Road trip, road trip

We finally made the trip to Liverpool we had been promising ourselves. Well, strictly speaking, Albert Dock, and not anywhere else in the city. This year, the Liverpool Tate has hosted the exhibition of the Turner Prize nominees, and I was determined to go.

This may seem a little odd. I have oh so very often been heard waxing lyrical about the TP (sic?) But it seemed to me that if I was going to have a strong opinion about something and have the chance of experiencing it for real, and not take said chance, then I was an idiot. And besides, we both like doing the art gallery bit. Not to mention the lunch (there is always lunch.)

So we went.

The first thing that happened was weird. The DSM had at the last minute grabbed a scarf to wear, as it was a cold day. It just so happened that his hand fell on to his college scarf rather than one of the many handspun, hand knitted ones there are around the place. So, as we walk into the building, this voice says loud and clear "Queens' College, Cambridge?" and it turns out that the people just exiting are a party of friends who meet up from time to time who all went to the same place. Blimey. Coincidence or what? Nearly ten years after him, though, so not too many opportunities for fond reminiscences.

Oh, and let's just get the lunch out of the way. Lovely. Perfect Southport potted shrimps, succulent and spicy. Sourdough toast. (Chips...in a small voice) A glass of reasonable rose. And then an interesting dessert of Chorley cake (like Eccles but flatter and better) with Kirkhams Lancashire cheese. Very scrummy. He had different, but I can't remember what......

To the knitty gritty. I liked it better than I had thought I would. I have to say, I had read that this year's array was more accessible than many recent ones. The fake bonfires with red paper flames left me slightly chilly, but the maze/light installation in between was pretty cool. I liked the photographs and particularly liked the video by the same person, which may well have been because it was focusing on a fibre and I spent the duration working out what it was. Nearly got it. Sisal, not jute, as I had thought.

I won't go through the entire thing. I am glad it didn't involve any dead animals or rumpled beds. I'm sorry I can't show any photos, not allowed to take them.

So make do with these.








Rather a nice place, Albert Dock. It reminded me quite a lot of the Navy Pier in Chicago, where we once spent a nice day waiting for the evening flight home (no, not from there, before we went out to the airport!) Several good-looking eating places, and not too much tourist tat.

I should also say that downstairs, there was still - last day but one - a small exhibition of Bridget Riley works. I love Bridget Riley, and an old friend was there, one I used to spend ages gazing at years ago when I was working in London and visiting the then one and only Tate in my lunch hour. At least, I think it was the same one - one of the vertical stripe series, anyway.

Hey, it's about my bedtime, especially after a day out. I might continue the waxing lyrical about Emperor's new clothes's (in all sorts of spheres) on another occasion. For now, I enjoyed my day of culture, and that will suffice.