I always enjoy reading your posts more than once. Such an undercurrent of melancholy in this one. Lots of synchronicity too as I had literally just finished reading elsewhere about Gary Oldman starring in Krapp's Last Tape. Not sure if I'm up for Beckett just at the moment! Thank you for this.
Another gorgeous essay, rich with startling details and unforeseen connections and associations. Chirality: the word feels taken from Greek mythology. Maybe it was, and I missed it. Chiron comes to mind: a strange doubling, two creatures in one body.
One thing I love about the portrait of Lady Cecil is the visual - and probably actual - weight of her dress. It seems made out of hammered metal. (Maybe she was, as well). In contrast, the lively textiles surrounding her. The drapes and cushions, the patterned cloth, the carpet. Splendor she could not enjoy, wearing that dress. Talk about “walking through the past in all its viscosity.” I can imagine her contemporary self in Farthing’s painting: on the one hand wanting to stiffen her image for future generations to admire, and on the other just wanting to escape and maybe go dancing.
I thought of Brideshead Revisited as well. Sumptuous and doomed? I loved the series, but the book was more intimate. Chirality, again? And I can definitely see A Visit From the Goon Squad as a fraternal twin of The Candy House. Holding the Cube, uploading your memories, unburdening yourself of the past.
Thank you for that gorgeous reflection, Mary! An essay in itself. Lady Cecil does seem as extraordinary (judging from her visage) as the dress that is temporarily in control of her. It’s truly one of those portraits you could spend a lot of time in front of. I already want to go back! Your nuanced reading makes me want to seek other meanings in it.
Jeffrey, your essays are so rich and inspiring that they feel extraordinarily generative. I love how you pull from many sources and filter them through your own experience to bring them together into a meaningful conversation. Thank you for sharing your journeys.
Thank you for this tour around London. Even though I've visited some of this places, there's something special about reading about them and encountering them unexpectedly in your piece. That sky in the London picture looks very industrial and steely.
Thank you! That's a great description of the sky. Though these days, London is known for its financial services. Perhaps they give off their own steely grey fumes?
This was a really thought-provoking piece for me. The idea that your memories are sprinkled through your substack posts, and yet getting them our there didn’t lighten the load so to speak is an interesting thought that I really related to. :)
Thanks as usual for this accomplished writing, and reading of your world. I love how you’re twinning with your own work here— and how you circle back to Egan. It’s as elegant as those paintings—
What a tour of the sites and sights of London, Jeffrey! I love this observation: "It seemed to me that the chiral pairs in Farthing’s painting are destined for very different futures..." Have you ever looked in a mirror at a room and thought "how intriguing the opposite view looks"...? I think there's some chirality right there. ;) And now I'm reaching for Virginia Woolf's "The Lady in the Looking-Glass - A Reflection."
Thank you for that dazzling reflection, Troy! And thank you for deflecting my attention to that story by Woolf, which I don't think I've read. I'll read it - and also take up your suggestion of looking at a mirror image of a room.
Larkin's portrait is amazing. I love looking at the faces of past humans, not to see myself, but because I understand them better. As a nurse trained to observe human appearance and behaviour, people's faces and bodies have so much to say to me. I think that is one reason I prefer realism in paintings of humans - realistic depictions tell me more than symbolic depictions. For that reason I see less in Farthing's painting than Larkins.
Chiality is a new word to me, and I love its meaning. I was good at basic chemistry in school. It always made sense to me, but human biological chemistry is more multifaceted and complex than can be held in the space of a single human mind. That is true of human experience in general.
I often think my past is rhyming with my present. Sometimes I will start to see my present repeating a familiar pattern, and I get a sense of dread, wondering if a painful experience that occurred in the past pattern will recur in the present one. Sometimes it has, but not usually to the extent I feared it would. As I look back on each recurrence, I see the similarities, but also the differences, and that gives me hope.
Thank you, Holly! Chirality is very new to me too, and I was always pretty hopeless at chemistry and physics—worse at biology. I have decades of catching up to cram into my remaining years!
I know what you mean about parts of our lives repeating themselves. My own way of dealing with that is to go back into my past and find the ways my younger self—that fraternal twin, if you like—dealt with things the first time around. He could be surprisingly resourceful, and sometimes I can learn from him.
Thank you for taking us on your walks, photos and all. The three 17th-18th century paintings are all new to me and very beautiful. Speaking of weight, the dress on Lady Cecil must weigh at least, what, ten, fifteen, twenty? pounds. And Wright's candlelight suits the girls and the kitten so well. Your photos and rambles make me want to visit London with no responsibilities except to suit myself with walks like yours. What endless opportunity for discovery. For me, there would not be the weight of past associations. I would be Tinkerbell flitting through the streets. You have visited so many places. Where would you have to go to feel no accretions of the past?
