"Everything in this room is edible…" : Yayoi Kusama at Victoria Miro
I’ve got a golden ticket! I’ve managed to get a timed slot to see Yayoi Kusama’s paintings and sculptures at Victoria Miro’s gallery that rests on the borders of Islington and Hoxton. And, as I later discover, there are no more slots available before the exhibition closes in late December. This, and the fact that the Japanese artist is fast approaching her ninetieth birthday, makes the visit that much more special.
It’s a beautiful sunny day and I leave my SW postcode and venture east then north via bus and underground. It’s not quite the same as Charlie Bucket running straight home and not stopping till he gets there. But, having walked up City Road, the ex Victorian furniture factory now turned gallery is a wonderful hidden tranquil oasis. I’m ushered upstairs to see Infinity Mirrored Room - My Heart is Dancing into the Universe first. It doesn’t disappoint, far from it. As I step into Kusama’s dark mirrored room, the lanterns she has covered with polka dots and suspended from the ceiling create a magical, endless and colourful environment. The short path I follow through the room melts away and I am mesmerised by the changes in colour and the reflected round spotted lanterns that create eternal and ever-changing patterns for me to experience. I am lost in another world, Kusama’ cosmic infinity (a theme for her since 1965). My experience is all too short and I feel rather deflated as I am encouraged to move on.
Downstairs there are more works on display. One yellow, one red and one green pumpkin await me. Pumpkins are another motif that Kusama has used, in this instance since the 1940s. They are comforting to her, humble and amusing. Covered in black dots, each pumpkin is vibrant, glossy and, yes, amusing. I am surprised that they are hand-painted bronzes as, to me, they scream modern pop culture. Much like Roald Dahl’s fictional Everlasting Gobstopper, their shiny surfaces look invitingly edible. The paintings surrounding the pumpkins are equally vibrant and delicious-looking, everything in this room really does seem edible.
Outside, Kusama’s flowers make a great counterpart to the Monet-like landscaped garden and water. My reaction of awe, wonder and sheer joy is reminiscent of Charlie and his Grandpa Joe as they enter Wonka’s factory. These bold and brightly coloured works demand to be walked around and viewed from every possible angle. Their highly reflective surfaces are like glass, not the traditional patina of bronze sculptures. They want to be touched, eaten and consumed.
As I return home, I am more aware of colour and surface patterns around me. The greyness of City Road is broken up and I am amused to see number 238 represented with two red dots, three blue dots and eight purple dots. My adventure into Kusama’s world continues and I look forward to seeing her film Kusama Infinity and then perhaps, after, the original 1971 Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.