museum of everything

In a very tired and dehydrated state (read hungover) I eventually left the house today to meet up with Stu and Kim at the Museum of Everything in fancy Primrose Hill. Not knowing exactly what it was about we were drawn in by the close proximity to our respective abodes and the arty looking website.

The venue only opened a month ago with the first exhibition featuring only artists called 'Outsiders', or artists who make their art at home due to passion, necessity or obsession with no intention of selling/showing their art to anyone. The rickety 'museum' is accessible through an old door at the end of a crooked little damp laneway, and the visitor is greeted by a volunteer in an old carnival ride ticket booth who directs you up the crooked little stairs.

Each small and cramped room of the museum featured the work of a different artist or groups of artists and had blurbs written by famous art critics, artists, family members, musicians or associates. Floorboards creaked, people squished by each other and and I spent the whole time trying not to think about the delicious half eaten brownie in my handbag while also vying for decent viewing positions where I could actually see something.

Finally I found a bench in front of a dark window in a quiet room with walls lined with crazy political and religious protest placards and got some space. After 10 minutes the window lit up with the most beautiful minature versions of retro carnival rides and I oohed and ahhed.

I managed to quell my museum store obsession and resisted buying a nifty canvas tote bag then headed home to procrastinate some more by writing this, watching X Factor and eating dry bran flakes because apparently every supermarket within walking distance closes at 5pm on a Sunday.