The New Ashmolean
So. As you may/may not know, the great, grand Father of Museums, the Asmolean, which lounges majestically on the edge of Oxford's heart, recently had a makeover.
In all, this took some ten years of planning, wondering, small changes, big changes, eyeing, designing, redesigning and the myriad worries and niggles that come with something like this. It was all capped off by a year-long closure, that was to end today, rain or shine, done or not. As it happens, it was a good day. The early winter sun burned off any clouds that remained from the rains of the past week, and the overall weather was crisp, without sharpening to a cutting cold. Being that this was a Thing To See, and all the circumstances were right, down I went.
The result is gorgeous.
The outside, an old, Neo-Classical vision in white and gold stone has been seared, sanded and cleansed to a pristine finish, fresh as the day it was put up. Passing up the steps and across the courtyard, one moves through the grand doors (of which previously only a small section opened) into the thing itself. At first, little has changed. To the right is the grand staircase, lifting off into the art galleries. To the left is the avenue of Roman sculpture, effectively unchanged, though all the better for the addition of some discreet captions, leading onward into the quartet of Egyptian rooms, which await their own renovations. Beyond this, the frontage, all is different.
The reforging has stripped away everything beyond the front and entirely replaced it with something new, weird and fresh. One word that springs immediately to mind afterwards is “fluid.” Rooms pass into one another with minimal intervention. Corridors pass between cultures, crossroads go in entirely different cultural directions. Stairs rise like crashing waves, while everywhere, there is glass that allows one to peer down or through into other galleries or areas. On a busy day like today, the open spaces are as much for movement as they are for just leaning and watching through or across glass, seeing people pass up and down.
After a while, the sheer volume and mixture of places, styles and things turns the whole trip into a game, where directional combos yield strange and exciting results.
Forward! Forward! Up! Left! Left! Forward! Forward! Right!
MIDDLE EASTERN DAGGER WITH CHRYSANTHEMUM PATTERNING.
Right! Up! Up! Right! Forward! Forward! Down!
A SMALL VERSION OF RODIN'S THINKER.
Downdowndown! Left! Forward! Right! Forward!
GUY FAWKES' LANTERN.
Everywhere you turn, there is something new and unknown, from a small hut for Japanese tea ceremonies, to a deep case packed with small Roman/Greek amphorae, all made for pouring libations of oil for the dead, to a jade elephant the size of a teapot. At one point, turning through the rehung art galleries (passing by a striking painting off a resting dog in a room full of religious work), one emerges into a room packed with still lifes, every inch of wall space packed with flowers, fruits, lobsters, cups, plates and other objects. The overall impression is that one has just walked into one of those paintings of densely hung galleries, and that if you turn round, you'll see an Elizabethan gentleman regarding you curiously.
If there's a negative impression that arises from all this, it is that it is Unfinished. Dotting almost every room, floor and area, there are empty cases, objects woefully uncaptioned, captions that point at objects not present, and even cases not yet fully unwrapped. Depending on the circumstances, this can either tantalise or infuriate, weighted towards the latter, though presumably this will reward return visits. As it is, however, these are but off notes in a swelling chorus.
If any of you are passing through, go there.
(Oh, and possibly my favourite and strangest item in the old rooms, the Dick Head Plate, is still in residence, so all is well.)
In all, this took some ten years of planning, wondering, small changes, big changes, eyeing, designing, redesigning and the myriad worries and niggles that come with something like this. It was all capped off by a year-long closure, that was to end today, rain or shine, done or not. As it happens, it was a good day. The early winter sun burned off any clouds that remained from the rains of the past week, and the overall weather was crisp, without sharpening to a cutting cold. Being that this was a Thing To See, and all the circumstances were right, down I went.
The result is gorgeous.
The outside, an old, Neo-Classical vision in white and gold stone has been seared, sanded and cleansed to a pristine finish, fresh as the day it was put up. Passing up the steps and across the courtyard, one moves through the grand doors (of which previously only a small section opened) into the thing itself. At first, little has changed. To the right is the grand staircase, lifting off into the art galleries. To the left is the avenue of Roman sculpture, effectively unchanged, though all the better for the addition of some discreet captions, leading onward into the quartet of Egyptian rooms, which await their own renovations. Beyond this, the frontage, all is different.
The reforging has stripped away everything beyond the front and entirely replaced it with something new, weird and fresh. One word that springs immediately to mind afterwards is “fluid.” Rooms pass into one another with minimal intervention. Corridors pass between cultures, crossroads go in entirely different cultural directions. Stairs rise like crashing waves, while everywhere, there is glass that allows one to peer down or through into other galleries or areas. On a busy day like today, the open spaces are as much for movement as they are for just leaning and watching through or across glass, seeing people pass up and down.
After a while, the sheer volume and mixture of places, styles and things turns the whole trip into a game, where directional combos yield strange and exciting results.
Forward! Forward! Up! Left! Left! Forward! Forward! Right!
MIDDLE EASTERN DAGGER WITH CHRYSANTHEMUM PATTERNING.
Right! Up! Up! Right! Forward! Forward! Down!
A SMALL VERSION OF RODIN'S THINKER.
Downdowndown! Left! Forward! Right! Forward!
GUY FAWKES' LANTERN.
Everywhere you turn, there is something new and unknown, from a small hut for Japanese tea ceremonies, to a deep case packed with small Roman/Greek amphorae, all made for pouring libations of oil for the dead, to a jade elephant the size of a teapot. At one point, turning through the rehung art galleries (passing by a striking painting off a resting dog in a room full of religious work), one emerges into a room packed with still lifes, every inch of wall space packed with flowers, fruits, lobsters, cups, plates and other objects. The overall impression is that one has just walked into one of those paintings of densely hung galleries, and that if you turn round, you'll see an Elizabethan gentleman regarding you curiously.
If there's a negative impression that arises from all this, it is that it is Unfinished. Dotting almost every room, floor and area, there are empty cases, objects woefully uncaptioned, captions that point at objects not present, and even cases not yet fully unwrapped. Depending on the circumstances, this can either tantalise or infuriate, weighted towards the latter, though presumably this will reward return visits. As it is, however, these are but off notes in a swelling chorus.
If any of you are passing through, go there.
(Oh, and possibly my favourite and strangest item in the old rooms, the Dick Head Plate, is still in residence, so all is well.)