Artwork Anonymous

This essay was written for an online writing group where the task was to write about articulating the self.

Artwork by Rod Kitson

Hello everyone. My name is Tabish Khan and I am an artwork. I’ve been an artwork for three years now and it’s not been an easy three years. There have been some dark times, but I’m hopeful that I’m past the worst of it.

The hardest part is the not knowing. I mean, who was this Tabish Khan? Was he a real person or just some creation from an artist’s imagination with a fictional identity?

If he was real, do I even look like him? Would his friend’s recognise me as him? Would his mum say that’s my Tabish? On second thoughts she probably has her own pet name for him that isn’t Tabish and I’ll never know what it is. Sometimes I get caught in this spiral and I find myself struggling to function.

What was the purpose for creating me? It clearly wasn’t meant as a flattering piece as I’m not particularly attractive, I mean - I don’t even have any hair. Was I meant to sit in Tabish’s basement and age in his place? Or to be placed on a wall in some stately home to serve as a memento of a long gone relative? Who am I kidding, I’m not white enough for a stately home.

Does my personality even resemble his in the slightest or is that something completely unrelated to the fact that I have his likeness and his name? I would Google him but I don’t have any fingers - thanks a lot, artist creator.

I know that I think, therefore I am. But some days I’m not sure I’m even real. That one day someone else will wake up and that will be the end of me as I was merely a figment of someone else’s subconscious - extinguished at the moment of awakening. After all, who ever heard of an artwork that can contemplate its own existence … or should that be his existence, do I even have a gender and do I want one?

I’m just rambling now and I’m not even sure where I’m going with this. It’s just nice to get this off my chest and have people to talk to and who will listen to me without judgement. I want to end by thanking you all for being here for me in these difficult times and I hope that someday I can repay the favour by supporting you in your time of need.

Discussing Dissent

As part of an art writers meet up I was tasked with writing a piece on the aesthetics of dissent. It was a week where I had a lot on and I couldn’t give it the time I wanted to. However, it’s important to share writing including those tasks completed under time pressure.

If you’re looking for dissent, enter art galleries and museums - they are abundant with them. I’ve come across hundreds of dissenting objects and artworks that push back against societal norms, Governments, consumerism and any structure that tells us how to think. After all, breaking the rules is what artists and designers often do.

Sometimes, the works have a serious political stance, sometimes they are funny - often they are both. A clear example is the Pussy Hat in the V&A collection, both a powerful symbol in the campaign for women’s rights in protest against a misogynistic president as well as a clever play on words with its cat-like ears.

A favourite museum story of mine was of the ‘Peckham Rock’ by Banksy, a mock cave painting featuring a shopping trolley that was placed within The British Museum and wasn’t noticed by any of the staff until Banksy himself posted about it. In perhaps the ultimate coup for Banksy it was then placed within I Object, an exhibition at the museum on dissenting objects curated by satirist Ian Hislop.

Of all dissenting artworks, my favourite was Michael Rakowitz’s fourth plinth commission, which featured a replica of a Lamassu - an Assyrian winged bull deity. It was based on a similar statue that was destroyed by ISIS in Iraq.

By placing it mere meters from the geographical centre of London it was a symbol of Internationalism in one of the world’s most multicultural cities. To me it was a giant middle finger that said terrorism won’t win, you can destroy but we shan’t forget, a reminder of the horrors and losses suffered through war and that another country’s loss is our loss. The deaths of those abroad are felt by those thousands of miles away and that even though we may not know you, we stand with you.

What this artwork symbolises is not simply dissent but a hope that even if one country’s history is being erased another is trying to preserve it. That one day we can set aside petty differences along borders and unite behind our shared history and ancestry.

This work was commissioned the year before the UK voted to leave the EU and while that does feel like a step back, that hope still remains among the hearts of many a cynical Londoner - sometimes we need symbols like this one to remind us of it.

We adopted it as our own guardian and it was taken down from the plinth around the time that the Covid pandemic hit London. We need our guardian back and this is one case of ‘rewriting history’ that we can get behind.

Defying Categorisation

As part of an art writers meet up I was tasked with writing a piece based on the book ‘200 words to help you talk about art’ by Ben Street. Here’s a short essay I wrote based on the words in the book, specifically the art styles and movements.

I’ve spent many conversations and several articles railing against artspeak. And while I do find its use excessive, every industry still needs its own jargon. After all I work in the energy industry where they even have nested acronyms - that’s where one letter in an acronym stands for another acronym, i.e. in EDCM the E stands for EHV*.

