watching art

TS and I started 2009 as we mean to go on - I got him (well, us!) membership to the Tate for a Christmas present, so our first foray into the London art scene was Friday where we decided to see the Francis Bacon exhibit on its last few days. As did the rest of London. Gaaaah. [imagine an image of me as Edvard Munch's 'The Scream'].

After we got over the sheer volume of the crowds, it turned out to be a fascinating and absorbing exhibition. My favourite piece was Triptych -In Memory of George Dyer (above). Loved wandering around, allowing every piece to flutter and come alive. Thinking about art as love, as memory, as mourning, as sorrow, as anger.

I bought a postcard of my favourite piece, to hang on my inspiration corkboard. TS bought the DVD of Love is the Devil, the movie by John Maybury of the story of Francis Bacon and George Dyer. My favourite films seem to be about the lives of artists - Frida is my favourite film of all time - so I knew I would enjoy this. I love the way the art is brought to life- literally - on film.

We watched it with beer that we'd had chilling on the balcony (-2 that night, I believe) and then followed it with Basquiat which we'd mostly bought to see David Bowie playing Andy Warhol (!), and then talking about life and art until the night was so black and London's breath was low and icy as the stars froze. TS has actually touched a Basquiat before, when he briefly worked at Christies in South Kensington. There was a photo of him in the Sunday Telegraph with it, white gloves and all.

Last night we watched Frida - because we love it - and then bits and pieces of Pollock and Sylvia. The latter I'm not a huge fan of - I vowed and declared I'd never see it because of my firm support of Frida Hughes's stance on the subject, but then I was appearing on an Australian game show The Einstein Factor with my special subject as Sylvia Plath, and thought I'd look a right idiot if the film was mentioned and I hadn't seen it. So I saw it, am glad I did, but there was such a crucial part of the film missing - her poetry. Obviously, the estate had not granted permission to use it, and I think that should have been a warning sign. How much richer and more vibrant the film would have been with it.

We were going to round off the long weekend's art overload with a visit to the Tate Modern today, but were turned off at the thought of negotiating several tubes and then a walk in the cold to get there (it's 3 degrees as I write this, and we're expecting snow tomorrow - TS and I have shoved bits of newspaper into all the cracks in the flat's windows and doors to keep the chill out!) so we did our usual Sunday walk into our local High Street, to our favourite bookstore where I picked up four books and TS one, and then sipped a latte as we discussed the Twilight series (I've not read it yet, has anyone and would you recommend it?) and our writing projects before taking the bus home.

2009 is off to a great start for me - I've finished another short story over Christmas, the novel is coming ahead in leaps and bounds (more to come on that) and I just feel so inspired.

Back to the novel now. More soon dear readers. Happy new year!