Thank you, Tara! I love that image of you as Tinkerbell! And you’re right, the weight of memory might be nothing compared to Lady Cecil’s dress. But isn’t it a marvel? I also loved @June Girvin’s cheeky take on it as 17th-century ripped jeans.
There are plenty of places I could ramble in new territory. But everywhere is home ground to someone, and there are always the cultural traces of others. One place I’ve never visited and would like to is Buenos Aires. I imagine it haunted by Borges, Cortázar, and Ernesto Sábato. But who knows? It might be a disappointment to me on that score.
Jeffrey, you move through London and environs as I do New York. You're right -- writing our memories may download them into the world but it leaves the weight of them behind. Welcome back.
Thank you, Jay. Now that I’ve dragged myself—and my memories—back to Tokyo, I look forward to catching up with my Substack reading. I gather it’s been a busy time…
“But as I get older, I begin to feel my memories take on bulk. And even as I walk along old routes, thinking that I leave no trace, I begin to feel the friction of my past journeys tugging at my legs, slowing me down.” These beautiful lines will stay with me, Jeffrey.
That and you’re wondering about the present being a fraternal twin of the past.
There is much to ponder in both.
I love how your writing can create a mood — in this case, a melancholic reflection.
Thank you, Holly. I was aware of this air of melancholy as I wrote. I wasn’t quite sure where it was coming from, and it wasn’t altogether welcome, but I didn’t have the heart to shut it out.
You have some wonderful older posts. I actually have an essay in my drafts that responds to your “Now You See Us” exhibit — as another panel to a series stemming from a book review dealing with art history and the role of women. I am working on other deadlines at the moment, but I should bring this essay to daylight at some point. I really find you a kindred spirit in terms of your literary and artistic sensibilities. It is a joy to read your posts!
I'm honoured that you read my posts and thrilled that you find parallels in our interests and sensibilities, Zina. I look forward to reading your essay on art history and the role of women.
Loved this, "wading through the past in all its viscosity. " And Larkin's Lady Cecil - those emerald green curtains! The paintings were indeed a celebration of light while your words added a contemplative contrast.
Thank you for sharing your visit to Kenwood House. I had not heard of familiar with the place or the treasure trove held inside! It sounds like it was a wonderful visit.
However, I have visited Highgate. Teaching sociology for a number of years led to take a trip to the cemetery as a sort of solo school trip when I visiting London several years ago. It's a beautiful area. Although if I remember correctly, Marx's grave was vandalised a year or so after I visited.
Thank you, Sarah. The grave is certainly showing signs of wear and tear! The spirit of Marx will take it as a badge of honour, I guess? Kenwood House is worth a visit for the art (only).
“Is the present just a fraternal twin of the past?” This line really struck me having just finished reading a harrowing piece by David Perry that describes the generational trauma in his family. I think psychologists epigeneticists would answer Yes to your question, but creativity, invention and healing also play a role reshaping and reframing memory until sometimes its origin is a faint blueprint of what it’s become. (Like the future of Farthing's chiral pairs perhaps!)
BTW I've just come across this: "In classical mechanics, for example, there is something called the Lagrangian formulation, which holds that, when moving between two separate points, A and B, a physical body will take the most efficient path... In order for the physical body to take the path of maximal efficiency, point B, which lies in the future, needs to be determined in advance. It looks, counterintuitively, as if the future is what determines the motion of the body in the past."
Thank you for such an insightful response that gives me a lot to ponder on: “invention and healing also play a role reshaping and reframing memory until sometimes its origin is a faint blueprint of what it’s become.“ That's a beautiful image. 🙏
This was great. I think there (at least) two currents always running at the same time, sometimes mirroring, sometimes reflecting a different version altogether.
I always enjoy reading your posts more than once. Such an undercurrent of melancholy in this one. Lots of synchronicity too as I had literally just finished reading elsewhere about Gary Oldman starring in Krapp's Last Tape. Not sure if I'm up for Beckett just at the moment! Thank you for this.
Thank you, Sue. I really appreciate your comments. And I'd like to have the chance to see Oldman in that role.
Another gorgeous essay, rich with startling details and unforeseen connections and associations. Chirality: the word feels taken from Greek mythology. Maybe it was, and I missed it. Chiron comes to mind: a strange doubling, two creatures in one body.
