Its been a busy few days that have managed to get in the way of writing on this blog so I am attempting to update as briefly as possible. My words from the last few days have been thus:
witch, shadow, spring, hidden place, breath, leather, tanned, control, whitest, pinch, smother, humidity, safe, brusque, pinch, swan, proof, veiled, bun, black – skinned.
In the way of business, I went to catch some shows in London. On the train I read of the intelligence of crows and monkeys that glowed in the dark, so I knew it would be a good day.
In an attempt to catch six shows, I fell down with two, but managed to catch 'Parades and Processions' at The Parasol Unit, Cris Bodahl at The Approach , Jerwood Contemporary Painters at The Jerwood Space and wander around the UBS collection at the Tate. A definite favourite was Cristel Brodahl's paintings and sculptures that absolutely hit the spot for me.
Brodahl's use of found imagery, objects, glass and paint to create 2D and 3D works in a quiet yet disturbing way appeared juxtaposed with surrealist ideology to a greater or lesser extent. I particularly enjoyed 'Earth Angel Part 1, 2 and 3' and 'The Capsule'.
Coming from that show and walking into 'Parades and Processions' appeared to be a a cultural shock for me in many ways. At The Approach I was alone, quiet and mesmerised. At The Parasol Unit I was bombarded with sound, colour and multi – visuals on a much bigger scale. What I guess you would expect from a group show around the idea of triumph and celebration, but it shook me to such an extent that I went upstairs and promptly kicked part of Thomas Hirschhorns' piece on entering into the space. Highly embarrassed at being such a klutz, I shouted 'shit' far too loudly which allowed the invigilator to look up (probably in horror) to see this dodgy looking bird in bright blue clogs trying to rectify her wrong doings by rearranging the whole installation. Anyway, after much rearranging and tweaking on my part, I edged my way in tentatively around the space without doing any more damage, (I thought), although when I turned on my heels to look at William Kentridge's work I heard the gentle scrape of expandable foam being placed firmly back into what must have been its correct position, so thank you Miss Invigilator.
