An outpost of Gujarat under the grey sky in north London

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EALING ROAD RUNS south from near Wembley Central station to Alperton station. At the north end of the road is the vegetarian Gujju Dhaba Express, which offers a range of Gujarati and other Indian dishes including Indo-Chinese food. Nearby, there are other restaurants (mostly South Indian and Sri Lankan) and several jewellery shops with signs and notices both in English and Tamil. A little south of these there is the Wembley Central Masjid, which is housed in an old church. Next door to this mosque is a Hindu Shiva temple. And a little further south, there is a branch of ICICI, an Indian bank. Further along the road there is a modern building covered with colourful paintings from top to bottom. This is Brent Indian Association, which looks from its website to be primarily concerned with Gujarati and Gujaratis.  The lampposts along the northern part of the road are decorated with large notices discouraging the use of paan, and spitting this substance onto the road.

After walking along a section of the road without shops, one reaches a long stretch of shops and eateries. Almost all of them cater to the Gujarati population. Almost without exception, the shop assistants and the managers speak Gujarati. During the few months before I first went to India, Lopa, who is now my wife, took me to this Gujarati area of London a few times, maybe to familiarise me with Indian things. Often, we used to eat at Sakonis, where South Indian vegetarian dishes were served, along with some items commonly eaten by Gujaratis who hailed from East Africa.

Inide Popat store

Yesterday, 7 March 2026, we revisited Ealing Road after not having been there for several years. Sakonis is still in business but looks fancier than it did more than 30 years ago. And to our great delight, Popat, a wonderful hardware and household goods shop, is still going strong. So strong that it has opened a new branch a few yards away.  While wandering around Popat, I found a collection of framed images of Hindu deities. Rummaging through them, I hoped to find an image of Shrinathji, a form of Krishna that is favoured by my wife’s mother’s family. When we have visited various members of this family, all devoted to Shrinathji, we have always seen images of this deity hanging in several rooms of their homes.

I could not find an image amongst all the pictures on offer. So, we asked one of the friendly assistants in Popat. She searched through the stock, and found one. She was delighted that we should want to obtain an image of Shrinathji, as she is devoted to him. She told us that she had visited his shrine, a temple at Nathdwara, which is not far from Udaipur in Rajasthan. Full of enthusiasm, this lady related that she had spent more than two days at the shrine, and had attended many pujas and darshans each day. She said it was the most wonderful experience, and that we should also visit Nathdwara because Shrinathji would enrich our lives and change them for the best. After she had extolled the virtues of the deity and the benefits that would surely follow a visit to his shrine at Nathdwara, we purchased the image. As we did so, I thought that it is not every day one enters a shop and receives a lesson in theology.

Apart from Popat, there are shops selling clothes for everyday use and weddings, jewellery shops, vast fruit and vegetable stores, other shops selling ingredients for south Asian cooking, and shops selling freshly made snacks, which most Gujaratis love. This part of Ealing Road is an ‘outpost’ of Gujarat that is frequently beneath a dismal grey sky. Despite the bad weather, the crowd of shoppers, mostly speaking Gujarati, is good humoured, as are those who serve in the shops. Visiting Ealing Road provides a taste of India without needing to purchase an air ticket. Having said that and having visited Gujarat many times, I felt that the Gujarati section of Ealing Road was even livelier than many places in Gujarat itself.

The Edible Bus Stop and tiny parks at a suburb in north London

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THERE ARE MANY places in the world that I have never visited. Until today (7 March 2026), one of them was Kilburn Park Underground station. I have passed it many times, but never entered it.  Served by trains on the Bakerloo Line, it was opened in January 1915.

The station’s exterior, the building on the surface, is covered with terracotta tiles, the colour of dried blood. It was designed by Stanley A. Heaps (1880–1962), an English architect who designed several other Underground stations. In 1908, he became the architect for the Underground Electric Railways Company of London. The station was one of the first in London designed for escalators rather than lifts.

The platforms are within the kind cylindrical space which gave rise to the use of the word ‘Tube’ when referring to the Underground railway system. There is a pair of escalators linking the subterranean station with the ticket hall on the surface. Above the middle of the escalator shaft, an oval skylight admits daylight. Within the ticket hall, a surprise awaits the traveller. What used to be the ticket windows have been covered with glass. Behind the glass of each window, plants are growing, and above each of the three ticket windows, there is a sign that reads “Tiny Parks”. And below each window, there is a notice that reads:

“Tiny Parks at Kilburn Park. Brought to you by London Underground working in partnership with the Edible Bus Stop. #TinyParks”

The Edible Bus Stop’s website explained:

“The Edible Bus Stop® is an award-winning spatial design studio specialising in creating accessible and interactive green spaces and multi-sensory experiences.”

