The other day I went to the William Blake exhibition at the Tate Britain and it was brilliant. Naturally it was a bit of a problem that I went in the late afternoon on a Saturday, because I had the problem I often have with exhibitions, where it feels like I am trapped in a more cultural version of IKEA due to the crowds and the conveyor-belt nature of the layout.
However, the busyness did not ruin the exhibition as much as I had feared, perhaps because I was so struck by Blake’s work. The first couple of rooms were hot and stuffy, and it was all too obvious that I was breathing in other people’s breath, which was obnoxious. About twenty minutes in I nearly left, but I was glad I didn’t. Read more