The piece that caught my eye, heart and throat, was Untitled (1991).  

It is a billboard sized monochromatic photograph that depicts the pillows of his and partner, Ross Laycock’s, unmade bed.  An overpowering and evocative image, it conjures an instant absence: a being and then removal of bodies.

A loving memorial to his late partner Ross Layock, who passed away to AIDS.
 
It is a simple image that shows the purity of a bed and the ease of 2 people sharing it, who ever they may be.

My walk down the Highline that day was to be my most moving art experience. It taught me the amazing power of scale and how it can dramatically affect the impact of a piece of work.




 
 

But arguably, it is the support of Klein’s slightly unusual manner and rather striking, attractive face that brings this otherwise uninspiring film to life. I mean put a handsome man in an empty room and I’ll watch it, (psst…Clooney give the Hayward a call!)Before entering a cornered off room, its description promised “an abnormal normality”. Its then when you’re standing in an empty room, with the humming of 2 aircon machines blowing in your face, you feel, well…rather stupid (and cold). Wow, how underwhelming is a room of “abnormal normality”.

Yet as you leave you can’t help but snigger and quietly congratulate the artist for getting away with it. It is the audiences inclination to be pessimistic about the work that becomes humorous once your in it and yet by going to the exhibition, you are if you like it or not, accepting that it is valid.
 
Another piece that left me wanting to high-five the artist for being a clever old prankster was that of Jay Chung. Directing a whole short film, with no film in the camera, with only a cast and crew photo to document this event.


 

it was a brilliant way of quickly drawing and creating weird and wonderful throw-away drawings.  It was also the perfect way to show off to all your friends. I remember having many a competition with my twin sister; indeed we already radiated competitiveness, Who’s taller? Who had longer, blonder hair? (I have to say I always won that one, until recently where I won for having the shortest hair! Yes!)
 
But one fine day I smacked her drawing right out of the park with an intricate although monochromatic drawing of Super Mario. Alas, for all you know I could be lying, at the peak of my twin rivalry success, it was shook away!
 
…Ah well, I guess for now I’ll have to get a crew cut and reign on that victory. Of course today no such thing should happen, not with Krupik’s iPad app anyway - emailing,


 
 
 

Many a night was spent planning, “if you were a art movement what would you be?”, emptying out cereal boxes was a quick fire to Cubism.
 
We would stroll down the street with ripped shirts and scruffy topknots, “oh Mary you’ve got a bit of charcoal on your face”, ”really? How embarrassing”, inside I thought (with a little imaginary victory punch in the air), “I look so “arty””.
 
But over time the charm of oil paint eye-shadow and jumble sale clothing wore off. The excessive consumption of mung beans, chickpeas and all things zen became tiresome.
 
So Instead we took up being ever so self aware and socially concerned. Everyone adopted a cat they found in their stairwell, marched, protested and signed petitions.
 
 

 
 

just as I had done in the beginning.When I make my portraits I spend a long time with my subjects discovering what are the most important things in their lives. Then I build a set, a stage, showing their favourite places, filled with their prized possessions, music, food, books, their things; the architecture of their lives.
 
In the above, unlike the opulent array of lutes and skulls in Holbein’s The Ambassadors, my dear old mum is surrounded by her “Funky Divas” and Gill-Scott Heron cassettes, amongst an appalling clutter of fizzy drinks, paper garlic, pans and pasta, the cultural attaché of her own kitchen floor.
 
Everything is built from paper, card and then hand painted, crafted with precision and care. The subjects however are all too solid flesh.