It makes sense for art to have specific vocabulary around techniques and mediums used within the creative process but it’s the naming of movements and style within art that has always seemed strange to me.

It’s odd that visual art, which ultimately admires freedom and whose creation has very few barriers, should be home to dozens of words designed to categorise that which seeks to defy categorisation - I mean this in the truest sense, not in the way that ‘defies categorisation’ is now a shamefully overused expression by lazy writers of press releases.

So it’s unsurprising that many of art’s movements draw their name not from the artists at the heart of the movement but from those outside it - both Impressionism and Fauvism are derogatory in origin, derived from critics mocking the artists whose works are now classified with those words.

Where artists do give names to movements it’s normally driven by ideas that don’t always make rational sense. Was Suprematism really a movement or more of an ego boost to Malevich so he could claim to have founded something? The Pre-Raphaeites were talented artists but it seems clear to me that their ideas of taking art to a time before the High Renaissance were clearly incorrect, as the history of art has since shown.

Of all art styles the one that’s strangest to me is outsider art. It’s used to refer to those who exist outside of the art mainstream, but then surely hasn’t art itself failed if there is a mainstream that we can be outside of? And if art is truly about freedom of expression then surely those who have no (or very little) reference to the outside world are the freest among us? Anyone who is an ‘insider artist’ must in some way have their practice impacted by the realities of needing money and connections with the wider world of patrons, gallerists and collectors - and therefore can never be as free as an outsider artist.

‘Outsider artist’ is a neat box we place certain artists within, but are we looking through the glass at them or are they looking in at us, constrained by all the factors that feel trivial to them? After all, as far as the goldfish is concerned we’re the ones on the wrong side of the glass.

* In case you are wondering, EDCM stands for Extra High Voltage Distribution Charging Methodology.

The Art Basel Banana: A Life in Colours

As part of an art writers meet up I was tasked with writing a piece on the Art Basel banana. Here’s my tongue in cheek essay written from the viewpoint of the banana.

Green. Life begins surrounded by my green brethren. I’m also green when it comes to my understanding of the world - all I aspire to be is one of those fancy bananas that sit atop the counter at Pret A Manger and sell for fifty pence each. Yes, we bananas are more self-aware than you give us credit for.

Yellow. My life takes off as I’m scooped up from a grocery store aisle and stuck to a wall with a piece of duct tape. I show off my best side and people the world over take my photo. I’m on the front pages of magazines and newspapers and people forget all about Trump or Brexit and debate me around their dinner tables instead. Some adore me, while others hate me but that’s because they’re jealous of my Instagram presence and because I’m worth more than they ever will be. My predecessor was eaten by some performance artist but that’s not going to happen to me - I expect museums to fight over me.

Brown. I’ve been taken down for my own safety - the irony hits me that duct tape is designed to permanently hold things in place and yet I have been removed after a day. On the upside I have been sold for $120,000 and I’m totally worth it. I imagine I’ll be stored in a freeport somewhere and it takes me by surprise to learn it’s the concept that’s been bought, and not me. So when this artwork is displayed I’ll be replaced by a fresher, yellower model. I guess art is just as age-ist as every other industry - female actors in Hollywood, I feel your pain.

Black. I lie here casually tossed into a food waste bin reflecting on how fickle fame can be. Will they remember me in a few year’s time? What about a hundred? Will I live on in art textbooks next to Michelangelo and Mark Rothko? As I hear a recycling truck reversing I think if only I had been a digital art work, then I could have achieved immortality on a digital ledger as a non-fungible token (NFT).

White.

Tab's Top Art Moments of 2020

When we look back on 2020 it’s always going to be a year dominated by the pandemic and art will recall all the exhibitions that were delayed, postponed and cancelled because of it. However, that doesn’t mean there haven’t been some great moments throughout the year. I’ve listed them below in no particular order

Copyright The National Gallery

Blockbuster exhibitions

The most hyped exhibition of the year was Artemisia at The National Gallery and when it opened, after a six month delay, it was definitely worth the wait. Her story is one of true bravery and her artworks are just as sensational with her confident self-portrait as Saint Catherine and the gory scene of the beheading of Holofernes as two stand out pieces.

My show of the year was Tantra at The British Museum. I’m of Indian heritage and knew next to nothing about this spiritual school, how it influenced popular culture and how it was demonised by the British.

