High Tide: Luke Jerram's Museum of the Moon at The Old Royal Naval College
Luke Jerram's hypnotic large-scale installation comes to Greenwich
January 5, 2023
The Thames is little affected by the tidal variation caused by the moon’s gravitational pull of the earth. But it has always been a symbol and carrier of the changing tides of history and politics.
Designed by Sir Christopher Wren, the Royal Hospital for Seamen (specifically retired pensioners) first opened at Greenwich in 1692. Now infamous, its darkly lit Painted Hall, dripping with the Baroque murals of Sir James Thornhill, didn’t open until 1714. It is the largest painting in the country, completed in two phases the century afterwards (1707-1726). Two hundred figures celebrate Britain’s maritime and (soon to be) imperial successes, putting it at the centre of the world - if not the universe.
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It is thus a fitting location for Luke Jerram’s seven metre sculptural installation, Museum of the Moon. Using 120dpi detailed NASA imagery, each centimetre of the internally lit sphere represents 5km of the lunar surface, a scale of 1:500,000. Luminous is a word often attributed to artworks, but this one truly is. A surround sound composition from BAFTA and Ivor Novello award-winning composer Dan Jones lingers in the atmosphere, alongside space-themed classics (Debussy’s Clair de Lune, of course).
During the early pandemic, Greenwich played host to Luke Jerram’s companion installation Gaia, a similar scaled replica of the Earth. One volunteer remarked that he prefers the moon, for visitors are less likely to focus on themselves or their geography, and awe in the installation itself. Belonging and often staged outdoors – including in Greenwich, in 2021 - there’s something interesting about seeing the moon displayed in such a confined space.
It also encourages deeper engagement with the subjects of Thornhill’s Painted Hall. A relative unknown and theatre painter, Thornhill was selected for being ‘British, Protestant, and cheap’. By the end of the first phase of painting, a mere nineteen years, he was perhaps Britain’s most famous living painter. Some call it his ‘CV for St. Paul’s Cathedral’, and other commissions including Hampton Court.
Thornhill was a political painter, conscious of thanking the original commissioners, Queen Mary and King William, more than the ruling and ailing Queen Anne. He trod a fine line with the successors to the Stuart dynasty, the warring Hanoverians, George I and his son, George II, so nicknamed ‘The Leader of the Opposition’.
Other symbols are more subtle. The spirit of architecture celebrates Wren’s great building, but the most attention is paid to astronomy. Copernicus sits near Diana, Goddess of the Moon. Galileo is depicted with a modern telescope, a shrewd bit of advertising for Thornhill’s friend who manufactured the instrument. John Flamsteed, who accurately calculated solar eclipses, is depicted writing a scroll dated 22 April 1715. It was his prediction of the next total solar eclipse, boldly proclaimed to the public a year in advance, when the Hall opened in 1714. These figures all have moon craters named after them, and hover over them in Jerram’s installation below.
Museum of the Moon has travelled the world since 2016, and though a global symbol, it has different meanings – and receptions – in different cultures. All sites have seen an influx of selfie-seeking visitors, so much that the Old Royal Naval College has introduced ‘Social Media Mondays’. Certain churches have had a difficult relationship with the installation, as its transcendental message, not theirs, draws more visitors.
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Though named ‘Britain’s Sistine Chapel’, the Painted Hall features no such religious figures. Instead, Thornhill uses classical Greek and Roman figures to tell a religious and political story – the triumph of Protestant Christianity over Catholicism. Medusa and Sin fall out of the central painting, whilst William’s foot squashes the face of the Catholic King of France, Louis XIV.
In that typical mixing of symbols, we see the new King George I as a Roman emperor, next to St. George and his Dragon, and another Catholic, chucked to the floor. Old Father Thames waves his arrival to London via the river in 1714 – his coronation year shared with the Painted Hall’s opening.
The Upper Hall emanates the new Georgian promise of wealth and plenty. Paintings of exotic fruits and children (heirs) spill from the walls, gifts to be shared with the public. In a building constructed by charity – even Wren agreed to work for free – it is a shame that the high cost of entry will prevent many from entering its world.
Museum of the Moon is on view in the Painted Hall of the Old Royal Naval College until 5 February 2023.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
The Thames is little affected by the tidal variation caused by the moon’s gravitational pull of the earth. But it has always been a symbol and carrier of the changing tides of history and politics.
Designed by Sir Christopher Wren, the Royal Hospital for Seamen (specifically retired pensioners) first opened at Greenwich in 1692. Now infamous, its darkly lit Painted Hall, dripping with the Baroque murals of Sir James Thornhill, didn’t open until 1714. It is the largest painting in the country, completed in two phases the century afterwards (1707-1726). Two hundred figures celebrate Britain’s maritime and (soon to be) imperial successes, putting it at the centre of the world - if not the universe.
It is thus a fitting location for Luke Jerram’s seven metre sculptural installation, Museum of the Moon. Using 120dpi detailed NASA imagery, each centimetre of the internally lit sphere represents 5km of the lunar surface, a scale of 1:500,000. Luminous is a word often attributed to artworks, but this one truly is. A surround sound composition from BAFTA and Ivor Novello award-winning composer Dan Jones lingers in the atmosphere, alongside space-themed classics (Debussy’s Clair de Lune, of course).
During the early pandemic, Greenwich played host to Luke Jerram’s companion installation Gaia, a similar scaled replica of the Earth. One volunteer remarked that he prefers the moon, for visitors are less likely to focus on themselves or their geography, and awe in the installation itself. Belonging and often staged outdoors – including in Greenwich, in 2021 - there’s something interesting about seeing the moon displayed in such a confined space.
