OH SAATCHI, YOU SCALLYWAG

There's nothing quite like wandering around the Saatchi Gallery in London to make you feel like an uneducated peasant. Considering that I am used to walking round places like Camden and Hatfield, this particular part of London was a bit more upmarket than I am used to. Now, I am comfortable with my overtly student-chic style and the clothes I wear, but watching passers-by and other gallery visitors dressed up in designer labels and deck shoes, I couldn't help but feel a little bit scruffy in my TK Maxx jeans and bloody awful "I AM BANKSY" t-shirt. Despite this, and having to navigate my way through crowds of pre-pubescent fuckwits on their school trips, I managed to survive Saatchi, and tell you this tale.


SAATCHI GALLERY: GESAMTKUNSTWERK - visited 18/01/12
I actually quite enjoyed the wide variety of work that was on offer; Saatchi's legendary taste in modern art could be clearly seen. Most of the exhibits of the Gesamtkunstwerk show involved found objects displayed in different ways; some involved vitrines filled to bursting with crazily organised junk, precariously balanced piles of random bits and pieces arranged on plinths and covered in paint splashes, and scrap metal twisted into weird and wonderful shapes and painted in lurid, neon colours. 


Probably one of my favourite pieces was the Mirror Wall by Jeppe Hein; pretty much exactly what it says on the tin. However, this simple-looking work is hooked up to a rather clever infra-red sensor and vibration mechanism; as someone walks past the work, it begins to violently vibrate. This instantly draws attention to it, the reflections on its surface distorting and bending like visions from a fever dream.

Mirror Wall by Jeppe Hein (2010) Mirrored surface, wood substructure and vibration mechanism

Also, the work of Thomas Zipp caught my eye; a giant canvas named y-drops in particular. This work is strangely apocalyptic, devoid of colour; heavy greys and blacks are the extent of Zipp's palette. Two jet black "drops" descend from a slate-grey sky, looking as if they mean to engulf the slightly abstracted, mountainous landscape depicted beneath them. In all honesty though, my first thought was that it was what it might look like if God attempted to teabag a mountain, dwarfing the ancient crags of rock with His mighty testicles.

y-drops by Thomas Zipp. Oil on canvas.

The installation Schwarze Ballons, also by Zipp, was extremely unusual. This work is displayed in nine parts, one of which being two giant black three-dimensional "drops", (similar to those in y-drops) seemingly growing out of the floor and ceiling, and named Up and Down, respectively.

Up and Down, two parts of the installation Schwarze Ballons by Thomas Zipp

There were many other works of interest on show, but too many to list on this 'ere blog. I'm trying desperately not to make these posts into essays; but so far I've failed miserably. 

And so without further ado, I shall now journey back into London to visit the White Cube and Haunch of Venison. Hopefully, I'll return in one piece in order to blog about my adventures and appease the Almighty Tutors with my nonsensical scribblings.

ALL HAIL ODIN.

- Padfoot