Boom boom

Not being able to take pictures in galleries sucks. Especially when I've paid good money (a hefty £12) to get in. What is the argument against non-flash photography in galleries anyone? I'd really love to know.

So begins my visit to sculptor Anish Kapoor's show at the Royal Academy. With a rant. Luckily the Turner prize winner's work is captivating enough to distract me.

What I called "that giant red trumpet thingy" (real name Marsyas) in the Turbine Hall at Tate Modern is the only work of his I've ever seen. It's a testament to its impact that I thought the red trumpet showing was a couple of years ago (turns out it was seven).

Part retrospective, part new work, this exhibition is dramatic, subtle, ambiguous and sometimes disorientating (in a good  way).

The mirrored silver balls,  Tall Tree and the Eye (2009), seemingly floating in the RA's courtyard (left) give a flavour of some of Kapoor's central themes: reflections and perception of space.

There are heaps of detailed reviews, The Guardian and The Times for instance, so I give you my highlights.

First up has to be "the pimple" so named by my silver-tongued sidekick, who surreptitiously took indoor pics for me on her iPhone (I thank you Mrs Macro). As "the pimple" looked like a shadow on the wall to her and a mucky wall to me, we were unable to obtain an image. Its real name is When I Am Pregnant (1992) and it was only when we looked at it from the side that we realised it was a protruding oval about as large as a torso. There are no signs or explanations on the wall, just a leaflet to carry round, which makes for a very fluid exhibition.

In another room, a variety of mirrored objects causing our reflections to invert, elongate, quadruple in size or disappear altogether depending on where we stood were fascinating.We were like children in a hall of mirrors. In contrast, a roomful of what can only be described as grey cement intestines (below) rather freaked me out.

What's really refreshing is seeing Kapoor's ultra modern sculptures in such a classical setting. Non more so than the 30-tonne lump of red wax slowly lumbering through five galleries on a mechanized rail track, squeezing its way through the classical doorways. Its movement is almost imperceptible. An assistant informed me that he'd timed it to within the minute - two hours to cover one length of the building and two hours back. It's called Syayambh (2007) which is Sanskrit for "self-generating".

The highlight for me though was Shooting into the Corner (2008) involving a cannon, some blood red wax and a white wall. A loud, messy spectacle infused with anticipation (the two minute silence as we watched the man prepare the cannon was palpable, the unexpectedly loud boom of the cannon (I know, I know, when are cannons ever quiet?) and the splodge of wax on the wall were gloriously satisfying.




If you're reading this during the day head to the Royal Academy's live webcam of the cannon. It fires sporadically - we saw it at 3pm - until the show finishes on 11th December.