FINALLY,
after two weeks of being stuck indoors with the flu I woke up yesterday feeling
BETTER and fancied hitting the town. I ignored the “I think I might be coming
down with something” off Brian and we headed out into the dank London air.
First stop: The Crypt, Holy Trinity Church, Marylebone.
Flaming torches lit the
way down to the cavernous, vaulted space where we were greeted with a glass of
Champagne and a waxy slab of raw meat the size of a family hatchback and oozing blood - only the hipster perched on the corner, swigging fizz and
appearing to be unconcerned about his swag gave the game away: that this was
art and not something from the abattoir.
The
title of the exhibition, “Metamorphosis” was interpreted by most of the artists
as a nightmarish mutation of decaying flesh into something a little prettier,
and visa versa. Glistening tentacles coiled around road kill and adorned with
sweet little hummingbirds anyone? Followed by a downy piglet whose spilled
entrails have spawned a family of magical mushrooms, all topped off with
another cute stuffed birdie.
"Brian! You feeling okay?"
Other pieces were alluringly beautiful and macabre - an ornate, gilt and glass coffee table housed a barely-there, human figure, woven from gossamer thread - as fragile and precious as a holy relic. Hard to describe so here it is…
"Brian! You feeling okay?"
Other pieces were alluringly beautiful and macabre - an ornate, gilt and glass coffee table housed a barely-there, human figure, woven from gossamer thread - as fragile and precious as a holy relic. Hard to describe so here it is…
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