Were you making fun of my picture?

Pretty recently I've done quite the number of touristy things. I've been to The Globe Theatre, the Tate Modern, Stonehenge, and the Salisbury Cathedral, in that order, starting on Wednesday of the past week. The Globe Theatre was just that: a replica of the original, only 750ft away from the actual site that hosted Shakespeare's plays. I'm not a huge fan of the guy. He's a bit too frilly for my liking, and the entire time we were walking around the theatre I thought of one specific Mr. Show sketch that basically lambasted actors (they called them jackasses and said acting is nothing more than jumping up and down while screaming), but it was interesting to note all the history and change associated with that particular area. The theatre gave rise to, for better or worse, the 'celebrity.' People would take the time to dress up in their best garbs and shower--believe it or not, showering was rare back in the day; a good percentage of the people were of the persuasion that stripping to your birthday suit and being covered in water drained you of your life force. At one time or another, to be precise 1644, theatre was banned and lumped into London's Red Light District, along with the likes of bear baiting, gambling, cockfighting, and prostitution. It kind of makes you, or at least me, think of how far we've come in such a short period of time.

Afterwards I decided to check out the Tate Modern. It was right next to it, as I saw it coming from the Millennium Bridge, which, by the way, gives you a killer look at:

St. Paul's Cathedral

And


All these cranes

There were a ton of cranes in that part of the city; a friend counted thirty-six in our vicinity. I thought it was neat how a city already set in its ways still has room for improvement, constantly building/rebuilding, modeling/remodeling, and structuring/restructuring sites and locales. Nothing is static, not even cities. Enough of that, though. You didn't come to here to read about a place's sense of identity or it's inhabitants power relation to time-space compression (this is from my Media, Culture, and Society class), so back to the Tate. The building itself was once known as the Bankside Power Station, and as such it still has a factory feel. The floors are massive and it has high ceilings. This, combined with taking the escalator to its various floors, made me feel exceptionally tiny. It goes without saying I saw tons of cool art. I spent an hour or so on the second floor before I realized there were four other floors to check out. Needless to say, I'll be back. Here are some of my favorites.

Asger Jorn's The Timid Proud One


Ellen Gallagher's Bird in Hand
(I think I know where Doseone gets his shit from)


Clyfford Still's 1953

On Friday morning, after putting up with a very annoying tour guide who would not shut up during our bus ride, I went to Stonehenge. Hands down one of my favorite things I've done in the little time I've spent here. It took 1500 years of construction, from 3000 to 2500 B.C., with bits of tinkering before and after, to get it to its iconic state. There are countless theories as to the origins of Stonehenge. Some say it served as a lunar calendar, others solar; others say it served as a burial site, while some say it served as a healing center (this one sounds a bit too new agey for me). And of course there are those who believe extraterrestrials were involved. Ultimately it doesn't really matter what theory you subscribe to, for in the end a theory is just speculation and guessing. Part of Stonehenge's appeal is the fact that we're never going to know its significance of a time long since passed. It is a relic in the truest sense of the word. All you can do is marvel at its scope and beauty, knowing that at some point it meant something and now its a symbol of not knowing. And on this particular day, with the desolate fields covered in snow and no sign of life in the immediate area, it looked especially mysterious.

Later that day we went to the Salisbury Cathedral, which houses one of the four original Magna Cartas. I couldn't take a picture for security reasons, but Mike and I thought it'd be great to take a picture of the poster. We didn't though. The Cathedral itself is done, according to the pamphlet we were handed, in one architectural style: Early English Gothic. It was very grand, with tons of spirals and symmetry and stained glass. It also had a very cool courtyard where you were encouraged to come out and play. Mike and I exchanged a few words on how everyone was taking the same picture (themselves in focus and the tree in the courtyard the background) when a girl overheard and asked us the titular question of this post. In short, yes. But the real question is: Did our comments tarnish your preconceived notions of originality? I feel like most pictures tourists take are going to be unoriginal. Each site has seen countless visitors who at one point or another struck the same, if not a similar, pose. At the same time, I see the impetus behind doing so, that is a sort of command and conquer type of schema overriding the whole process. It's as if the pictures are saying "Yes, I have been there and here's the proof. Here's me, and here's the attraction." I get it, and if you want to do that that's fine, but it's not my bag. I'd rather be taking the picture than being in it. Either way serves its purpose: both act as mementos. And isn't that what matters after all?