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squirmeliaTate Modern, London:
Olafur Eliasson's Weather Project is still happening at the Tate Modern, and it was the fourth time I'd laid on the floor there under the orange glow of the makeshift sun and stared at my sepia-smothered reflection. Next to me laid people who tried to get their ant-like blackened reflections to resemble Monica Lewinsky. Sometimes it is preferable in some way at night, just before that moment when you're about to leave, and just before the sun turns a creepy grey and you imagine the same happening to the real sun.
I've seen fake sugar cubes in cages before, but still I wonder if they have a fever.
Rolling peas down escalators:
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ghoti's list of dislikes included peas and escalators, and for me this conjured up images of rolling peas down escalators. I wrapped a dozen frozen peas in a bag, which defrosted by the time I reached an escalator. They started to roll down, green on silver, while people waited to get to the tube, and I imagined a squish as they reached the bottom.
ICA, London:
I'd been to the Foreign Office Architects: Breeding Architecture exhibition previously (plans and models of differently structured strange-looking buildings from around the world), and this time my attention was focused more on the little plastic people next to the leafless trees, and wondering if they were dancing. I listened to the talk on 'Breaking the boundaries', but the talk, like the exhibition, was lacking in something for me. I think I just don't get architectural plans, or at least, I don't find them even vaguely as beautiful as the buildings themselves.
Emily's party, Cambridge:
The reason I was in London really was because I was on my way to Cambridge. Confused as to which film character I should dress as, I adorned a mask and a hat, and wondered if I was Zorro, Don Juan de Marco, or Amélie. I swapped my hat for multi-coloured hair and apparently ended up looking more like Delirium. Some people commented that they could no longer picture me without that hair, which I hope was because they were drunk. The parcel was passed from person to person as Rolf Harris sung, and then we ended up playing a rather strange game of charades until about 4am. I remember having to act out 'shed' from the Argos Catalogue.
Escalator, London:
Reaching London again the next day, I jumped aboard the escalator, and there was the multi-coloured wig-owner who was at the party the night before, on the step right in front of me. He wore his wig on the tube as I placed my hat over my face, and I attempted a last minute charade by acting out 'Lego'. He suggested that in future we play charades with the theme of underground stations.
Olafur Eliasson's Weather Project is still happening at the Tate Modern, and it was the fourth time I'd laid on the floor there under the orange glow of the makeshift sun and stared at my sepia-smothered reflection. Next to me laid people who tried to get their ant-like blackened reflections to resemble Monica Lewinsky. Sometimes it is preferable in some way at night, just before that moment when you're about to leave, and just before the sun turns a creepy grey and you imagine the same happening to the real sun.
I've seen fake sugar cubes in cages before, but still I wonder if they have a fever.
Rolling peas down escalators:
ghoti's list of dislikes included peas and escalators, and for me this conjured up images of rolling peas down escalators. I wrapped a dozen frozen peas in a bag, which defrosted by the time I reached an escalator. They started to roll down, green on silver, while people waited to get to the tube, and I imagined a squish as they reached the bottom.ICA, London:
I'd been to the Foreign Office Architects: Breeding Architecture exhibition previously (plans and models of differently structured strange-looking buildings from around the world), and this time my attention was focused more on the little plastic people next to the leafless trees, and wondering if they were dancing. I listened to the talk on 'Breaking the boundaries', but the talk, like the exhibition, was lacking in something for me. I think I just don't get architectural plans, or at least, I don't find them even vaguely as beautiful as the buildings themselves.
Emily's party, Cambridge:
The reason I was in London really was because I was on my way to Cambridge. Confused as to which film character I should dress as, I adorned a mask and a hat, and wondered if I was Zorro, Don Juan de Marco, or Amélie. I swapped my hat for multi-coloured hair and apparently ended up looking more like Delirium. Some people commented that they could no longer picture me without that hair, which I hope was because they were drunk. The parcel was passed from person to person as Rolf Harris sung, and then we ended up playing a rather strange game of charades until about 4am. I remember having to act out 'shed' from the Argos Catalogue.
Escalator, London:
Reaching London again the next day, I jumped aboard the escalator, and there was the multi-coloured wig-owner who was at the party the night before, on the step right in front of me. He wore his wig on the tube as I placed my hat over my face, and I attempted a last minute charade by acting out 'Lego'. He suggested that in future we play charades with the theme of underground stations.