Venusberg | That's not your heart, it's a piece of helicopter casing

Monday, July 18, 2005

So, what did you do the day after?

Friday was twitchy, as you might expect, but deciding that if I did not drink myself into oblivion the terrorists had won, I walked along the Mall, pausing to take the photo of a couple outside Buckingham Palace, pressing themselves against the bars of the fence to flatten the ubiquitous police out of shot. Many, many police.

The Mall was holding an exhibition of military vehicles from previous wars, as part of the 60th anniversary celebrations. Sleek, round-bodied, they made violence as it used to be dealt seem impossibly stylish. Ideologically, the causes fought over might have been as repetitive as ever, and the bodies tear in just the same way, but the forces ranged on both sides could have waltzed into Bluewater.

Also on the mall was Martha Rosler's Garage Sale exhibition at the ICA, now regrettably closed. Since we don't really have garage sales (unless I have never been suburban enough), the feel was more like a church hall - the gag of a jumble sale in an art gallery feels, I think, less penetrating when you're used to wandering around municipal space looking at Tiffany singles. The accompanying video, with its ruminations on how the worth of things changes over their life - I hope you think that these objects are who I am (not really, Martha, the Rokit tag is still on that poncho) - was pleasantly uncertain, though; 30 years since the first showing, and it seems Rosler is still not quite sure what's being achieved here.

What was, in fact, being achieved, and for a mere Ł2.50, was this.

Paid. In. Full. Paid. In. Goddamn. Full.

Chainsaw Warrior. What we did before computers, instead of, and sometimes along with, the sin of impurity.

And then, finally, my patriotic duty at the pub. With a chainsaw.

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