Two days off in a row. And at the weekend too. That doesn't happen too often.
We decided to walk down to Sloane Square and visit the Saatchi Gallery on the Kings Road, although we almost got distracted by the Dr Who Exhibition at Earl's Court, but decided to press on for culture rather than pretend monsters. It's a lot of fun walking around London without having to be anywhere in particular and we noticed lots of things that might have passed us by otherwise. By Kensington Park we were both fascinated by a building that was in the process of being demolished. It looked like it had been a hotel as we could make out what looked like corridors all the way up the bisected building, all decorated in the same way. We were getting hungry by now and chanced across "The Honest Sausage" in the park which promised sausages in buns that were "Free Range" and "Free Spirit" but certainly not Free. But they were really delicious and hearty and just what we needed for lunch. There was also time for some celebrity spotting as the actress Harriet Walter was milling around by the park entrance. It was the second time I had seen her in the space of three months - I was standing beside her on the tube the last time. I wanted to tell her that she was on my iPhone reading "Mansfield Park" (as an audio book, I hadn't taped her reading it surreptitiously and anyone who says I had is lying), but decided to not interrupt her Sunday.
Seeing all the people in the park made me slightly envy the more conventional lives of those with jobs with set hours. We don't get to laze away a Sunday afternoon too often, though I suppose we could make time to do so if we were more organised. It's another reminder of all that's out there and I do waste a lot of my days off vegging out in my house (though to be fair I would have been too tired to walk round London yesterday).
Eventually we made it to the Saatchi Gallery. I last went to this when it was in County Hall and I was doing
my 50 dates in 50 days (it was date 3, with the lovely Lucy Porter, who really made me laugh by getting behind one of Ron Muerk's giant head sculptures in such a way as to make it look as if the head was her head). Reading back over that I hadn't enjoyed it too much, though had been won over by the room full of oil. Almost seven years on I was still a little cynical about much of the stuff and the stuff in the first room didn't do too much for me, though I correctly spotted that one of Ansel Krut's pictures depicted some
Arse Flowers. It had been my favourite painting in the room before I noticed that, but became doubly so afterwards. Maybe one day my series of pictures of spunking cocks might be bought by Saatchi. He's clearly into this kind of stuff.
It's probably a disadvantage being in the first room, because it does take a little while for your brain to acclimatise to modern art and it's more than easy to dismiss it as rubbish (as I seemed to back in 2004) but once you get into it, there's loads of cool stuff in there.
By Gallery 3 I started losing myself in it all a bit more.
Tessa Farmer's Swarm was probably my favourite thing of all. It was a big glass case full of insects handing on strings in flight, which on closer inspection were being ridden or captured by strange tiny skeletal fairies. It was not only slightly scary and creepy, but amusing and there were lots of different things to look at and wonder about.
By the time we were upstairs the pictures were sparking off all kinds of thoughts and memories. Henrijs Preiss' stuff reminded me of Eastern European stamps from my childhood collection and Maurizio Anzeri's embroidered vintage photos creeped me out in a good way. Clarisse d'Arcimoles had recreated photos from her family's childhoods with them as adults (I am presuming she was the first to do this, though it's something that others have now done too). The one of her mother and sister
in the bath was particularly charming.
Spartacus Chetwynd's lifesize figures "The Lizard" "The Mole" and "The Stick Insect" looked very much like they might have actors inside them and it would be really cool if they had done and that every 15 minutes or so they moved and scared the shit out of everyone (but maybe that's more of an idea for the Dr Who Exhibition). Edward Kay ensured that there was at least one work of art with genitals on the face of a person with
The Bon Viveur which the 2004 me would be happy about.
At the end we went down to the basement to see another of Richard Wilson's rooms filled with oil. This one was even more freaky than the one I had enjoyed in 2004 as the oil was shiny like a mirror and silver rather than black, so that it was almost invisible. Alas the walkway into the pool (not literally into the oil, but which brings you down into the pool) was closed off. But it was still a beguiling and confusing sight from above.
It's a very enjoyable gallery which you can get round in two hours and which is also free (though you can buy an informative booklet about all the pieces for a bargain £1.50, which does help make sense of some of the more obscure works). I really enjoyed it.
Then we walked home. I appreciated this time off with my girlfriend all the more because I know that over the next month there are going to be few opportunities for us to relax togther.
