A Tale of Two Tates

A Proper Good Morning to You,
I need a refreshing sip of pear cidre.  Ahhh!  I came home all hot and wilted, but first I drank water.  I did a LOT of walking today--quite a bit of it unnecessary because in true Pil fashion I got turned around a lot, but I also hopped back on the museum train and saw a lot of great art.  Today is a Bank Holiday.  I am not quite sure what that is except people get off work, and presumably banks are closed.
First off I paraded down New Oxford Street to pick up the Victoria line at Oxford Circus, so I could alight at Pimlico for the Tate Britain.  Naturally I made a wrong turn getting out of the tube station, but that was ok.  I had a nice stroll down to the river, and I would have had to walk around anyway before the museum opened, and I still got to the Tate Britain in good time.  It was nicely uncrowded!
I was really there for the Turners, and I visually feasted on them.  Joseph Mallord William Turner was almost immediately successful and popular even in his own time, which I find most interesting considering how radical his technique could be. Truth to tell I like Constable better.  Turner felt obliged to occasionally give the public some kind of history or narrative work that featured human figures.  One can tell that his heart wasn't in it.  The only kind of drama he craved was wild wind or stormy seas.  Human feeling did nothing to stimulate his art.  Constable is much better at incorporating human figures into his works, but that's because he was Not About Drama, instead wishing to portray the countryside he saw as accurately as he could.  The results are not just beautiful but mesmerizing.
There's a lot of other stuff in the Tate Britain including some contemporary installations.  I happen to enjoy the Pre Raphaelites, and John Singer Sargent, but I also had fun with some eighteenth century portraits.
Then off to the Tate Modern!  I made my way back to Pimlico and transferred to the District Line at Victoria.  I'd picked out a stop that would bring me within easy walking distance of the Millennium Bridge that would take me across the Thames to the Tate Modern which occupies a large former power station on the south bank of the river.  The choice of stop was not bad, but once I exited the tube, I did not read the map correctly, went the wrong direction, and ended up walking along a heavily trafficked road on what was becoming a hot afternoon.  At length I reached the bridge and crossed it.
The Tate Modern is a bit confusing--or else I was tired by then?  But there are a lot of goodies within.  I was unexpectedly taken by some Miros, and there is a splendid collection of Rothkos among many other artists.  The museum features sculpture, painting, installations, and multi media and was fairly crowded this afternoon.
Arted out, I recrossed the bridge and caught the tube at St. Pauls.  Dinner is not exciting today.  As mentioned I was pretty wilted, so I stopped in at Pret a Manager (they are everywhere!) for a chicken and avocado sandwich.  At least it's getting washed down with English cidre.  You don't need to feel sorry for me, since all of Pret's ingredients are organic, and the sandwiches are very good. Still, I'll try to do better tomorrow.