Late to the party

After having every puny art person I know go on about how amazing the ‘Blind Light’ exhibition was, I finally dragged my philistine corpse down to the Hayward Gallery.

Antony Gormley is a genius. No, scratch that, he’s a one time genius. His massive ego and not so massive genitalia were everywhere, in and outside the gallery. Full body castes of the man himself, hang from the ceiling like nymphomaniac bungee jumpers. A army of Gormleys surround the gallery, placed on the roofs of nearby buildings. A forest of solid concrete pillars, that have small holes dotted about in each, which I’m told, by the handy booklet, refer to anuses and genitals. The man is obsessed.

There was a big, cube, thing: First thought I had, BORG. It’s a giant Borg space ship, that’s either assimilated or been attacked by Tetris blocks. Both imposing and beautiful, like it’s trying to communicate, “Resistance is futile.”



The Fog ‘installation’ is worth the eight pounds alone. People stagger out drenched, looking shocked and awed. It was the bombing of Baghdad but with light and water rather than incendary bombs. Walking in, the water vapour envelops everything. You can’t see further than your own hands. The only constants are the light from above, the dense, impenetrable mist; the other gormless wondering souls and the click, click noise from the sprinklers. It’s both terrifying and blissful.


Your mind skips from panicing at the complete loss of any physical surroundings, to immense joy from being bound by the static, stillness.