I took a barbarian friend (who says he knows nothing about art) to Richard Jackson’s Art show at the Hauser and Wirth Gallery in Saville Row North, London.
I suspect he was only enticed by the free beer. But the show must have had an impact on him, because he keeps sending me random thoughts. He was dumbfounded on the night, but the images keep popping in and out of his brain at random times, through some sort of cerebral cat flap.
I will report his thought as they come filtering into my email inbox.
Thanks for taking me to that show.
I can’t get the thought of those men squirting paint out of their bottoms out of my mind. I’m worried about what that says about my sexuality.
I keep thinking about those men. It’s got to sting shooting pain out your bottom, for one thing.
They weren’t a very ethnically diverse group (the bottom painters). All uniform height and colour. Not that that matters. I don’t know why I brought it up now. Forget I said that or before long someone will call me a racist.
(Boy, that artist bloke knows how to start a controversy)
By Nick Booth
As for that lady on the photocopier… that was even more disturbing.. I was both terrifIed and turned on.
But I’ll talk about that later.