Concrete jungle, stone fields.

A stone's throw from my hotel, just south of where the west end musicals start lighting up the streets, you find St. Martins-in-the-Fields, a church in the C. of England which has, somewhat bafflingly to me, developed a serious side-business in putting on concerts and serving delicious food in its crypt. It seems like a pretty good business model, given the location and the beautiful 18th century building, and one can hardly complain, as the proceeds help support the church in its good works, which include notable programs for the homeless and hard-done-by.

I went this evening for dinner and a concert of Baroque music (Vivaldi, Handel, Bach and Pachelbel). I made a few notes.

1. The website makes absolutely clear, the 'Café in the Crypt' is, fact, in a proper Crypt. It encourages you to take time out of your meal to peruse the gravestones that line the chamber. I find this creepy. But somewhat comforting, once I get past that creepiness.

2. Prior to the performance there was a standard announcement regarding cell phones, etc, but with this charming addition: "Rest rooms are located in the café, but it's too late now, so you'll have to wait until intermission."

I suppose, if I'd had to go, I wouldn't have found it so funny.

3. There is no stage. The performers are on the same level as the audience, who sit in pews. To be seen, I suppose, the violinists and viola players stand - something I've never seen otherwise in performance. It makes for an odd and, to me, worrying picture. I do enjoy, at concerts, the movement of ther performers, swaying, lifting, bearing down - nothing ostentatious, mind you. But it's one thing when they're sitting down. Standing, the freedom of movment is a bit too much. Somehow it called to mind an image of mushrooms, come alive and on the move. I worried that someone would lose an eye.

4. Programs cost £1.50, and few people shelled out (I certainly didn't). This only exacerbated a classic problem with orchestral concerts: no one knows whether a pause in the music marks the end of a movement or the end of the piece, and consequently everyone looks around in a panic, before beginning to clap half-heartedly, and then stopping as the musicians start playing again. Fortunately the conductor picked up on our confusion, and would give a little bow to his players when the piece was well and truly done.

We still screwed up (not me!)

5. The church has a new window at one end of the nave (yes, it's not a cathedral, but apparently it's still called a nave, so sayeth my ticket). You can see a picture and read a fairly silly article about it here. I admit, I didn't recognize the cross imagery at first, which makes me feel rather dull, but perhaps I can be forgiven because in the gloaming the distorted grid becomes far less prominent and the egg-like shape at the centre seems to light up and draws the eye. And all along I was thinking about whether it made sense to reimagine religious symbols, whether it was even possible. The egg as an evocation of the divine didn't work for me - it seemed too pat, too much like what a human thinking about God might think about, but my point is, anything that we might contrive would, necessarily, seem contrived. But then, when I was looking for photos so I could post this, I realized that, yeah, it's a cross after all. Silly me.

There's a better picture here.