I sorted a timed entry ticket for the
Matisse show at the Tate Modern for 10am and set out from my place in
Clerkenwell to walk directly south where I would encounter the Thames and the
Tate. After 45 minutes of walking I could see no sign of the Thames and
consulted my map to try to understand why I was now on Oxford street and it became
clear that I had somehow been walking directly west towards Soho. Not a bad
place to end up – but not the Tate Modern. I discovered that timed entry is a
rough guide and I was cheerfully admitted at 11.30.
Walking
around the Matisse cutout exhibition I can marvel at the scale of his projects.
For an old man with limited mobility and failing health to conceive of such
ambitious projects displays a grand mind. He warns the viewer that the cut out medium
will require a reassessment of our criteria of observation - and I try to do
this. I realise that I have failed when I round the corner and see two large
paintings and my heart skips. Such feeling! Such touch! Such colour! The colour
is not any different in hue and saturation to the cut outs but it enters my
eyes and my mind more directly. How can I explain this?
I
was fortunate enough to see a Richard Hamilton exhibition here too – an English
pop artist of whom I was unaware. It was a major retrospective and it seemed to
me that his career took a similar trajectory to Brett Whitely (although Hamilton
experimented more with assemblage and printmaking). His paintings, when he did
do them – are beautiful and remind me a lot of some of Whitely’s figurative
works. Hamilton’s lifestyle was equally interesting – hanging out with Mick
Jagger and Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe and all the A-listers of his time.
Two
other rooms dedicated to Cy Twombly and Rothko respectively made my day
complete. I didn’t know that Twombly made sculptures. They are so static and
quiet and placed in front of his dynamic large-scale drawings they seem to be
the antithesis in mood.
I
walked home across the Thames, north – and made it.
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