Our Day Out

I visit the Liverpool Tate gallery about five to six times a year; personally, I favour the Walker and the Lady Lever. It would seem that I tend to leave just enough time between trips so that I forget what my previous visit was like and think what a great cultural change it would be from my usual haunts. On this occasion I did not venture into the special exhibit (Alice in Wonderland) so this is not a reflection on that specific exhibition. 

Each time I go to the Tate I feel confronted by a cold, soulless atmosphere where everything (art included) and nearly everyone is ever so pretentious darlings. I almost always have my pint-sized best friend at my leg side, who, despite his impeccable behaviour, sharp-witted, blunt analytical critique and admirable curiosity, seems to put the gallery attendants on the edge of their seats. This often unnerves me and can easily spoil my experience, which seems at odds with their supposed accommodation of families (family room, an Alice exhibit and a foyer that boasts free family activities “…just ask!”).

The DLA Piper Series ‘This is Sculpture’ is refreshing in the sense that each time I go they have mixed things up a bit, blended new sculptures with the old and alternated their pieces around the gallery. However, I find the rooms very sterile and rather unapproachable, not knowing what to touch and what not. There is a consistent lack of information on the mounted wall plaques, instead the word count seems to be filled with sanctimonious drivel about how the artist had changed the world as we know it or waffle about it being a reflection of this, that or the other. I got the feeling that if you looked at the sculpture, read the plaque and disagreed you might be immediately escorted out by a member of the Thought Police.

Having said this I did like the previous attempts by Wayne Hemmingway and Son to make an interactive disco, which allowed visitors to view the works in a more memorable way. It helped to contrast against all the “DO NOT TOUCH” signs that are EVERYWHERE. A lot of the pieces, I felt, were just begging to be touched or interacted with and would help people gain a greater connection with the piece. This time around the only interaction I could do was metaphorically.  The Tower II by Richard Artschwagner, I was told on the information plaque, that we are “…metaphorically invited to climb the steps and communicate with the eyes, ears or mouth of the person who might be glimpsed on the other side.” Perhaps this is the artists’ wish or maybe they are just trying to justify their hardened policy of “you look with your eyes, not your hands”.

I am not really an ‘arty’ person and I am not even going to pretend to know what the artists displayed at the Tate are trying to convey, but when you put yourself out there I am going to have an opinion about it and the Tate is surely a way for the artists to converse with the general public.

My favourites of the day where Liam Gillick’s ‘Returning toan Abandoned Plant’ just because it looked pretty, Vanessa Beecroft because she dares to bare, as well as Marc Quinn’s ‘The Etymology of Morphology because it reminds me of so many comic books and sci-fi films that I love. And Dame Barbara Hepworth’s ‘Corinthos’ for its sheer beauty, which I admit I couldn’t resist touching the glossy outer skin of the finely sculpted wood (no innuendo intended). I hated Pawel Althamer’s ‘Self-Portrait as a Businessman’ (a suit on the floor) because it is stereotypical, outdated and a big pile of… laundry.

As for my little honeybee, he thought Eva Rothschild’s ‘Knock Knock’ was creepy and spooky (it does looks like a spider) and his favourite was Jean Arp’s ‘Pagoda Fruit’; I would like to think because it seems somehow familiar to him.

So, will I go back? Probably.