Something in Common

There is a romance and intimacy to the first exhibition I went to today. I went to a gallery near Green Park Station; the posh-est part of London. After walking down Dover Street to Grafton Street, I tried to find the number of the gallery. There was a big bay window but you could not see in and I had to look around for a while to find the door and make sure I was going to the place I was meaning to go to. There were two teenagers sitting on the steps leading up to the entrance and I had to ask if I could get past to go in. They looked surprised and let me past. They were obviously not anticipating that their spot would be an entrance to a public space like a shop or a restaurant. I scanned the buttons for the doorbells, and a little hesitantly rang the bell before pushing the door gently and finding it was open and I smiled at the lady looking at me from her desk. I’d been here before, although I’d forgotten the name of the place but I had enough of a sense direction to enter the gallery to my right.

Once inside, the space in Spreuth Magers’ Gallery had been transformed. The walls were painted a deep blue and there were small, sparkly fragments sprinkled all over the wall, giving the staged feeling of a princess world in the night sky. The building has high ceilings and there was music playing from a ballet. I did not recognise the music but it was gentle, classical. The artists in the exhibition were both ballet lovers. Their relationship with their beloved subject matter was clearly different but this abstract feeling that each was a lover of the ballet was something they had in common.

I say abstract because, like each relationship it is not easy to express why we feel a certain way. It usually isn’t possible to explain why something is meaningful to you, and impossible to prove there is anything tangible or real about your belief. Therefore, you can express how you feel in different ways. Tracey Emin spoke about her ‘tearful break-up’ with art before she became successful. Something you build up a familiarity with, as can be with any interest, can provoke passion, turbulence, obsession and heart ache. It can also bring comfort, consolation, beauty and fascination. This is commonly seen with football fans.

One of the two artists, Joseph Cornell, had collected memorabilia from the Romantic Ballet. I was touched by the inclusion of hairgrips in his collection. He is an artist who spent most of his life as a carer and worked in isolation. His boxes are little containers of treasure presented with found objects and scraps of materials. They are so delicate and show a desire to escape to another place, looking like window frames or slices of spaces from another dimension.

The other artist, Karen Kilimnik, is a contemporary artist. Her paintings could be nineteenth century painting by artists such as Degas or other impressionists. They have bright colours and broad brush strokes. This gives them an expressive spirit. She is moved by the historic stage. Although the inspiration comes from the past for the work, it is viewed from the present. Romance is something we can still appreciate and be taken with. Like a mist it softens and melts us.

I got a glimpse of another perspective on something I did not even understand or experience and that’s a piece of communication. No one would write exactly the same as me above and I love that I got to share these artists' passion today. Like a tourist in a part of another’s brain, without words: it is a wondrous, alien place. I thought about relationships with other humans, and I thought about people I miss, how every bit of understanding and piece of attention given is precious.

The interior nature of the exhibit and the celestial design of the walls completely transported me and it was a surprise as I opened a door to an ordinary looking back space and deduced that it was only two rooms that were part of the show.

I left the gallery with all my thoughts and made my way to the busy Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy.