Thursday, 9 July 2009
I couldn't resist sharing this little bit of found art with you. As many of you know, my computer was recently converted from steam to diesel, and as a result hundreds of photographs I'd thought were consigned to the dustbin of history have miraculously re-appeared. I don't know why I stuck the camera into a little Rowney ceramic paint pallette, but something about it appealed. I usually use big dinner plates for squeezing out my gouache, which then get forgotten under a pile of old Radio Times and torn Penguin books. "Where have all your plates gone" is often heard in the Ashley Towers kitchen. What I like about this image, and one that I know anybody who does similar things will recognise, is that it tells a story of impatience. This is the back of the pallette, which means the front was chocker with dried-up paint already when I reached out for it. As were all the other pieces of crockery hurriedly pressed into service. Once a year they get gathered up and taken to the scullery where they lie in soak for a day, the water turning to an indeterminate grey blue. That's it really, I'll get on the blower to Nick Serota and ask if he wants it blown up to fifty feet across and nailed up at the end of the Turbine Hall at Bankside.