Kitchens Are the Museums of the Future

Have you ever considered your kitchen as the cultural world in microcosm? No? I would therefore heartily recommend several pints of Theakston's Old Peculier. At this point the Zen like state you have achieved on the kitchen floor will inevitably lead to enlightenment. So, prior to your trip to the off licence, let me enlighten you.

When Tracey Emin challenged us all with 'My Bed' in 1998 she singularly missed the point. The bed is an elemental, recidivistic locus of return and repose. It is not a cultural item. It is not art. It is not a museum exhibit. How do I know? I've never snored in a museum. Have you? I may have dribbled slightly in both, but that in and of itself is not a cultural act.

But what is a kitchen? It is the heart of our existence, but is it central to your life? Are you in and out quickly with a microwaved dinner and a teabag in a mug type of person? In which case you are not gaining the most from your own internal museum.  Or do you luxuriate in everything the space has to offer - a place where you are in control of your experience and where your decisions are at the heart of the activity. It is the ultimate participatory museum - the Holy Grail for the modern museum professionals.

You could argue that the living room is the museum of the past, where we are sponges to the single authorial voice of the TV. We think we have free will and choice, but that cannot explain the popularity of Emmerdale. Participation only takes the form of X Factor freak show frolics, a freephone vote is NOT true participation.

Therefore stop reading this blog on your tablet in front of the TV and go and sit in the kitchen to read the rest.

Explore your gallery (the fridge) the white cube that often offers challenging magnetised conceptual art and knowledge of Confucian depth that references the past in a postmodern way, "Keep Calm and Eat Chocolate' - well mine does anyway.

Then let your eyes wander over to the stores (cupboards - or for traditionalists a Welsh Dresser). Designed for easy access and exploration. You can change the displays at will, all stored items are an open drawer or cupboard door away. Offering items of varying antiquity (I still find my spurtle* useful for a whole range of activities), ubiquity and usefulness. Where else would you find, fine art, decorative art and working objects. Just like a proper museum store there are objects that you don't know what it is, others that you are sure you have but can't find and several items of the same thing for no explicable reason.

Then move onto the interactives (sink) to explore the physics and chemistry of the real world through work and play. And just like the best interactives they encourage team work - wash, dry or put away? And experimentation with ideas about science and life itself. You may wish to read my blog on mixer taps to understand the deeper philosophical and spiritual issues underlying hot and cold water. 

Look at the National Trust heritage (kitchen bin) and get a real sense and smell of biology in action. Just this time replacing the overwhelming sense of lavender with something infinitely earthier and medieval.

The latest Arts Council cultural strategic 'Goal 3' of environmental sustainability is to be found in the recycle bin and ideal for attracting schools by helping with their slimmed down complementary curriculum as part of the the recent National Curriculum changes.

Finally, being an underfunded cultural entity you will notice the absence of a dishwasher.

So there you have it. Your kitchen is a modern museum. Look it again with fresh eyes and realise we don't just have 2,500 museums in the UK, but 25,000,000  - our cultural heritage is booming!

So respect your kitchen more and begin to charge and entry fee.

*a flat, wooden, spatula-like utensil, used for flipping oatcakes on a hot girdle

Life is ...a car parking space

Take a look at this picture of a car parking space. It could be anywhere in the world (well, not really anywhere - connoisseurs will instantly recognise the soft yellow lines, and the cracked, sun baked concrete bitmac mixture as Texas U.S.A. - probably south near the Gulf of Mexico).  You wouldn't take a second glance at it, unless you were in a car and looking for a somewhere to park. And there is my point. I would argue that the most common form of pleasure and relief we experience in our car based society today is the discovery of a free car parking space. Next time you pull onto your drive, into your garage, or finding some on street parking near your house - think of that pleasure. It means home, it means a safe haven - most memories will feature that space however unconsciously.

Next time you go shopping, go to work, or to a museum (as I do on a daily basis) just reflect on that small skip of the heartbeat when that magical space between two vehicles comes into view. On this crowded island of Britain that could be translated into unconfined joy and tears of relief (I particularly recall one such moving experience when Christmas shopping a few years ago).

Let me take that thought a step further and use this particular car parking space to illustrate the depth of importance of the car parking space in our lives.

The car parking space enables society to function, it enables life to happen - it is by proxy the arbiter of your mood, the barometer against which you measure whether you have had a good day, the enabler of activity (or frustrater). It is the lungs of enterprise, the heart of capitalism, the place of that first kiss, the conception of the first child (or fourth child in Ron Howard's case) and in the case above a crucial step in dental hygiene.

This picture was sent to me with this quote attached,

"This car parking space sits outside of my dentist's office. Without a car parking space, I wouldn't have been able to park my car. If I didn't park my car, then I wouldn't have gone into my dentist's office for my appointment. If I didn't go to my appointment, then I wouldn't have gotten my teeth cleaned. So ultimately... this car parking space is like my second dentist."

There you have it in a nutshell. Car parking space as tooth brush. Car parking space as health clinician.

Salvador Dali never said far better than I.

"Progressive art [and car parking spaces] can assist people to learn not only about the objective forces at work in the society in which they live, but also about the intensely social character of their interior lives. Ultimately, it can propel people toward social emancipation." (I added the bit in brackets - Dali would have said it but I feel he lacked the imagination).

Artists are always arguing that life is art (Tracey Emin's 'My Bed' in 1999 anyone?) then car parking spaces are art, maybe brutal, angular vorticist art - but art nonetheless.

There it is - the car parking space rules our lives, they ARE our lives and therefore let's celebrate them as ART, as DENTISTS, as MUSEUM pieces worthy of our respect. Next time you conveniently park - shed a small tear of sorrow at the neglect at these wondrous rectangular boxes.