The next day we attempted the Saatchi gallery, and the tube. It is debatable which was more trying.
After scaling Holloway road we arrived at the station. I knew there was a lift and so – foolishly – assumed it would be ‘wheelchair friendly’. It was not. The lift led to a passage which led to two flights of stairs. Luckily there was a kind man in dark glasses and a smart-ish suit to help us down the steps. There was an incident in the lift with a blind man.
On the tube I forgot my brakes and rolled around for a bit before settling down against the backrest, blocking the aisle.
After wandering around Chelsea for a while we arrived at the Saatchi gallery which is hidden behind gates and upmarket brunch bars serving fat free pizzas and Emma Thompson lookalikes. We were welcomed by a disabled entrance and a smiling guard.
The Art:
Unlike the Tate (and most galleries) the Saatchi gallery does not choose to enlighten its visitors with blurbs explaining each piece of art. In the absence of this pretentious – but amusing – bullshit, I have decided to annotate a few pieces myself.
The first few rooms were immemorable and unphotographable – the best exhibit was some rocks with little crosses on the top which were rather pleasing from my eye -level. Up the lift and to the right I was confronted with some mud made bango players with pink poleystyrene arms and hats.
This was the highlight of the next room. An exploration of immediate satisfaction combining two children’s kit toys.
Then we went upstairs and found some truly thought provoking stuff.
Fig 1. An arrow of plaster cast babies, wrapped up and slumbering, with knives protruding where their insy winsy toes should have been:
Fig 2. Boots and silly hats linked only by guns and stereos which each murmured very bad beats into the room.
Fig 3. Bodiless burka’s made of colourful cigarette cards (or some such thing) displaying male idols.
Fig 4. A blown up black and white photograph of a boy reading.
Fig 5. Another bodiless burka, this time made of banana skins and what look like plastercine fingers.
Fig 6. The final piece. Fluorescent lights arranged into the milky way. The stripey strobe effect was produced unintentionally by my camera phone.
We made our way down to the ground floor where a disabled toilet was advertised. Unfortunately, despite the helpful wheelchair sign stuck upon the door, the wheelchair in question would not fit through said door. I ended up leaving my wheelchair with a very friendly spanish toilet assistant whilst I hopped inside to relieve myself. It seems the Saatchi gallery has used up all of its space filling rooms which hold one piece of ‘Art’ (often so small I was left looking at the light switch before a helpful assistant led me to the pile of bricks in the corner) with vacuous air and is thus left to economize when it comes to adding a few inches to the disabled toilet. Pity.
After a brief trip to the shop – where I bought a pencil and Sam a Moleskine – we were free and as I rolled down the disabled ramp I have never been so impressed by the beauty of business, of more than one object in my field of vision.
To celebrate, we had lunch, visited a friend and then headed to the Thames to look at Battersea Power station and appreciate real design.
In Battersea Park we had some wine.
We sat and contemplated the world.
We looked at our respective feet.
A wasp tried to join us.
Then the sun went down and we headed back across the bridge.
There were other events including policemen and pavements but this is all I have time for tonight.