Luckily that was not to happen but it did mean my visit to Kensington Gardens was something of a damp squib. The Egyptian geese and moorhens seemed to be having a much better time of it than me. I can't complain though. In 2016 when I went to see the Bjarke Ingels Group's construction the sun was out, the year after it smiled one me when I made my annual pilgrimage to take in Francis Kere's lovely building, and last year Frida Escobedo seemed to have, almost, brought the weather with her from Mexico.
Into every life a little rain must fall and, sometimes, a lot of it. By the time I got to the far end of Exhibition Road I was drenched and when I eventually reached the pavilion a member of staff did a sad face at me and asked if I was okay.
I was. Because (a) I was now in the dry - predictably enough it stopped raining almost as soon as I got there and (b) I love looking at architecture. It's an absolute pleasure for me. I even arrange walks so I can bore my friends about it! My Serpentine Pavilion visits have, of recent years, been solo visits though. A quick look at the gallery, maybe a coffee, some cake, on to the pub, read the paper, look at my phone, go home. Watch Mastermind and Newsnight. You can see why I look forward to getting out. Even if it's hoying it down.
I'm waffling on about myself here (even more than normal) and that's because there's not really that much to say about the pavilion. Tokyo based Junya Ishigami is the architect responsible for this year and he's gone for a functional, and aesthetically pleasing, structure rather than one that grandstands or operates as a tourist attraction.
The main feature, luckily for me, is the roof. Formed from randomly arranged stone slates as has been the case in Japanese architecture for centuries and made to appear as if it's grown organically from the lawn of Kensington Gardens. It swoops up and down in a sinuous, slinky style that would look charming on a prettier day but, following a downpour, was simply providing channels for water to cascade somewhat dramatically down from!
The interior is described as 'cave like' - which is pushing it a bit as is the description of the columns that hold up that all important roof as 'a forest'. It's an open space with a few steel rods holding up a roof. There's nothing wrong with trying to reimagine traditional architectural styles using new materials, in many cases it seems like a necessary and positive development, but if you're going to write of caves and forests it'd be a good idea to have something that at least resembles a cave or a forest.
In fact I thought more about the grey slate mines of Blaenau Ffestiniog in Snowdonia as visited many times on family holidays. The imposing grey, and overcast, skies certainly gave it the dark and moody Welsh melodrama that you'll find both in that part of the world and in the darkest recesses of my psyche. The 'Evans' in me has had to manifest itself somehow!
It was only the weather that made this visit less fun than previous years but as I wandered out to the Long Water and the Italian Gardens (a regular occurence for me, though this time I gave the pub a swerve - at least until much later) I could still reflect on a worthwhile visit. I think the yearly ritual of the Serpentine Gallery providing a space for architects who have yet to build anything permanent in this country is a great idea and long may it continue. All being well, I'll be along again next year and hopefully I'll not require windscreen wipers on my glasses to make the most of it!
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