It also encourages deeper engagement with the subjects of Thornhill’s Painted Hall. A relative unknown and theatre painter, Thornhill was selected for being ‘British, Protestant, and cheap’. By the end of the first phase of painting, a mere nineteen years, he was perhaps Britain’s most famous living painter. Some call it his ‘CV for St. Paul’s Cathedral’, and other commissions including Hampton Court.
Thornhill was a political painter, conscious of thanking the original commissioners, Queen Mary and King William, more than the ruling and ailing Queen Anne. He trod a fine line with the successors to the Stuart dynasty, the warring Hanoverians, George I and his son, George II, so nicknamed ‘The Leader of the Opposition’.
Other symbols are more subtle. The spirit of architecture celebrates Wren’s great building, but the most attention is paid to astronomy. Copernicus sits near Diana, Goddess of the Moon. Galileo is depicted with a modern telescope, a shrewd bit of advertising for Thornhill’s friend who manufactured the instrument. John Flamsteed, who accurately calculated solar eclipses, is depicted writing a scroll dated 22 April 1715. It was his prediction of the next total solar eclipse, boldly proclaimed to the public a year in advance, when the Hall opened in 1714. These figures all have moon craters named after them, and hover over them in Jerram’s installation below.
Museum of the Moon has travelled the world since 2016, and though a global symbol, it has different meanings – and receptions – in different cultures. All sites have seen an influx of selfie-seeking visitors, so much that the Old Royal Naval College has introduced ‘Social Media Mondays’. Certain churches have had a difficult relationship with the installation, as its transcendental message, not theirs, draws more visitors.
Though named ‘Britain’s Sistine Chapel’, the Painted Hall features no such religious figures. Instead, Thornhill uses classical Greek and Roman figures to tell a religious and political story – the triumph of Protestant Christianity over Catholicism. Medusa and Sin fall out of the central painting, whilst William’s foot squashes the face of the Catholic King of France, Louis XIV.
In that typical mixing of symbols, we see the new King George I as a Roman emperor, next to St. George and his Dragon, and another Catholic, chucked to the floor. Old Father Thames waves his arrival to London via the river in 1714 – his coronation year shared with the Painted Hall’s opening.
The Upper Hall emanates the new Georgian promise of wealth and plenty. Paintings of exotic fruits and children (heirs) spill from the walls, gifts to be shared with the public. In a building constructed by charity – even Wren agreed to work for free – it is a shame that the high cost of entry will prevent many from entering its world.
Museum of the Moon is on view in the Painted Hall of the Old Royal Naval College until 5 February 2023.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
The Thames is little affected by the tidal variation caused by the moon’s gravitational pull of the earth. But it has always been a symbol and carrier of the changing tides of history and politics.
Designed by Sir Christopher Wren, the Royal Hospital for Seamen (specifically retired pensioners) first opened at Greenwich in 1692. Now infamous, its darkly lit Painted Hall, dripping with the Baroque murals of Sir James Thornhill, didn’t open until 1714. It is the largest painting in the country, completed in two phases the century afterwards (1707-1726). Two hundred figures celebrate Britain’s maritime and (soon to be) imperial successes, putting it at the centre of the world - if not the universe.
It is thus a fitting location for Luke Jerram’s seven metre sculptural installation, Museum of the Moon. Using 120dpi detailed NASA imagery, each centimetre of the internally lit sphere represents 5km of the lunar surface, a scale of 1:500,000. Luminous is a word often attributed to artworks, but this one truly is. A surround sound composition from BAFTA and Ivor Novello award-winning composer Dan Jones lingers in the atmosphere, alongside space-themed classics (Debussy’s Clair de Lune, of course).
During the early pandemic, Greenwich played host to Luke Jerram’s companion installation Gaia, a similar scaled replica of the Earth. One volunteer remarked that he prefers the moon, for visitors are less likely to focus on themselves or their geography, and awe in the installation itself. Belonging and often staged outdoors – including in Greenwich, in 2021 - there’s something interesting about seeing the moon displayed in such a confined space.
It also encourages deeper engagement with the subjects of Thornhill’s Painted Hall. A relative unknown and theatre painter, Thornhill was selected for being ‘British, Protestant, and cheap’. By the end of the first phase of painting, a mere nineteen years, he was perhaps Britain’s most famous living painter. Some call it his ‘CV for St. Paul’s Cathedral’, and other commissions including Hampton Court.
Thornhill was a political painter, conscious of thanking the original commissioners, Queen Mary and King William, more than the ruling and ailing Queen Anne. He trod a fine line with the successors to the Stuart dynasty, the warring Hanoverians, George I and his son, George II, so nicknamed ‘The Leader of the Opposition’.
Other symbols are more subtle. The spirit of architecture celebrates Wren’s great building, but the most attention is paid to astronomy. Copernicus sits near Diana, Goddess of the Moon. Galileo is depicted with a modern telescope, a shrewd bit of advertising for Thornhill’s friend who manufactured the instrument. John Flamsteed, who accurately calculated solar eclipses, is depicted writing a scroll dated 22 April 1715. It was his prediction of the next total solar eclipse, boldly proclaimed to the public a year in advance, when the Hall opened in 1714. These figures all have moon craters named after them, and hover over them in Jerram’s installation below.
Museum of the Moon has travelled the world since 2016, and though a global symbol, it has different meanings – and receptions – in different cultures. All sites have seen an influx of selfie-seeking visitors, so much that the Old Royal Naval College has introduced ‘Social Media Mondays’. Certain churches have had a difficult relationship with the installation, as its transcendental message, not theirs, draws more visitors.