Other notable blockbuster shows included the impressive Andy Warhol and Bruce Nauman shows at Tate Modern, and the Refugees triple header at Imperial War Museum - a museum that puts on tremendous and often under-rated exhibitions.

Inside the Ames Room in the Alice in Hackneyland exhibition

Immersive and emerging

The assumption often seems to be that only big institutions with big budgets can put on immersive exhibitions. Well, this was the year that was flipped on its head as I witnessed several mid-career and emerging artists pull off some great shows.

One of my favourites was Alice in Hackneyland at Orleans House Gallery with an installation that’s relevant to the location’s history, inventive and accessible to everyone.

Earlier in the year the Oxo Bargehouse was given a sci-fi makeover with the ambitious Mars & Beyond taking over four floors, spearheaded by artist Oskar Krajewski. Plus Proposition Studios put on a brilliant immersive maze of different worlds looking at climate change and ecosystems, curated by Gabriella Sonnabend.

At one of Rod Kitson’s exhibitions at Surrey Quays shopping centre.

Art in Shopping Centres

Art has a great way of finding ways to showcase artworks and artists and this year it was time for shopping centres to shine. It’s a natural fit as the decline of shopping centres means they often have retail units sitting empty and museums and galleries will bring footfall to them.

One of my favourite museums, The Migration Museum, found itself a new home inside Lewisham shopping centre after ahem migrating from Vauxhall. I’m glad to see it’s got a new home and hopefully will be there for a few years so we can see more of its excellent exhibitions.

Over at Surrey Quays shopping centre artist Rod Kitson took over a retail space and has been using it to show as many artists as possible, covering the walls with art. He’s welcoming to all artists from established ones to children just starting out. It’s great to see members of the local community creating art at his workshops too, here’s to hoping he gets to hold on to that space.

A snap from the Waddington Custot Art Basel Miami Beach display in its London gallery.

Fewer art fairs

This one’s a cheeky one as I know art fairs are important for galleries and artists to sell works and they can be great places to meet others. But I don’t really enjoy them as places to see art, with the bustling crowds and booth layouts they are terrible venues for appreciating art.

I often feel like I have to visit and walk out often having seen nothing new and suffering from fair fatigue. The lack of art fairs meant a lot of galleries instead displayed what they would have shown in their booth in a gallery setting instead. With room to breathe the works looked much better - a favourite of mine was the Waddington Custot Gallery Art Basel Miami Beach booth being displayed in their London gallery space.

Copyright Cleveland Museum of Art

What’s in store for 2021?

Normally I would have put together a preview of 2021 for Londonist but with so much up in the air with a new strain of Covid and Tier 4 restrictions in London it’s unclear when and how things will open again. Even still I know art will find a way and I’ll still manage to see lots of art, whether it’s online or offline, in 2021.

I’ve already written a piece on how things will change post (first) lockdown for FAD and we’re seeing some of those come true already so let’s see if it carries forward to 2021.

Art Prizes: Judgement Day

I’ve had the honour of being asked to judge many prizes in my role as an art critic. It’s a significant responsibility and I wanted to share my insights from the many different judging panels I’ve been on. and how they’ve worked.

I’m hoping this post will prove helpful for those judging prizes in the future and for the artists who apply to them. There’s no fixed way to judge an art prize and I’ve judged remotely and in person, individually and as a group.

Sifting through the entries

Artists often put in a lot of effort to impress the judges when applying for an art prize. And so they should, there’s nothing quite as off-putting as an unprofessional entry with blurry pictures and spelling mistakes. However, it’s worth noting many judges are unpaid and are often required to wade through hundreds of applicants.

Given the volume of entries most judges can truthfully spend a couple of seconds on each entry, 30 seconds maximum, when making an initial judgement. So it’s almost all decided on that lead image and concise explanation of what that image represents.

I’ve been on a few panels with artists and they find it very useful to see how little time is afforded to each entry. Thus helping them prepare for applying to future prizes themselves.

Judgement time

Most judging is done through JPEGs and video files of the artworks. Not all artworks translate well when they can’t be experienced in person and this can put some entrants at a disadvantage. The best counter to this predicament I’ve seen is a short video of the artist explaining what their work is and what it represents. A 60 second clip can make a world of difference.

