Photograph by YF
Back in the RA courtyard after observing a bullet of red wax shot out of an air compression cannon (Shooting into the Corner) at the Anish Kapoor show. The poses struck by myself and YF's lady are close enough to inspire the dreadful punning in the title
I enjoyed thinking of how high the cleaning bill for removing all the dried wax from the walls and floors at the RA would be, but I especially like what Kapoor does with mirrors, transporting them out of the funhouse and onto the gallery floor. One would think that removing the spooky dark rooms and the disco smoke machines from the equation would take away much of the pleasure of narcissistic image distortion, and actually, in a way, it does. Unless one is one of the many half term-celebrating urchins running unfettered throughout the exhibition, that is
Also prominent amongst these appealing constructs, Hive (womb symbolism meets the inside of an ocean liner's hull meets an echo chamber) and Yellow (a concave fibreglass and pigment-based work that belies the inverse dome in the centre by appearing solid if stared at long enough) were similarly striking and inviting of momentary scrutiny. I think I want to go again
Also prominent amongst these appealing constructs, Hive (womb symbolism meets the inside of an ocean liner's hull meets an echo chamber) and Yellow (a concave fibreglass and pigment-based work that belies the inverse dome in the centre by appearing solid if stared at long enough) were similarly striking and inviting of momentary scrutiny. I think I want to go again