Wednesday, August 6th

Once again I got to enjoy the perks of the press with my internship. The company was provided with free tickets to the Psycho Buildings exhibition at the Hayward Gallery—anyone who wanted to go was free to leave work at 3 p.m. and make their way to the gallery on the South Bank. With such an incentive I didn’t have to be asked twice.

I might have felt shy about attending an artistic architecture exhibition with just my coworkers a month ago, when I felt I didn’t really know anyone very well. But over the past two months I’ve worked with so many editors and designers that I think I’ve gotten to know nearly half the office. This is all due to the fact that I was never assigned to any one magazine and never had a permanent desk, unlike Brielle. So not only have I worked with the editors of ten different magazines (ten, now!) I also had to repeatedly move throughout the building—even to different floors—in order to find an open desk. Although this could be painfully awkward at times (“Heyyyy . . . is anyone sitting here? Yes? Okay, I’ll just try over here . . .” *slinks away*) it also forced me to talk with others in the office and introduce myself, which might have been difficult otherwise. I hated not having a set spot, but it really was the best thing that I could have gone through. And now that I’ve taken over Brielle’s old desk I get the best of both worlds: my own desk where people know where to find me, because they know me.

So there was any number of people I could have cheerfully gone with to the exhibition, and that’s a great feeling. I’m so happy that I went, too. Of course a free exhibition is always tempting, but I am not the biggest fan of modern art, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. The result: I was utterly blown away. The installations were incredible, in their size, in their complexity, in their imagination. I can’t even begin to figure out how the artists constructed some of the pieces.

As this was supposed to be artists’ fantastical takes on architecture, nearly all the installations were large enough for people to walk around in. The odd fabric and paper materials used in some simply invited curious fingers, but the gallery attendants were barking “No touching!” (Of course I instantly thought of Arrested Development.) My favourite pieces—whoa, I just wrote favourite without thinking! I wouldn’t have noticed except spellcheck flagged it! Oh lord, my spelling is going to be so messed up when I come back to the States. Anyway: my favorite pieces without a doubt both involved dollhouses, not surprisingly. I’ve always had a fascination with dollhouses and miniatures, and the artists did not disappoint. Do Ho Suh constructed a massive replica of his first apartment building in the United States—I believe the scale was 1:5, which means this was a big, big dollhouse, easily taller than I am, and it held no fewer than four completely separate, individually decorated student apartments. Into this he’d smashed a replica of his childhood home in Korea, Wizard-of-Oz style. The miniature details he packed into both these houses were beyond belief. My coworkers and I lingered in front of it for nearly half an hour, continually asking each other “Whoa, do you see that teeny dictionary? Look at all the little dishes. And the washing machine! Check out the mini Domino’s box!”

Even better was Rachel Whiteread’s Place installation. Apparently she is a major collector of small dollhouses assembled by others over the years. She placed these empty dollhouses – dozens upon dozens of them – in tiers throughout a darkened room, with all their hundreds of windows aglow. Walking through them the effect was magical. It was like stumbling upon a fairy village that was both enchanting and hauntingly empty at the same time.