Another place

Went to MOMA today (or Modern Art Oxford as it is now calling itself) to catch the last day of the Tracey Emin exhibition This is Another Place. I might well not have made it except M went a while ago and came back saying he imagined it was like being inside my head. So I couldn't really not go, could I?

And while some of it completely passed me by, and some of the rest of it made me pull faces and shudder slightly, I think I can see what he meant. It was a bit like an Ani DiFranco album embroidered on a blanket. A bit heavy handed at times, but maybe that's just because people don't say this sort of thing out loud very often, so you can't afford to be too subtle or nobody will get it.

I felt a lot of things, but one of them, oddly, was grateful.

joella