On the tenth of October I went and visited the Modern one with Christy. It was odd, the usual clinic like feeling of a white cube space was only exemplified by the need for everyone to wear a mask.
It was uncomfortably hot, I wish I could’ve opened the windows. I was acutely aware of everyone around me, it’s weird how anxious I felt in these empty yet full rooms. Christy was trying her best to take an interest in what I was babbling on about, I like having someone listen to me who thought what I was saying had any merit (it didn’t)
I was drawn to the work of Katie Paterson, especially the opening piece which wasn’t actually a piece at all, but a huge collection of ideas, ideas that she admits might never come into fruition. this made me think about the way in which my work could be presented, could it fit into this unfinished yet open ended context? who decided that things need to to always come into reality to be deemed complete.
After the gallery visit we were stopped by a photographer who was drawn to what we where wearing (to add context we looked like typical queer art students) I felt mildly uncomfortable being photographed. We were at an art gallery, surely there is something else to look at rather than my awkward gangly frame.
I still haven’t seen those pictures.