The Edible Bus Stop was asked to transform disused Underground ticket offices into “green and engaging spaces”. The project began in 2016, and to date they have planted within the ticket offices not only of Kilburn Park, but also St James Park, Belsize Park, and Wood Green. Interestingly, but possibly coincidentally, each of these stations has a name that suggests greenery.

Emerging from Kilburn Park’s ticket hall is less exciting than being within it. The area around the station is hardly likely to become a destination for tourists in the foreseeable future.

Art says things that history cannot, St John the Baptist on a tray, and a Colombian artist

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WORKS BY COLOMBIAN artist Beatriz Gonzalez (1932-2026) are being exhibited at London’s Barbican art gallery until 10 May 2026. She began studying architecture in the 1950s, but dropped out. Later, she studied fine arts at the University of Los Andes in Bogota, graduating in 1962.

Over the years, Gonzalez produced a wide variety of works, and throughout her life she believed that (to quote her): “Art says things that history cannot”, and what one can see in the exhibition confirms this. She lived through troubled times in Colombia, and this is reflected in many of her artworks. She has been described as a ‘pop artist’ possibly because many of her works were inspired by things she saw in magazines, newspapers, posters, and other media aimed at the public. However, she discounted this description, as can be seen by this answer to the question “Did you ever consider yourself (now or in the past) a pop artist?” during an interview she gave at the Tate Gallery in 2015:

“No, I considered my work a provincial type of painting. I’ve always considered myself more of a painter and within this remit I painted the joy of the underdeveloped. For me the type of art that I was doing could only circulate internationally as a curiosity. Mine was a provincial type of art without horizons, confronting the everyday: art is international.”

I will not attempt to discuss all the works on display at the Barbican, but will confine myself to her paintings on items of furniture, which she commenced in the 1970s. These beautifully executed creations are often quite witty. “The Last Supper” was one of the first of these pieces of furniture repurposed as a work of art. It consists of a fine table on the top of which the artist has painted a simplified version of a renaissance depiction of the Last Supper. And on a wooden coat stand, the mirror has been painted over with Gonzalez’s simplified version of the famous Mona Lisa painting. Another example is a straw basket with a ribbon on its handle. On the inside of the base of this everyday object she has painted a picture of three puppies resting on a floor. There is also a metal cot whose base is painted with a picture of a sleeping child. In the show, there are some televisions with paintings of people covering their screens. By now, you must be getting the idea of this aspect of Gonzalez’s art. My favourite example of this re-use of household items as places to paint pictures is a circular tray on which the artist has depicted Salome carrying the severed head of St John the Baptist on a circular tray.

Apart from the painted furniture and domestic items, the exhibition has a series of sections that show examples of Gonzalez’s art at the various stages in her artistic career. As is often the case at the Barbican art gallery, the artworks are beautifully displayed and well labelled.

See the masterpieces before they go under the auctioneer’s hammer at Christies

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THE AUCTION HOUSE Christies was founded in London in 1766 by James Christie (1730-1803). Their main premises are on King Street, near St James Palace in the City of Westminster. Usually, the auction house is open to the public, who may enter and view the items waiting to be auctioned, and to watch or participate in an auction. Until 12 March 2026, works from the collection of the Belgian couple Roger and Josette Vanthournout, both now deceased, are up for sale. The sale is being held as a series of auctions over a period that extended from 25 February 2026 until 12 March 2026.

“Iron Baby” by Antony Gormley

The Vanthournout couple have been collecting art for over 60 years. At first, they collected Chinese vases, but soon after that, they began buying modern and contemporary art. Roger trained as an interior designer and ran a furniture store in Izegem, Aurora, which had been founded by his father in 1921. Josette (née T’Kint) was an artist and an art lover. From the 1950s onwards, the couple travelled a great deal, visiting art fairs where they engaged directly with artists, dealers and galleries. They tended to buy much of their art from artists, who had not yet achieved great fame, and by doing so acquired artworks at reasonable prices. And viewing the pieces on display at Christies today (5 March 2026), one can easily see that Roger and Josette both had a ‘good eye’, and bought wisely. After the widowed Josette died in 2025 aged 95, the family decided to sell the collection.

