I’d supposed I’d just go straight home today, but the temptation to stick around was too much, so I left my luggage at reception and had a look at the City Art Gallery. One thing I learnt here is that it’s an increasingly big mistake to go up “up” escalators if there’s no obvious sign of a “down” one. I wonder how many of Edinburgh’s art fans find themselves trapped on the top floor with no hope of escape, presumably to become food for aliens or some such. Anyway, there was a lot here that I liked, including a large exhibition called “Where Do I End And You Begin?” (another clue, I think, that the top floor was being used to extract our life forces for the benefit of our Centauran overlords). I particularly liked Arpita Singh’s paintings, which seemed to be of real life painted over the maps where they were happening, Kushana Bush’s paintings of people who seemed to be leaving a dominant cuture and entering a subculture, and Masooma Syed‘s models of architectural structures that had been made out of packaging, particularly whisky boxes. I suspect that I was reading completely different meanings from those intended, but that’s the nature of art. I also liked Rebecca Belmore‘s Wild, a four-poster bed refitted with hair and animal skins, not least because I was able to use it to make a rope ladder and escape the building. But at least one member of staff was able to compliment me on my hat on the way out. Seriously Edinburgh, what is it about hats? If you like them so much, get a hat.
There were other things I’d wanted to see - it was a shame I missed Miranda Kane’s new show, as I’d liked her last year - but I found myself finishing off by going back to The Mechanisms. This time I was more familiar with the music, and could appreciate how cleverly the story had been constructed. When Johnny d’Ville half sang and half shouted the line “But you’re a liar!” he pointed directly at me, easily the most terrifying thing that’s ever happened to me at the fringe, and this time I found to my surprise that I was the one with the tear in his eye at the final showdown. But as Mordred rode off into the sunset, I realised it was time for me to do the same, and I took my leave of the fringe, returning to a life of normality and the occasional vitamin.
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