I love The Fruitmarket Gallery and I try to go to all of their exhibitions. It’s a free gallery in Edinburgh that changes it’s exhibits every month, and it has a beautiful cafe and bookshop.
Of course, I wont always like the work that I see, it wont always sate my artistic interest, but I always appreciate it and it is always worth it.
I went to the gallery on Sunday with that attitude as usual.
I walk around the rooms, with my Dad; a fellow art liker (I say liker and not lover because he does have an interest in art but not a passion, he is more of a craftsman). As usual, we don’t say much to each other. I take down notes in my sketchbook and he wanders off.
I really try to appreciate Anna Bariball’s work as I walk around the gallery. I make a few notes. I like the inky splatters on the photos. I like the heavy blackness of her work. I appreciate how long it must have taken her to fill the sheets with the heavy layers of graphite.
I glance at my Dad as he passes. I know that expression. I smile a little embarrassingly. The gallery was my suggestion for something to do. I, the artist, am walking around with a sense of forced appreciation but his expression says it all and as we walk away down the stairs my Dad sums up this exhibition experience in one sentence:
“I think we’re trying too hard Chloe.”