Though named ‘Britain’s Sistine Chapel’, the Painted Hall features no such religious figures. Instead, Thornhill uses classical Greek and Roman figures to tell a religious and political story – the triumph of Protestant Christianity over Catholicism. Medusa and Sin fall out of the central painting, whilst William’s foot squashes the face of the Catholic King of France, Louis XIV.
In that typical mixing of symbols, we see the new King George I as a Roman emperor, next to St. George and his Dragon, and another Catholic, chucked to the floor. Old Father Thames waves his arrival to London via the river in 1714 – his coronation year shared with the Painted Hall’s opening.
The Upper Hall emanates the new Georgian promise of wealth and plenty. Paintings of exotic fruits and children (heirs) spill from the walls, gifts to be shared with the public. In a building constructed by charity – even Wren agreed to work for free – it is a shame that the high cost of entry will prevent many from entering its world.
Museum of the Moon is on view in the Painted Hall of the Old Royal Naval College until 5 February 2023.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
The Thames is little affected by the tidal variation caused by the moon’s gravitational pull of the earth. But it has always been a symbol and carrier of the changing tides of history and politics.
Designed by Sir Christopher Wren, the Royal Hospital for Seamen (specifically retired pensioners) first opened at Greenwich in 1692. Now infamous, its darkly lit Painted Hall, dripping with the Baroque murals of Sir James Thornhill, didn’t open until 1714. It is the largest painting in the country, completed in two phases the century afterwards (1707-1726). Two hundred figures celebrate Britain’s maritime and (soon to be) imperial successes, putting it at the centre of the world - if not the universe.
It is thus a fitting location for Luke Jerram’s seven metre sculptural installation, Museum of the Moon. Using 120dpi detailed NASA imagery, each centimetre of the internally lit sphere represents 5km of the lunar surface, a scale of 1:500,000. Luminous is a word often attributed to artworks, but this one truly is. A surround sound composition from BAFTA and Ivor Novello award-winning composer Dan Jones lingers in the atmosphere, alongside space-themed classics (Debussy’s Clair de Lune, of course).
During the early pandemic, Greenwich played host to Luke Jerram’s companion installation Gaia, a similar scaled replica of the Earth. One volunteer remarked that he prefers the moon, for visitors are less likely to focus on themselves or their geography, and awe in the installation itself. Belonging and often staged outdoors – including in Greenwich, in 2021 - there’s something interesting about seeing the moon displayed in such a confined space.
It also encourages deeper engagement with the subjects of Thornhill’s Painted Hall. A relative unknown and theatre painter, Thornhill was selected for being ‘British, Protestant, and cheap’. By the end of the first phase of painting, a mere nineteen years, he was perhaps Britain’s most famous living painter. Some call it his ‘CV for St. Paul’s Cathedral’, and other commissions including Hampton Court.
Thornhill was a political painter, conscious of thanking the original commissioners, Queen Mary and King William, more than the ruling and ailing Queen Anne. He trod a fine line with the successors to the Stuart dynasty, the warring Hanoverians, George I and his son, George II, so nicknamed ‘The Leader of the Opposition’.
Other symbols are more subtle. The spirit of architecture celebrates Wren’s great building, but the most attention is paid to astronomy. Copernicus sits near Diana, Goddess of the Moon. Galileo is depicted with a modern telescope, a shrewd bit of advertising for Thornhill’s friend who manufactured the instrument. John Flamsteed, who accurately calculated solar eclipses, is depicted writing a scroll dated 22 April 1715. It was his prediction of the next total solar eclipse, boldly proclaimed to the public a year in advance, when the Hall opened in 1714. These figures all have moon craters named after them, and hover over them in Jerram’s installation below.
Museum of the Moon has travelled the world since 2016, and though a global symbol, it has different meanings – and receptions – in different cultures. All sites have seen an influx of selfie-seeking visitors, so much that the Old Royal Naval College has introduced ‘Social Media Mondays’. Certain churches have had a difficult relationship with the installation, as its transcendental message, not theirs, draws more visitors.
Though named ‘Britain’s Sistine Chapel’, the Painted Hall features no such religious figures. Instead, Thornhill uses classical Greek and Roman figures to tell a religious and political story – the triumph of Protestant Christianity over Catholicism. Medusa and Sin fall out of the central painting, whilst William’s foot squashes the face of the Catholic King of France, Louis XIV.
In that typical mixing of symbols, we see the new King George I as a Roman emperor, next to St. George and his Dragon, and another Catholic, chucked to the floor. Old Father Thames waves his arrival to London via the river in 1714 – his coronation year shared with the Painted Hall’s opening.
The Upper Hall emanates the new Georgian promise of wealth and plenty. Paintings of exotic fruits and children (heirs) spill from the walls, gifts to be shared with the public. In a building constructed by charity – even Wren agreed to work for free – it is a shame that the high cost of entry will prevent many from entering its world.
Museum of the Moon is on view in the Painted Hall of the Old Royal Naval College until 5 February 2023.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
The Thames is little affected by the tidal variation caused by the moon’s gravitational pull of the earth. But it has always been a symbol and carrier of the changing tides of history and politics.
Designed by Sir Christopher Wren, the Royal Hospital for Seamen (specifically retired pensioners) first opened at Greenwich in 1692. Now infamous, its darkly lit Painted Hall, dripping with the Baroque murals of Sir James Thornhill, didn’t open until 1714. It is the largest painting in the country, completed in two phases the century afterwards (1707-1726). Two hundred figures celebrate Britain’s maritime and (soon to be) imperial successes, putting it at the centre of the world - if not the universe.
