But. I don't wake up until 11:22 because my phone's alarm doesn't wake me up. Greeeaaat.
Shower, breakfast. Leave at one. Go straight to the Tate. They had this genius little idea to make all the lampposts orange from the Southwark tube station to the Tate. Brilliant.
Tickets are 11 pounds for the D, MR, P exhibit. Lovely. This is all I really want to see at the moment, I know we're coming back later with class and this exhibit closes tomorrow.
We go up to the fourth floor, and walk in. It's your typical art gallery-type setup. I'm not sure how I feel about art gallerys. Do they defeat the purpose of art? Do they simply make art commercial? Is art still art if there are certain places in society set apart simply for art?
The pieces I remember are Large Glass (The Bride Stripped Bare By Her Bachelors), Duchamp, Nude Descending a Staircase No. 2, Duchamp again, I think, and... Ententes Donnes, Duchamp. and several versions of LHOOQ, Duchamp.
There were some Rose Selavy pieces, Duchamp's female second identity. And a lot of Man Ray's photography. I really like his pieces using solarisation. and a lot of Picabia's paintings.
We finished around 4:30 and left to go eat something. There was this pub near the Tate that we would've eaten at had it not been 21 AND UP!?! What the heck? We were hungry and perturbed, and, might I say, a little offended. There must be a good reason for it.
We ended up getting off the tube at Earl's Court and walking around until we found something.
We ate at MOR-ish, this little hole-in-the-wall place. I ordered a margherita pizza and a sprite. Nice.
I wonder if I could figure out the amount of time in a year that urbanites spend riding an underground metro system... I'll bet it's staggering.
I want to find some Banksy stuff. and take pictchahs. Yeah.
Tomorrow, is Dr. Joyce's class in the morning and the British Museum in the afternoon. Woot.
Questions? Comments? Clarifications?
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