I’ve had to use scoring scales of 1-3, 1-5. 1-7 and 1-10. It’s extremely tricky to score a subjective view of an artwork using a numerical scale and then I’ve often found myself going back to the beginning to ensure I’ve been consistent. Though human psychology means if I’ve had a run of low scoring artworks then the next ‘good’ one to come along is likely to be scored higher than if it were nestled within other high scoring entries.

Judging in isolation

There are some benefits to every judge scoring in isolation and the highest overall score winning the prize. It’s egalitarian in that every opinion carries equal weight and if the names are scrubbed from the applications then that’s even fairer still. Though if I know an artist I’m likely to recognise their work even if the name has been scrubbed.

Fellow judges can also have valuable insight into a work I may miss as I’m rapidly flicking through entries. Totalling scores also risks the least offensive work winning overall even if nobody had picked it for their winner, which never seems like a good result to me.

Judging as a group

Whether doing it remotely or in person I far prefer judging as a collective as we all make mistakes and if I’ve missed something about an artist it’s good to have a fellow judge on hand to point it out. I know I’ve done the same when I’ve recognised an artist and flagged to my fellow judges what their work is all about.

Judging as a group allows us to get to a shortlist which we can debate in detail, perhaps picking up nuances in the remaining entries that may have been missed. It also allows us to advocate for individual entries.

Now this does come with the pitfall that one particularly persuasive or bullish panel member can sway the entire panel with their confidence or bluster. I have seen this happen a fair few times and unfortunately it’s always been older white men who have been culpable. As we all know that’s the demographic that’s on average more confident in their beliefs and that can result in winners that the panel isn’t in full agreement on.

Conclusions

While there are difficult moments in being a judge, I really enjoy it and will happily continue to act as a judge on future prizes. I’ll keep adding to this blog post as I gain new experiences from future judging panels.

Back to art, back to reality

The galleries are opening again and it’s exciting times. Never before did I think I’d go over three months without seeing art in person. In swept the pandemic and now, ever so slowly, the galleries and museums are starting to open up again. It’s so refreshing to be at galleries again and I wanted to share my experiences of it so far, having made four separate trips to see galleries.

Getting there

At first I was worried about public transport so I only drove to locations, firstly into West London to see a few galleries and then to a sculpture park in Farnham. After that I did make two trips into London on the Underground.

Wearing the face mask felt uncomfortable, especially given I’m an asthmatic, but you get used to it if it’s not for too long. Though it’s worth noting many galleries require a face mask as well.

Thankfully travelling off peak on a Tuesday meant I had a bank of seats to myself on the Northern line, both travelling in and out of London.

The artist’s room at Ordovas was one exhibition I visited during my Tuesday trip into Mayfair

When I travelled in on a Saturday it was a tad busier and the Victoria line was worse than the Northern. However, if a train ever felt too busy I would simply wait for the next one where there was enough room to socially distance.

One of my biggest concerns was the practical issue of access to a bathroom, given not all galleries will let you use theirs. Thankfully the lockdown loo website is one step ahead and is ready to provide some relief.

Accessing the galleries

This is the trickier element as for most galleries you do need to book an appointment ahead of time, and I’ve had a few incidents of emailing and not getting a response - in only one instance did it mean there was nobody there to let me in. There were also a few where it wasn’t clear an appointment was needed, but given they weren’t busy they simply signed me in.

Some like White Cube, Mason’s Yard have a one way system for going around both floors. Though I did disrupt that a little by going back to the first room before exiting and they had to check it was clear before I went back in.

The clever systems and signs they have at Marian Goodman Gallery

Marian Goodman also had a neat system of a red light warning you not to go upstairs or into the screening room if it’s at capacity. I assume it’s manually operated, rather than some fancy motion sensing technology, though it’s a nice touch.

It’s worth noting that many galleries are operating reduced hours and that means many in Mayfair and Soho aren’t open on Saturdays yet, so wouldn’t fit into my usual Saturday of gallery wanderings. I had to take a Tuesday off and head into town to see all the shows I wanted to see in one visit.

The National Gallery

This is the first major institution to open to the public and I had a sneak peek on the weekend before it opens to the public.

Until the pandemic I took for granted that on any day I could hop on the Underground and see works by Monet, Rembrandt, Turner, Van Gogh and so many more for free. To re-visit these old acquaintances was a real treat and it made me realise how much I’d missed it.

The one way system is intuitive and the three set out routes are relatively easy to follow, though I did get sidetracked a couple of times. Visits must be pre-booked for free to control numbers. Yes it will be strange to book to see something we’re used to simply rocking up and seeing. On the plus side it will be a lot quieter and that’s a great way to appreciate all these masterpieces without having to battle through hordes of tourists.

