Category Archives: Scenes at the museum
Tower of babble
Tl;dr: Nixon was warped, and you can yell at the screen if you want to
Whoa there, can’t you read, buddy?
In the interests of maintaining interfaith harmony, let me state for the record that I did not walk into the room with my shoes on. In fact I did not go in at all. Nor did I have crisps, a device used for illustrative purposes only.
This piece by Susan Rothenberg is called ‘United States’. “The evocative title may refer to the two sides of the composition. The way in which the canvas – and the horse itself – are divided is reminiscent of abstract painting, and emphasises the interrelationship of representation and abstraction in Rothenberg’s work.” I would’ve just called it Horsey #1, assuming it was my first go at the thing. That’s why I’m not hung in the Tate.
I don’t even have to read the
placard label. This is the cross section of a very big safe, probably holding gold
It used to be that you’d go to the great British Museum and be greeted by lions. Now you’re vetted by security theatre ushers.
Longstanding exhibition “The Secret Life of the Home” in the basement of the Science Museum in London
Where’s the little woman inside?
Why do you always complain you never have time to see your friends?
You see them all the time.
Only your imagination gets between me and my Hotpoint
You had me at I’m a great guy
If you build it she will come
Any museum that has trains in its collection needs a fair amount of floor space. Welcome to the London Transport Museum Depot in Acton Town. If you’re not a curator you might find the experience lacks a certain user-friendliness, but that’s probably why they call it a depot. They only have a few open days a year. Any more than that and trainspotters might start squatting.
Get kids interested in trains and they’ll grow up to become a better class of people.
I recently had tea and biscuits with a descendent of Charles Babbage. The next day I happened to visit the Science Museum in London, that repository of knowledge
and finally, this:
my own skull stuffer, first theorised here.