our london adventure: One of a Kind

The V&A was holding another of their fantastic, free monthly late-night events tonight, and since tonight's theme, One of a Kind, sounded promising, I decided to head down to South Kensington for a wander. After rummaging through the enormous Whole Foods on Kensington High Street, I made my way toward the V&A, passing the enormous Albert Memorial, glowing in the night.

People were streaming into the front of Royal Albert Hall for the Cirque du Soleil show, but the back of the building was very quiet as I passed:

I got to the museum a bit before the 6:30 P.M. starting time of tonight's events, so I looked through some of the galleries, remembering just how impressive the V&A's collection of art and design objects is! Since many of the galleries were already shut for the day (only a select few remain open for late-night openings), I'll have to remember to come back during regular hours to see more of the collection.

This wooden box caught my attention, and when I peered into the narrow opening,

this was the surprising sight!

The museum's hallway of stained glass is impressive and a bit overwhelming, with so many diverse pieces packed into the narrow space. Clockwise from top left, these small pieces (each about as large as an outstretched hand) date from 1650 (the Netherlands), 1670 (Germany), 1680 (the Netherlands or England), and 1631 (Switzerland):

This copper piece struck me as I walked by, and became even more impressive after I read what it was!

The reliquary head of St Januarius "is now empty, but it probably once held a relic of the saint's head, whose name is inscribed on the frame of the moonstone on the head," and was made sometime between 1500 and 1550 (Switzerland or Germany). The object in the next case was even more haunting:

The arm reliquary of St Scholastica is dated 1624 (Spain) and "once held a relic of the saint's right arm, visible through the crystal window. A Latin inscription asks the saint to pray for us. Another inscription, as well as the dove perched on her fingers, alludes to Scholastica's death. The holy legend states that her brother St Benedict saw her soul ascending to heaven in the form of a dove." It's easy to get lost in the winding corridors of the V&A, and I soon found myself in front of something that I didn't know was here: the National Art Library.

Unfortunately, I found out that bags aren't allowed in the beautiful room, so after I was shooed out of the library, I took this photo through the door:

By now it was past 6:30 P.M., so I headed downstairs to start checking out this evening's events. I started by joining this queue

which led me into this room. Can you guess what's going on here?

How about now?

Still stumped?

Maybe this will help:

Since I had to come back in an hour to pick up my souvenir, you'll have to wait until the end of this entry to find out what I brought home! Many people joined in on the fun of making DIY souvenirs of the night,

crafting their hearts out with some V&A playtime fun.

This photo pretty much sums up why I love the V&A's late nights so much--the serious busts seem unaware of the modern-day merriment happening just beneath them.

Some films were being shown in this room, but they weren't really my style, so I kept going.

The rooms next to the films held the museum's Japanese collection, and I ended up spending some time here, looking through the range of items. This suit of armour, made in 1799, was just one of the impressive examples on display,

but I ended up spending most of my time poring over the tiny works of art known as inro and netsuke. Dating to the Edo era (1615-1868), inro were hung from the waist and used to carry everyday items such as medicine, seals, and tobacco. A bead was pushed against the inro to tighten the cord and then a netsuke was tied to the other end of the cord to ensure that the inro didn't fall from the wearer's waist.

Here are some other small decorative figures that caught my eye:

When I made my way to the main entrance to see what was going on there, I remembered that there the temporary exhibit being shown near the entrance was the one that lent the theme to tonight's event. Out of the Ordinary: Spectacular Craft certainly lived up to its name, with some impressive works that challenged the definition of "craft." My favourite line in the description of Anne Wilson's installation is: "[s]mall, insignificant things become movie stars."

Yoshihiro Suda's flowers and weeds appear incredibly lifelike, yet are made from wood:

And continuing the tension between reality and appearance, Susan Collis's installation was the most initially confusing. Comprising a wall full of screws, some painting dropsheets, and a paint-splattered table, it wasn't until I read the accompanying blurb that I looked again at the aforementioned pieces, which were in fact made from diamonds, gold, precious jewels, and even embroidery!

I have no idea how Naomi Filmer's hypnotic images were produced, but their slight movements mesmerised as she interacted with glass lenses that highlighted different parts of her body.

Lu Shengzhong's pieces were made of these tiny handcut figures,

of which there were many!

His Book of Humanity, Empty Book was quite the sight.

Olu Amoda works with found metal, often crafting impressive doors with what he salvages.

Annie Cattrell's pieces manage to make "the invisible visible and the ethereal solid" and explore "what happens when you contemplate something you think you know but shouldn't really be seeing this way." Her installation Conditions, made from subsurface etched glass, is haunting in just that way:

A performance I definitely wanted to catch was starting soon on the other side of the museum, so I hurried over to see Linda Florence's One of a Kind Tea Dance. When I arrived, the dance floor was spotlit in the dark, cavernous room.

Once the dancing started, the room started to fill with impressive clouds that rose from the floor.

This wasn't any ordinary floor, you see, but a delicately pattered motif crafted out of icing sugar! (The dancers' black shoes were snow-white by the time the dancing finished.) In a way, it seemed a shame to see the designs smeared by the footwork.