HEEEELLLO DEAREST READERS. Good to see you back. Today I write to you from my friend’s home in North London. Yes, I crossed the river, and as much as I hate to admit it, it’s just that little bit less bleak here- only because they sell vegan ice cream and I’m lactose intolerant. But wow, another month of us together on these pages- isn’t that wonderful? And some things in this life are just so wonderful... but I’ll tell you what isn’t. Paying a fiver to see 10 projectors in a room at Tate.
Let me give you some context. After a google and peruse of Seb’s art list (-look it up, it’s my Thursday night Bible), an immersive, interactive exhibition caught my attention for this month’s article. It was being exhibited at Tate Modern- mistake number one. Naïve little Caro thought, “Wow! That looks super fun and enriching! Let me use my 16–25-year-old privileges to get a discounted ticket!” And so, I did. That fiver put a dent in my (student) budget, and in my day. Because that’s 20 minutes of my life I’m not getting back. Yeah, 20, I didn’t even reach half an hour in there.
‘Once again, I do not put blame on the artist, but on the institution’
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