to close the I 95 down shortly afterwards, so it was perhaps a good thing that Christopher and I didn't take time out to discuss our responses to art a bit more !