Love Art After Dark promised to be an ‘exclusive evening’ of talks, live music, and beautiful art. Standing in the queue that twisted its way not only in front of the Fitzwilliam Museum itself, but past Peterhouse, and long down King’s Parade, I found myself convinced it would be.

The excitement increased incrementally until finally we were let in, a few groups at a time, through the grandiose pillars and into the lavishly marbled hall. Clinging desperately onto my free drink token, we stumbled up the stairs to the first room where gallery-goers were already milling, admiring British art from the 16th to 18th centuries, and desperately trying to navigate their way around the museum and their evening.

The buzz of the first room and adjacent galleries only increased as more people were ushered through the doors. Hundreds of students, many dressed in formal attire (and the occasional turtleneck) transformed the Fitz from rainy-day-last-resort-when-the-parents-are-down to suave party.

"The buzz of the first room and adjacent galleries only increased as more people were ushered through the doors"

The Fitzwilliam Society had put on a variety of fascinating talks and activities such as a tour around the Ancient Egyptian collection and a chance to handle rare coins and medals, all of which were dotted around the galleries and required booking prior to attendance. However, from the permanent sight of the slow-moving booking queue which curled its way around the front hall, it was clear that I was not the only one who thought they sounded fascinating. The tickets were staggered throughout the evening and released 20 minutes before each event in order to give a fair chance of attendance. However, this meant that you could find yourself permanently stationary, waiting for a ticket only to find that it has sold out and to attend the next slot you must queue again. 

"It was clear that the best moments of the evening were private ones shared between friends"

Frustrated by the long queue, and frankly indecisive about what I wanted to attend, I found myself wandering through the galleries. There I stumbled across a talk by Henrietta Ward on the Valsecchi Collection, and an exhibition of historic Valentine’s cards. It was clear, however, that the best moments of the evening were private ones shared between friends. While my friend and I engaged ourselves in a lengthy tour of the ugliest babies of the Medieval gallery, all around us private jokes and little conversations were happening – regardless of the various events and informative talks that were scheduled.

Downstairs, Notes magazine were launching their 40th edition in the Cypriot gallery. I was disappointed by the acoustics, however, and it was frustrating not being able to hear the poetry readings properly. Nonetheless, it was good to see Notes working in collaboration with the Fitzwilliam Society and the slideshow of their new artwork was well placed above the transplanted Kettle’s Yard exhibition, providing probably the most contemporary artwork ever displayed in the Fitz to glimpse at as you wandered around the not-quite-as-modern ceramics.

Resurfacing from my retreat to the ground floor, I decide to brave the queue. There, I watch the pianist Quintin Langley-Coleman’s defiant attempts to retain his attention as tipsy revellers attempt to hug him while he played. This provided me with sufficient entertainment, and soon I have what I want: a ticket for the last session of life-drawing.

Bedroom Art: teenage kicks

It was worth the queue. Life-drawing was by far the best part of the evening. As the model began her first pose, the room fell silent and all that could be heard was the Gentlemen of St. John’s, who were performing a lively acoustic cover of ‘I’m a Believer’ in the next gallery. Completely absorbed in my sketch, the last 20 minutes of Love Art After Dark were perfect: a bubble of calm among the hectic evening of flitting between gallery rooms and locating myself within a logistical nightmare