A quiet and peaceful visit to The National Gallery before it opens to the public again.

Afterwards I walked across to the Garden Museum to see their excellent new Derek Jarman exhibition. That was not an intense day, at least not by my usual art Saturday wanderings, though I was shattered afterwards. I’m clearly out of practice, though the anxiety of masking up and social distancing may have added to the tiredness.

What next?

I’m planning to slowly get into the swing of things again and plan to see more shows and galleries once they open up again. Most have announced opening dates, though we’re still waiting on the South Kensington museums and The British Museum to give us a date.

Here’s to seeing more art and exhibitions in the coming weeks and months. Though I imagine it will be quite some time before we get back into the regular rhythm that was the thriving London art scene pre-pandemic.

Will all exhibitions be extended?

Since lock down started many fellow art world visitors have been asking me the same question - will all the exhibitions they didn’t get a chance to see be extended? The logic being that if say an exhibition had one month run then it will be extended to run for one more month post-lock down. Sounds like a sensible plan, right?

The answer isn’t that simple. In this post I’ll try to break down why all shows can’t be extended and the various factors that come into play. I’m sure to miss some, so chip in on the comments with any I’ve missed.

The logistics

There’s a lot that foes into an exhibition that us visitors don’t get to see. Loans of important works and objects are agreed for a certain time, likewise with the insurance. Both can be extended but they may come at a cost if the insurer and / or lender isn’t particularly understanding. In defence of lenders they may have promised the object to another exhibition by a set date. Yes the whole world has been hit by a pandemic but some parts of the world are recovering faster than others - i.e. Asia may be ready for a touring exhibition that Europe isn’t ‘done with’ yet. If the exhibition can’t tour to its next venue then that has knock-on impacts for that venue which has to rejig its exhibitions calendar.

We’ve already seen such an impact with the Titian exhibition where an extension to the stay at The National Gallery has led to the cancellation of plans for the show to tour to Scotland. I’m guessing the above includes the reasons behind why the Renaissance Watercolours exhibition at V&A has been cancelled and an Alfred Cohen exhibition at King’s College London only opened for a few hours before it had to close.

The rape of Europa is one of the Titians in the extended exhibition. © Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston

Attendance

A lot of calculations go into estimating how many people will visit an exhibition, as this number will help determine all of the following:

• The revenue generated by ticket sales

• The amount people will spend in the gift shop

• Whether attendance needs to be staggered to avoid overcrowding and how many people can comfortably fit into the exhibition at once

• How fast word of mouth will spread and if that will lead to extended opening hours being needed

• Do we have the budget to cover the numbers of staff needed to manage the visitors

• How long a run the exhibition should have based on ticket sales and visitors attendance, i.e. if you keep a show running long enough then visitor numbers decline to the point where it’s no longer economically viable to keep the exhibition running. Most galleries and museums aim to end their shows before this point.

Now of course these are all estimates but they are used for sophisticated models that are all based on the assumption that there isn’t going to be a global pandemic. Covid-19 has meant going back to the drawing board as who knows what attendance will look like once galleries and museums open up once again. The amount of people in an exhibition at a time will need to be far lower and many people won’t want to travel into town to see a show as it involves using public transport.

Many smaller museums have felt the pinch already with both Charles Dickens Museum and Florence Nightingale Museum stating that they rely on regular visitors, who pay the entrance fee, to survive. While doors are closed they are seriously suffering.

The Florence Nightingale Museum is struggling.

What next?
We shall have to see when it’s safe for museums and galleries are safe to open, and how many people turn up. Some exhibitions will be extended and upcoming exhibitions will be given new dates or cancelled as required.

In terms of future exhibitions the cost impact of the pandemic on museums may mean fewer blockbuster exhibitions or maybe ones with longer run times to recover the costs of setting them up and the lost costs from the pandemic closures.

This may result in more exhibitions curated from within the museum or gallery’s own collection. Critics tend to dislike these but it may be a necessity. More homegrown exhibitions are likely as we move away from depending on objects being flown over to be shown here, potentially including more local artists in exhibitions.

It’s unclear what comes next. Yet the arts are adaptable and I look forward to the brave new London art scene in a world after lock down.

Art's last days before lock down

As of writing it’s now been nearly two months since the lock down started, with all the galleries and museums still closed and no re-opening dates set.

