March 2010

There is something about very tube station in London that makes it unique.  Some stick out in my mind because three or more subway lines intersect, making it seem like an underground ant farm for humans.  Others come to mind when I think of the words “stairs” and “quadriceps.”  The Waterloo station however just makes me think of sugar.  Anticipating the Mr. Humbug Sweets stand at the top of the escalators makes me salivate.  That’s probably due as much to the fact that I only buy super sour candy from the stand as it is that anyone with a sweet-tooth would be drooling.  Don’t believe me?  Well, as their slogan says, “Suck it and see.”  Ha!  Oh, and FYI, “American Hard Gums” are not that great.

Ps - How does this woman stay so thin?

It’s amazing how being in London and having access to all of the art venues here is taking my understanding the visual arts, smashing it to pieces and resembling it.  Yesterday, I went to the Barbican Art Centre, which is the most comprehensive arts centre I’ve ever set foot in.  They have two art galleries, theatre stages, three cinemas, an art and music library and more.  It took decades to build the venue after the area was demolished during WWII.  It’s fascinating to see the juxtaposition of these new contemporary buildings next to surviving churches and whatnot that have been around for hundreds of years.

I went to see the Ron Arad’s exhibition. Arad is an Israeli born artist whose work ungulates between sculpture, furniture design and architecture.  Here are some videos from the exhibit that explain his work, which was really hard not to touch or climb on (thank goodness they had a interactive section of the exhibit to try out some of his furniture pieces).  The photo of this sculpture of his is kind of the odd duck given the theme of the show, but I seem to drawn to all things American while I’m not actually in America.

I also went to the second gallery to see Céleste Boursier-Mougenot’s “Rhymths of Life,” which made me smile like possibly no other installation piece ever has.  You have to watch this video, which still doesn’t do it justice.  Birds playing hard rock, ha, I love it!

Let me be clear, I don’t need any more hobbies.  I can’t seem to balance all of my current creative interests, let alone adding some oldies but goodies into the mix.  But I couldn’t resist knitting again after buying an uncovered throw pillow I found on sale.  It’s been sitting in its naked state on the futon in my studio for a few weeks.  I couldn’t take it anymore and decided to clothe it with a knitted pillowcase.  Of course my craft box didn’t contain the color yarn I wanted, so I meandered down to a charming shop called Loop.

It turns out this knitters’ haven is owned by an American (and apparently staffed by Americans and a Canadian).  Since North American accents pierce the air here, they tend to be conservation starters.  So one “Where are you from?” conversation and several balls of yarn later, I’m back home not working, but knitting.  But it doesn’t stop there.  Now I’m tempted to join some knitting groups.  Maybe I should see how my first guitar lesson goes next week before I join something else.  I think I need an artistic intervention.

This week I went to my first art auction at Christie’s.  Firstly, I was surprised they would let me in as I hadn’t given them any promise of making a bid and therefore did not provide any financial information.  Much to my surprise, their auctions are open to the public (I’m guessing that’s not the case for the truly celebrity status sales, e.g. selling a Monet).

So there I am, making my presence known, not because I’m making a scene, but rather because I’m the only person in the room watching the audience and not the auctioneer and artwork.  I had already gone to the show room the day before to see the Victorian and British Impressionist paintings that were to be auctioned the next day, so I was much more interested in how an auction works, who attends them, what they do and who buys what.  I left with far more questions than I came with.  For example:

• Who are these people that sit or stand behind the desks and make bids for people via phone?  They’re not wearing Christie’s uniforms or name tags.  Can anyone who is a representing a bidder on the phone show up and snag a seat, first come for serve?  The auctioneer seemed to know them all by name, so I’m going to assume for the time being that I should not sit behind the desks because I seem to have two critical requirements for this post: 1. claim to know someone who may want to bid and 2. a cell phone.
• Do the mobile phone companies here list the auction houses as priority locations to ensure service?  Can you imagine that customer service call?  “May I ask why are you canceling your service with us, sir?” “Because you dropped my call while I was bidding on a £30,000 painting.”
• What if no one bids?  Does Christie’s claim to be the first bidder to get people competitive and cut their loses if no one bits?
• How do they validate the work?  They must have a team of experts evaluating each item ensuring that customers don’t come back claiming they were sold a fraud.  That sounds like a lot of overhead, but let me assure you, from my one observation, Christie’s does not seem to not hurting for money.  I lost track of sales after about 20 of 150+ paintings.

What did I learn by people watching?  Bidding on art is like playing poker, you have to have your game face on or you’ll pay more than necessary; auctioneers have phenomenal peripheral vision; when someone wants something, they’ll pay an absurd amount of money for it (see observation 1 bad-poker-face-bidders); and the recession has certainly bypassed a small number of fortunate individuals.

Many moons ago I distinctly remember an elementary school tutor giving me a birthday card that had a unicorn on it.  I think at this point I already had my 2′ tall stuffed white pony that I imagined to be a unicorn and had watched “The Last Unicorn” on VHS more times than I care to claim.

Point being, I have a great love, nourished over many years, for the fictional creatures (although I asked that tutor if she thought it were possible for unicorns to be real, to which she replied, “I suppose anything is possible.”  I of course took that to mean “yes.”).

Europe seems to have an abundance of my dream pet.  I see them in decorative building facades, in display windows and in museums.  If I can find someone to volunteer for the unflattering role of horse-rear for a Halloween unicorn costume, I could live out the dream of my half-unicorn-half-human idol from the movie.  After all, I think I have most of the lines memorized.