One thing I love about the portrait of Lady Cecil is the visual - and probably actual - weight of her dress. It seems made out of hammered metal. (Maybe she was, as well). In contrast, the lively textiles surrounding her. The drapes and cushions, the patterned cloth, the carpet. Splendor she could not enjoy, wearing that dress. Talk about “walking through the past in all its viscosity.” I can imagine her contemporary self in Farthing’s painting: on the one hand wanting to stiffen her image for future generations to admire, and on the other just wanting to escape and maybe go dancing.
I thought of Brideshead Revisited as well. Sumptuous and doomed? I loved the series, but the book was more intimate. Chirality, again? And I can definitely see A Visit From the Goon Squad as a fraternal twin of The Candy House. Holding the Cube, uploading your memories, unburdening yourself of the past.
A lovely post. Thank you, Jeffrey.
Thank you for that gorgeous reflection, Mary! An essay in itself. Lady Cecil does seem as extraordinary (judging from her visage) as the dress that is temporarily in control of her. It’s truly one of those portraits you could spend a lot of time in front of. I already want to go back! Your nuanced reading makes me want to seek other meanings in it.
Jeffrey, your essays are so rich and inspiring that they feel extraordinarily generative. I love how you pull from many sources and filter them through your own experience to bring them together into a meaningful conversation. Thank you for sharing your journeys.
Thank you for this tour around London. Even though I've visited some of this places, there's something special about reading about them and encountering them unexpectedly in your piece. That sky in the London picture looks very industrial and steely.
Thank you! That's a great description of the sky. Though these days, London is known for its financial services. Perhaps they give off their own steely grey fumes?
They may well do!
Another beautifully crafted essay, Jeffrey.
The weight of memories haunts us too as we travel back to beloved places.
Thank you both! Happy travels and hauntings!
This was a really thought-provoking piece for me. The idea that your memories are sprinkled through your substack posts, and yet getting them our there didn’t lighten the load so to speak is an interesting thought that I really related to. :)
Thank you, Michael! Yes, it seems that the more I dig out the memories, more accumulate. And they add to the growing pile... 😊
Thanks as usual for this accomplished writing, and reading of your world. I love how you’re twinning with your own work here— and how you circle back to Egan. It’s as elegant as those paintings—
Thank you, Victoria! I really appreciate this comment. And the paintings are elegant, aren't they—especially the Larkin.
What a tour of the sites and sights of London, Jeffrey! I love this observation: "It seemed to me that the chiral pairs in Farthing’s painting are destined for very different futures..." Have you ever looked in a mirror at a room and thought "how intriguing the opposite view looks"...? I think there's some chirality right there. ;) And now I'm reaching for Virginia Woolf's "The Lady in the Looking-Glass - A Reflection."
Thank you for that dazzling reflection, Troy! And thank you for deflecting my attention to that story by Woolf, which I don't think I've read. I'll read it - and also take up your suggestion of looking at a mirror image of a room.
Larkin's portrait is amazing. I love looking at the faces of past humans, not to see myself, but because I understand them better. As a nurse trained to observe human appearance and behaviour, people's faces and bodies have so much to say to me. I think that is one reason I prefer realism in paintings of humans - realistic depictions tell me more than symbolic depictions. For that reason I see less in Farthing's painting than Larkins.
Chiality is a new word to me, and I love its meaning. I was good at basic chemistry in school. It always made sense to me, but human biological chemistry is more multifaceted and complex than can be held in the space of a single human mind. That is true of human experience in general.
I often think my past is rhyming with my present. Sometimes I will start to see my present repeating a familiar pattern, and I get a sense of dread, wondering if a painful experience that occurred in the past pattern will recur in the present one. Sometimes it has, but not usually to the extent I feared it would. As I look back on each recurrence, I see the similarities, but also the differences, and that gives me hope.
Thank you, Holly! Chirality is very new to me too, and I was always pretty hopeless at chemistry and physics—worse at biology. I have decades of catching up to cram into my remaining years!
I know what you mean about parts of our lives repeating themselves. My own way of dealing with that is to go back into my past and find the ways my younger self—that fraternal twin, if you like—dealt with things the first time around. He could be surprisingly resourceful, and sometimes I can learn from him.
Thank you for taking us on your walks, photos and all. The three 17th-18th century paintings are all new to me and very beautiful. Speaking of weight, the dress on Lady Cecil must weigh at least, what, ten, fifteen, twenty? pounds. And Wright's candlelight suits the girls and the kitten so well. Your photos and rambles make me want to visit London with no responsibilities except to suit myself with walks like yours. What endless opportunity for discovery. For me, there would not be the weight of past associations. I would be Tinkerbell flitting through the streets. You have visited so many places. Where would you have to go to feel no accretions of the past?
