electric sunsets
a poem inspired by Frankie Boyle’s Art
“TUNE IN” is open until January 24
54 the Gallery, London W1J 7QX
Go experience it yourself in person if you can. Wish you a good trip.
Matt
“So, it happened last night,On a beanbag in the basement of an art gallery in the heart of Mayfair, London.I sprawled down and saw the light.”
Now, have I converted back to Jesus? Did I discover the pleasures of a new religion nobody yet knows about? Are we talking about drugs?
Nah.
It was the opening night for Kate Mayer’s “Tuned In” exhibition, and I got lucky enough to be included in the guest list. I arrived just 20 minutes after the doors opened, and the place was already packed.
54 the Gallery, like Studio 54, only different.
Anyways: Kate’s paintings are so vibrant, with pink, yellow, and white strokes cutting the void to leave a mark on your soul, take you somewhere deep inside your emotions, and finally stain the eyes with energetic waves. Everyone’s having a good time.
Those gallery walls are sweaty with music, smiles. Words intertwine with bubbles in a refuge from the world, meant to cheer up the London crowd who escaped from the uninteresting chaos of the underground to get immersed in an inspiring chaos made of cool people.
The clocks were losing their ticks, time flying. Foo fighters-shaped Bang & Olufsen speakers sang songs in the corners, adorned by custom covers made by Kate. It was fantastic, and I was crowd surfing the evening when I found a narrow path leading somewhere in the guts of London.
“Like Alice not yet in Wonderland, I followed the white rabbit (who? what?) and went downstairs.”
Soft music; blazing light. I was lured into a small, hot room. I pulled a black curtain, and there it was: two pipes. Twisted. Floating in the air like magic. Oozing hues of Haribo Peaches straight in my face. Soaking the walls. Sunsetting my mood.
Frankie Boyle was next to her art, dispensing smiles and knowledge. I exchanged a fleeting glance, but I was dragged closer to the light. It was entrancing. Hypnotic. My nose almost touched that tube when a rush of colour saturated the air, my back got flooded with shivers, and I felt as if I was pushed backwards. Insane. I thanked Frankie and waved goodbye.
But that couldn’t possibly be it. I needed another round on that stellar carousel. Was it even there? Did I imagine it all?
So, I walked the stairs back down. Frankie Boyle looks at me like “you again?” or maybe I just imagined that. In any case, I mean business;
“it’s a duel between me and that devilish thing suspended in thin air. ”
I sit on a beanbag, take my red Moleskine out of my pocket and click my Parker. ‘Let’s see if something magic will happen.’ I tell her with a smile, and, like a reporter of emotions, I observe, and listen, and space out in there, losing myself gradually into the dancing colours of Frankie’s art.
“Slowly, as I disappeared, words surfaced the mind and ended up inking the precious pages of my notebook. It was a back-to-back motion. A waltz that went like this:”
IT’S A SMILE
The Nirvana one only
One eye’s surfing the air
And twists
Frothing the room with pink
Bubblegum flavoured
Light
Embroiders time and
Makes it vanish
It’s gone
And I’m floating
Vaporised eyes dissolve
Vision’s blurred as
I dance around shivers
Like smoke plumes
Fire tongues, it changes
Perspective’s a ring on a loop
Camera swooshes on a slide
Never-ending tunnel to you
It’s vivid
Stargate
It’s violins
Caressing sunsets poured into
Twisted tubes like
Straight into my soul it is
A tingling noise
All over my back
Filling the space in between
A lost smile and your last goodbye
It saturates the breath and hurts
Gently
Like meeting you in the street last night
Choking for words when
It’s pink again
It gets on fire and I’m stunned
Pushed back to my inner child
Am I crying?
The chest’s puffing
The breathing slow as if
Suddenly
I struggle to inflate this old balloon I am
Over the moon
About to swoon
I miss you
Like the heart misses its chance
Sometimes
To tell you all about this hailstorm
Rollercoaster with no brakes
That is happening inside
In here
It’s warm peace
Dipped into a basement room I
On a bean bag seat
Am flying on a kite aiming at you
One-way ticket to bliss
Polychromatic smile on your lips
thanks for your precious time
Matt