My day in London turned out to be all about bodies. My good friend and I started the day off at the ‘Sacred Made Real’ exhibition at the National Gallery. The impressive Spanish 16th and 17th century sculptures and paintings strived to bring the human embodiment of religious characters to life in brilliantly executed works, assembled for this unique exhibition. There was gore, humanity and ridiculousness in these works of art. The inventiveness of the artists was incredible. The tears of the Virgin Mary were made of glass, the congealed blooded wounds of dead body of Christ from tree bark and red paint. His eye lashes were horse hairs. All the sculptures were made of wood, but looked as if they were marble. I could understand perfectly well, how 400 years ago, a churchgoer might have imagined the sculptures of saints real. As a not very conscientious or pious Lutheran, I could but admire and be baffled by the limits to which the artists went to project the approved Christian faith of the time.
The spiritual start to the evening must have been the reason I had no hangover this morning. A highly unusual state of affairs after a night out with my friend. Perhaps we are at last growing up?