Woke up quite late yesterday, ummmed and arggghed for a while, shall I go to the Parla Adaption / Translation show, can I be bothered? All this deliberation really ran the clock down, but at 11:35 I decided that yes I should go. That gave me 1 hour and 25 minutes to hot foot it on various forms of public transport from Reading to the Elms Lester Gallery in central London, it was going to be close. Parla was doing a book signing until 1:00.
Started off well, walked quickly, (don't do running) to the bus stop at the Junction, the bus arrived almost straight away, good stuff, no hold ups so far, all on course. Next bit was to get from Jackons Corner to the train station, a good 5 minute walk. Just round the corner temptation stood in my way. A bunch of Morris Dancers were hopping around bashing their sticks, there were even hobby horses, there's nothing like a good old bit of pagan bopping and I nearly stopped for some photos, but I had to be focussed, I needed to get to London on time. There would be other chances to see Morris Dancers, meeting Parla was a rare opportunity. I ventured on, to the station, the queues for tickets were long. I needed to decide whether to join the queue, very precious time eating exercise or risk the machine, gamble on having the mental capacity to navigate the screens and hope that it would accept my wrinkly £20 note. Fortune was on my side, the machine didn't play up and I manage to score a travel card. Grabbed a coffee for the train and walked quickly to platform 5. The train was delayed though, 12:05 it arrived, I had 55 minutes, it was still a close call, but I remained optimistic. Settled into a nice seat and the train pulled out. It was staright through to Paddington, all was well, that is until Slough! The train crawled to a.... um, crawl, really slow, something to do with track mending or whatever. After a long old time, we sped up again and landed at Paddington, it was 12:35, gave me twenty five minutes to get there, this was so tight. Walked quickly, still not running, to the tube, past slow, wide, corridor blocking people to the central line, onto the tube train to Oxford Circus felt like a longer journey than usual, quickest change I could manage to Tottenham Court Road, I had 5 minutes left. I broke into a run. I had one chance to remember where the gallery was, I'd been past it once before whilst looking for Space Invaders, I knew it wasn't far and picked a road and I was right, I trotted up to the door, all hot and puffy.
The security man on the door informed me that Parla would not be signing anymore books, I was a minute or two late. I shamelessly explained my journey and my dissappointment, but was gracious in defeat, he let me in. I joined the signing queue anyway, I planned to speak with the till person to try to blag just one more signing, how could they refuse. I heard mention of an hour and a half journey round the corner, didn't really think anything of it or pay much attention, certainly didn't link it to me. But, the security man came up to me and gave me a ticket for the signing, he'd had a word with someone, what a star, he didn't need to do that for me, heart of gold. So, I'd made it, just by the skin of my teeth. I legitimately joined the queue to meet Parla.
Considering he'd been there for 2 hours signing books for strangers he remained a really friendly and welcoming man, it was a pleasure to meet him. He took time to sign my book, we talked of my journey and nearly missing the signing, here's his message to me...
This show was breathtaking, all the work without exception was so beautiful. The layers and layers of paint and calligraphy meant that there was so much to see in each piece. You could stare at a piece for hours and notice new bits, they are so intricate. The best way to describe them is that they are images of decayed walls, where paint and graffiti tags have been built up on top of each other for years and years, posters remained in parts, bits of plaster had flaked off. There is a real beauty in this. Other pieces were lines and lines and layers and layers of calligraphy. Please got to see this show, words or photos cannot do it justice. You have until the 8th November to see it, do yourself a favour...
Here's some of the pics I took, not very good I'm afraid, just done on my camera phone but gives you a hint of the beauty, but fail miserably to come close to the pieces in reality.
Take a look at the link to Jose Parla's site for a better idea!
Just to let you know that not all was well with the day. I managed to spill some coffee on the book on the train on the way home. It's ruined the loose leave pictures you get! Karma I suppose. I've mailed Elms Lester to see if I can get replacements.
1 comment:
Enjoyed reading that Hobdebob :)
A saint of a security guard then! Top man.
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