I’m starting to feel that my lifestyle is rather nomadic. I seem to pick up sticks every 12 months, set them down again, arrange things to make living feel comfortable, then remove the tethers, pick up and move on again. This seems to be true for my weekly schedule as well. This week has been different from the last and my next week will not resemble the current week.
I used to think that I needed more structure. Perhaps there was a special formula to ensure more productivity or balance but you know, if I’m honest, I like it that I can decide to take myself off to galleries on a whim.
Which is exactly what Boyfriend and I did last week. And man, do I feel all the better for having done this.
The Edinburgh Art Festival has rolled into town (and perhaps rolled out again) and this time I stepped outside of my hectic schedule to enjoy the fruits of several others’ labours. We began our treck at Inverleith House to view the minimal exhibition of just a handful of Philip Guston pieces. Hooded men, man in hospital bed, thick paint and painted over city scenes. Large works with narratives that – I’ll admit – I didn’t fully ‘get.’ It’s nothing to be ashamed of; just see and feel what you feel then read the information panel to gain the perspective from which the artist was working. On a whim, we decided to trek on up to The Scottish Gallery. Large canvases of blocked out and in skies and mountains and hills laid out in thick paint and bright colours was on display here, thanks to the work of artist Duncan Shanks. They were easy on the eye.
However. However. However…my absolute favourite pieces were lurking in the Bourne Gallery. Hello Jock McFadyen, welcome to your new fan. His subject matter is one that is very close to my heart: unloved, unlovable, hideous slab architecture. Large skies, skies that swallow up the viewer. Nearly. But then there at the bottom, holding tight and looking unassuming and ugly is the low slung, sad little strip of retail or living space. Usually overgrown with neglect. I especially liked ‘Pink Flats’ and how much they reminded me of a studio flat I once occupied on the wrong side of the tracks in Kansas City. That was another life time ago. If Jock hasn’t been to the midwest in the states, he’s missing a treat. He will find no end to interesting subject matter if this is in fact his favourite. Buy yourself a ticket, Jock. You won’t be disappointed.