ALIENS PLEASE HELP

Apologies, apologies



Glad I wasn't on this Picadilly line train!

Commuters can be compensated if their delay is longer than 15 minutes, though. Only, at London prices the £1.70, or thereabouts, is barely enough to buy yourself a recuperative stiff drink. Another reassuring announcement came at Earls Court station yesterday. After sitting at the station for 5-10 minutes, doors open not stuck in a tunnel thankfully, the driver informed us we'd been held there because the signalman was a trainee. Hope I'm not on the train when teacher's on tea break.

I swore to myself that I wouldn't make this blog an arts criticism site. Well, bugger that, ‘cause I saw a number of art shows this week crying out to be seen. And if your show doesn't get included it don't necessarily mean I don't like it. But before that, I’m going to reprimand the National Portrait Gallery in London. I dropped in there today for a screening of Randall Wright’s film about camera obscura Secret Knowledge. Hard to believe, but the projection was so darkly obscured at times you couldn’t even make out what was on screen. This also happened a few weeks ago when they showed Love is the Devil about the life of Francis Bacon. I complained several years ago when a Disney animation (hope the execs are reading this) was poorly screened from what looked like a VHS tape left in the rain. As with most complaints in this country, they gave me the brush off hoping I’d go away. Do they have no self-respect? Now for some happy stuff.

Erik Dietman (Anthony Reynolds Gallery) has been relatively little known outside Europe over the years. Flick through the catalogues and every sculpture leaps off the page like animations in stasis: turn your back and they'd be sure to move. The line of squat bronze blocks, some smoking pipes and some not, could be an unemployment queue, politicians’ day out or the discovery of the meaning of life. And if you're looking for an alternative to the crowded museums, kids would love these. When Sean Scully (Timothy Taylor) was asked in a radio interview whether he'd ever been jolted by a criticism of his work, he cited a New York critic who called his work "bullying". Now that's why I’ve avoided art criticism for so long. You wish you'd thought of just that adjective. Why have I liked these large blocks of colour so much over the years? And is it that spontaneous energy that keeps drawing one back?
Whether large or small, oil or aquatint, they say I am colour. Look at me! Listen to me! RB Kitaj (Marlborough) left Britain years ago decamping to LA. At their best, his paintings surprise you by glowing with deep spiritualism: a spontaneous simplicity of stroke and paint

Lastly, Scottish sculptor Mhairi Vari has created a large Tetley tea bag for the Contemporary Art Society's regular interventions into the Economist Group's plaza. You feel like interacting with it in some other way than just to quench your thirst. As if a friendly alien life form has seen this ubiquitous earthly habit as the way to communicate with us. Wish they'd sort out the transport!