Monday, June 21, 2004
That Sunday, at the Tate...
Saw Edward Hopper's retrospective, finally. The first time I was put off by the mile long lines and the imminent 5pm closure over the bank holiday. Apparently this wasn't because of the bank holiday. Yesterday they were sold out as well, prompting me to shell out 56 quid for a yearlong membership (members jump the queue, hee hee) for me and Van. Money well spent? Let's hope it fares better than my gym membership.
Anyway. I wasn't familiar with the artist behind the work but his images are instantly recognizable to anyone who immerses themselves every day in the fluorescent world of the city. His pictures are the background of our lives, the blank spaces between our daily shuttle to work and back. Hopper really brought back the blinding loneliness from where I both draw strength and weakness.
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