An arched passage is cut through a hemicone, one that is half finished in reddish timber boarding, half in a painted imitation of richly veined green marble. Part ancient tomb, part wigwam, part child’s building block, this portal is geometrically grand but dimensionally modest. It leads to something called the Mini Museum, a space intended for very young children, which also features pebbly and tiled floors and walls, a tunnel covered in fake turf, and pillars wrapped in mirrored mosaic and iridescent leatherette, all set against a dignified Victorian backdrop of slender cast iron columns and park-facing, timber-framed windows.
A low bench is attached to the half cone, finished in actual marble that looks so much like the painted version that you may not notice. A white bust of a young woman, also marble, skilfully carved in Rome in 1863, stands in a glass case strangely close to the ground. It’s strange, that is, unless you’re three years or so old, in which case it relates perfectly to the level of your eye.
