A fabulously sunny day and I head indoors for the exhibition of the year, maybe. If you don't love Tracey, then you'll disagree I'm sure. I, however, find her painting, especially, incredibly moving as expression of women's pain. We all have it in various forms, and here it is writ and coloured large.
It was good to see the blankets, neons and iconic bed and the paintings again, and some new things - the bleeding stoma self-portrait photographs are very hard to look at. By this point in the exhibition I was overwhelmed and crying. I had to sit down and rest.
Although there is a lot to see, you don't need to read every piece of paper as it's all in the catalogue. Of course, you 'll have to acquire that. And you'll have seen the films before. Still they draw a crowd.
I'd have liked much, much more to look at. More sculpture beyond the maquettes and one large one - there's one outside also, which small children were busy climbing all over as, Easter holidays and what else is it there for? I'd have appreciated her lockdown watercolours, more birds, neons and embroideries. The show could easily have been twice the size, and why not? I am greedy. More, more, more, please like the insomnia photos, the paintings of her Mum and, and.
One thing I can't quite understand is why you would bring children to this exhibition. Far too many awkward questions to be answered. I'm not sure I'd want to handle that until they were teenagers. But hithee and soon.
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