Please touch


Eleanor Symms, 'Ereptation'

P.S. Another thing about that art exhibition on Friday evening: some of the exhibits had little signs such as these. It’s not the first time it’s been done, but  I appreciated it all the same – especially for an exhibition with such a tactile theme as Collage. Even so, despite the invitation, the touching and stepping on was only gingerly done, and I felt terribly British, old chap.

It makes me think of two other things:

Copernicus’ 16th century book, On the revolution of the heavenly orbs. The kind librarian at the Observatory on top of Blackford Hill invited me to touch it without using those fiddly little gloves… using my actual naked fingertips to turn beautiful pages that were printed in 1542. The librarian’s view was that people were more likely to accidentally damage pages when using gloves. Sad as I am, touching these old old old pages that were so utterly famous and world-changing gave me a big thrill.

Central Park. A verbose, un-British sign that I saw about 11 years ago (with Dave and Bex from our Oneagency days, all there for the John Caples Awards). We noticed a verbose sign that asked us to ‘Keep on’ on the grass for reading, sunbathing, running, chatting. It was so unusual that at first I misread it and assumed it said to keep off the grass for all those things. It was January, I think, so we didn’t oblige.

I just tried to find the old photo, but failed miserably. You get the picture.

Larisa Guzova, 'Imaginative Felt'

By Liz Holt