The Tate Modern – A Photographic Journey

If you don’t care for Modern Art then the former Bankside Power Station that houses the Tate Modern is in itself a work of art and worthy of inspection. I have to be in the right mood for a trip to The Tate Modern. For me it’s key to choose the right time to not have to struggle against the chaotic tide of humanity.

We spent a good couple of hours there. There was the usual blend of human emotions on offer. Head scratching, confusion, annoyance, indifference, surprise, awe and wonderment to name but a few. I wasn’t at my most receptive because my mind was full of my own ideas before I entered.

One thing though that always happens when I enter The Tate is that it reminds me to press on with my own ideas, reminds me of those I outlined and then forgot and often conjures up new ideas. Too many new ideas considering those that have been forgotten. Now where did I leave my ideas book?

As expected it was very busy on Sunday afternoon and I was still recovering from the visual and nervous assault to the senses that was Gravity at the BFI Imax. A visually stunning film that tested my ‘mild vertigo’ to the limits and left my nails perilously short. The concrete floors and general robust solidity of the Tate was very reassuring after the vaccuum of space, where apparently ‘no one can hear you scream’. . To be fair, with the ‘magical hour’ approaching, there were photographs planned and I was starting to notice the exit signs a little more.

With my mind narrowed somewhat, thoughts elsewhere I found myself reaching for my, at best, grainy camera phone and I started to snap here and there. Never the art on show, but other details I spotted in the form of the building, the floors, the doors, the ever present barriers to art ‘Do not touch’, ‘do not cross this line’ and the ever present ‘exits’. It was about the textures, the shadows, the journey from entrance to exit, about feet and the need for a seat.

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‘The Tate Modern – A Photographic Journey’ – © Rich Clark images 2014

I decided to amalgamate these grainy images into something collective and I feel representative of my journey. Recurring images of escape, of uncharacteristic disinterest and of looking for a different view point.

On departing alas the mist had dropped in, blue skies gave way to drizzle and the planned photos will adorn the pages of my ideas book when I locate it. For the umpteenth time I marvelled at the Silver Birches that punctuate the landscaped frontage to the Tate Modern. The Tate wasn’t finished and it offered up one final inadvertent’installation’. An unusual pink cowboy hat twisted and turned in the breeze caught high among the branches of the Birches.

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‘A Hat Among Birches’ – © Rich Clark images 2014

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