It doesn’t fit in
with its modern and symmetrical surroundings. It’s fat, and lumpy. As you walk
round it you see new bumps oozing all over. Its holes give bite-sized glimpses
into the world just around the corner, but I feel like that special looking
glass could slop and reform, meaning you would constantly have to be on your
guard. Does it move when I’m not there?
It turns out that it’s called No. 8, was made by a man
called Steven Gontarski. I can’t find out very much about him or the sculpture
which stands in a cute mini hipster village of restaurants near Premier, called
Central Saint Giles. Even so, what I DO know is that he graduated of the
University of London. I feel like I’m part of Brighton now where I go to
university, but feel odd this connection has only been made out of 1 and half
years there so far, yet it’s so strong. Love that Steven (and London) have made
a connection to, and he wants to show he’s proud of being associated with it.
What will my mark be on Brighton?
From others comments, there seems to be a feeling that it’s an
object which is ‘recognisable but not identifiable’. It’s been linked to clouds,
oceans and smoke rings. I wonder what that says about me that I feel its fat,
something that sloops and oozes rather then something light and majestic. I
have a great image of it standing proudly in conjunction to the mid-day sun
which I think makes it look very defiant. It can be looked at in so many ways.
Sat with the great No. 8 for my lunch briefly (so cold!)
with some edamame beans I bought from Pod, another great health chain (a trend
I really want to see in Brighton!). What will #LondonLunchBreak bring next
week?
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