Saturday, 18 October
Oh the horror. The horror. I am writing this on a computer I have not asked to use, in a house I have not asked to stay at. Yesterday I promised a full list of every exhibition I’d been to this week. It will not be forthcoming today, chiefly because I just can’t remember.
Frieze week takes it out of you alright. I took my father round the galleries yesterday and he expressed total disbelief at my schedule, whining as we ripped through the fairs at the Old Truman Brewery on Brick Lane. It was the same order as ever – The Other Art Fair has some nice stuff from unrepresented artists, and the photography is very strong – my tip is Polly Tootal, whose hyper-realistic images are by far the best thing at the fair.
Kinetica, just around the corner, is worth it entirely for UCL’s Interactive Architecture Laboratory. Google them – what they do is ingenious. Better still, visit the fair and get chased around it by a giant metal ball. Terrifying, but not un-fun.
I was supposed to get to an evening event at Ryan Trecartin’s show at the Zabludowicz Collection in Kentish Town, then the Art Review party. But yet again, I had to turn down an invitation. The week had been well and truly done me in, which is why I’m in Vauxhall, finding it quite difficult to move my legs.
What amazes me is that I’m still capable of looking at art without my eyes glazing over – there has been some seriously good stuff on show. In the words of Jerry Seinfeld, there has been no hugging and no learning. I will take no wisdom away from this year’s Frieze week, other than the fact that champagne kills brain cells. This may be why I’m already looking forward to next year.