Yeah that’s right, we’re talking about art –wanna fight about it? Sure it isn’t usually ES fare but what the hell, I wasted my Sunday wandering around London’s South Bank when I could have been eating toast and stealing porn off the net so I don’t see why you shouldn’t have to sit there and listen to me talk about it, you unenlightened simian.
Anyway, London’s lovely Tate Modern had it’s 10th birthday this weekend, and in celebration decided to invite a multicultural selection of feckless layabouts international artists and independent hopefuls to fill up the turbine hall with their various ramshackle projects, displays and happenings, and because some of us have girlfriends of a distinctly arty persuasion(and it was free), we were there as well.
Now, the last time I went to TM was during their recent terrible Pop Art exhibition, where absolute shite from Warhol’s latter years abutted some godawful Jeff Koons statues while various NWA tracks played in the background. It was –NWA aside –uniformly awful. Fortunately they were also showcasing some of John Baldessari’s excellent, witty and erudite photographic work, so I approached this in reasonably hopeful mood.
And yes, I was wrong to do so.
