Wednesday, 17 December 2008

Why it's not safe to let me into the Tate

1. I go bananas for Bacon.

2. The restaurant at Tate Britain is excellent. (The devilled kidneys on sourbread are out of this world, and the wine list could be a novella.)

3. I might actually read the comments on the Turner Prize exhibition. Who knows, I might even report some of them here.

4. I never, ever pay for the coat check.

5. The Tate membership will let me into exhibitions an unlimited amount of times. I have already made it pay for itself.

6. I may be found peering at the memorabilia of curation: is that wall photo printed out in 60cm strips? What kind of mirror plates are they using? Are photo corner tabs fashionable underneath, or above, matte mountings?

7. Who knows what they might think of me if I went to St. Ives?

8. In the shop I might be reading rather a lot of that book about marketing for artists.

9. I could be guilty of buying a pencil sharpener, finding that it was too small for the pencil, returning it, and persuading the person at the counter to sharpen the pencil for me with a Stanley knife. (Now why didn't I think to bring one to the gallery?)

10. Which leads to the scenario of me making unfeasible sketches of the George Dyer triptychs.

11. I always seem to be the last to leave at the end of the day. People have to walk around ringing bells and locking doors behind me to get me to go.

12. There is a pair of machines in Tate Modern, by the coat check that I do not pay for, that allows me to have fun making absurd not-quite-art videos. You have been warned.

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