Written By Ruxandra Ștețca, EMBALJ2025
The commencement of Term 3, that final segment of our core curriculum, was kicked-off by an outstanding manifestation of Brucknerian grandeur at the Royal Albert Hall. Sir Simon Rattle’s interpretation of the 4th Symphony embodied the quintessential dialectic between dynamism and measured control—a fitting metaphor for the academic rigors ahead. The venue itself, nestled in the heart of Albertopolis, remains a testament to Prince Albert’s vision of cultural enlightenment, where the very stones seem to resonate with an insatiable appetite for knowledge. The building’s magnificent dome, catching the autumn light, stands as a beacon of Victorian aspirations for enlightenment through arts and sciences.
The National Portrait Gallery presents itself as a temporal connection where historical narratives intersect with contemporary discourse. From Ada Lovelace’s (Lord Byron’s daughter) algorithmic prescience to the Tudor dynasty’s sociopolitical machinations, the gallery serves as a curated dialogue between epochs. Each portrait tells not just a story, but opens a window into the Zeitgeist of its era. Walking through these halls feels like traversing through time, each room a new chapter in Britain’s cultural autobiography. The Brontë sisters’ determined gazes seem to follow you, while Shakespeare’s knowing smile hints at untold stories.
Beckett’s existentialist masterpiece at Theatre Royal Haymarket catalyzed profound introspection regarding temporal inertia and procrastination. The Vladimerian-Estragonian paradigm exemplifies my pre-EMBA existential status-quo — a meditation on the futility of the “not now”, “later”, “where was I?”, “nothing to be done”, “we’re used to it”, “quaquaquaqua” “such is life” and the imperative for immediate action. Seeing it on stage simply mirrors life.
“Let’s go”
“We can’t”
“Why not?”
“We’re waiting for Godot.”
No more waiting! Hic et nunc!
Tate Modern is always a good idea and to visit my favourite expressionists from Der Blaue Reiter with a dear colleague makes it an even bigger event – it means sharing life events in front of a Kandinsky, amusing wonderment in front of a Macke or total admiration gazing at Franz Marc horses. Maybe one of the main traits of great art is also to relate to any viewer, irrespective of time and space. Needed is only the right disposition to place yourself close to a work of art. Plus, when two (not) so different life journeys chirp about posture, gesture, colour, sound, smell, the memory of the experience is so enriching on an intellectual as well as spiritual level.

A very special “thank you” to a colleague in one’s cohort can be offered with a tour in a brilliant exhibition – October 2024 offered us the once-in-a-century Vincent Van Gogh exhibition at the National Gallery. The exhibition’s unprecedented assemblage of works left the visitors in awe. I wonder what Vincent would have felt at his 200th birtday celebration with such a public – during his lifetime he considered the public treacherous, who would never warm up to the “austere talent” of painters like Gaugain and himself. Though he wanted his paintings to say something comforting, as music is comforting … something of the eternal. Now we consider this achieved and I do hope that Van Gogh has found his peace.
Under Godot’s influence, determined not to wait and see later, I joined the India exploration group. Were I not doing this EMBA and had I not such marvellous colleagues I do not think I would have ever tasted India. And it was supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! It is a total all-senses-overstimulating experience – India is a perpetuum-mobile, each and every person there has something to run for, to offer, to prepare, to sell, to negotiate, to spice up, to taste, to measure, to embellish, to fit, to flow, to call – and the list can go on and on!
India is a complex physical phenomenon that cannot be cracked by a foreign traveller in a few days. It is like one of those huge coconuts on an immense pile of coconuts and one has just two bare hands – impossible to crack! Acoustic-wise only its ever moving people can discern and filter and follow indications from BLOW HORN that is literally written on almost all trucks. Next comes HORN PLEASE. Kinetic-wise cars expand and shrink according to the needs of moving fast in all directions. On three lanes, four cars plus three scooters fit at the same time, avoiding skillfully a stray cow or some bus coming the opposite direction. Traffic in India is mind-blowing! But my good colleague taught me that driving is a matter of three: one driver, the other driver and God, thus perfectly encapsulating the beautiful complexity of Indian philosophy and daily life.
Highlight of the trip was the auntie-cooked dinners: fabulously delicious. One did not taste only food but the joy of togetherness, of preparing, of sharing, feeling good and grateful. The spices that danced on our palates told stories of ancient trade routes and family secrets passed down through generations. Colours – fresh, scintillating colours of the green malachite, red corrillion, yellow jade, blue lapis lazuli, white of mother of pearl, brown of the tiger eye – colours that spark on the Taj Mahal, on saris or in the plate – thanks to all the wonderful spices & herbs. In India the plate is always full, there is some good food and then there is some more good food, as our friend has always put it. Thus, a cook-book and a suitcase of spices were an absolute must-take home.

