I Went To See Some Art.

On Saturday I went to see the Damien Hirst retrospective at Tate Modern. This year seems to have been a big one for art, and not solely as I work at a gallery and swim in Titian, Munch and new commissions and acquisitions but more cause Hockney happened and everyone got all excited and Joey Barton tweeted about going to galleries on his days off. 

I had not been fussed about the Damien Hirst, I saw a guy on Channel 4 News with a Gin & Tonic live from Inverness in the April sunshine selling the 'it’s not art' line quite well, whilst the studio pundit did a rather shit job of defending Hirst’s status. Plenty of people have been to see it but wasn’t until a colleague recently recommended it (and was genuinely surprised at my disdain) that I decided maybe it was an opportunity to really decide, for myself, first hand, where I stand on Damien Hirst. 

The exhibition got itself off to a good start without Hirst’s help but as my companions, two school friends, are some of my favourites to wander round galleries with. The first thing to hit us was young Hirst in Dead Head – the smirking art student pulls his head up to a severed head in an anatomy lab. It becomes increasingly obvious why this work opens the exhibition, more so than the Dead Cow Head In A Box (labeled by the artist as A Thousand Years) Dead Head expresses in an instant, the devilish look in Hirst’s eye, the cheek and the scandal, this is a man obsessed with the path through life, and the world after death. Not what happens after death, but how the human processes it and how we play with it in the world around us. Let's be honest, he's hardly the first artist to be intrigued by death and anatomy.

From the pocket of stagnant air seeping out of A Thousand Years – through to the life cycle of In And Out Of Love, (the butterfly room) on past the huge microscope slides like slices of whole cow cracked in two, complete with embryotic sac and calve deep inside – seeing Hirst’s work as a whole changes things. It’s no longer the wanker with the shark in a tank, 'or god, I painted dots on my bedroom wall at 15' (I did – I’m that much of a wanker myself, mine are more Sol LeWitt than Hirst mind, and I'd never seen either) but you see a fastidious obsession with form and continuation. My favourite work took me by surprise, Lullaby The Seasons, at first look a glittering series of display cabinets lined with various ‘every day’ pills on their long mirrored shelves, each of the four cabinets has a different colour scheme, and glancing at the name makes the obvious blatant. Pills for the seasons; pulling your year along one swig and swallow at a time. 

Rachel and I chatted on the tube hours later about whether Hirst was more valid than Miro - recently on in the same space in Tate Modern. In the exhibition I found myself unsure as we walked round whether I could compare Munch and Hirst; both men’s work is defined by deeply personal preoccupations.  I’m still not sure, but I do know as we looked round we ripped at ideas and were repulsed or intrigued with different works – so I’d say, although no Damien I don’t want to spend £1,800 on a poster in the shop the curator definitely wins – this is an exhibition. Like wandering through Hirst's mind, it is most definitely art to make such a performance of your inner ponders and curiosities.

Top Nine Films of 2011

It has been a while since I've posted anything up here and I was hoping to make my Top Ten Films an annual thing but what with new jobs, soul searching and general anxiety and distractions including going to the cinema, running and drinking beer I've not just sat down and written.

They are a Top Nine as I have a feeling one of the three films I desperately regret not seeing Hugo, Drive, Tyrannosaur would easily have been in this list so there is a space to represent my inadequacy at not always making it to the cinema.

I would also like to mention the Edinburgh International Film Festival. In 2010, many of my favourite films were viewed at the fantastic June festival, in 2011, the lack of a inviting 'buy loads of tickets - save some money' offer meant I attended nothing. Thank shiz I still caught The Guard (no. eight) post the festival. If you feel the same - I implore you to support film makers who need audiences and someone to take a chance on their film - by letting the EIFF know we will come and see film upon film and take lots of risks if we get a leeeeetle bit of help.

My top Nine films of 2011.

Nine
My Week With Marilyn
Michelle Williams. Tis all. (Oh and Judy Dench playing Judy Dench)

Eight
The Guard
'Where are you getting your cocaine, cause those are different streets to where I'm getting my cocaine'

Seven
Senna
For certain events and moments, the team had over 20 different options of footage. Do not for a second consider any knowledge of Formula One to be relevant. A truly extrodinary documentary.

Six
Super 8
'Guys watch out'

Five
Rise of the Planet of the Apes
Just super brill. Perfectly paced.

Four
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
'There's a mole.' And it's been a long time since he spent his weekends down by the river with Ratty.

Three
Bridesmaids
I have no words. If only my life was this funny* *I sometimes think it's this funny in my head.

Two
Weekend
Utterly beautiful, the accident that is love, and lust, and cups of tea (sans sugar).
And I can testify, in all soppiness, two days are not nothing, or at least, they weren't for me. (I do not feature in this film as a gay man.)

One
We Need To Talk About Kevin
I have never so nearly walked out of a cinema as it got so uncomfortable, yet this film really is almost perfect. I stuck it out and it stuck in my head for months... Lynne Ramsay is a genius.