The handsome, private, homoerotic photography of George Platt Lynes, on show at Kendall Koppe

I wanted to bring you these images from the George Platt Lynes show at Kendall Kope in Glasgow.

The show opened the night I left town during the Glasgow International.

I wish I’d been able to see it.

Apparently this work sold even before the show opened.

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Platt Lynes was an American photographer in the first half of the twentieth century whose public work was in fashion and film portraiture.

His most accomplished work was in private, of male nudes.

Photographs of his friends and acquaintances.

This is Bernardo Rostad, taken in 1953.

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More works.

I love the tension of this one.

Feels so dangerous.

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Many of the images take inspiration from Greek mythology.

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Another work.

I’m checking with Kendall, but I think this one’s Charles Levinson aka Le Vincent, Paris, from 1930.

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Kendall’s had plinths built in the centre of his space to show Lucie Rie’s ceramics near eye height.

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Some of those ceramics.

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Another.

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So amazing.

The show’s on until 17 May, click here etcetc.

Wish I’d seen it.

WHAT MEN WEAR: a scientific study into the clothing choices of the next 100 men on Tinder

We are all judgemental about clothing.

Usually subconsciously.

We make immediate judgements on a person’s character from their clothing as part of our day-to-day.

But the advent of Tinder has led to a whole new level of judgement.

On Tinder, the dating app that has taken over from all the others for those both hetero and homo, clothing is a massive part of the snap decision to swipe right, to try for a match, or left, for bye-bye.

Yes, you’re looking at their face first, but often the decider is: ooh-I-don’t-like-their-top.

What do men wear to represent themselves to other men on Tinder?

Which garments?

Which colours?

What accessories?

Let’s study the next 100 men who turn up.

Let’s set the radius pretty far, so it’s not just men in East London.

OK it’s at 14 kilometres.

And we’ll set the age limit wide to get a good sweep.

Who’s first?

Tom, 42.

(BTW so that we’re only looking at their clothes, I’ll cover their faces up).

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Left swipe.

Next.

Phillip, 34.

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Is that two T-shirts, or a T-shirt with a trim?

There are sunglasses as well under that Snoopy.

Left swipe.

Not the most auspicious start.

Oh look!

A nice lad in a nice white T-shirt.

Near some mountains.

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Let’s look at his other pictures.

Ohgod forgot to click on his image first!

Have left swiped by accident!

Oh well.

Bye, Christopher, 25.

Next.

David, 43.

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Hooded fake fur.

On a publicly viewable dating site.

I suppose at least with David, 43, you’d probably get what you see.

Unlike many of these taken-on-a-beach-at-sunset-five-years-ago shots.

But sorry, David, 43 – left swipe.

Let’s flick through a few others.

Left swipe. Left swipe. Left swipe.

No sign of anyone wearing a tie yet.

Oh wait!

Crazzy, 23.

With two male friends as accessories.

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Which one’s Crazzy?

Oh. It’s him in the middle.

No tie wearer yet.

Shiny suit.

Left swipe.

Ohgod someone with a female friend as an accessory.

Jack, 24.

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If he’s got a female accessory in his first image, how does he redeem himself with his second choice?

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Ohgod.

Left swipe.

Aaah look!

A nice lad in a T-shirt.

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Richard, 27.

Cleverly shot next to pattern.

Right swipe.

Interesting how someone dressed normally on Tinder can really stand out.

Here’s Paul, 26.

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Totally normal.

Not normcore.

Just normal.

Right swipe.

Some men are topless.

With varying success.

Here’s Joseph, 25.

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Are those jeans nice?

Probably hideous up close.

Oh well.

Right swipe!

Here’s Rafael, 33.

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LEFT SWIPE.

Swipe, swipe, swipe.

I won’t show you all of the 100.

Though I took pictures of each of them for further analysis.

Accessories vary.

From bags, wraps, headphones to…

A dolphin.

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Darren, 35.

Maybe make him watch Blackfish on a first date.

Left swipe.

(OK I’ll admit – you can see from the battery charge that this one is out of sync – he was actually number 106 or something after I’d charged my phone for a bit)

Further accessories.

An apron.

And a barbeque.

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Sean, 31.

Left swipe.

Most images seemed to come from summer.

There was only really one that felt recently from the UK.

Jamie, 36.

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Aaah what a nice sweater!

And how honest!

Big cliff.

Shall I right swipe?

Oh he says something about all of us have issues or something.

Left swipe.

Burberry’s dream ambassador.

Lawrence, 27.

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Left swipe.

90 odd swiped, and only three to the left.

We’re almost done.

Ah well.

But wait!

