The most recent TimeOut contains a special on slow life, certainly not a concept that the common Londoner is familiar with. People buy TimeOut precisely because it lists enough leisure, culture and entertainment opportunities to keep everyone's interests engaged and everyone on agitated toes. The creed is to never miss a thing.
This is not even remotely possible, and yet we try. We run from event to event, have a beer in the pub, see an exhibition, go to a dinner, then a concert, see a movie, and then dance in a club. All in one night, every night of the week. Relaxing this is not and can even be, despite hours of enjoyment, oddly frustrating – namely when you read a glowing review of an event that you had either decided not to attend or didn't even know about in the first place.
It is in moments like these, when the futility of doing-it-all becomes apparent, that slow seems most attractive. How about cherry-picking just one activity, one that one is passionate about, and enjoying it fully, without worrying about reviews, opinion or judgment, without trying to pass one's life off as the fullest or the fastest?
This is an approach that appeals to me. It's validity dawned on me a good nine years ago when my dad and I spent three weeks touring the American West. We started out with snow at Bryce and sun at Zion, stopped in Vegas, stared into the Grand Canyon, drove through Monument Valley, hiked up Mesa Verde, were awed by the San Juans, and continued via Vail to Denver. Through Rocky Mountain National Park, Yellowstone and the Tetons we looped back to Salt Lake. We saw all the sights and took all the pictures. To anyone's questions, did you go there, we could reply, yes.
It was good for a first trip, but it was also the rookie approach. There were so many nice places by the road where I would have loved to stop for a week. I've never since done such an epic road trip. I'm not interested, and I'm certainly not afraid of friends' doubtful looks when I didn't do all the guide-book stops on a vacation. I feel I gain much more by restricting myself, by choosing one region and exploring it.
In contrast to tourists, I can afford follow the same philosophy with museums here. Take the National Gallery, the perfect venue for the relaxed enjoyment of art. It's free and full of spectacular paintings. Whenever I'm near Trafalgar Square, I just pop in for half an hour or so, pick one room, and enjoy. There's really no point in trying to see it all.
The same goes for the Tate. I like to go there before a concert at Royal Festival Hall, pick a painting and just stare at it for fifteen minutes, study it, if you will, but without any rational thoughts. Let time pass.
It is somehow paradoxical that the latest installation in Tate Britain, praised by TimeOut, is nothing like slow. The unsuspecting visitor encounters a sprinter darting down the long central nave of the museum, close to 100 meters in less than 15 seconds, every two minutes, every day, for four and a half months. Is that a suggestion of how to view the other pieces? I'll find out this weekend.
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