It is thus a fitting location for Luke Jerram’s seven metre sculptural installation, Museum of the Moon. Using 120dpi detailed NASA imagery, each centimetre of the internally lit sphere represents 5km of the lunar surface, a scale of 1:500,000. Luminous is a word often attributed to artworks, but this one truly is. A surround sound composition from BAFTA and Ivor Novello award-winning composer Dan Jones lingers in the atmosphere, alongside space-themed classics (Debussy’s Clair de Lune, of course).
During the early pandemic, Greenwich played host to Luke Jerram’s companion installation Gaia, a similar scaled replica of the Earth. One volunteer remarked that he prefers the moon, for visitors are less likely to focus on themselves or their geography, and awe in the installation itself. Belonging and often staged outdoors – including in Greenwich, in 2021 - there’s something interesting about seeing the moon displayed in such a confined space.
It also encourages deeper engagement with the subjects of Thornhill’s Painted Hall. A relative unknown and theatre painter, Thornhill was selected for being ‘British, Protestant, and cheap’. By the end of the first phase of painting, a mere nineteen years, he was perhaps Britain’s most famous living painter. Some call it his ‘CV for St. Paul’s Cathedral’, and other commissions including Hampton Court.
Thornhill was a political painter, conscious of thanking the original commissioners, Queen Mary and King William, more than the ruling and ailing Queen Anne. He trod a fine line with the successors to the Stuart dynasty, the warring Hanoverians, George I and his son, George II, so nicknamed ‘The Leader of the Opposition’.
Other symbols are more subtle. The spirit of architecture celebrates Wren’s great building, but the most attention is paid to astronomy. Copernicus sits near Diana, Goddess of the Moon. Galileo is depicted with a modern telescope, a shrewd bit of advertising for Thornhill’s friend who manufactured the instrument. John Flamsteed, who accurately calculated solar eclipses, is depicted writing a scroll dated 22 April 1715. It was his prediction of the next total solar eclipse, boldly proclaimed to the public a year in advance, when the Hall opened in 1714. These figures all have moon craters named after them, and hover over them in Jerram’s installation below.
Museum of the Moon has travelled the world since 2016, and though a global symbol, it has different meanings – and receptions – in different cultures. All sites have seen an influx of selfie-seeking visitors, so much that the Old Royal Naval College has introduced ‘Social Media Mondays’. Certain churches have had a difficult relationship with the installation, as its transcendental message, not theirs, draws more visitors.
Though named ‘Britain’s Sistine Chapel’, the Painted Hall features no such religious figures. Instead, Thornhill uses classical Greek and Roman figures to tell a religious and political story – the triumph of Protestant Christianity over Catholicism. Medusa and Sin fall out of the central painting, whilst William’s foot squashes the face of the Catholic King of France, Louis XIV.
In that typical mixing of symbols, we see the new King George I as a Roman emperor, next to St. George and his Dragon, and another Catholic, chucked to the floor. Old Father Thames waves his arrival to London via the river in 1714 – his coronation year shared with the Painted Hall’s opening.
The Upper Hall emanates the new Georgian promise of wealth and plenty. Paintings of exotic fruits and children (heirs) spill from the walls, gifts to be shared with the public. In a building constructed by charity – even Wren agreed to work for free – it is a shame that the high cost of entry will prevent many from entering its world.
Museum of the Moon is on view in the Painted Hall of the Old Royal Naval College until 5 February 2023.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
The Thames is little affected by the tidal variation caused by the moon’s gravitational pull of the earth. But it has always been a symbol and carrier of the changing tides of history and politics.
Designed by Sir Christopher Wren, the Royal Hospital for Seamen (specifically retired pensioners) first opened at Greenwich in 1692. Now infamous, its darkly lit Painted Hall, dripping with the Baroque murals of Sir James Thornhill, didn’t open until 1714. It is the largest painting in the country, completed in two phases the century afterwards (1707-1726). Two hundred figures celebrate Britain’s maritime and (soon to be) imperial successes, putting it at the centre of the world - if not the universe.
It is thus a fitting location for Luke Jerram’s seven metre sculptural installation, Museum of the Moon. Using 120dpi detailed NASA imagery, each centimetre of the internally lit sphere represents 5km of the lunar surface, a scale of 1:500,000. Luminous is a word often attributed to artworks, but this one truly is. A surround sound composition from BAFTA and Ivor Novello award-winning composer Dan Jones lingers in the atmosphere, alongside space-themed classics (Debussy’s Clair de Lune, of course).
During the early pandemic, Greenwich played host to Luke Jerram’s companion installation Gaia, a similar scaled replica of the Earth. One volunteer remarked that he prefers the moon, for visitors are less likely to focus on themselves or their geography, and awe in the installation itself. Belonging and often staged outdoors – including in Greenwich, in 2021 - there’s something interesting about seeing the moon displayed in such a confined space.
It also encourages deeper engagement with the subjects of Thornhill’s Painted Hall. A relative unknown and theatre painter, Thornhill was selected for being ‘British, Protestant, and cheap’. By the end of the first phase of painting, a mere nineteen years, he was perhaps Britain’s most famous living painter. Some call it his ‘CV for St. Paul’s Cathedral’, and other commissions including Hampton Court.
