As I'm on a mini-holiday I decided to be a tourist in my own town, so after my first swim for over a month (ribs still a little achey - when will this Hell end?), I headed over to Pimlico to go to
Tate Britain. I thought I'd have a general look around and probably pop in to see
The Francis Bacon exhibition.
My favourite thing though, which I had heard about, but had forgotten about was
Martin Creed's Work No. 850 Every thirty seconds a young fit person in their running kit careers through the Tate main lobby as fast as they can. It is great on many levels, firstly because it's something that you might not immediately notice or be expecting and it's quite a jolt to suddenly have someone sprinting past you in an art gallery. It is so out of place, it's almost as if a ghost has suddenly appeared and somehow it reminded me of those old cinemascope things where you spin a circular machine and can see someone apparently running and jumping around. I also quite liked the fact that there was the possibility for anyone who fancied it just to run up the hall in the lull between runners. Would anyone stop you? Of course not. Would people think you were part of the exhibit? Perhaps. I wondered about organising a group of unfit, fat and sluggish people to take turns to fill the gap, taking off fifteen seconds after the last proper runner. It would be its own art project, making people think about the nature of what makes a body athletic. Also it would be funny. Shall we do it?
I am not really sure I got the Francis Bacon stuff. Some of it is amazing and eerie and ugly, yet beautiful, but a lot of it left me confused and non-plussed at times. Which is my own deficiency of course. The stuff is emotive and visceral and horrible and I can't imagine having most of it on the wall. Some of it looks like the kind of crap I doodle when I am wasting time, little strange cocks with teeth and no eyes. Does this make me a genius? No, of course not, you twat.
A lot of it got a reaction from me and I did like some of it, but I didn't understand some of it. I enjoyed watching the people milling around looking at it though. I obviously like my art three dimensional and moving. The faster the better.
After the art gallery I had some time before meeting some friends for drinks in Balham, so I decided to walk. It is good to have some time looking around after the art gallery. One's mind is awakened and one is more observant. Plus it was good to get the exercise.
Heading south was like a little walk back into the past for me, because I lived in this part of town for a good proportion of my time in London. Things have changed in the five and half years I've been out West, though interestingly only in part. Though Vauxhall has been totally re-designed, directly south of it (Lambeth?) down to Clapham North is exactly the same as it always was - scuzzy, grotty and the same old shops and businesses. And I like that fact. That's the kind of London I like. The only new thing I spotted was, sadly, the shrine outside Stockwell tube station to
Jean Charles Menezes. But as soon as I got south of Clapham North things were getting gentrified and poncified. It's mainly noticeable in the high incidence of new Local and Express supermarkets and coffee shops. It is interesting that the regeneration comes in little bubbles and that no one thinks it is worth spending money on the people of Stockwell. Though it does mean there is still character in those places, independent cafes and restaurants, filled with regular, if sad-eyed people.
Clapham South was my nearest tube in 1997-8, but even there things have changed massively. New flats, an M&S food-hall and a gigantic new Tescos in what was an abandonned, derelict hospital. Amongst the Costa coffee shops are a few of the old businesses that are somehow still surviving - a barbers, a delipidated looking woman's fashion shop - but how long before they are a Starbucks and a Caffe Nero (Hammersmith has just added one of each of those to its centre, even though there are already branches of both chains within fifty metres (and two more Starbucks within spitting distance).
Balham itself has changed the most, though I have been here a couple of times recently so am more used to this. I hadn't noted before that the new Pizza Express is at the bottom of the street of my enemies,
Sistova Road. How they must love that. I can't work out what they knocked down to build it, but it's one of the most impressive Pizza Expresses I have ever seen. And I have seen a lot of them. I hate the Sistova Road sissies.
I suppose change is inevitable and I use all of these businesses myself, but it's strange to see familiar places moving on. But I enjoyed engaging with my city and reliving the old days, passing plenty of places that are shrouded with memories and that haven't been smashed down. I think I might just become a nomad writer, walking around and then stopping at waterholes to write down the jokes I have thought about on the way. Thank God there are so many Starbucks all over the place for me to work in.
