Dramatic London – Dancing clouds and whispering lights

There is hidden magic in the ever-changing London skies that turn it into a potent Muse. No wonder there is poetry all around. From poetry on the Underground to poets on hire overground, so to say. It is as if the skies over London have just one aim – defy the grey! Not just the brilliant hues that spread at dawn and dusk, but even the clouds find themselves persuaded to float around and paint. From the love letters that clouds write to the poems penned in light and shadow, it is entirely up to the tourist to watch dreams in the mist transform from the dull to divine or be mesmerized by the great drama of storms, sunsets, and silver linings that reach out at no cost to anyone.

Even the cloudless days and those times when the sun isn’t helpful at all and keeps the forever playful hues indoors, there is something that remains magnetic here. Charles Dickens   writes that “a day in London sets one dreaming. The mist creeps in, twines itself about the great buildings, and suggests all sorts of stories.” Even Charlotte Brontë commenting on London’s changing skies, calls it glorious even though “it is monotonous compared with the changing expressions of a variable sky.” The drama in the skies out here has a strong presence and, I believe, the reason is the sheer unpredictability of weather. Compared to the endless blue of more temperate places, it is the unstable conditions that gives the sky here a new life and turns it into a masterpiece that shifts with every passing hour. This morning as we went out for our walk by the river, it was decidedly cold, cloudy, and windy and in less than thirty minutes, the weather would have been defined by my grandson as “nice and warm.” The theatre of constant transformation with clouds ushered in to perform their silent ballet is what triggers the poet even in the most prosaic mind. I suggest everyone to constantly look up to see the way light bends and twists in unexpected ways. Turner, an artist, immortalized this canvas of soft pastels when he wrote of gold melting into rose and lilac dissolving into indigo. If you think this pastel exhibition lasts for long, you are way off the mark, because sooner than you may blink, the mood shifts and a brooding grey takes over, dramatic and deep, setting the stage for the rain to whisper stories into every listening ear. Then just as suddenly, the sun rushes in to dress everything by a shimmer!

It is a pleasure to walk around in this climate of unpredictability and click a million pictures without a pause. I have done this often. Not just the skies but also the reflections in the glass façades of buildings and the reflections on water, though I may talk about them in another article. It is fascinating to find a million shades of white, blue, and grey give the verdant hues below a tough competition. Now imagine yourself walking along the Thames or any one of the canals that flow to watch a single teasing ray bounce on a famous landmark and into the river with a flirting glance and you will know what I mean. The element of unpredictability is proven when we find Virginia Woolf calling the skies here “a smooth velvet, translucent as a pearl” and Herman Melville wrote about “the wildness of its clouds and the luridness of its sunsets.” London is forever trapped between notions of eternal peace and the instinctive impulse to outdo the torrid zones!

I once raised a question on the internet: What are the seasons when the sky over London is best? One person replied: All. Crisp, clear evenings with golden hues during autumn are as poetic as the soft pastels at dawn and a gentle glow at dusk during spring. Winters are dramatic as tornados of shades of grey contrast sharply with piercing blues on clear days. Summers, of course, come with fiery sunsets and long twilight hours.

The weather patterns here have a profound impact on art, literature, and emotions… I can say with certainty that every time I am here, my dreams are richer, and my writing gets better. I have seen a few Turner masterpieces in art galleries and agree with critics when they talk of his swirling strokes where light and storm collide in an eternal dance. It is not easy to capture fleeting beauty in mere brushstrokes, but Turner does that with feeling. I have read Dickens and know how well he weaves London fog into stories making it a silent conspirator in tales of mystery and hardship. Damp streets, drizzle, and sudden shafts of golden light come together to reflect the complexities of human existence. The interplay of hope and despair… it is the London weather waving its magic wand over Dickens. If you are the sort who has always raved and raged against the greys of London skies, let me add here that for creators the grey here is not just a grey but shades of longing, of thought, of quiet inspiration. London weather is surely not dreary. It is dramatic. It is tender and endlessly romantic. The weather here… and thus the skies over London, are impossible to forget.
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Arvind Passey
Uploaded on 04 April 2025
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