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The Museum of Installation

Eventually I found the Museum of Installation
And with expectations high I walked down the stairwell
I was cold and my head had assumed a lightness following 3 light and bitters consumed at lunch. I was greeted by a row of abstract prints, all similar in design namely pink, yellow and green stripes on a variation, the sort of thing you'd see in Alec Stewart's lounge. At this point I spied Michael, the artist

"Hello there", he exclaimed, "nice to see you again"

Let me explain, I had met Michael through a mutual friend a few-years earlier-
"the piece is in three parts", he explained , parts two and three and are through the door"
"And part one?" I asked
"Why you're looking at it",
"Of course, I am", I laughed,
"I was just fooling around", I said beating a hasty retreat, "I'll see you in a minute"

The second room was brightly lit and was composed entirely of mirrors, everywhere I looked there was me: badly dressed, balding, the bright lights had the bizarre effect of making me appear unattractive - I moved quickly on

The third room was almost pitch, at the far end was a pocket sized TV on the which from which I could hear a commentary, as my eyes grew accustomed to the light I noticed two shadows in the far corners. I walked to the far end of the room - the piece was drawing me inward. The shadows were big industrial fans, the TV displayed a moving collage of pink, yellow and green stripes.

I lingered alone in the dark-space looking fruitlessly around trying think about what to say to Michael who waiting for me at the front-desk. Finally, I re-emerged blinking into the light, Michael was waiting thumbing through the visitors book and reading their comments.

"Michael, It's good, I love it", - not for the first time in my life my vocabulary was letting me down, Michael got up and led be back into the dark-room
"It's a pity you didn't come when the fans were on, the effect is one of walking through this door is of being in a wind tunnel. One girl was so shaken she literally was unable to walk to the far end"

"Why are the fans not on then"? I asked
"Complaints from the office upstairs, its so petty we're only open Wednesdays to Fridays 3 ill 6 yet they still complained to the landlord"
"What sort of company are they", I asked
"Architects",
"Right", remembering a meeting with an architect once, that would explain it
"The piece still works though", Michael; insisted
Yes, it does, I said, when are you exhibiting next?

* unreleased.

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