A nice lad in a nice sweater!

Martin, 32.

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Cable knit.

Leaning nicely against a nice window.

Nice!

RIGHT SWIPE!

Basically, we can conclude that I respond most to men on Tinder who look like they’ve shopped at Margaret Howell.

Last swipe.

A big tree in blossom!

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Can barely see John, 29, but let’s right swipe him anyway.

Five swipes out of 100.

5%.

Is that a good ratio?

Whatever.

Let’s look at the statistics for this highly scientific study…

RESULTS OF A STUDY INTO THE CLOTHING CHOICES OF THE NEXT 100 MEN ON TINDER

33% wear T-shirts (either on their own, or visible as part of an outfit).

14% wear a casual shirt, usually open at the neck.

11% are topless.

10% wear a jacket and shirt, mostly without tie.

10% wear a polo shirt.

9% are in outerwear.

7% wear a jumper.

5% are in shorts.

4% are in swim trunks.

3% wear a leather jacket.

2% wear running kit.

1% has their clothing entirely obscured by a cat.

1% has their clothing entirely obscured by a dog.

1% wear a rabbit costume.

1% wear a fake fur coat.

1% wear angel wings.

ACCESSORIES WORN BY THE NEXT 100 MEN ON TINDER

Of the next 100 men on Tinder, 27% of them chose to accessorise their look with one or more item.

15% (of the 100 men) wore sunglasses.

8% wore glasses.

6% wore a hat.

4% wore a tie.

4% accessorised with a female friend.

3% with a bag.

2% with headphones.

2% with a scarf.

2% with male friends.

1% with a wedding party.

1% with a clipboard teaching “inner healing”

1% with a dog.

1% with a cat.

1% with a coffee cup.

1% with an apron.

1% with a dolphin (OK this was number 106).

CONCLUSIONS TO BE DRAWN FROM THIS IN-DEPTH STUDY INTO WHAT THE NEXT 100 MEN WEAR ON TINDER

Most men on Tinder present themselves in a T-shirt.

Barely anyone shows themselves in a tie.

In the blur of subjective decisions, normality is actually a nice thing for the eye to see.

And, after right swiping five times, I’ve yet to match with any.

Que sera sera.

Sunday night/Monday AM, there’s a big gay rave up in Hackney. Some records I’ll be playing

Hey so Sunday night till Monday morning, there’s a big gay rave up in Hackney Wick.

Chapter 10.

With that Rødhäd.

And that Portable.

And that Hannah Holland.

AMAZING!

Here’s like a GIF thingy.

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I’ll be playing records early doors (if you can call 11pm early doors).

Here are some that’ll be getting an airing.

You’ve got the new Legowelt album, right?

IT’S AMAZING.

It’s called Crystal Cult 2080.

Obviously.

Here’s his “Cyberspace Is Still Happenin’ For Real”.

It’s a Sunday night, right?

So no-one’s going to notice if you play old stuff.

“Where’s Your Child” by Bam Bam.

Obvs new Omar S.

Either Frogs…

Or Surpass…

And his ancient old Set It Out from twelve million years ago.

The unfeasibly amazing Tripped Out by Mr G (Mr G as in Mr G not Mr G)

What else?

Oh yeah that Oh Jabba by OB Ignitt.

I posted that Men’s Feelings by Poisonous Relationship the other day.

OBSESSED.

And obviously Mine To Give by Photek with Robert Owens that I could listen to every second every day forever and ever.

From twelve million years ago.

Hey do you like my record bag?

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It’s Yoshida as in the company that’s Porter in collaboration with Limoland.

With a Giles Deacon mouse attached.

Don’t think it was ever meant to be a record bag.

More a chic day tote.

But still.

HEY COME TO OUR GAY RAVE!

It’ll be SUPER JOLLY!

Click here for the fancy Facebook page!

Click here for tickets!

Come come!

And HAPPY EASTER!xxx

What men wear: Spring sun in London means sudden pops of colour

The sun has come out in London this week.

With it, I’ve become more and more aware of a way that men are wearing clothes in London, as the temperature slowly changes (and in contrast to the bold but simple colour I found in Mexico City last month).

In London right now, there are often to be found men wearing dark or grey tones, with one pop of colour.

It’s like a spring emerging.

And maybe only because heavier outer layers, more likely to be black or navy, have been removed to reveal lighter tones beneath.

It’s no trend, just the instincts of dressing.

I’ve been thinking about it since last week, when I saw the outfit worn by the stylist Julian Ganio.

We were both at a press day for Alexander McQueen.

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After all that colour at the Matisse Cut-Outs on Monday, I started looking for more pops.