Thank you, Tara! I love that image of you as Tinkerbell! And you’re right, the weight of memory might be nothing compared to Lady Cecil’s dress. But isn’t it a marvel? I also loved @June Girvin’s cheeky take on it as 17th-century ripped jeans.
There are plenty of places I could ramble in new territory. But everywhere is home ground to someone, and there are always the cultural traces of others. One place I’ve never visited and would like to is Buenos Aires. I imagine it haunted by Borges, Cortázar, and Ernesto Sábato. But who knows? It might be a disappointment to me on that score.
Jeffrey, you move through London and environs as I do New York. You're right -- writing our memories may download them into the world but it leaves the weight of them behind. Welcome back.
Thank you, Jay. Now that I’ve dragged myself—and my memories—back to Tokyo, I look forward to catching up with my Substack reading. I gather it’s been a busy time…
Oh, just a world-historical disaster or two.
“But as I get older, I begin to feel my memories take on bulk. And even as I walk along old routes, thinking that I leave no trace, I begin to feel the friction of my past journeys tugging at my legs, slowing me down.” These beautiful lines will stay with me, Jeffrey.
That and you’re wondering about the present being a fraternal twin of the past.
There is much to ponder in both.
I love how your writing can create a mood — in this case, a melancholic reflection.
Thank you, Holly. I was aware of this air of melancholy as I wrote. I wasn’t quite sure where it was coming from, and it wasn’t altogether welcome, but I didn’t have the heart to shut it out.
I love how effortlessly you’ve written this tour and tied so much to what you have already written in the past.
Thank you, Zina! The links to previous posts just seemed to multiply as I wrote.
You have some wonderful older posts. I actually have an essay in my drafts that responds to your “Now You See Us” exhibit — as another panel to a series stemming from a book review dealing with art history and the role of women. I am working on other deadlines at the moment, but I should bring this essay to daylight at some point. I really find you a kindred spirit in terms of your literary and artistic sensibilities. It is a joy to read your posts!
I'm honoured that you read my posts and thrilled that you find parallels in our interests and sensibilities, Zina. I look forward to reading your essay on art history and the role of women.
Loved this, "wading through the past in all its viscosity. " And Larkin's Lady Cecil - those emerald green curtains! The paintings were indeed a celebration of light while your words added a contemplative contrast.
Thank you, Lani! Yes, the curtains too! It's an awe-inspiring portrait seen up close.
Thank you for sharing your visit to Kenwood House. I had not heard of familiar with the place or the treasure trove held inside! It sounds like it was a wonderful visit.
However, I have visited Highgate. Teaching sociology for a number of years led to take a trip to the cemetery as a sort of solo school trip when I visiting London several years ago. It's a beautiful area. Although if I remember correctly, Marx's grave was vandalised a year or so after I visited.
Thank you, Sarah. The grave is certainly showing signs of wear and tear! The spirit of Marx will take it as a badge of honour, I guess? Kenwood House is worth a visit for the art (only).
I agree! Marx would have been proud of the protest!
“Is the present just a fraternal twin of the past?” This line really struck me having just finished reading a harrowing piece by David Perry that describes the generational trauma in his family. I think psychologists epigeneticists would answer Yes to your question, but creativity, invention and healing also play a role reshaping and reframing memory until sometimes its origin is a faint blueprint of what it’s become. (Like the future of Farthing's chiral pairs perhaps!)
BTW I've just come across this: "In classical mechanics, for example, there is something called the Lagrangian formulation, which holds that, when moving between two separate points, A and B, a physical body will take the most efficient path... In order for the physical body to take the path of maximal efficiency, point B, which lies in the future, needs to be determined in advance. It looks, counterintuitively, as if the future is what determines the motion of the body in the past."
https://aeon.co/essays/on-seeing-the-laws-of-nature-as-a-recipe-or-a-news-report
I'm not sure where that would leave the fraternal twins...
Thank you for such an insightful response that gives me a lot to ponder on: “invention and healing also play a role reshaping and reframing memory until sometimes its origin is a faint blueprint of what it’s become.“ That's a beautiful image. 🙏
This was great. I think there (at least) two currents always running at the same time, sometimes mirroring, sometimes reflecting a different version altogether.
Thank you, Deirdre. I love your idea of two currents always running.