Monday, August 14, 2006

Call me a cynic…Ok you’re a cab.

I saw a blind man at Tate Britain on Sunday, I am not sure how much he got out of that trip. But apparently Turner had cataracts, so for the partially sighted, a trip to the gallery could still be a blast. The Hodgkins must look stunning.

As an added bonus you can concentrate on what the art twats are saying. I love art twats, with their overly expressive hand gestures, and voice pitched slightly louder than necessary, to prove just how very clever they are to everyone in earshot.

I may know nothing, but at least I know I know nothing.

10 years ago in the Tate, a friend and I watched a couple stare intently at some heavy duty plastic builders sheeting taped to the wall, admiring the wrinkles, texture and play of light. After a couple of minutes musing, she went to read the little sign and find out what it was called - “Shop Extension”.

We had to leave for fear of exploding in mirth.

I also like playing the art game, where you walk around seeing how far you can push it before you are rumbled. My girlfriend hates it. As soon as I use the phrase, “in a very real sense” she walks off in disgust.



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