And what a collection it must have been, judging by what we saw on display at Christies. There were fine examples of artworks by, to name BUT A FEW: Josef Albers, Pablo Picasso, Man Ray, Rene Magritte, Henry Moore, Yayoi Kusama, Jean Arp, Lucio Fontana, Jean Dubuffet, Lynn Chadwick, Paul Delvaux, Jacques Lipchitz, Tracey Emin, and James Ensor. I was interested to see a couple of works by Victor Vasarely (1906-1997) because when I lived at home, we had one of his abstract prints hanging on the wall of our living room (I have not seen the print since 1991). There were several sculptures by Antony Gormley. These are quite unlike any of the many works I have seen by this artist. Josette and Roger were lucky to have these examples of his work.

The collection we saw at Christies was well-displayed and filled with an amazing array of art created in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Once they have been auctioned, many of the bought by private collectors and galleries far away from London, it will be a very long time, if ever, before they can be seen again by the London public.  

Because it is possible to see works of art that are not usually on public display, visiting Christies (and other auction houses) allows ‘the man (or woman) in the street’ to catch a glimpse of artists’ creations that are frequently not usually accessible except by their owners. And even if you have no intention of making a bid, the staff at Christies are most welcoming and willing to answer any questions you might have regarding the items awaiting auction.

Portraits of Pakistan near London’s Piccadilly

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IT IS WORTH climbing the steep staircase that leads to the Larkin Durey gallery in Mason’s Yard, near London’s Piccadilly, to view the paintings of Naira Mushtaq, which are on display until 20 March 2026. Ms Mushtaq was born in Lahore, Pakistan. She studied art at Kinnaird College For Women, Pakistan, and then at National College of Arts, also in Pakistan. Then, between 2017 and 2019, she studied at University of the Arts London: Central Saint Martins. Currently, she lives and works in London.

The paintings being shown at Larkin Durey were painted in 2025 and 2026. The artist wrote (https://nairamushtaq.squarespace.com/artist-statement) that her artistic practice:

“ … is focused on history, memory and social commentary stemming from a desire to understand grief and memory and how memories are formed as affect … My practice examines these questions by looking at the socio political and cultural context, while in most instances the backdrop of this comparison is my home country of Pakistan – the concerns under question are broader. Which memory is being remembered, who is it being remembered by, and the context of remembrance. How one memory merges with another, multiplicity and singularity of memory, what narratives we tell, what we choose to remember and what is the value of the narratives that we choose to remember if at all, drawing from these areas of interest and I examine memory as a form of impalpable archive while the tangible photograph or sourced materials aid to its inaccuracy, a palimpsest of truths and half-truths.”

Each of the 20 paintings on display depict faces or parts of faces. In each painting, the artist has used subdued colouring, which maybe suggests a sadness about her subjects, and concern about her often troubled native land. Some pictures depict faces and people in such a way that they look as if they are adapted from stills taken from a film (movie), being watched through darkly tinted spectacles. One portrait shows a distorted face, which reminded me of the way that Francis Bacon used to paint. And another evoked memories of Edvard Munch’s “The Scream”. Otherwise, her style is her own. Despite their melancholic, sometimes menacing subject matter, and dark colours, the paintings are both highly original and pleasing visually.

I am very glad I climbed the steep staircase to view this talented artist’s paintings.

The Long way in London’s Tate Modern art gallery

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THE ARTIST RICHARD LONG (born in England in 1945) studied art first at Bristol’s West of England College of art, and then between 1966 and 1968, at London’s St Martins School of Art, where his teachers included Anthony Caro and Phillip King (my mother worked alongside these two sculptors in the early 1960s). He is described as a ‘land artist’, and his works include sculpture, photography and text, as well as performance. Since the 1960s, Long has been creating artworks based on his experience of long walks he has made in places including the UK, the Sahara Desert, Iceland, the Himalayas, and Australia. He plots his walks on maps, and these become works of art. He also takes photographs of the terrain through which he has walked. In addition, he creates sculptures where he has walked using local materials, and then takes photographs of them in situ.

The Tate Modern is currently (March 2026, but I do not know when it ends) showing a collection of Long’s creations. This includes examples of his maps and photographs, text works (printed words), as well as three floor sculptures, each of which consist of pieces of stone arranged within the confines of a circle. One of them contains variously shaped chunks of Norfolk flint, another consists of pieces of red slate, and a third with Delabole slate, black in colour. Although they look almost randomly arranged, I imagine that the artist has placed them according to some design he had in mind. Seemingly simple, these sculptures are surprisingly striking.

I believe that what we saw at the Tate Modern’s exhibition is in complete harmony with what Richrd Long has said (quoted on the Tate’s website) about his art:

“My work really is just about being a human living on this planet and using nature as its source … I enjoy the simple pleasures of wellbeing, independence, opportunism, freedom, dreaming, happenstance; of passing through the land and sometimes stopping to leave (memorable) traces along the way.”

