More on that story later.
To the Tate Liverpool on Saturday for the first time in ages. And hasn't it all changed - Dali's Lobster Telephone and Autumnal Cannibalism are back for the first time since the gallery opened as far as I can remember but the real draw is the colour exhibition on the top floor (where you always have to pay for the privilege of walking up the stairs). Lots of coloured squares including 4096 in a 64 x 64 grid all apparently different colours, and lots of dots from Damien Hirst. And each main picture seems to be accompanied by many austere display cabinets of various books purporting to define colour standards. What struck me was the fact that although each book is supposed to define colour exactly, the existence of rivals (even just one would be enough) brings the whole idea to the floor. No one is right! Life's a bit like that isn't it? I did look out for Pantone 294 and Pantone 298 which are the two colours I know from this (now defunct) logo. In fact I couldn't find any mention of Pantone in the exhibition itself though the shop was awash with mugs of single and multiple Pantones. There was an interesting computer programme which allowed the calibration of a computer screen without reference to base colours - it relied instead on people selecting numbers of coloured disks from collections and seems a much cheaper way of calibrating a screen than the various bits of hardware used at the moment.
The sculpture downstairs was also very good (and free) and included a flashing dance floor on which anyone was permitted to dance to a selected headphone soundtrack. Of course this just meant that all the children shouted to each other to the tutting of all the parents. There was also a Carl Andre piece which resembled (was identical to a stone kitchen floor) which was also for walking on. It is a great pity that there is now a blanket ban on photography of any kind where you used to be able to take any flashless picture you liked, though I'm not sure how rigid the attendants are about this- I didn't test them.
Of course, Mr Millais who painted the gorgeous Ophelia up there was as much of an iconoclast as Damien Hirst or any of the New Brits and of course the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood have been sexed up for Desperate Romantics on BBC2, a gratuitously-raunchy view of the PRB for modern tastes. I was a bit snooty about this programme and a minute in I was still not convinced. However, five minutes in and I was hooked - it looks good at least and as a drama it holds attention. Of course it is full of expositions, mostly from the fictional Fred who is the PRB's fixer - I got the impression of a lot of "my mate wants to go out with you" style dialogue, and various concatenations of events to bring together people with dialogue from newspaper reviews but it has a pace which is obviously designed to draw people in. I'm pretty certain that Dante Gabriel Rossetti is played far too "in your face" - although his portraits show him with Byronesque looks, Desperate Romantics has him too large for what I imagine he was like - maybe he was like a cross between a lumberjack and Rob Newman but I doubt it. However Lizzie Siddal is spot on - rarefied in looks and forthright in outlook, though maybe there is something of Christina Rossetti in there too. Nice to see the Armadillo in there as well.
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