sometimes i think the best way for enjoying a gallery is to just slow right down,hang out,and not try too hard in understanding what’s going on. it’s fun watching other visitors reactions, and the aloof bored employees,opening or closing doors for the wide eyed and cynical. the whole affair adds up to so much more than the sum of its parts. this particular exhibition is now showing on the very posh savile row where the beatles offices used to be, and where many bespoke tailors reside. http://www.hauserwirth.com/exhibitions/2161/richard-jackson-new-paintings/view/ i love how something so rude shows itself off on such a smart civilised street…..here we have a line of cute fit men made from immaculate shiny fibre glass, bending over with their trousers down,splashfarting brightly coloured paint out of their arseholes onto the gallery wall behind them…there’s also a sexy female office executive astride a photo copying machine taking pictures of her private lily garden… i don’t care if this has meaning or not,it just looks fantastic. maybe it’s got something to do with the artist and his relationship with paint … i dunno..i just love it…it looks good.
this was tuesday..a nice sunny day where i’d surgically removed myself from the house and sailed into town for a haircut.my most excellent hairdresser is a boxer in his spare time,and is mad keen for music…next was the gallery, followed by supper in an art deco room on piccadilly. http://www.brasseriezedel.com i’ve no worries dining alone…i love to be solitary in the middle of a buzzy scene, listening, or off on my own internalised revery…the previous day i received sad news that a man who used to manage me had died,so i walked past a landmark that was relevant to both of us on the way for supper..i stood there still in the sunshine hallucinating the two us walking towards me down that very street..i recalled the exact conversation we were having…it too was a sunny day…he was trying to calm me down in his usual reassuring way…memory’s a very powerful thing.
on my way back home i stumbled on what might be one of those banksy numbers.it was painted on a wall by a place where warner brothers records used to be,but is now the bland offices of jaeger clothing…there’s a story of the singer billy mackenzie in that building…he went up there one day to be told by a big cheese that he was deemed difficult and would therefor be culled from the label,so he asked for one final request that a car be sent round to take him home..the label obliged,without realising the driver would be taking him all the way from london to his house in dundee up in scotland…i love that…the mischief.
i rode on the train for half and hour back to the countryside where thomas met me at the station with his warm genuine smile..dear reader…life is everything,isn’t it..it is all at once past..present…future..fortunate..unfortunate…heartbreaking .. joyful…oh for gods sake ..shut up mary.
all my loving…back in the wilderness.