Once a year my wife and I go to London, visiting family. Beside long walks, including meals and drinks, we experience different exhibitions at galleries and museums. The National Portrait Gallery is a favourite. A good artist invites the audience to explore more than what is visible. At the gallery masterpieces are easily found. Pieces that have various meanings, and a depth that makes the well known face become a part the observers own personality, familiar and unknown on the same time.
On an unusually cold Sunday morning we went to Saint Martin in the Fields, a church few meters from Trafalgar square and the gallery. Men, like dark shadows, were sitting and laying on black benches. The room was warm and welcoming. The grey daylight couldn’t reach the resting men. They were placed in the corners and under the big windows. One could hardly see them. But it was possible to hear them. Snore! Like children, that finally feel safe and can get some rest. The church was warmed up because of the homeless men. It was a nice gesture.
Ambiguity is a quality in art. Like in real life nothing interesting can be easily defined. More important, no human being is unambiguous. Not the rich. Not the poor and homeless.