Thoughts on Tate Liverpool: Edward Krasiński
I went to Liverpool today, predominantly to see Emin and Blake at Tate Liverpool, something I’ve been looking forward to for some time. I also had in mind, however, that Yves Klein would be showing (don’t go if you don’t love the colour blue). Last but not least, I wanted to visit the Walker Art Gallery. All of these things were marvellous but the true mind blower was Edward Krasiński’s work.
I’ve tried to go back over in my head all the many things I’ve seen this summer. I’m struggling to think of one exhibition that got so much into my head. This time, I actually felt like I’d stepped into the artist’s head. Not in terms of knowing what he meant and interpreting his work and so on. More in terms of feeling as though I had stepped into his world for half an hour or so. So far, I cannot think of anything comparable.
Every so often, there is a gem like this, I’ve found. It’s usually a work I didn’t think I’d get a chance to see or hadn’t previously known and suddenly discover. Never have I had such an encounter as this. Afterwards, I really wanted to sit down with a stiff drink and process my thoughts. Actually, scrap that! I wanted to sit down with a stiff drink and make my thoughts my own again. I wanted to make sure I was back in my own head/world.
And yet, for all my thoughts about Edward Krasiński, I am still struggling to articulate my thoughts/feelings about the individual works. I just know that I felt something when I was in that room, a sense of being part of something, if only fleetingly. Like the sense of belonging I had with Phyllida Barlow’s Scree Stage, I felt a sense of “you’re welcome here”. Yet, conflictingly, at the same time I felt very much a visitor. I was someone who had been allowed a very brief glimpse of a world I could only ever hope to understand for a few seconds. The spell, I knew, would be broken when I left the exhibition. Even as I descended the stairs away from the gallery, the real world began to return.
I had never heard of Edward Krasiński before seeing his name on the Tate Liverpool website a few days ago. Now all I can think about is an exhibition I left until last thing in the day, assuming it would be a nice, if not especially pivotal, note to end on. How disconcerting – and wonderful – it was to be pushed right out of my comfort zone.