I went upstairs at Tate Modern to see the Richard Hamilton again. This lad was sat in front of The Citizen.

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When he stood, I saw his trainers.

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When I left Hamilton, I saw this man on one of the Tate’s escalators.

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A man with what looked like a Missoni scarf outside the Matisse.

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I kept looking.

Later in the day, this man was ahead of me, coming out of the block I live in.

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I town, this lad was obviously trying to get something from his girlfriend.

The flash of red stuck out.

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On the Central Line the next day, I was confused by the size of the bag an old man was clutching.

Then I realised.

He was heading to the Masonic Lodge in Holborn.

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Masons have specially sized bags to carry their bits and bobs.

You can get them at the Masonic shop on Great Queen Street.

He looked so consumed in some other world.

No colour there.

We were both getting off at Holborn.

He went to stand.

And there was his tie.

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At the opening of the ICA’s David Robilliard show, I was particularly taken by the shirt jacket worn by Ash Lenge of Herald St.

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And so it continued, everywhere I went in the week.

On the tube, a man of vivid trouser.

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On Compton Street, a man who had chosen to wear an American flag as a bandana.

I’m not condoning, just observing.

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Thin straps of a backpack.

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A man on the tube of blatant yellow.

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I got so obsessed, I was seeing any colour.

Like this plastic bag strapped to luggage at a bus-stop.

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It all seems like my garden, where colour is now emerging.

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Happy Easter.

Hope it’s lovely.

Bye, The Hideout. Bye, Interstate. London menswear just got a little less interesting

Yesterday afternoon,  I was in Soho.

I thought, let’s pop into The Hideout.

One of London’s most influential, most radical, most forward-thinking independent stores.

Oh.

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It’s gone.

Shows how little I shop in Soho (or read Hypebeast) – there was a story on Hypebeast about it closing in January.

It’s so, so sad.

The Hideout was where I’d buy Porter.

Not just the bags that everyone carries (Liberty are starting stocking them next season, though just the cautious ones – obviously nothing with any flare or character – The Hideout used to have those in abundance), but the amazing clothes under the label Head Porter Plus.

Over in Covent Garden, another of my favourite stores closed earlier this year.

Interstate.

A long-time obsession.

It’s there I’d by my Hanes underwear, imported from the US.

It was at Interstate that I discovered one of my favourite denim styles – the Gorilla Cut by Ben Davis.

I went there the other month, before my trip to Mexico, to buy a new batch of Hanes briefs for spring.

Because, you know, obviously you need to wear briefs when it gets to shorts season.

Interstate was closed.

I went into American Classics over the road.

The guy in there said the owner of Interstate had decided to close rather than sign a new lease at a higher rate.

I went to the store again yesterday.

It’s currently housing some pop up exhibition or something.

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And so, in 2014, London menswear just got less interesting.

I’m not a great one for nostalgia.

I know that cities evolve and change.

I know that, say, Kensington Market couldn’t exist today.

I was lucky to have been around when it did.

But it does seem a marker of something when the West End can’t accommodate independence and radicalism.

It sure throws down the gauntlet for stores out in the East End – the men that kept those two stores thriving still want somewhere to shop.

Still want somewhere to buy something different.

Bye, The Hideout.

Bye, Interstate.

And thank you.

Right now I am listening to…

OMG can you imagine if someone played this at a men’s show in June?

PLEASE SOMEONE PLAY THIS AT A MEN’S SHOW IN JUNE…

The ICA’s David Robilliard show is extraordinary and moving. Here’s a preview of the works

The ICA’s David Robilliard is previewing today.

It’s extraordinary, spare and deeply moving.

The first time his paintings have been seen in London for 22 years.

Paintings like this.

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Robilliard was diagnosed HIV positive in 1987, and died a year later, aged 36.

Curator Gregor Muir took the decision to just show work, rather than archive ephemera.

It was the right decision.

It is like being at a show of his work in 1988, as if he were still alive.

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It fascinates me when Robilliard’s work got so large, and so spare.

You can see his smaller works from up to ’84 in a story I wrote last year.

I was asking Alan Macdonald if he knew.

(A polaroid of David by Alan was on today’s invite).

He said he thought that in the mid 80s David and his partner Andrew Heard moved to Gardens Walk in Shoreditch, and suddenly had the space to be able to create bigger work.

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They’d previously lived in Earls Court.

In Shoreditch they had no heating.

Apparently when they got sick, Gilbert & George installed heating for them.

It’s interesting that most of the works at the ICA feel cocky.

In both non- and innuendo sense.

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There is little elegiacal work – “Memories of a friend/A burst of tears from all your friends/The end” isn’t here.

