Postman's Park

Before the buildings here were demolished, this bit of art wasn't immediately obvious from the street. Of course, now that the neighbouring building is gone, the image definitely stands out!

Even though I'd already eaten and didn't have any particular shopping to do, I decided to stroll through Borough Market

on my way toward Tate Modern, near which this ice-cream truck sports its proud motto:

I revisited Tate Modern's permanent collection--it's always nice to be reminded of treasures in this wonderful place, including two by one of my favourites:

I stood in front of the Bonnards for a while as the busy crowds buzzed behind me. After I completed my rounds of the permanent collection, I had a look inside this shiny pod:

The H-Box is completely collapsible, and journeys around the world providing a unique screening space for work by international video artists.

Unfortunately, the small space filled with people got hot and sweaty mighty quickly, and I could only stand the heat long enough to watch one of the videos. Although I like the idea of a mobile screening space, it's probably more comfortable to watch the videos online. Vaguely aiming toward home, I crossed Millennium Bridge and took random streets through the City--usually the best way to come across something new in London. Today's discovery was Postman's Park, a small but wonderful spot that I couldn't believe I hadn't visited before. Drawing its name from its popularity as a lunch spot for employees of the nearby old General Post Office, the park is known for the unique wooden structure visible at the far end of this photo:

Painter and philanthropist George F. Watts sought to commemorate ordinary people who gave their lives to save others, and after he couldn't secure funding for his vision, he paid for the memorial to be built in 1887 in honour of Queen Victoria's Golden Jubilee. A small carving of Watts sits in the middle of the sheltered spot, with an engraving that reads:
"In memoriam
George Frederic Watts
who desiring to honour
heroic self sacrifice
placed these records here."

Not only were these "records" placed here, they were done so with great care and dignity. In fact, each memorial consists of hand-painted tiles produced by Royal Doulton. Watts installed 13 tablets and his wife, Mary, added another 34 after his death.

Once I started reading the tiles, I ended up reading all of them. Emerging from the shade of the shelter into the cheery sunshine seemed rather surreal afterwards. A small pool filled with brilliant orange carp stands in the opposite corner of the small park, providing the perfect meditative farewell.

Still weaving my way toward home, I decided to have a look in the Barbican's Curve Gallery, where Huang Yong Ping's installation reflects upon colonialism and China's opium wars. Enormous opium needles

lead to a statue of Lord Palmerston smoking a similarly enlarged opium pipe

with East India Company crates and drying opium balls stacked behind him.

After I left the gallery, I spent a bit of time sitting out on the Barbican patio, where the patterns created by the Barbican apartments reminded me of the stacked, drying opium balls:

Time to get myself on familiar streets and catch a bus home!