Radio 2 is my station of choice. I like a bit of 6 Music, often have Capital FM on in the car and occasionally check out Classic FM, but by and large I’m a Radio 2 sort of girl. So I sometimes catch Steve Wright’s weekly astrology segment, in which callers receive advice based on their star sign. And every time I hear it, I think “What a colossal heap of crap”.
I am not, it is fair to say, a fan of astrology. Which is odd, because I love predictions. I like to predict my whole week, in detail. I plan out what the major events of each day are, what preparation they will require and any potential problems that need to be anticipated and avoided. My brain whirrs constantly, churning out minutiae about what’s coming up next, and then next, and then next again…
But I’ve hit a snag. Or to put it more conventionally, I’ve had a baby. And it turns out she doesn’t have a lot of respect for my schedule. If she wants fed, or changed, or cuddled, or some other thing that I’m frustratingly unable to identify, then it needs dealt with now, regardless of what I had planned. Babies = unpredictability. This has taken some getting used to.
However, today I decided to embrace the uncertainty. After a shaky morning, when I ended up showering two hours later than usual and not getting any of my intended chores completed, we went into town to meet Dave for lunch. Eilidh was in a chirpy mood when we finished, so she and I went for a wander afterwards, ending up in GOMA. I’d intended just to tootle round the ground floor and leave. But the current exhibition is a display of abstract sculpture, which I’m afraid I did not admire. I mean, one of the exhibits was an umbrella. Just an umbrella, sitting on the ground. I accept that I am a total ignoramus about art. But surely plonking an umbrella on the floor cannot constitute a serious day’s work for anyone?
Anyway, not wanting to leave in a barbarian strop, I popped up to the second floor and came across an exhibition titled Tales of the City, which I liked very much. It contained paintings, photos and sculpture from GOMA’s most recent acquisitions, and included work by a chap called David Sherry, who I had not previously heard of. Which is not surprising – about the only artist I can reliably identify is Rolf Harris, and currently the less said about him the better.
David Sherry does bizarre things and gets people to take photos while he’s doing them. My favourite was the picture of him chasing a tram, and the accompanying explanation that he had originally done this in Glasgow, spending a day running for buses that were too far away to catch. The text noted casually, “I missed 63 buses that day”. I loved the idea of him sprinting frantically up and down Renfield Street, baffling the wee old ladies and coughing bald men who populate the bus stops thereabout.
Why is this idea any less daft than sticking an umbrella on the floor and calling it art? I’ve no idea, but quite unexpectedly, I really liked it. And who could have predicted that?