Thornhill was a political painter, conscious of thanking the original commissioners, Queen Mary and King William, more than the ruling and ailing Queen Anne. He trod a fine line with the successors to the Stuart dynasty, the warring Hanoverians, George I and his son, George II, so nicknamed ‘The Leader of the Opposition’.
Other symbols are more subtle. The spirit of architecture celebrates Wren’s great building, but the most attention is paid to astronomy. Copernicus sits near Diana, Goddess of the Moon. Galileo is depicted with a modern telescope, a shrewd bit of advertising for Thornhill’s friend who manufactured the instrument. John Flamsteed, who accurately calculated solar eclipses, is depicted writing a scroll dated 22 April 1715. It was his prediction of the next total solar eclipse, boldly proclaimed to the public a year in advance, when the Hall opened in 1714. These figures all have moon craters named after them, and hover over them in Jerram’s installation below.
Museum of the Moon has travelled the world since 2016, and though a global symbol, it has different meanings – and receptions – in different cultures. All sites have seen an influx of selfie-seeking visitors, so much that the Old Royal Naval College has introduced ‘Social Media Mondays’. Certain churches have had a difficult relationship with the installation, as its transcendental message, not theirs, draws more visitors.
Though named ‘Britain’s Sistine Chapel’, the Painted Hall features no such religious figures. Instead, Thornhill uses classical Greek and Roman figures to tell a religious and political story – the triumph of Protestant Christianity over Catholicism. Medusa and Sin fall out of the central painting, whilst William’s foot squashes the face of the Catholic King of France, Louis XIV.
In that typical mixing of symbols, we see the new King George I as a Roman emperor, next to St. George and his Dragon, and another Catholic, chucked to the floor. Old Father Thames waves his arrival to London via the river in 1714 – his coronation year shared with the Painted Hall’s opening.
The Upper Hall emanates the new Georgian promise of wealth and plenty. Paintings of exotic fruits and children (heirs) spill from the walls, gifts to be shared with the public. In a building constructed by charity – even Wren agreed to work for free – it is a shame that the high cost of entry will prevent many from entering its world.
Museum of the Moon is on view in the Painted Hall of the Old Royal Naval College until 5 February 2023.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
The Thames is little affected by the tidal variation caused by the moon’s gravitational pull of the earth. But it has always been a symbol and carrier of the changing tides of history and politics.
Designed by Sir Christopher Wren, the Royal Hospital for Seamen (specifically retired pensioners) first opened at Greenwich in 1692. Now infamous, its darkly lit Painted Hall, dripping with the Baroque murals of Sir James Thornhill, didn’t open until 1714. It is the largest painting in the country, completed in two phases the century afterwards (1707-1726). Two hundred figures celebrate Britain’s maritime and (soon to be) imperial successes, putting it at the centre of the world - if not the universe.
It is thus a fitting location for Luke Jerram’s seven metre sculptural installation, Museum of the Moon. Using 120dpi detailed NASA imagery, each centimetre of the internally lit sphere represents 5km of the lunar surface, a scale of 1:500,000. Luminous is a word often attributed to artworks, but this one truly is. A surround sound composition from BAFTA and Ivor Novello award-winning composer Dan Jones lingers in the atmosphere, alongside space-themed classics (Debussy’s Clair de Lune, of course).
During the early pandemic, Greenwich played host to Luke Jerram’s companion installation Gaia, a similar scaled replica of the Earth. One volunteer remarked that he prefers the moon, for visitors are less likely to focus on themselves or their geography, and awe in the installation itself. Belonging and often staged outdoors – including in Greenwich, in 2021 - there’s something interesting about seeing the moon displayed in such a confined space.
It also encourages deeper engagement with the subjects of Thornhill’s Painted Hall. A relative unknown and theatre painter, Thornhill was selected for being ‘British, Protestant, and cheap’. By the end of the first phase of painting, a mere nineteen years, he was perhaps Britain’s most famous living painter. Some call it his ‘CV for St. Paul’s Cathedral’, and other commissions including Hampton Court.
Thornhill was a political painter, conscious of thanking the original commissioners, Queen Mary and King William, more than the ruling and ailing Queen Anne. He trod a fine line with the successors to the Stuart dynasty, the warring Hanoverians, George I and his son, George II, so nicknamed ‘The Leader of the Opposition’.
Other symbols are more subtle. The spirit of architecture celebrates Wren’s great building, but the most attention is paid to astronomy. Copernicus sits near Diana, Goddess of the Moon. Galileo is depicted with a modern telescope, a shrewd bit of advertising for Thornhill’s friend who manufactured the instrument. John Flamsteed, who accurately calculated solar eclipses, is depicted writing a scroll dated 22 April 1715. It was his prediction of the next total solar eclipse, boldly proclaimed to the public a year in advance, when the Hall opened in 1714. These figures all have moon craters named after them, and hover over them in Jerram’s installation below.
Museum of the Moon has travelled the world since 2016, and though a global symbol, it has different meanings – and receptions – in different cultures. All sites have seen an influx of selfie-seeking visitors, so much that the Old Royal Naval College has introduced ‘Social Media Mondays’. Certain churches have had a difficult relationship with the installation, as its transcendental message, not theirs, draws more visitors.
Though named ‘Britain’s Sistine Chapel’, the Painted Hall features no such religious figures. Instead, Thornhill uses classical Greek and Roman figures to tell a religious and political story – the triumph of Protestant Christianity over Catholicism. Medusa and Sin fall out of the central painting, whilst William’s foot squashes the face of the Catholic King of France, Louis XIV.
