By way of a diversion, Francis and I go to an art exhibition which his company is sponsoring. It's held in a Design Pavilion and is generally considered 'edgy' though, thank God, not sufficiently edgy to be themed entirely to fish.
Once I've visited the art installation formerly known as the toilets, however, I'm so edgy you could fashion me into an octagonal coffee table with corners to spare.
In the spirit of keeping vibrant creativity alive and the punters on their toes or, at the very least, in a semi crouch, the loo seats have all been pre-weed on.
The hand-dryer, a natty black and white object, concealed behind a glass panel, into which you insert your hands, emits the sound of a rocket with power to match, almost sucking off my rings in its eagerness to live up to its proud boast that it dries 'as twice as fast' - while coyly avoiding disclosing just what exactly it is that it dries twice as fast as. Possibly, judging by the end result, somebody blowing occasionally from the other end of the room.
"I've switched on my phone," I hear a woman say to a friend as they queue for their turn to enjoy the spattered seats, presumably so she can convey the intensity of the whole experience to a circle of Important Art People - though I'm a little surprised she's stopped short of filming it.
When I point out any of the disadvantages to the staff, they smile, open their eyes very wide and say, "I KNOW - isn't it awful?" which, while incredibly empathetic and endearing, seems unpromising as a first step on the critical path to analysis, change and improvement.
There are two floors of exhibits. Anything with a splash of colour or sense of happiness or optimism is banished upstairs. The ground floor, naturally, concentrates on monochrome pictures which convey a great deal about life's inherent pointlessness and misery, not forgetting a nod in the direction of torture, sado-masochism and surprise genitalia.
"Oh, so you're a poet," I hear one of the artists say to a prospective customer. "A lot of our work has a poetic dimension." Both nod wisely.
As we pause in front of an elongated statue, arms outstretched at head level, just waiting to be accessorised with a couple of real eye balls, I'm struck by its air of menace and confidence. Dress it in a tailored suit and slot in a couple of shoulder pads and it could be a homage to Sasha.
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12 comments:
I want to leave a very funny comment, but I can't match your dry wit, except to say that it definitely has a poetic dimension when viewed in the very early morning hours while I have my first cup of coffee and my first cigarette.
I imagine you could easily bring an ode to the pre-weed toilet seats and make a collage type work of art with text and pictures and bits of toilet paper. You could do this in monochrome or in happy colors, depending on which mood you were trying to convey and how seriously you would want your work to be criticized.
I would go for a rhyming poem in the style of a sonnet, and avoid any indelicate descriptions of the human anatomy such as dick or asshole. Latin based words are always much more delicate, if not obscure, but then again your work is aimed at the more educated public.
I think you will find that over time you will become quite adapt at this and you may have to give up blogging altogether, which would be a terrible loss for us, but a huge gain for the art world. I imagine your name becoming internationally known and that museums will pay hefty prices for your well executed, but never dull, works of art.
Having imagined all of that, I have just changed my mind and decided that you should not do any of these things at all, but just remain Omega Mum, she of the powerful words and the blinding sarcasm, whom we love so dearly.
pee-splattered potty seats; monochrome masochism; soul-less, eyeball-less, and shoulder pad-less statues of arch nemesis ...
Yikes! OM, get thee to the nearest pub, stat!
Sweet Irene: this is a very poetic comment....Thank you so much.
Molly gras: Pubs, it had to be pubs. And a long crawl to go with them.
I cannot imagine for a moment why you stayed for longer than about 5 seconds as it all sounds perfectly awful.
Mutley: I was trying to pick up on the happening vibe. I think it's happening a long way away from me, that's all I can say...
You mean my children are all artists? We specialize in pre-weed toilets around here.
But is there a future in it?
The Rotten Correspondent: Can't vouch for the future, but send me a preview ticket and I'll be there to launch them into their burgeoning careers.
Hi there. Hilarious post. I admire you for going to an edgy art exhibition (I always feel hopelessly drab and un with-it) although you didn't say whether or not you used the loos in question. It made me think that with all the modern gadgets and cleaners we have, why isn't there something we could keep in our handbags to deal with such situations. I know wipes are coming to mind, but that's still gross to me. Hmmm. There may be money to be made here.
Hello Omega Mum, what a brilliantly entertaining blog - i cannot believe i haven't found you before.
I went through a stage of actually wiping dripped on toilet seats before i left the cubicle because i didn't want the next person to think that it was me.
I loved the wide-eyed reaction from the staff, and the woman announcing that she has switched on her phone!
Surprise genitalia? Did it leap off the canvas at you?
Mya x
Dear Omega Mum,
What tossers these arty farty exhibitionists can be!
I love Art with a passion, but it really has to have basic pleasantries about it to be of any interest.
I once was thrown out of an Art History Lecture because I declared that Van Gogh couldn't paint.
I had a good point, he was clinically insane, his visual perspective was rubbish AND he never actually sold a painting in his life!
I'll go now I've made a scene, sorry!
ps the 'unmade bed' by that bloody Tracy Emin was a disgrace too!
Expatmum: There's undoubtedly a load of dosh to be made, and I look forward to reading of your stock market 100 listing
Elsie Button: How lovely to see you - so glad you're enjoying it.
Mya: - yes, they did, especially the ones who hid behind the door to the ladies and shouted 'boo' at you. How we all laughed, I think.
Fin the field: Very commendable. Wish I'd been there to hear you denounce VvG - would have been worth it just to see the reactions. Emperor's new clothes would have been as nothing by comparison!
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