What I did on my holidays*
*overnight stay in Newcastle*
A couple of months ago, when I was staring down the barrel of six weeks of weekend overtime, I booked myself a trip to Newcastle. I’d never been there before, the new Sound & Fury show was touring, and it seemed more exciting than a trip to bloody Coventry.
Because I’m mega-poor, I stayed in a guest house which was quite securely wrapped in police tape while I was out in the theatre, so I feel like I had an authentic experience. I love the anonymity of cities, and making your way around them after dark. There’s something really liberating about being able to just say “Fuck it, I’m off somewhere new” and filling an old water bottle with wine for the journey.
The show I saw, Going Dark, was ace too. It was all about an astronomer who was losing his sight, but parts of it were performed in total darkness, and the tech stuff was perfect. There was a cool bit where the guy was talking about how the sun was formed and he made this ball of tissue paper into a big orange light in his fist. And there’s was a shaving bit right near where I was sitting. I go for beardy men and have never seen a man shave close-up before. It was kinda exhilarating. If he’d accidentally cut his throat and spun round spewing it everywhere, I’d have been covered.
This morning I went to Baltic to see the Turner Prize exhibition. It’s mental innit, contemporary art? I don’t understand how a judgement can be made about work that is made in such completely different media. I mean, it’s like asking “What’s better? The feeling of contentment one experiences after a good roast dinner or… this springer spaniel?” In one room, you’ve got some bollocks sugar paper and powder paint thing, and in the next; a video of a tower block. WHO JUDGES THIS AND WHERE ARE THE ASSESSMENT GUIDELINES? For the record, I liked the video stuff by Hilary Lloyd best, because one of the pieces was rude and another had nice lights in it. Maybe that’s how they do it. Brian Sewell sips his tea and then writes “I like the one by Hilary Lloyd that made me think of lubed-up knobs” on his voting slip.
