Stuff can = art

John Glenn, the astronaut, died today aged 95.

Greg Lake died as well. Greg was only 69 and one of the founders of the amazing Emerson Lake and Palmer, the band who introduced me to Mussorgsky and his Pictures at an Exhibition as well as prog rock which I’ve loved ever since. I often play Tarkus when I’m alone in the extension. It’s been a bad year for my generation though it’s probably just because my generation is just getting too old to survive.

But enough of that…today I had to go up to London and visit Australia House in order to renew my Oz passport. It was perfectly timed because there was no work today since the permanent staff were having their Christmas lunch and the basement would be locked after midday. So I planned my visit to Oz House then a trip to Tate Modern.

The passport renewal was ridiculously smooth. I was told to arrive at least 15 minutes before my appointment. I’m not sure why because I’d already completed all the paperwork and made an appointment. Still, I suppose you could get stuck at security which is a bit of a faff.

Anyway, I arrived 15 minutes before my appointment, sat down then stood up as my name was called. I sat down in front of a very pleasant Australian clerk who took my money and told me the passport would arrive in about a fortnight. I then left Australia House.

My appointment had been for 1:30. I left the building at 1:25. Even the security guard was nice.

From the Strand I walked down to St Paul’s and crossed the Millennium Bridge to Tate Modern.

North bank of the Thames at low tide

In the middle of the day there’s quite a few people crossing the Millennium Bridge. I say crossing but quite a few of them are standing, posing with Tower Bridge in the background. There’s also a plethora of languages and accents as you walk across. It’s like the river crossing equivalent of the Tower of Babel.

Once safely on the South Bank, I headed through the Christmas Market outside the Tate and went inside.

I was interested to see the new installation in the Turbine Hall. It’s by Phillipe Parreno and, according to the Tate Modern website, transforms the Turbine Hall “…into an immersive experience, challenging your perception of time and space.” This means that a lot of people lie down on the carpet and experience a light and sound show.

When I arrived they were listening to BBC 3. I was going to join them but I had a timed ticket to the Rauschenberg exhibition so decided to check it out afterwards.

Bob Rauschenberg, who I’d never heard of before a couple of days ago when I decided to see the exhibition, was a Texan artist born in 1925. (I thought he was still alive but he actually died in 2008.) Throughout his artistic life, he tried to subvert and redefine what actually constituted art. He used anything he could find to create his pieces. This could be bits and pieces of wood, old magazines and newspapers, a stuffed goat, a single bed…anything really but mostly stuff that had been discarded by other people.

In fact, his art could be described as ‘stuff’ based. The audio guide (which was excellent) emphasised his love of ‘stuff’ many times as I walked around.

There are no ‘pretty pictures’ in Rauschenberg’s work but all the pieces in this exhibition are thought provoking and sometimes very powerful. I enjoyed the exhibition but am not about to become a big Bob fan.

My favourite piece was called ‘Monogram’ and featured a stuffed goat. The funniest piece was a giant vat of occasionally bubbling mud. The funniest bit of the mud vat was the number of people standing around considering the artistic qualities of it. Do they not realise they are standing, staring at a big vat of mud? And it was very big – about the size of the Old Rose Room at home. I like to think that Bob included the viewers as a variable part of the piece.

When I handed the audio guide back the young girl collecting them asked me, with a beautifully warm and heartfelt smile, if I’d enjoyed it. I told her I had, very much. I also thanked her for the amazing smile. She blushed…and I managed to get a second smile.

Down in the Turbine Hall I joined the reclining crowd and listened to something that sounded like big machinery unsuccessfully starting up while lights chased each other around the walls and across the ceiling. I’m not sure about immersive. I actually found it quite annoying. The classical music would have been a lot better.

I headed out, stopping for a bratwurst at the Christmas market, and headed for London bridge tube for the start of my journey home.

A Thames panno at sunset

A thoroughly enjoyable day.