As much as it pains me to admit this, my most treasured Halloween festivities were whittled down to watching a couple of crap movies and recieving a lazy grope on the sofa after a tiring journey back from London town.
The closest to scary things got was the Sarah Lucas exhibition in Sadie Cole's borrowed Dover Street site, with its wonderful, daunting sense of 'work in progress'/'I'll bet this is part of the concept'. While I feel an absolute prude, let me elaborate. Wires hanging left, right and centre; rooms with no lighting; stairways with no hand-rails, the place is a real death trap! And I felt myself sighing with the realisation that I had been suckered into the sanitized show-home mentality of modern day life.
The closest to scary things got was the Sarah Lucas exhibition in Sadie Cole's borrowed Dover Street site, with its wonderful, daunting sense of 'work in progress'/'I'll bet this is part of the concept'. While I feel an absolute prude, let me elaborate. Wires hanging left, right and centre; rooms with no lighting; stairways with no hand-rails, the place is a real death trap! And I felt myself sighing with the realisation that I had been suckered into the sanitized show-home mentality of modern day life.
Oh Lucas, you are so clever, with your stuffed hosiery sculptures in all their sexually ambigious glory. I don't care what anybody says.
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