It’s 3½ years since I last went to London – It seems absurd, living in Oxford, but there we are, that’s how things have panned out. This week had 2 trips planned, one to see an avant-garde poetry performance, the other to take the kids to see the bright lights.
In the event, the poetry trip clashed with partner’s commitments, and getting a baby-sitter at short notice was both practically and financially unfeasible.
London was very mixed. We decided to start out at the Aquarium on the South Bank. Unfortunately, so had the rest of Southern England, and large parts of Eastern Europe and Asia. We queued for about 45 minutes, and found that the inside of the Aquarium was one long queue as well. The kids couldn’t easily get a good view of anything, but I’ve trained them to push in forcefully where required, so they managed. They weren’t very inspired, though. I kept asking my daughter what was in the tank she’d just looked at, and she replied “Just some more fishes, Daddy”. The third time she did this, my son, and the couple in front, all creased up laughing.
It became increasingly claustrophobic, then one little girl panicked and threw up, my daughter started feeling sick, so we headed for the emergency exit … only to find ourselves in another part of the aquarium.
This could be a great conceptual piece – a labyrinth with emergency exits that take you round in circles. Announce that the piece must be evacuated through the emergency exits, and watch everyone going round in circles. Needs a video camera above. Health and safety might be an issue, but probably been done already, anyway.
We managed to get out of the aquarium, to find a queue 500 yards long trailing along the South Bank. Much to my son’s embarrassment we walked down the queue shouting that it was hell and people were throwing up because it was so crowded, but nobody took a blind bit of notice. They just stared into space, lost to the compulsion to consume.
Headed on to Tate Modern – kids never been to a “proper” art gallery/museum before, hoped they might like it.
Miroslaw Balka’s box of darkness in the turbine hall was a hit for everyone. Monumental in scale, simple in conception and design, but not trivial in either experience or content.
Pierre Huyghe’s and Philippe Parreno’s “No ghost, just a shell” inspired my son, but I got bogged down trying to explain the legalities of copyright to my daughter. However, she was particularly taken with “Spatial Concept `Waiting’” by Lucio Fontana – a single rip across an untreated canvas.
I particularly enjoyed Gerhard Richter’s room – patches of colour floating in a void. I’ve never seen his work before. But I was particularly irritated by his reported quote “I’ve got nothing to say, and I’m saying it”. OK, I can appreciate an irritation with the “Artist’s Statement”, but this is just someone sticking two fingers up and saying “I’m famous and I can say and do what I like now, so f*** off”.
Irritated, tired, hungry and waiting for my partner to browse in the shop, I sat down on the floor near the lifts with my son in front of me, inadvertently half-blocking the walkway from lifts to foyer. A woman came along and complained we were blocking the way. I replied “It’s a live art performance, we’re dividing the space and observing how it alters the flux of humanity.” She carried on looking at us, obviously annoyed, and unwilling to walk the extra few feet round us, so I added “It’s entitled F*** You”.
Shortly afterwards I was invited to leave by a Security Guard. As we were on our way out anyway I was able to spare my partner the embarrassment of knowing what had happened, and since she never reads my blog she’ll never know. My son really enjoyed it, though.