In that typical mixing of symbols, we see the new King George I as a Roman emperor, next to St. George and his Dragon, and another Catholic, chucked to the floor. Old Father Thames waves his arrival to London via the river in 1714 – his coronation year shared with the Painted Hall’s opening.
The Upper Hall emanates the new Georgian promise of wealth and plenty. Paintings of exotic fruits and children (heirs) spill from the walls, gifts to be shared with the public. In a building constructed by charity – even Wren agreed to work for free – it is a shame that the high cost of entry will prevent many from entering its world.
Museum of the Moon is on view in the Painted Hall of the Old Royal Naval College until 5 February 2023.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
The Thames is little affected by the tidal variation caused by the moon’s gravitational pull of the earth. But it has always been a symbol and carrier of the changing tides of history and politics.
Designed by Sir Christopher Wren, the Royal Hospital for Seamen (specifically retired pensioners) first opened at Greenwich in 1692. Now infamous, its darkly lit Painted Hall, dripping with the Baroque murals of Sir James Thornhill, didn’t open until 1714. It is the largest painting in the country, completed in two phases the century afterwards (1707-1726). Two hundred figures celebrate Britain’s maritime and (soon to be) imperial successes, putting it at the centre of the world - if not the universe.
It is thus a fitting location for Luke Jerram’s seven metre sculptural installation, Museum of the Moon. Using 120dpi detailed NASA imagery, each centimetre of the internally lit sphere represents 5km of the lunar surface, a scale of 1:500,000. Luminous is a word often attributed to artworks, but this one truly is. A surround sound composition from BAFTA and Ivor Novello award-winning composer Dan Jones lingers in the atmosphere, alongside space-themed classics (Debussy’s Clair de Lune, of course).
During the early pandemic, Greenwich played host to Luke Jerram’s companion installation Gaia, a similar scaled replica of the Earth. One volunteer remarked that he prefers the moon, for visitors are less likely to focus on themselves or their geography, and awe in the installation itself. Belonging and often staged outdoors – including in Greenwich, in 2021 - there’s something interesting about seeing the moon displayed in such a confined space.
It also encourages deeper engagement with the subjects of Thornhill’s Painted Hall. A relative unknown and theatre painter, Thornhill was selected for being ‘British, Protestant, and cheap’. By the end of the first phase of painting, a mere nineteen years, he was perhaps Britain’s most famous living painter. Some call it his ‘CV for St. Paul’s Cathedral’, and other commissions including Hampton Court.
Thornhill was a political painter, conscious of thanking the original commissioners, Queen Mary and King William, more than the ruling and ailing Queen Anne. He trod a fine line with the successors to the Stuart dynasty, the warring Hanoverians, George I and his son, George II, so nicknamed ‘The Leader of the Opposition’.
Other symbols are more subtle. The spirit of architecture celebrates Wren’s great building, but the most attention is paid to astronomy. Copernicus sits near Diana, Goddess of the Moon. Galileo is depicted with a modern telescope, a shrewd bit of advertising for Thornhill’s friend who manufactured the instrument. John Flamsteed, who accurately calculated solar eclipses, is depicted writing a scroll dated 22 April 1715. It was his prediction of the next total solar eclipse, boldly proclaimed to the public a year in advance, when the Hall opened in 1714. These figures all have moon craters named after them, and hover over them in Jerram’s installation below.
Museum of the Moon has travelled the world since 2016, and though a global symbol, it has different meanings – and receptions – in different cultures. All sites have seen an influx of selfie-seeking visitors, so much that the Old Royal Naval College has introduced ‘Social Media Mondays’. Certain churches have had a difficult relationship with the installation, as its transcendental message, not theirs, draws more visitors.
Though named ‘Britain’s Sistine Chapel’, the Painted Hall features no such religious figures. Instead, Thornhill uses classical Greek and Roman figures to tell a religious and political story – the triumph of Protestant Christianity over Catholicism. Medusa and Sin fall out of the central painting, whilst William’s foot squashes the face of the Catholic King of France, Louis XIV.
In that typical mixing of symbols, we see the new King George I as a Roman emperor, next to St. George and his Dragon, and another Catholic, chucked to the floor. Old Father Thames waves his arrival to London via the river in 1714 – his coronation year shared with the Painted Hall’s opening.
The Upper Hall emanates the new Georgian promise of wealth and plenty. Paintings of exotic fruits and children (heirs) spill from the walls, gifts to be shared with the public. In a building constructed by charity – even Wren agreed to work for free – it is a shame that the high cost of entry will prevent many from entering its world.
Museum of the Moon is on view in the Painted Hall of the Old Royal Naval College until 5 February 2023.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
The Thames is little affected by the tidal variation caused by the moon’s gravitational pull of the earth. But it has always been a symbol and carrier of the changing tides of history and politics.
Designed by Sir Christopher Wren, the Royal Hospital for Seamen (specifically retired pensioners) first opened at Greenwich in 1692. Now infamous, its darkly lit Painted Hall, dripping with the Baroque murals of Sir James Thornhill, didn’t open until 1714. It is the largest painting in the country, completed in two phases the century afterwards (1707-1726). Two hundred figures celebrate Britain’s maritime and (soon to be) imperial successes, putting it at the centre of the world - if not the universe.
It is thus a fitting location for Luke Jerram’s seven metre sculptural installation, Museum of the Moon. Using 120dpi detailed NASA imagery, each centimetre of the internally lit sphere represents 5km of the lunar surface, a scale of 1:500,000. Luminous is a word often attributed to artworks, but this one truly is. A surround sound composition from BAFTA and Ivor Novello award-winning composer Dan Jones lingers in the atmosphere, alongside space-themed classics (Debussy’s Clair de Lune, of course).
