Olafur Eliasson : In Real Life

Tate Modern

It could be our thing, I consider saying to Erbie.

Erbie could say: ‘My mother and I go to an exhibition once a month and then have an apple juice afterwards’. 

When he grows up, he could say : ‘I am going to meet my mother at the Royal Academy or the Tate or the National’. 

I could tell him: ‘Did you know the National is where Stubb’s picture of Whistlejacket is – the horse painting, where you said your first word?’

I have these thoughts but the reality never quite pans out - in real life.

Love lock, Millennium Bridge 

In real life, the only way I got Erbie to the exhibition at the Tate today was by offering to pay him an hourly rate - the first and last time I will do this. The only slot I could book was the 10am one, as the show is coming to an end this week and it’s fully booked. I only wanted to take Erbie as I’d heard it was quite fun for kids. There is a fog tunnel and several light installations, plus I’d booked a ticket for myself already. Erbie, as a child was free. Only it meant we needed to leave at 9am. 9am to an 11 year old boy, on Christmas holiday is too early, hence the bribe.

St Pauls, London

We sped walked across the millennium bridge, me dragging Erbie, because, of course we were already late for our 10am slot. I couldn’t find where to enter the actual exhibition. We started on the correct level but on the wrong side of the bridge. Words were said. ‘Help me’ being some of them, and I got to explain the meaning of the phrase ‘blood from a stone’.

Olafur Eliasson, Tate Modern

We went through the foggy tunnel, it changes colour whilst you are inside, from bright white, to yellow to pink, you really can't see anything and it is dream like, the colours surrounding you evoke different emotions. 

There was also a really cool blacked-out room that only revealed it's contents when an ultra-violet light flashed on then off, freezing splashes of water in a fountain, so that it looked like a solid sculptured object that changed shape with each reveal.

One room had a mirrored ceiling and a semi circular tube in black that became round in the reflection. Erbie suggested we lay on the floor. ‘I won’t be able to get back up again’, I only half joked.

Olafur Eliasson, Tate Modern

Interactive Olafur Eliasson, Tate Modern

We look at books in the gift shop and buy TheGR a pencil. 

I can feel myself getting annoyed, Erbie is trying to eek out time, yet I had to drag him out in the first place. We get the tube back. I see a poster for a dating app. with interests hashtags. The models look like children to me. At least it is hopefully a move in the right direction from Tinder. 

New dating app

On the way home I say to Erbie: ‘I was going to say, going to exhibitions together once a month could be our thing, when you’re older and have left home we could meet up...’ 

but I cannot finish. His HSP won’t allow him to go there. 

‘Stop, stop, I don’t like it. I don’t want to talk about the future. ’ he blurts out

I tentatively ask why he doesn't like to talk about the future. ‘Because it makes me think.’ he says and burrows himself deep within his coat pulling his hood so that his face is hidden. 

When we get home I let it be known that the next time I visit the Tate it will be alone.

I take myself off to another room to write this and feel my equilibrium return. After about 40 minutes Erbie asks me to give him a hug. I go and give him a hug and he apologises, I apologise too, for many things, although neither of us are really sure exactly what for, in real life.