This is under Waterloo Bridge, and is here by way of homage to Roni Horn, whose show I've just seen at Tate Modern - a show of sparse, clear beauty, of greys and golds and whites and spaces, of thought made concrete (or glass, or steel) - it was a show that made you appreciate each object or image both for its innate self and also for all that it made one think about. One of the real treats of the exhibition was seeing her Thames pieces - just clear, or rather deeply murky stretches of water, with no banks or boats or piers, just littered with tiny footnote numbers that link (in non-representation fashion) to meditations on water, fluidity, Our Mutual Friend, deep darkness, suicides in the river, viscosity, and Heart of Darkness - the blackest, snakeist version of the Thames that there is. And this images are in a airy 4th floor gallery, overlooking, where else, the Thames.
It's fun being a tourist in one's own home town (a few more images up on FB)...
And, in a footnote to yesterday's posting, my father reminds me that as a small girl, I was fascinated by wrecking balls and cranes, demolishing what was still war-damaged London (and one of my favorite books when I was three, for the record, was, indeed, Steve the Crane).
Too late, alas, to write more.