Tate Modern. 

I went to visit the Tate modern the other day. I ended up filtering my eyes to the ones I admire be most. I’m sorry I cannot appreciate everything as they should be. I’m sorry I have my favourites. Don’t we all? I filtered my eyes to colours only in burnt orange and white and all the ones in between. I filtered them to see the simplist of designs and objects and meaning. I made them my own. Art is so powerful, it touches you in a way that only really connects to you. Is that why people visit them on their own? 

Collected by my own thoughts, I chose to exhibit the ones I find myself thinking about more and more. I chose the ones most relatable to myself. I chose me. Or it chose me. I chose the ones that connected to me. I chose my thoughts, my dreams, my mind, my imagination. I saw myself in those arts, in some way shape or form, art connected me to something. More than and object, an idea. 

Art invites us to all think. To ponder. To look within ourselves in order to find meaning. It’s all in our minds.

Shall I tell you what I see? Can I? 

I see simplicity. The strong lines of the fibres cascading down. 

I see the smooth carvings of hepworths sculptures knowing her inspirations came from the calmness experienced in the sea.

 I see the formal lines created by nails and makeup marks. 

Framed and stilled to be admired on its own.

 I see an Indian lady, free and floating in the mists of colour and earth.

 I see crumbs. Crumbs and crumbs of land creating a l i v i n g c i t y. 

 Soft and mailable. 

I see objects, textures, neautral colours. 

I see the strong message from the egg on camera vs the egg in the camera. 

Confusing us to rethink. 

Is what you see right now real?

 Am I recording myself or is this me?

 Lines blurring in the mists of confusion and chaos. 

You just need to have a go. 
What do you see?



Hepworth, 

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