I'm not really up with contemporary art, or any art for that matter. I have a definite soft spot for Magritte, but otherwise my knowledge is pretty scanty. I saw a room filled with Louise Bourgeois' nighttime doodles at the Tate and was intrigued, but since then I haven't been that drawn to much of her work. Until I saw this cushion in last Saturday's Guardian Weekend magazine.
For someone in her nineties especially, that's pretty cool. With which succinct statement I cleverly illustrate just why I don't comment on art much.
For someone in her nineties especially, that's pretty cool. With which succinct statement I cleverly illustrate just why I don't comment on art much.
2 comments:
That's pretty delightful, indeed. (Look how well I deconstructed that piece of art, myself.)
The NaBloPoMo blogroll brought me here. I, too, am married to a poet. I, too, read and adored The History of Love, and am fond of the novels of Meg Wolitzer. Also, and less importantly since we're not 6 years old, we are very nearly the same age. (I'm 38 and a quarter, see.) Finally, though I'm not Australian, my husband is. So, that's a small juggernaut of things in common, isn't it?
I will be back!
We're obviously art critics of great note! We do seem to have quite a bit in common so beware, I'm heading your way right now. I'm very curious as to the identity of your Australian poet husband.
Post a Comment