February 10, 2012 § 30 Comments
I went to see the Freud exhibition; press viewing no less crowded than I expect the normal days will be. But I still came out trembling in the face of his genius and the truth made manifest. I haven’t seen so much exposed flesh since, well, since his last big exhibition at the Hayward some years ago.
I bumped into a few old friends. One man, whom I had not seen for ever, said I hadn’t changed in thirty years. Why is it, in the face of such bollocks flattery, one always believes it? It seemed fitting that I should see someone, there, of all places, from the distant past, our very flesh – despite his compliments – transformed.
I simpered a bit, and returned to the fleshly extravaganza on show, gasping anew in the face of the mortal coils so blatantly gashed across the walls. A complete absence of flattery, life in all its forensic ugliness, and beauty, is there; and sex and death, too, hover, brilliantly.