The exhibition is well worth seeing.

Logged out along a path in London’s Holland Park

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WHILE WALKING ALONG a path in Holland Park, I passed a pile of sawn, short logs. The timber was not arranged tidily. It was piled up haphazardly. At first, I thought that the park workers had created this collection of wood prior to it being removed elsewhere, but then I noticed that one piece of wood had a label attached to it, which read:

“This loggery is a habitat for invertebrates such as Britain’s largest Coleopteran, the stag beetle. The larvae live in rotting wood for up to seven years …”

So, what I thought was a temporary storage place for the sawn timber is intended to be more of a permanent feature. At other parks, I have seen collections of dead tree stumps, which are called stumperies, but this was the first time I have come across a loggery. Out of curiosity I looked up the word ‘loggery’ on the Internet, and discovered that websites concerned with wildlife conservation use the word as the notice in Holland Park states.

However, loggery has another, older meaning. It is an adjective meaning ‘rank growth’, rank meaning ‘strong’ or ‘vigorous’. The Oxford English Dictionary quotes this example of its usage in “The farming and memorandum books of Henry Best of Elmswell” by Henry Best (c1592-1645):

“When barley is loggery and full of greenes.”

Well, let us hope that the loggery in the park will allow the stag beetle larvae to achieve rank growth.

It looked like a reflection but that was an illusion

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WHEN WALKING ALONG the north side of London’s Euston Road between Albany Street and Hampstead Road, I passed a metal sculpture of a man, life-size, looking into the ground floor plate glass window of a newish building, part of the Regents Place development.

At first sight, it looked as if the sculpture was being reflected by the glass. As I thought that the sculpture looked like the kind of thing created by the British sculptor Antony Gormley, I took a closer look, and saw a plate embedded on the floor next to the artwork. It read:

“Antony Gormley Reflection 2001 cast iron”.

Then, looking carefully, I realised that what I thought was a reflection was in fact a replica of the sculpture outside on the other side of the window, in the building. And as I looked at this interesting idea, I noticed that the two sculptures differed in colour, otherwise they were mirror images of each other. Simple though the sculptures are, the idea that a reflection need not be a reflection struck me as intriguing.

An extraordinary exhibition of art by an artist born in Czechoslovakia

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BORN IN WHAT was Czechoslovakia in 1990 just after the end of Communist rule in that country, Klara Hosnedlova graduated at the Academy of Fine Arts in Prague. She creates in many different ways, including photography, sculpture, furniture, embroidery, and site-specific installation. A collection of her work is on display at the Bermondsey branch of White Cube Gallery in south London until 29 March 2026.

One room of the gallery is occupied by tall sculpture made with knotted natural fibres. Its base is a collection of thick serpent-like fibre ropes that spread across the floor like the roots of a tree. Attached to this structure, there is something that resembles an enlarged seashell which contains an image that includes depictions of fingertips. This inclusion reminded me of the appearance of mitochondria when viewed with an electron microscope. Although I find it difficult to describe this artwork in words, what can be seen in the far larger gallery next door is almost indescribable.

 The larger of the two galleries containing Hosnedlova’s work is ‘mind-blowing’. Many of the artist’s sculptures and embroideries (which look like paintings) have been assembled to create an extraordinary immersive art installation. Both fantastic and exciting, it is at the same time the stuff of nightmares. The website of the White Cube described it as follows:

“The principal room of the gallery opens onto a central, metal platform flanked by looming metal walls, each mounted with prodigious sandstone sculptures upon which further embroidered images are embedded. Constructed from industrial and composite materials, the architectural implements of Hosnedlová’s installations often contain impressions of built environments. Intended to be walked and sat upon, the stepped, quadrangle platform is composed of metal grilles … While the platform recalls the openness of urban, public space – exposing, if not intimidating, sites cleared of natural shade or protection – the grille meanwhile refers to its function in the city as an interface between terrestrial and subterranean worlds. Strewn carelessly over the platform, like shed skins, are some abandoned articles of clothing …”

But even these words are inadequate to describe the scene that confronts the viewer. It must be seen to be believed. I asked gallery employee whether the huge installation was to be sold as a single whole item.  I was told that although the installation was created to provide a fascinating visual experience, the individual items that it contained were to be sold separately.

When we visited the large room of the exhibition, a South Asian security guard saw the expressions of amazement on our faces, smiled, and pointed out where to stand to get a good photograph of the whole installation. And after we had seen it, and were leaving the room, he smiled at us, and gave us the thumbs up. I returned this gesture of satisfaction.