Trippin' the Tate

This is a still (not one of my own i should add) from If I had You, Darren Almond's entry for this year's Tuner Prize, a video installation of his grandmother watching a couple dancing, remembering her husband who had died 20 years before.

Last Saturday, on a rare day of strolling through art galleries, I had the pleasure of sitting in this installation for the best part of an hour, snuggled against the wall in the dark, watching it through probably a dozen times. The piece comprised 4 video screens, and a pensive piano soundtrack. Almost unbearably sad, it's probably looking even sadder now that we know (as of Monday) that it didn't win the prize.

A shed that was assembled into a boat then back into a shed again won, by Simon Starling. As if that makes any sense...














We started out at the Tate Modern, where we had the pleasure of seeing Rachel Whiteread's Embankment, which left me slightly bemused. It fills the turbine hall, and consists of glued-together plastic boxes which compell you to touch them - and consider climbing them, too!














The Tate Modern's one of my favourite places in London. Firstly, there's such a variety of work in there, all different types of art, while secondly, it's free! So everyone goes. Whenever they like. And there's something cool about that.

We saw a great photography exhibition by Jeff Wall, intense photos which look like they might be caught by chance but are immaculately composed - as if they were paintings. Some were slightly disturbing, but I'd recommend the exhibition in an instant - loved it.

And what made the day even better, was that the Scribbler was in good, intelligent company. And the Scribbler rarely asks for any more than that. Even if said company did keep yawning from time to time. Some things are forgivable, though, not least when they're accompanied by pretty shiny painted nails.














An ironic snap... thought we were being clever. Maybe it worked, maybe not...

In between the Tate Modern and the Turner Prize at Tate Britain, we hid from the rain by having a Gormet Pizza, before tripping the river on the Tate Modern. Before relaxing in the Darren Almond. Which should have won, by the way (should I say that again?) But the shed wasn't so bad, I guess.

And ultimately, after finishing the day by getting really confused in Earls Court train station after a solitary glass of wine, then watching a film at home, I sank into bed dreaming of nothing less than being snuggled up against that wall, watching twinkle-toed dancers on a grainy screen in the dark, thinking just how nice a day out wandering through art could be.














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