During the early pandemic, Greenwich played host to Luke Jerram’s companion installation Gaia, a similar scaled replica of the Earth. One volunteer remarked that he prefers the moon, for visitors are less likely to focus on themselves or their geography, and awe in the installation itself. Belonging and often staged outdoors – including in Greenwich, in 2021 - there’s something interesting about seeing the moon displayed in such a confined space.
It also encourages deeper engagement with the subjects of Thornhill’s Painted Hall. A relative unknown and theatre painter, Thornhill was selected for being ‘British, Protestant, and cheap’. By the end of the first phase of painting, a mere nineteen years, he was perhaps Britain’s most famous living painter. Some call it his ‘CV for St. Paul’s Cathedral’, and other commissions including Hampton Court.
Thornhill was a political painter, conscious of thanking the original commissioners, Queen Mary and King William, more than the ruling and ailing Queen Anne. He trod a fine line with the successors to the Stuart dynasty, the warring Hanoverians, George I and his son, George II, so nicknamed ‘The Leader of the Opposition’.
Other symbols are more subtle. The spirit of architecture celebrates Wren’s great building, but the most attention is paid to astronomy. Copernicus sits near Diana, Goddess of the Moon. Galileo is depicted with a modern telescope, a shrewd bit of advertising for Thornhill’s friend who manufactured the instrument. John Flamsteed, who accurately calculated solar eclipses, is depicted writing a scroll dated 22 April 1715. It was his prediction of the next total solar eclipse, boldly proclaimed to the public a year in advance, when the Hall opened in 1714. These figures all have moon craters named after them, and hover over them in Jerram’s installation below.
Museum of the Moon has travelled the world since 2016, and though a global symbol, it has different meanings – and receptions – in different cultures. All sites have seen an influx of selfie-seeking visitors, so much that the Old Royal Naval College has introduced ‘Social Media Mondays’. Certain churches have had a difficult relationship with the installation, as its transcendental message, not theirs, draws more visitors.
Though named ‘Britain’s Sistine Chapel’, the Painted Hall features no such religious figures. Instead, Thornhill uses classical Greek and Roman figures to tell a religious and political story – the triumph of Protestant Christianity over Catholicism. Medusa and Sin fall out of the central painting, whilst William’s foot squashes the face of the Catholic King of France, Louis XIV.
In that typical mixing of symbols, we see the new King George I as a Roman emperor, next to St. George and his Dragon, and another Catholic, chucked to the floor. Old Father Thames waves his arrival to London via the river in 1714 – his coronation year shared with the Painted Hall’s opening.
The Upper Hall emanates the new Georgian promise of wealth and plenty. Paintings of exotic fruits and children (heirs) spill from the walls, gifts to be shared with the public. In a building constructed by charity – even Wren agreed to work for free – it is a shame that the high cost of entry will prevent many from entering its world.
Museum of the Moon is on view in the Painted Hall of the Old Royal Naval College until 5 February 2023.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
The Thames is little affected by the tidal variation caused by the moon’s gravitational pull of the earth. But it has always been a symbol and carrier of the changing tides of history and politics.
Designed by Sir Christopher Wren, the Royal Hospital for Seamen (specifically retired pensioners) first opened at Greenwich in 1692. Now infamous, its darkly lit Painted Hall, dripping with the Baroque murals of Sir James Thornhill, didn’t open until 1714. It is the largest painting in the country, completed in two phases the century afterwards (1707-1726). Two hundred figures celebrate Britain’s maritime and (soon to be) imperial successes, putting it at the centre of the world - if not the universe.
It is thus a fitting location for Luke Jerram’s seven metre sculptural installation, Museum of the Moon. Using 120dpi detailed NASA imagery, each centimetre of the internally lit sphere represents 5km of the lunar surface, a scale of 1:500,000. Luminous is a word often attributed to artworks, but this one truly is. A surround sound composition from BAFTA and Ivor Novello award-winning composer Dan Jones lingers in the atmosphere, alongside space-themed classics (Debussy’s Clair de Lune, of course).
During the early pandemic, Greenwich played host to Luke Jerram’s companion installation Gaia, a similar scaled replica of the Earth. One volunteer remarked that he prefers the moon, for visitors are less likely to focus on themselves or their geography, and awe in the installation itself. Belonging and often staged outdoors – including in Greenwich, in 2021 - there’s something interesting about seeing the moon displayed in such a confined space.
It also encourages deeper engagement with the subjects of Thornhill’s Painted Hall. A relative unknown and theatre painter, Thornhill was selected for being ‘British, Protestant, and cheap’. By the end of the first phase of painting, a mere nineteen years, he was perhaps Britain’s most famous living painter. Some call it his ‘CV for St. Paul’s Cathedral’, and other commissions including Hampton Court.
Thornhill was a political painter, conscious of thanking the original commissioners, Queen Mary and King William, more than the ruling and ailing Queen Anne. He trod a fine line with the successors to the Stuart dynasty, the warring Hanoverians, George I and his son, George II, so nicknamed ‘The Leader of the Opposition’.
Other symbols are more subtle. The spirit of architecture celebrates Wren’s great building, but the most attention is paid to astronomy. Copernicus sits near Diana, Goddess of the Moon. Galileo is depicted with a modern telescope, a shrewd bit of advertising for Thornhill’s friend who manufactured the instrument. John Flamsteed, who accurately calculated solar eclipses, is depicted writing a scroll dated 22 April 1715. It was his prediction of the next total solar eclipse, boldly proclaimed to the public a year in advance, when the Hall opened in 1714. These figures all have moon craters named after them, and hover over them in Jerram’s installation below.
