Judgment

On my way to the Royal Academy I passed Chanel, Louis Vuitton and other such smart, luxurious shops. My thoughts turned to a past relationship. As well as playing with our desires, the high end pushes and fights for our attention. It is both seductive and disapproving and the Ritz Hotel is tempting to me but also causes anxiety to form in my head. Can I afford to be here? Do I fit in? Do I want to go there? Why do I care what it thinks?

My last boyfriend, James, expressed clearly how he felt in galleries, using words I might use to describe how I've felt in places like this.

“I’ve tried, but I don’t understand it. It doesn’t move me - it just leaves me cold. I feel uncomfortable. Sorry.”

Rather a strong rejection!

“Well I suppose it’s like music, it’s quite abstract, not everyone likes the same things,” I replied.

For James, it was constantly a case of judging whether something was good or not. Quite harshly, all art is put in one box. It's not always a fruitful discussion if we talk about all art instead of individual work and others that do so frustrate me. I do not judge James for preferring music, films or books to delight his senses with.

The summer exhibition is an event that attracts a huge amount of entries from anyone who wants to be considered by the academicians as worthy of a place on the crowded walls of the old establishment. I was preparing myself for a slightly dizzying display and overload of painting, sculpture and print.

I do it quite a lot in galleries that I judge: that one’s good, why did they choose that one? I saw people doing this a lot in the gallery. It was Friday afternoon and there was a Pimm’s stand in the middle of the gallery. Friends were chatting. A group was talking. “Did you see the Tracey Emin prints, did you see how many sold stickers there are on her work?” “Where?” lots of head shakes.

There were big names, established artists like David Hockney, familiar and much loved. I do always enjoy seeing another work by him. I love his freshness, using the computer to make new work. Other work in the summer exhibition is becoming familiar to me from last year, like recognising old faces when you go to parties with the same group a few times. It's easier when there are people you can go and say hello to.

I sent a text to my friend, Marie, hoping that she could join me straight from work. Whereas the last exhibition could have failed to move me as much if I had been talking to someone else, here I felt a little gossip might be fun. My phone had run out of batteries.

The first room was called Raw and this was a theme for the whole show (to show how unafraid and with it the Royal Academy really is). Huge canvases scraped, brushed, glued and covered brashly, and bold loud pieces, including sculptures were there. The work looked confident and made by practiced hands, not raw as a foundation degree show might be. I judged the curators choices well; it was good quality stuff. Well made and expertly done.

The only way to enjoy a large exhibition in the end is to scrutinize the whole room and focus on the most beautiful or capturing image. As the mood from before was one of escape and fantasy, I got lost in Fiona Rae’s painting, ‘I Wish to Fully Grow My Small Dream’, 2010. The room contained works that were based on fictional spaces. The painting was done with oil, acrylic and gouache, which gave different depth to different elements, which were painted in grey, light blue, yellow and pink, with pink hearts spaced on one plane. There were curved, cartoon-like lines and wash- like smears and flicked shapes floating in grey.

My mind floated into the painting for just a second and I left contented that I had felt a little escape. I had not really had the experience of speculating who would win the prizes and honours, but I had discovered a new work and chosen it as a standout. Next week I will be in the fairy-tale city of Prague, to celebrate a birthday.