A curious mind is needed to defeat the demon of ignorance and darkness – to accept new things as they are, [“use the toilet as a toilet” was the most pragmatic slogan of our trip], not re-imagine, re-design in our mind how things should be.

What I missed was to enter a bookstore and ask for the celebrated poet Saint Appar or the young bhakti woman saint Andal with her “The Secret Garland: Andal’s Tiruppavai and Nacciyar Tirumoli” or Dandin’s Beautiful Lady from Avanti. Next time!
Following my trip to India, I felt a deep sense of contentment in reconnecting with our culture. My goal upon returning was to discover serene, uncrowded space in London, and I succeeded marvelously. The Wellington Collection at Apsley House became my private sanctuary on a crisp mid-November day, offering an intimate encounter with its treasures. This collection is an absolute must-see, featuring Canova’s pursuit of ideal beauty, Velázquez’s evocative portraits, a remarkable array of porcelain, and exquisite Dutch and Flemish paintings—all housed in a setting of quiet elegance.

It was a feast for my eyes and a much-needed nourishment for my artistic soul. Napoleon, of course, loomed large in various forms and dimensions throughout the collection, a fitting nod to the era’s intricate history—no cause for alarm!
As the final school weekend of my first year approached, I decided for a Thursday entirely for myself in London. The Dulwich Picture Gallery was at the top of my itinerary, being the world’s first building designed specifically as an art gallery, a masterpiece by the architect John Soane. True to plan, I took a train to Dulwich, followed by a brief stroll to the gallery. There, I immersed myself in a collection of old masterworks, each with its own story to tell—oddly mirroring my own thoughts and preoccupations. As I admired these paintings, I found myself reflecting on mundane yet meaningful aspects of life: scheduling piano lessons, contemplating color combinations, tackling an ethics assignment, mentally tracking my children’s progress through their great books list, preparing for the Advent fast, and recalling my long-held fascination with becoming an art crime agent.


There’s something profoundly transformative about processing one’s thoughts amidst art that elevates and inspires. The Dulwich Picture Gallery, founded in the early 19th century by collector Noël Desenfans, his wife, and their friend Sir Francis Bourgeois, is a testament to friendship’s higher purpose: creating and sharing beauty. Their collaboration with Sir John Soane to design a fitting home for their collection crowns the enduring bond of shared vision and generosity.
From Dulwich, I embarked on a long, meditative walk back to London, traversing Brockwell Park, Lambeth, Battersea Power Station, and finally the enchanting “Ever After Garden” in Grosvenor Square. As I walked, Virginia Woolf’s words resonated: “To walk alone in London is the greatest rest.” Indeed, it is.
This term has been an embodiment of carpe diem, a transition from “waiting for Godot” to seizing the moment in the here and now. Through art, theater, music, and travel, we have woven a rich tapestry of experiences that transcend conventional academic learning, enriching our lives in profound and unexpected ways.
Useful links:
https://www.royalalberthall.com/
https://www.npg.org.uk/
https://trh.co.uk/
https://www.tate.org.uk/visit/tate-modern
https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/
https://www.wellingtoncollection.co.uk/
https://www.dulwichpicturegallery.org.uk/
For more information on the Executive MBA Programme, please visit our website.