Saw Caravaggio: The Final Years
Saw Caravaggio: The Final Years and John Virtue, had lunch at Busaba Eathai, spotted Jayne Middlemiss (showbiz!!!!), had coffee at a Parisian patisserie. Bought me some Lansdale (A Fine Dark Line), Dostoyevsky (Crime and Punishment) and Takagi (The Tattoo Murder Case). Yay for leisurely reading.
The Caravaggio’s were wonderful, drama-filled panels of darkness emerging out of the sparse, gloomy spaces. The viewing conditions otherwise were dire. Cattle crush with people in their own, inconsiderate bubbles of audio narration, six or seven deep arcing around the paintings. Reading their guides, blocking the view, elbowing so they can get a prime spot to stand in the way. Or sitting on the benches in front of the pictures and expecting the area in front of the painting to stay clear. That’s cheating I think you’ll find. Fucks.
The Virtue pieces were also very pleasing, albeit in a different way. Black textured clouds floating across a mostly obscured London. Ink, acrylic and shellac. Interesting.
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