A Breather

Adam Taylor-Smith


By Adam Taylor-Smith


A Breather

I got to King’s Cross early on Saturday morning and took a train down to the coast. Luckily, we travelled away from the rain and into the sun. It’s usually the other way around.


After a box of fish and chips I went to the Grayson Perry exhibition – Provincial Punk. There were over 50 of his pieces in there from when he started out in the 80s up until just last year. 


In the last room there was The Walthamstow Tapestry. It’s 15 meters long and it shows the journey of a life from birth to death, but seen through shopping. The name references the Bayeux Tapestry, but instead of the invasion of the Normans this one is about the invasion of marketing into our heads. There are hundreds of brand names dotted across it, and it reminded me of my list of SMPs. Something about that made me feel a bit uncomfortable. 


Outside there was a 60’s mod festival happening on the front. Gangs on pimped up scooters arrived one after the other. All the old boys with their feather cuts were downing lagers and dancing to Paul Weller out on the pavement.  


We sat in the pub until it got dark then went to the arcade and emptied out our wallets. I’d had too many beers to shoot straight and got an embarrassingly low score on Corpse Killer. 


I feel like recently my time has been divided between working, and feeling slightly anxious when I’m not working. It’s been a while since I’ve taken a completely guilt free break from it all. 


The hardest thing I’ve found about this year is that the time you put into something doesn’t necessarily have any relation to the quality of the output. I think yesterday I realised the importance of taking a moment to recharge. Tomorrow is the first day of the final marathon before portfolio day. 


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