Went to this nice exhibition yesterday... kind of came across it at the opening conveniently, http://www.kingsplace.co.uk/galleries/kings-place-gallery/exhibitions/abstract-critical-newcomer-award

I realised that it has been weeks (months even) since I went to an art gallery or museum, which is strange since I am forever trying to argue that its good to visit them if stressed and I have been stressed. I particularly liked the work by Dan Roach. While his work was smaller than a lot of the other pieces they felt like they contained great space through the use of colour and shape and layering of paint. At the moment I tend to be drawn to paint which is all texture and height but maybe the controlled calm of his pieces were what was making me spend more time at them than those by Iain Robertson (whose I meandered past thinking about food and pink icing, mmm). It is not uncommon in the slightest that a viewer wishes to touch the artwork but I think this impulse is less when it is a painting because of that notion that painting are flat and 2D, thick paint is a funny one... while I know it will be hard since it is dry and hanging in a gallery I also want it to be soft like it looks. I want to be able to reach out and taste a little from the tip of my finger like I would with a freshly iced cake, highly mischievous yet not destructive. Of course with a painting this would be destructive but I wonder what audiences would do if they were allowed to touch wet painting in a gallery whether they would just touch it, put their mark on it or completely reform what is there, taking ownership rather than just experience. This is tangental however...

It always intrigues me how art-people want abstract art to be abstract and non-representational yet humans have the need to find meaning, understanding or recognition in everything. Everything is a sign for something else even when it is a sign of nothing. I like abstract art, I like finding and making, and I can do this by simply looking. I like letting my mind decide how these lights and colours will make me feel, but more and more I loath knowing these are all just sparks in my head. My eyes look here and there and somewhere else yet I know they are looking, I miss just seeing what is in front of me.