I want to re-visit the last few days of visiting galleries and museums before the closure. It felt surreal at the time, though now feels even more surreal given how the weeks have flown by. Plus it feels like I should record what the London art scene looked like as the ‘Covid era’ took hold so we can look back in the future and remember what will hopefully be a one-off event.

Filming at the Titian press view at The National Gallery

Thursday 12 March - Titian

It was the press view of the Titian: Love, Desire, Death exhibition at The National Gallery and I had agreed to do a piece to camera for Associated Press. Covid19 was getting a lot of air time in the news but the hard reality of how dangerous the virus is hadn’t really hit home. I recall everyone was making jokes about how we’re supposed to greet each other due to Covid19. Nobody I spoke to foresaw the major shut down of the country that would ensue.

I met my film maker contact and she offered her hand so I naturally shook it as we had only communicated by text before then. It was only after that I asked her ‘should we be shaking hands’ and we both realised we’d made an error. The looks of doubt quickly disappeared from our faces and we largely brushed it off. It’s scary to think how relaxed we were when the idea of shaking someone’s hand now send waves of anxiety through me.

I remember leaving The National Gallery and not realising at the time that I wouldn’t be setting foot in this place again for at least several months, and that it would shut its doors to the public only a few days later. Most of us arts press folk thought we’d be back for the Artemisia press view, which was originally scheduled for 1 April. That exhibition is now postponed with new dates yet to be announced.

Thursday 12 March - evening openings

Later that evening I went to a set of private views / opening nights at a couple of exhibitions, not knowing that this would be the last night of openings for some time. I’m optimistic that galleries will open in the near future but the first post-Covid packed out gallery opening is unlikely to happen until probably 2021.

Most of my greetings were the foot taps and elbow bumps that had been trending on social media as alternative greetings — we were still a long way off from 2 metre social distancing at this point.

I remember one of the artists suggesting we should hug and we did. It’s strange to think that’s the last physical human contact I’ve had … and that was two months ago.

Understandably a lot of the conversations were on what this virus means for the art world. There was surprise that this night was also the opening for the Affordable Art Fair, Battersea and that they had gone ahead given the risks. Truthfully it was less about the health risks, which was yet to sink in, and more to do with the financial implications of the likely low attendance, resulting in poor sales for the galleries and artists present.

We discussed how The Other Art Fair was still planning to go ahead the following week. At the time the latest was they were forging ahead with a ‘no handshake policy’ and hand sanitiser readily available. In a few days time they would announce the fair’s cancellation, clearly the right call as the realisation of the lethality of the virus became more evident with each passing day.

The openings were of course sparsely attended given there were a lot of people wary of venturing out. A few months ago an evening with me at private views had been auctioned off for £150 at a charity quiz. I had been sold three times at that price, a definite ego boost, and the first of these evenings was due to be redeemed this night by a PR company. However, I heard from them in the morning they had all been sent to work from home for the foreseeable future. Given they were no longer situated around the corner from the openings I was attending they would no longer be joining me.

It’s only when writing this post that I’ve now realised that it’s highly unlikely any of those three auction prizes will be redeemed in this calendar year, though of course there’s no expiration date and I’ll happily fulfil my obligations in 2021.

I’m a trustee of ArtCan and a workshop was due to take place on Saturday. We discussed whether this should go ahead as a few ArtCan artists were in attendance at the opening of The Colour of Starlight - the exhibiting artists also both happened to be ArtCan artists.

We decided that night that the ArtCan workshop should be cancelled. For any artists who had already made plans to travel into London I suggested they could join me on my usual Saturday rounds, which brings us on to …

Reflected in a Hans Kotter work at JD Malat - one of the few Mayfair galleries that was open on the Saturday

Saturday 14 March

Saturday is my day of visiting galleries. Normally I would spend every Saturday from 10-6 hopping around the galleries. Often I do these on my one, but this day two ArtCan artists had decided to take up my offer and join me later in the day. I remember the Undergound and the streets of London feeling quiet, but not especially so for a Saturday morning.

The day started with an 11am early viewing of the Sarah Lucas exhibition at Sadie Coles on Kingly Street. There was lots of hand sanitiser available, which I made liberal use of, and I had the exhibition all to myself for a good 20 minutes. I did wonder if it would be going ahead but the gallery had confirmed it was, and I wasn’t expecting a huge turnout - though was a little surprised to find it was just me.

