Yesterday I went to the Saatchi Gallery in the Duke of York’s HQ, King’s Road, Chelsea. This was my first visit to its latest metamorphosis and my presence was well overdue. From the original paint factory in St John’s Wood, via the South Bank I hazard this art gallery may just have found her final home. The building deserves the contents, the exhibits the architecture.
Currently East is meeting West within its walls as Russian artists and photographers display the harsh reality of life in much of their vast country.
In Gallery 4 high-rise tenants peer into the void from perilously narrow balconies and a sand filled but leaking woman lies broken on the floor.
Although the images are cruel I enjoyed this room. I cannot say the same for Galleries 7 and 8. The photographs were almost too much. I am contemplating taking out the ‘almost’. There are warnings about parental guidance on the doors but it wasn’t the body parts that affected me so much as why the owners of these sexual organs were prepared to pull up their blouses, pull down their pants and pose for the camera? Was payment involved? I sorta hope so because then there is a valid reason to do it.
Here is one of the more inoffensive images from Gallery 7 and goes no way to illustrate the content of the others. There is no doubt that the boy is beautiful. I wanted to photograph this photograph.
This one is called 382 Sins and I rather like it. What does that say about me?
And I think the Wounded Deer is giving this admirer as good a going over as she him, don’t you?
Young British art haunts the top floor and much of it was bloody good. I rather like Dominic from Luton’s modus operandi. I guess you have to know the town that Luton is to get the full effect but his Maggie Thatcher triptych is of the moment.
I couldn’t go into the video room because the viewing appeared, at rapid glance, to be well trained birds of prey and mrscarmichael does not do birds praying or participating in any activity anywhere near me.
But I did enjoy Tom Jones meeting louche Dickensian character meeting young artist,
and, having worked with polystyrene models whilst training to teach, I appreciate the beauty of these.
I wanted to touch so badly but Charles Saatchi treats his visitors as responsible beings and puts no up barriers save polite requests, so I refrained.
The outside of the Gallery is old (you can see it on the website). The inside is a mix of old and new. It works.
Now for the finale. I have saved one of the best for last. No, not Richard Wilson’s 20:50 which must be seen to be believed but a display of crafted horses by year six school children. It is wondrous.
Better all together I think. I also think that the art teacher at the winning school should be very, very proud.
All in all a super day out. Entry free, exhibition guide £1.00, art critic hyperbole tolerated and a lovely cup of coffee in the Spring sunshine to round it off afterwards.
I will now tell you that I forgot my camera. It was charging overnight in preparation for a hard day’s work and I didn’t retrieve it from my desk. I screamed, yes out loud, on the A4 just past Baron’s Court. But then I remembered my iPhone. Broken but not bowed I managed to make it work (pathetic huh?) and even discovered the zoom.
How do you think I did?