On entering the room, there it was, a submarine so it seemed, all big round and rusty as I recall, and really filling the space, standing tall close to the ceiling, and wall to wall, almost corner to corner. It looked more like a massive piece of war junk, a bomb perhaps, long not exploded after being left behind. A modern day artist had found it and installed it in this rather white room of the art gallery. How long had it been there ? How did they get it in ? Not sure – it looked familiar, yet impossible to really comprehend as something of any use whatsoever. How heavy was it ? It kind of looked solid, but I should have been too heavy if it was solid all the way though maybe.
The room seemed too small for the object and you could not the whole thing from where I stood near the entry. I started over to the left side, and tried to crab my way down the side wall – trying to see behind the thing, to see if there was a nameplate or something.
“Excuse me Sir”, came the command of the supervisor.
-mm.. but there was no line on the floor indicating the viewing limits — I thought..
I tried a bit further in, just a peek behind it is all I wanted..
“Excuse me Sir” !!
I backed out, oh well – I would just have to imagine it, since I could not see behind it.
How will the egg remember it’s me
(who backed out with care in the gallery)
when it has to remember
a rusty old chicken
It’s laid there to be
Later I ventured into another small room, an alcove hidden from view and the only thing in it was a square hole in the wall. The hole in the wall was pitch dark. I poked my head in. There was nothing in there. Gradually my eyes became accustomed to the dark inside the hole in the wall. I still could not see much. I closed my useless eyes.
It smelled rusty !
“Excuse me sir !” I yelled into the void. A dark metallic echo came back !
Now I remember what I imagined.
A short recollection – written in response to a experiencing the sculpture MEMORY of Anish Kapoor.
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