a mundane afternoon

After the recent ragings on art, the use of art, the burning of art etc etc I had said that I would go to some art galleries and maybe write something about it. So I went to the Tate Modern yesterday and after spending a mere half an hour looking at art, anti-art and whatever else I spent most of my time sat on a bench trying to puzzle over what it was that I wasn't getting about the whole art thing.

I think the problem of art, for me anyway, is not so much art in itself but the gallery. I find art galleries increbildy sterile and banal places. While wandering past Man Ray's 'Indestrucible Object' I thought "Oh that, there it i ins, I like that," and then wandered on.  In the gallery it was just an object amongst other objects; it seemed to have no life or vitality. Despite my liking for surrealist art I spent no more than 3 minutes in that room and then off I went. I was impressed by some of the pieces but their placing just seemed wrong.

I prefer to 'find' art, to come accross it randomly in places that it is unexpected. There was a wonderful exhibition on Wenceslas Square whilst I was in Prague (unfortunately I can't find the photos). One morning, after getting off the metro and pushing through crowds I came accross a giant insectoid creature with a rider upon its back that had been made from scrap metal.  There placing wasn't so much posturing but something that interrupted the usual ambience of the square. There were other pieces that were oversized and often strange that all brought a strange and dynamic twist to the place in which they had been installed.

My favourite gallery is owned by my favourite surrealist puppeteer and film maker, Jan Svankmajer. Galerie Gambra is impossibly hard to get to, tucked far away behind Prague castle and with only a tiny sign in the window. Gambra is a small terraced cottage that consists of two small rooms downstairs that are litterally cluttered with art from floor to ceiling. There is no clinical use of space but the walls are flooded with paintings and sketches. Scultures lie in piles and paintings are not ordered but have to be hunted through. Svankmajer and his wife still live and work upstairs and the place has a very lived in feel. Despite its diminutive size I could easily spend much more time there than at the Tate Modern.

I don't think I shall visit any more galleries whilst I am in London, unless there is something that I particularly want to see. I don't particularly hate them, if I did perhaps I would visit again, but they have absolutely no affect whatsoever on me. They are simply another of brand of tourism, and not a particularly good one. I shall stick to stumbling over art and being surprised by it rather than going out seeking it.

Anyhow, to remove myself from my state of ennui I went to the bookshop (strangely enough I always like the bookshops in galleries) and spent almost all my money on some books by my favourite Frenchmen. Needless to say I was muchly cheered up.

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