Saturday, September 16, 2006


Coming home from London, where I went for a long weekend last Saturday, always leaves me uprooted for a few days, as if Belfast isn’t quite the right place and London a bizarre halfway-house somewhere between an absolute home and a seething excitement.

So, a lot more than a week on from the start of Autumn, I’m not going to try to offer a post on anything but how it felt to be walking around Tate Modern and suddenly see that these paintings, which I’ve featured on the blog here for 3 seasons, were suddenly there, in front of me, hanging on the walls.

Much larger than I imagined them, also, much more imposing and concrete — and very fitting that I should have been attracted to the online images by accident and then found them inside my favourite art gallery.

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