On Thursday last week, I went to The Photographers’ Gallery (TPG). A lot of great work on show at the moment, but I was most struck by the exhibition of David Heath’s Dialogues of Solitude. Like so many of these exhibitions at TPG, I’m discovering the work of a photographer, I should know, but don’t. Oof, and what great work. I love great portraiture.
With only 15 mins before closing, I only had enough time to study each picture long enough to recognise myself. These are the best portraits; where the emotions is so there, so recognisable.
Afterwards I walked around Soho in a light drizzle. Confidently, coolly through streets I know well. And yet, I feel like I must have looked slightly hunted / haunted / lost. Like one of DH’s subject’s. Sometimes the crowd(ednes)s makes me feel anxious. Like I’m fighting my way through lines of wet curtains.
At Curzon Soho, a film called Birds of Passage is showing. I’d love to be able to fly. Instead I got the Bakerloo line.