Museum of Installation
| The Museum of Installation
Eventually I found the Museum of Installation. And with my expectations high I walked down the stairwell I was cold and my head had assumed a lightness following the three pints of IPA consumed at lunch.
The end of my descent was greeted with a row of prints all similar in design, pink, yellow, green stripes (the sort of thing you'd expect in Bobby Moore's lounge). Very interesting I thought.
At this point I spied Michael, the artist.
The second room was brightly lit and composed entirely of mirrors, all angled in a way to exaggerate my widow's peak. The third room was almost pitch. At the far end was a pocket size TV on the wall. As I grew accustomed to the dark, I noticed two shadows in the far corners. I walked up to that end of the room. The shadows were big industrial fans. The TV displayed a moving collage of pink, yellow and green stripes.
I lingered in the otherwise empty room looking fruitlessly around trying to understand what this was supposed to mean, and what I would say to Michael. Finally I re-emerged into the foyer where Michael was sitting at a desk.
"It's good, I like it."
Michael got up and led me back to the dark room.
"The piece still works though", Michael said.
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