Tuesday, 17 April 2012

Terror Scribes Teaser 10: Jan Edwards

The Gallery had grabbed the usual bouquet of design awards and sufficient brickbats to start a reasonable sized wall. Karrin though it was ‘pretty bloody amazing’. From the pavement, staring up that blue-black facade, she was certain that, love or hate it, no one standing in its shadow could avoid feeling some kind of awe. That overwhelming sense of mortality, normally reserved for cathedrals and palaces, inspired by a column of steel and apparently seamless glass rising six stories above the street. This was the brand new, and highly controversial, Tate Modern, Bristol, and she knew the world would beat at its doors whatever words passed on either side of that debate.

Above the entrance a rank of feather flags snapped and flapped the exhibition’s multi-hued logo to the wind in a brashly sophisticated welcome. Beneath them a chattering crowd of lesser beings were segregated from the Celebs by ubiquitous metal barriers. Less-privileged photographers lacking press passes snapped and whirred their glass eyes as she passed. Spectators, there to gawk at the glitteratti in their black-tie designer-splendour, eyed her suspiciously. The more knowing Arties, who were camped out for the following day’s public opening, dismissed her as a nothing, a nobody.

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