Neon, Necropolis, Silence
Feb. 8th, 2006 01:40 pmNeon
The queue for neon grew longer and longer as I watched from above. I yearned for neon; the sky was grey. A quick glimpse of brightness, of astounding green lights, was caught as the door briefly opened for someone else who had been drawn in, despite the wait.
Necropolis
I walked on, firstly around display boards filled with brightly coloured manga and then to the former location of the London Necropolis Station. An ordinary-looking lion-adorned building stood at 121 Westminster Bridge Road, but apparently it was used as a terminus station for the transportation of the dead.
Silence
The collection of silences exhibition appealed to me - sitting silently in a room with the artist while the sound of silence is recorded. Although I missed the sessions, I've since been thinking about collecting silences also. The silence of neon, silent phonecalls to myself, the silence of closed down funfairs, silence caused by option paralysis.
The queue for neon grew longer and longer as I watched from above. I yearned for neon; the sky was grey. A quick glimpse of brightness, of astounding green lights, was caught as the door briefly opened for someone else who had been drawn in, despite the wait.
Necropolis
I walked on, firstly around display boards filled with brightly coloured manga and then to the former location of the London Necropolis Station. An ordinary-looking lion-adorned building stood at 121 Westminster Bridge Road, but apparently it was used as a terminus station for the transportation of the dead.
Silence
The collection of silences exhibition appealed to me - sitting silently in a room with the artist while the sound of silence is recorded. Although I missed the sessions, I've since been thinking about collecting silences also. The silence of neon, silent phonecalls to myself, the silence of closed down funfairs, silence caused by option paralysis.
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