Museum of the Moon has travelled the world since 2016, and though a global symbol, it has different meanings – and receptions – in different cultures. All sites have seen an influx of selfie-seeking visitors, so much that the Old Royal Naval College has introduced ‘Social Media Mondays’. Certain churches have had a difficult relationship with the installation, as its transcendental message, not theirs, draws more visitors.
Though named ‘Britain’s Sistine Chapel’, the Painted Hall features no such religious figures. Instead, Thornhill uses classical Greek and Roman figures to tell a religious and political story – the triumph of Protestant Christianity over Catholicism. Medusa and Sin fall out of the central painting, whilst William’s foot squashes the face of the Catholic King of France, Louis XIV.
In that typical mixing of symbols, we see the new King George I as a Roman emperor, next to St. George and his Dragon, and another Catholic, chucked to the floor. Old Father Thames waves his arrival to London via the river in 1714 – his coronation year shared with the Painted Hall’s opening.
The Upper Hall emanates the new Georgian promise of wealth and plenty. Paintings of exotic fruits and children (heirs) spill from the walls, gifts to be shared with the public. In a building constructed by charity – even Wren agreed to work for free – it is a shame that the high cost of entry will prevent many from entering its world.
Museum of the Moon is on view in the Painted Hall of the Old Royal Naval College until 5 February 2023.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
The Thames is little affected by the tidal variation caused by the moon’s gravitational pull of the earth. But it has always been a symbol and carrier of the changing tides of history and politics.
Designed by Sir Christopher Wren, the Royal Hospital for Seamen (specifically retired pensioners) first opened at Greenwich in 1692. Now infamous, its darkly lit Painted Hall, dripping with the Baroque murals of Sir James Thornhill, didn’t open until 1714. It is the largest painting in the country, completed in two phases the century afterwards (1707-1726). Two hundred figures celebrate Britain’s maritime and (soon to be) imperial successes, putting it at the centre of the world - if not the universe.
It is thus a fitting location for Luke Jerram’s seven metre sculptural installation, Museum of the Moon. Using 120dpi detailed NASA imagery, each centimetre of the internally lit sphere represents 5km of the lunar surface, a scale of 1:500,000. Luminous is a word often attributed to artworks, but this one truly is. A surround sound composition from BAFTA and Ivor Novello award-winning composer Dan Jones lingers in the atmosphere, alongside space-themed classics (Debussy’s Clair de Lune, of course).
During the early pandemic, Greenwich played host to Luke Jerram’s companion installation Gaia, a similar scaled replica of the Earth. One volunteer remarked that he prefers the moon, for visitors are less likely to focus on themselves or their geography, and awe in the installation itself. Belonging and often staged outdoors – including in Greenwich, in 2021 - there’s something interesting about seeing the moon displayed in such a confined space.
It also encourages deeper engagement with the subjects of Thornhill’s Painted Hall. A relative unknown and theatre painter, Thornhill was selected for being ‘British, Protestant, and cheap’. By the end of the first phase of painting, a mere nineteen years, he was perhaps Britain’s most famous living painter. Some call it his ‘CV for St. Paul’s Cathedral’, and other commissions including Hampton Court.
Thornhill was a political painter, conscious of thanking the original commissioners, Queen Mary and King William, more than the ruling and ailing Queen Anne. He trod a fine line with the successors to the Stuart dynasty, the warring Hanoverians, George I and his son, George II, so nicknamed ‘The Leader of the Opposition’.
Other symbols are more subtle. The spirit of architecture celebrates Wren’s great building, but the most attention is paid to astronomy. Copernicus sits near Diana, Goddess of the Moon. Galileo is depicted with a modern telescope, a shrewd bit of advertising for Thornhill’s friend who manufactured the instrument. John Flamsteed, who accurately calculated solar eclipses, is depicted writing a scroll dated 22 April 1715. It was his prediction of the next total solar eclipse, boldly proclaimed to the public a year in advance, when the Hall opened in 1714. These figures all have moon craters named after them, and hover over them in Jerram’s installation below.
Museum of the Moon has travelled the world since 2016, and though a global symbol, it has different meanings – and receptions – in different cultures. All sites have seen an influx of selfie-seeking visitors, so much that the Old Royal Naval College has introduced ‘Social Media Mondays’. Certain churches have had a difficult relationship with the installation, as its transcendental message, not theirs, draws more visitors.
Though named ‘Britain’s Sistine Chapel’, the Painted Hall features no such religious figures. Instead, Thornhill uses classical Greek and Roman figures to tell a religious and political story – the triumph of Protestant Christianity over Catholicism. Medusa and Sin fall out of the central painting, whilst William’s foot squashes the face of the Catholic King of France, Louis XIV.
In that typical mixing of symbols, we see the new King George I as a Roman emperor, next to St. George and his Dragon, and another Catholic, chucked to the floor. Old Father Thames waves his arrival to London via the river in 1714 – his coronation year shared with the Painted Hall’s opening.
The Upper Hall emanates the new Georgian promise of wealth and plenty. Paintings of exotic fruits and children (heirs) spill from the walls, gifts to be shared with the public. In a building constructed by charity – even Wren agreed to work for free – it is a shame that the high cost of entry will prevent many from entering its world.
Museum of the Moon is on view in the Painted Hall of the Old Royal Naval College until 5 February 2023.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
