Wasn’t a red day. But these are red.

JG Ballard. Gagosian. London.

I took quite a few from-the-hip pics trying to get told off and thrown out before I saw several people just taking pics. No fun.

So, there’s no accidentalism here. Ah, but some of these are from-the-hip.

Anyway, this was an essential exhibition for me – I grew up in Ballard. The metalness. The mixing of people and machines (flesh and metal). Industrial when I was industrial too. When beauty was in urban and industrial decay.

It’s because of Ballard that chicken and mayo sandwiches make me heave. Why driving down a motorway makes we very conscious aas to what’s on the edge of the motorway. Why I have always wanted to live at the top of a concrete tower block. And drive fast. And walk around deserted industrial estates. Insulated and immersed. Edge.

Lomo