I hadn’t met the gallery’s press contact so when she came over I shot out my hand on instinct. When I realised she wasn’t going to shake my hand, I quickly realised my error and apologised. We talked while keeping a healthy distance and we were joined by one more person. I didn’t see any others arrive at this preview, and I left around midday - halfway through the 11am-1pm event.

I popped across the road for some early lunch and sat down as the lone figure in the little cafe. While eating I was checking my phone for the social media feed of all the galleries I planned to visit on my rounds - in case any had announced that they were closed.

My next planned stop was Marian Goodman Gallery and just then something popped up on their Twitter feed to say the gallery was now closed. As the gallery was round the corner I decided to see if I could maybe sneak in a quick visit. As I got to the door I saw a printed sign on the door announcing the gallery was closed and on the other side of the glass door I could see a man tidying up the gallery. When our eyes met his face definitely had a ‘don’t you dare open that door’ look on it, so I wisely walked away.

I then proceeded to journey round Mayfair galleries. Only a third of my planned stops were open with other galleries bearing signs on their doors announcing they were now closed. Walking down Cork Street was especially surreal as all the galleries were closed. It reminded me of Westerns when the bad guys roll into town and all the windows and doors get bolted shut.

I ended the day at Edmund de Waal’s excellent Library of Exile installation at The British Museum. Thankfully the last physical exhibition I would see for some time happened to be a high note. Little did I know when the security guard came round to say the museum was closing it was really the entire gallery and museum world that was closing … at least for me.

Edmund de Waal’s work at The British Museum. The very last exhibition I’ve seen to date.

Monday 16 March

By now many of the commercial galleries had already closed and the big institutions would follow on Tuesday. So I was surprised to hear there were still plans for the press view of the Hogarth: London Voices, London Lives exhibition to go ahead at Pitzhanger Manor on Tuesday morning.

I was so concerned that I got in touch to check it was still going ahead and was told that it was. It was only at 7pm this evening that I was notified that it had been cancelled. It feels strange that the exhibition must have been fully installed and yet only the exhibitions team at Pitzhanger Manor will have seen it. I have this image of a show frozen in time - like one of those cryostasis pods in Sci-Fi movies, awaiting for safer times when it can be awakened.

Other shows have been frozen in time or cancelled, and the story of a show that lasted only a few hours is particularly sad.

Thus ended my gallery going for the foreseeable future and now we wait for the green light to start visiting exhibitions once it’s safe to do so again. I do miss the exhibitions a lot and I can’t wait until we can safely visit them again. Just as the daffodils and bluebells are a sign of spring, the time when I can spend a day of gallery going will be my sign that the world is returning to normal.

An ode to non-productivity

When the Covid19 lock down began there was a lot of talk about how productive we may all become when we’re forced indoors. We’ll have time to think about all the projects we could be doing, and there were loads of people on Twitter referencing how productive Isaac Newton was during his plague years.

Lots of friends also said that I’d be massively productive too and my habit of writing lots as a second full time job would continue in quarantine. It sounds like I’m not the only one with this expectation placed upon them, as others have told me of the stress caused by the fact everyone expects them to be productive.

In truth there’s nothing stopping me from being productive as I’m financially largely unaffected by the current crisis and I don’t have any childcare responsibilities.

I started the lock down not sure what I would do, as covered in my previous blog post.

Now that we’re a few week in I can say I have not been very productive at all … and I’m loving it.

For once I’m not writing in response to something, whether that be exhibitions I’ve seen that need reviewing, those coming up that need previewing or doing a major roundup of exhibitions. I can now write about whatever I feel like — case in point this blog post.

Yes I do appreciate that a blog post may be classified as productivity, though my output in terms of number of articles has dipped dramatically.

While in the past I was hitting as many exhibitions as possible, it meant I often neglected the other arts. Not so over the last few weeks where I’ve watched ballet, classical music, dance, theatre and opera all from my sofa. Plus some art and artist talks, I have no plans to neglect my first love.

I’ve also taken the time to hit up my ‘coffee list’, that list we all have of people we intend to catch up with over coffee but it never materialises because life gets busy. Now thanks to Skype and Zoom I’ve been catching up with lots of people, including those abroad as distance matters not on a video call.

Sure, at some point I may feel like I need to get back to visiting exhibitions and reviewing them, but for now I’ve got a new routine and it’s working for me.

I’ve been given a bit of breathing space and I’m going to make the most of it, and so should you if you are able to. Productivity be damned.