Every friday on my way home from work I take a detour and instead of walking around the Tate Modern I go inside and take the stairs to the Turbine Hall and walk the length of it.
Shibboleth by Doris Salcedo
I took Craig to see Shibboleth a weekend or two ago after we’d been out for dinner. I had seen it before but wanted my super-smart construction-minded darling-robot husband to look at it and see how it was done.
He couldn’t work it out!
The crack is surprisingly deep. I saw a grown man sticking his leg into it at one of the widest points and only his knee protruded. And the concrete all around is old and worn. Bizarre. It’s fabulous.
I loved when Craig tried to explain it to his mum
Craig: then we went to see a crack at the Tate Modern …(pause)… a crack …(pause)… in the floor …(pause)… a crack …(pause)… it’s an art … thing.
Maman by Louise Bourgeois
I also have a soft spot (well, more a large spiky metal spot but still…) for the giant spider that is on display in front of the Tate Modern.
I say hello to her every morning and every night.
She hasn’t replied yet.
I’ve accepted the inevitable. As I’m excited for every single one of the exhibitions they are currently showing (Millais! Turner Prize retrospective (Damian Hirsh!) Louise Bourgeois!) I’m going to have to become a friend of the Tate.
I hope the pack comes with friendship bracelets! or a half-heart necklace that says est ends.
Love you Tates!!