Tag: Tate Modern

bookmark_borderI was in London

Posted on

And there I met some people I know, and some I don’t know, and hobnobbed with celebrities (not really), and ate and drank and walked about a lot and even went and stood in a big black box that was very very dark indeed.

The main reason I was in London was to attend a book launch, at the Groucho club. You know, the ones celebrities (and as it turns out, non-celebrities) fall out of a lot. The book in question was Girl with a One Track Mind Exposed which is a most excellent, moving and filthy read. It also marks the second time I’ve been mentioned in a book (in the Acknowledgements no less!) which was something I only found out on Monday night at the launch itself and which I’ll happily confessed I’m hugely touched and honoured by.

The party was fun and after arriving a little later than others (and spoiling their moment) much free drink and merriment was had. Obligatory name dropping follows. I didn’t talk to either Ben Miller (of Armstrong & Miller), David Mitchell (of Mitchell & Webb), Jay Rayner (of Claire Rayner’s womb), or Heather Brooke (of that whole MP expense scandal (as in she worked on it, not was involved in it) at least I think it was her).

There may have been other celebrities/people who have been on TV there but I’m terrible with names. I’m pretty bad at keeping up with people at the best of times, this is something made a lot hard when said people are bloggers, so I hope my surprise at hearing that two bloggers whom I’ve read for many years are, completely unbeknownst to me, happily married was taken as exactly that. I really wasn’t kidding, I didn’t have a clue.

There is a tale involving David Mitchell but I’ll let the perpetrator tell it. I did feel a bit sorry for the parties involved, a bit. And as usual it was good to put names to faces, although I do now wish I’d been wearing a cravat…

Tuesday and I spent the day wandering random parts of London, stopping off for a quick perusal of a large steel box in the Tate Modern. I’m still very much in the learning phase of ‘art’ and perhaps I should’ve taken mike up on his offer of spending sometime wandering the Gorky exhibition. It was via Twitter that he realised we were both there at the same time, but I didn’t want to intrude on his day too much and I was also quite enjoying wandering about on my own .. another time though, I do badly need educated on that whole ‘art’ thing (hmmm, perhaps I should stop ‘quoting’ it like that for starters).

And then to the National Film Theatre bar where I spent a quite hour nursing sore feet and a large gin and tonic, and waited for a very random group of wonderful and most excellent people who I’m still amazed can be arsed to trawl to a somewhat hard to find bar just because I’ve said I’m there. It still baffles me somewhat and I console myself be remembering that they are all there to see everyone, and that I’m more than happy to be the catalyst for such an event, rather than the main attraction (god forbid!).

All in all a good couple of days in London, which was all down to the company I kept. You guys are fantastic.

bookmark_borderWhat is art?

Posted on

During a Saturday afternoon wander in London, joining the throng of tourists meandering along the river, I decided to head to the Tate Modern. It’s been some years since I’d been there (Anish Kappor’s Marsyas was the installation at the time) and my art tastes veer towards that end of the scale so I do enjoy visiting it

The current installation is a large crack in the floor of the old Turbine room, installed by Doris Salcedo, and represents:

Whilst I’m still trying to figure out HOW the crack was made (it’s definitely the original floor, or a very very good copy), what was more interesting to me was how people were reacting to it, and interacting with it. Like myself, most people started at the top end, nearest the entrance, and traced the crack the length of the hall, peering down into the depths, occasionally glancing back. Young children hopped over it, adults stood astride it, intrigued, puzzled and in no small matter fascinated.

Wandering the entire length of the hall only to find that the end of the crack doesn’t reveal anything more, or less, than the beginning, I wondered what had driven me to do that. Surely there must be more, surely it can’t just be a crack in the concrete? I wasn’t alone, with huddles of people at the bottom end of the hall discussing the whys and wherefores.

As ever it was the human interface to the art, seeing the piece through the eyes of others, that was most interesting. To those standing astride the chasm there was almost a sense of dominance, of man over matter. The ability to overpower something that was not fully understood perhaps? Given that the crack, even at it’s deepest point, was no more than 7 or 8 inches deep then surely the subconscious was more at play than any conscious thought?

Moving upstairs to view a few of Munoz’s pieces was a completely different, and personally far more disturbing experience. Two pieces in particular, both of which deliberately feature midgets (his words, not mine) to challenge our preconceptions of sculpture and beauty. The pieces themselves were simple, a young man standing on a table, clutching a chess set, a young woman on tiptoe to view photos of herself spread out on a pool table. The featureless faces adding to the discomfort of viewing. Interesting experience.

Alas, the rest of my wander round the galleries wasn’t as inspiring with the Idea and Object level being particularly hit or miss but I’m glad I went. As far as art goes, like most people, I know what I like but I’m also open to being challenged with what I view.

What is art? The question is the answer to itself if you ask me. If you have to ask, you’ve already been provoked/challenged/intrigued enough to consider the question and that, is art. Although, re-reading that sentence, isn’t it just the kind of self-righteous, head-up-arse response you’d expect from an artist… oh dear.

bookmark_borderGlasgow MOMA

Posted on

IMG_1029

Is this art?

We had a brief discussion, on this very topic, with my family at the weekend. What is art? Does it have to be something that, obviously, has taken some skill to put together? Or can any old ‘installation’ be classed as art? Does the content of the ‘object’ actually matter, or is the art purely in the implication and your reaction to what is presented before you.

Is it the un-made bed or the fact that it’s being presented as art, that makes it ‘art’. Can something be considered ‘artful’ if all it’s really doing is making you think? Doesn’t there have to be an impression, a respect, an understanding that it took someone of skill, knowledge, and inspiration to produce what you are viewing?

I recall a visit to the Tate Modern to see Marsyas and being impressed with this huge piece of art. Looking back I now wonder if it wasn’t simply the size of the installation itself, swooping away up to the ceiling, that impressed, more than the basic fundamentals (colour, shape etc).

Of course, all art is subjective, and I guess everyone know what THEY like.

(yes, I’m going to be posting photos here more often I think.. maybe.. grand plans and all that..)