Noise
from Velvet Underground loops in Warhol-Weiwei next door (‘Blue: Alchemy of a
Colour’, NGV January 2016) grew so intrusive I left. I guess that’s why they
call it the blues. What is it about blue-patterned porcelain and blue-dyed
archipelago cloth instils tranquillity, best enjoyed in silence? Why does the
Gallery seem not to know? Outside I wait in tree-lined sunlight for No. 1. The
woman beside me texts. She wears light-blue sandals, toenails painted blue.
Sapphire, I’d say. We share a silent minute under china-blue sky of St. Kilda
Road, before she steps neatly onto ‘Glen Iris’ (No. 6).
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