Apparently it was difficult enough just getting these works together, so submerged has his work become.

More from the show.

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David’s sisters were at the preview.

As were Gilbert & George, David’s friends and supporters.

Here they are in the crowd.

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It was apparently the first time they’ve been in the ICA building since 1969.

More work.

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And more.

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Please do go and see the show.

It’s both of historical importance, and of exceptional quality.

You can read more about it by clicking here – it’s the transcription of a chat I had with Gregor that I posted last week.

And click here for more information on the show, including for tickets to the talk I’m taking part in on May 2.

Bound By Night, a new book by Elegance Bratton on today’s Vogue Ball scene, is AMAZING

Before I headed out to the Matisse preview this morning, a parcel arrived from Portland.

In it was a copy of Bound By Night, a new book about today’s vogueing scene by Elegance Bratton.

It’s published by Steve Terry of Wild Life Press, who recently moved out to the north east of the US.

The book is so amazing.

Here it is.

Those lines across it are sunlight.

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A slender tome that contains much joy inside.

Here’s a spread.

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Elegance begins at Vogue Knights, the Monday night vogue party that takes place at 301 West 39th St in NYC.

It’s the same venue where Princess Julia, Susanne from No Bra and I attended a Gorgeous Teen Sundays vogueing party a couple of years back.

With the same DJ, Mike Q.

Elegance then travelled to other parties, other balls.

In her introduction, she writes eloquently about the realities of life for those in the present day Houses of Mizrahi, Ebony, Revlon, Evisu, Blanhik or Balenciaga – disowned, poor, possibly sex workers.

“Some studies assert,” she says, “that at any Ball, 30-70% of individuals are infected with the [HIV] virus.”

It makes the images that follow even more poignant, and emotional.

Each is without a caption, its own story in itself.

Here’s a selection.

Blue lips.

Bound 50

Shimmer.

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Some are born ready.

Photos taken during the Coldest Winter Ever Ball. Winter 2013

And dip.

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The below image looks very familiar to me – fairly sure this is at 301 W39th, in the opening hours, rehearsal time before the judging has begun.

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Catwalk.

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Outside.

Bound 101

AMAZING.

You can order Elegance’s book by clicking here etcetc.

If you’re in East London, it’s in stock at Donlon Books on Broadway Market.

Limited to 500 copies.

So worth it.

I’m at the Matisse Cut-Outs at Tate Modern. It’s extraordinary. A preview of some of the works

I’m at the Matisse Cut-Outs at Tate Modern.

It’s extraordinary.

Some of the works.

From his book Jazz, shown here in full.

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Another from Jazz, this one called The Codomas.

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Matisse felt the colours of the printed version were a let-down.

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I love this one – The Horse, The Rider and The Clown.

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Zig zags at the end of the book.

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Works clustered together from the wall of his studio.

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And another.

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And another.

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His cover cut-out for his 1951 show at MoMA.

Those eyes are very Prada.

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His cover for Apollinaire.

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From here the works begin to get monumental.

I’m not going to try and show them.

The images suck on iPhone.

As they should.

Smaller works among them – I love this one called Chinese Fish.

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A Blue Nude – this one’s Blue Nude I.

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Another – Blue Nude II.

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I love this one called The Bell.

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It’s amazing to see the roughness of some of the edges – this is the corner of The Sheaf.

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A heart from the centre of Acanthuses.

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Process is part of the display.

Tracings for a stained glass window titled Christmas Eve.

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Pieces of glass.

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The window itself.

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Minor quibbles.

The hang shows the limitations of Tate Modern’s current exhibition space, something that’ll hopefully be solved by the new wing.

A couple of times, there’s empty space, as if they didn’t know how to fill the sometimes awkward rooms.

The spaces aren’t contemplative empty, they’re just, um, empty.

Here’s a wall in the room featuring Oceania.

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Next door, the corner of a room highlighting his studio in Vence.

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Elsewhere is a room titled Three Large Compositions.

It should actually by Three Large Compositions Split Over Two Rooms.

Together for the first time since 1953 are three works Matisse imagined shown together: Large Decoration with Masks, The Snail and Memory Of Oceania.

We have to imagine them together too, since they’re split over two separate rooms.

For all of Tate Modern’s scale, the rooms themselves are actually of restrictive size.

It can barely cope with the scale of this work.

As I walked in to Tate Modern this morning, I saw that the Turbine Hall was empty.

What if that true scale had been used to show these works.

Minor quibbles, about hang, not work.

The show is so extraordinary.

It opens 17 April, on until 7 September, click here etcetc.