Wrought

By a happy mistake I got off the bus one stop too late this morning which meant that on my way to Grenoble museum for a Giacometti exhibition I walked past this.

The exhibition showed several of Giacometti's 'caged' sculptures. I'd never seen them before and they set a whole lot of disparate thoughts running, about framing and the space that a work of art (or anything else) occupies. I went through the exhibition three times and came out seeing frames everywhere. Despite already feeling happy with the bicycle on the bridge I spent the down-time in this afternoon's rehearsal writing something that I thought would end up here alongside one of my 'framed' photos. But it's too long and needs more thinking. (A sculpture doesn't exist without the space around it but how big is that space? Where does a picture end (Howard Hodgkin)? If you fence a clearing in a wood is the clearing still part of the wood?) Maybe another time. But meanwhile, having always felt apprehensive and lost about printing and framing my photos I'm now itching to have a go.

On my way back I went for a second time into an exhibition of photos Robert Doisneau took when he was in the Alps: some holiday photos, some ads (which I liked much less) and some with a cellist friend, Maurice Baquet, which involved elaborate photomontages of Baquet playing his cello in the snow and a circle of skiers gradually arriving across the mountains to listen. A 1944 precursor of Photoshop.

The concert was fine, our post-concert party was fun and tomorrow we leave.