Thursday, 19th November arrived and it was time for the Uni jollies to Liverpool for a round of visits to art galleries. The Bluecoat, Fact and the mighty Tate Liverpool was on the agenda. I arrived a little late due to the inadequate timings of public transport. It's like they have to live up to their public persona at times of emergencies.
I arrived in Liverpool at approx 11.30am (it only took two and a half hours for my eventual arrival) and met a few stragglers at the Tate. Nobody I really knew went so I had to stalk a couple of faces I usually say hello to. I then shifted around on my lonesome so I could see and do what I wanted. The first works of note was the obligatory GLORIOUS MACHINES that I think Jon B mentioned to us in one of our tutorials.
The work that grabbed my attention was the interactive collages of ... that worked with a gentle tap of a floor mounted switch. The collages at the start of the show were of (non-interactive) cogs that looked
nice but the ones of note involved interpretations of Kandinsky and the Suprematists.
On the second were a rag-bag of sculptures on one side and another equally placed rag-bag of modern art exhibits. Mr redordead curated one that involved the wearing of headphones with cheesy Eighties African Hi-Life music in slot A and quite soft bassy electronica on the slot named B. The concept behind this was to show "youngandvibrant" DJ's and their mixtapes and er...have a dance on a brightly lit dancefloor. Oh! very mindblowing eh, Wayne and Son. I loved the Sarah Lucas Woman-Chair and Jean Arp's sculpture one that I had to draw in my notebook. I love how light has an integeral effect on sculpture and shadow.
The other-side had some notable inquiries, there was some pieces that I have only seen on the television screen or in books such as a Rebecca Horn, a Picasso etc... I enjoyed what I saw and some was quite inspirational such as work produced on stainless steel cubes, the Chapman Brother's castration machine (not really the castration bit but the use of trash to make sculpture) and a conversation that I overheard carried out between a few old ladies... VERY Pythonesque.
They was dissing the Modern pieces and commenting on how the skyline was more arty than any of the junk in the room. It was a good job that they didn't see the shit-in-a-tin exhibit what was standing body height right next to them. They would have had a fit if they new that worth of such an item.
What I really came fifty-odd miles to see was the cathedralesque Seagram Murals by what I consider on inspirational and affecting artist, Mark Rothko. Many detractors of his work has filed his work as rubbish, a con and much worse as easy to produce as a Pollock. What these critics don't realise is the passion and creativity that goes into the thought behind the genesis of such work.
The paintings didn't waiver my interest in Rothko and as I have already said previously, only saw these in books and the internet. I felt breathless when I stood in front of these beings and breathed in the primeval connatations that they embellish. I knew a back story of how some of them were hung upside down at the Seagram Building but that was put aside when I entered and exited the room.
