I had my feet up this weekend as far as the blogging thing goes, Sunday being my 52nd Birthday, I thought I'd head to London for a bit of culture, spent the morning with Mrs Me in Tate Britain, which went well, started off, with two cups of coffee, a slice of fruit cake (with change from a tenner) and a free copy of the Observer, free parking (on Sunday) only upset being when my mobile went off in the gallery dramatised by an attendant going near hysterical, blimey, its only a phone (I always turn off for films, theatre, courses and funerals) god knows what a visit to Margate Gateway Library would do to this women.
Even exposure to some great works held at the Tate eventually palls and by about 2pm Mrs Me was getting a tad fractious, so fresh air and a walk down the Thames toward Parliament Square across Westminster Bridge sauntering along the South Bank until coming up to the disused power station now trading as Tate Modern.I understand that Tate Modern has been a great success, why or how are beyond me, entering the large space which I think is called the Turbine gallery or whatever, populated with bunk beds and massive sculptures which unlike art from an earlier age does not give pleasure or pain or escapism or indeed pass on any emotion it just seems, not only joyless but meaningless.
To understand modern art, I think you have to be conditioned, as an example strolling through Tate Modern we stumbled upon a pile of bricks, these were stacked two high perhaps five or six across and maybe 8 or 9 length ways, my natural reaction is what the ****! now had this been at work I would no doubt moved the bricks to the wall, so the didn't become a tripping hazard but if your told its art theirs the urge to conform (I managed to resist). Perhaps the most interest thing you notice walking round is how most visitors spend more time reading the description of exhibits than looking at the "art works" themselves.
In the hour or so I made myself walk round, probably the only thing that was familiar and or vaguely engaging was Roy Lichtenstein's Whaam, although this always leaves me wanting to see the whole comic.
Earlier in Tate Britain we had the privilege of looking at some of Tracy Emin's stuff which was (this is my opinion) primitive and well within the capabilities of any angry teenager, although I must say I have some sympathy with the piece "Sad Shower in New York" I've only stayed in cheap Hotels in that part of the world and agree the plumbing is crap, (were all adults here I assume, if not look away now),"Fuck you Eddy", to be honest is reminiscent of much, local art graffiti genre which I believe can still be found in local toilets (give me banksy any day) , "Tracy Emin C.V." comprises several pages and if it were me, I'd consider getting someone to type it up and also condensing the content down to one page, still what do I know, Tracy Emin is worth millions, me not quite so much.
Outside the Tate Modern, was I think a demonstration of sorts, in the form of a Funeral officiated by Contemporary Art Collective, I had a word with one of the participants who mumbled about their being to much money producing too much worthless art, but still for all I know maybe their part of the industry.Anyway I don't think I'll get any opposition next year from Mrs Me if I suggest a visit to the air museum at Duxford.
Finally this quote from Tracy 'Being an artist isn't just about making nice things, or people patting you on the back; it's some kind of communication, a message'. Too right, I reckon this also goes for bloggers as well, if any rich art collector or patron would like to bung a few quid toward Bignews you can always email me. email@example.com
Tate Britain Tracy Emin exhibit
PS Tate Britain has a nice selection of Turner stuff, which I'll be surprised if it ever washes up in Margate