{critic} so who is martin creed?

Easter Sunday.

An afternoon we spent drowning in chocolate bunnies, until I galvanised Mr. Luxe to venture outside of room Tiny. He was totes unimpressed.

‘The Glamour of Italian Fashion’ new to the V&A looked right up our – my – street. So we strutted straight there in our matching Missoni scarves. It was shut.

Plan B.

Martin Creed. I’d read about his retrospective down on the south bank. He’s the Turner Prize Winning whizzer famed for Work 160 – lights going on and off – so conceptual, so…. clever? Think balloon scapes, chair stacks, and films of people being sick. Totally cool. Totally random. Everything else was totally shut.

‘What’s the point of it?’. Martin Creed asks.

We went. We saw. We’re still none the wiser.

Am I selling it well?! Due to end this week, Hayward Gallery have extended the viewing through to May so I’ve prepared some titbits to whet your appetite, with subtitles obvs. Call it a luxe edit.

1. Work No. 142 furniture partially obstructing a door

Ignore the big neon sign – if you can.

The opening to the exhibition… Just a small detail about the sweaty looking sofa to the left of it. Obscuring nearly ALL of the doorwell. Or at least it did until Mr. Luxe gallantly moved it aside. Cue the echo of squeaky nike air max as the security guards scrambled to it’s defence. Nobody died. No more to add.

2. Work No. 960 cactus plants

This room was deserted.

I so wished we’d booked Coachella.

3. Work No. 1000 Prints made with broccoli

Broccoli has more Vitamin C per ounce than an orange according to Mr. Luxe.

I find broccoli hard to digest. This not so much.

Critical though we were, I applaud the mental spirit-level of the pro employed to hang a thousand frames in perfect sequence. I mean, who is this person? Do they take cash-in-hand for weekend jobs…?

4. Work No. 180 largo, larghetto, adagio, andante, moderato, allegro, presto, e prestissimo

Tickety-tock. Don’t mock.

The nagging of these metronomes echoes in Every room of the exhibition. Set to varying speeds. Set to wind you up.

It worked.

I quite liked it.

5. Work No. 200 half the air in a given space

Behind a wardrobe door manned by an impish looking arty type: a lion, witch and latex scenario plays out. We lasted 2 minutes tops – enough for me to grab a selfie and Mr. Luxe to navigate us out. It was fun while it lasted, but alas, my life can live on without latex-lustre.

We left through a side exit just by the loo’s – Mr. Luxe was craving a fix of Marlboro-light air. Me and i-phone searched for a signal.

Rubbed up the wrong way and with a slight dose of tinnitus, it was time for a well earned glass of blanc de blanc and a natter.

I’m sure Mr. Luxe enjoyed his dabble in culture but he’s sprained a ligament shifting that sofa.

I’m still in a state of hair-raising static.