When the man comes around............

A weekend of parts. Finally to Paris for the Bartabus spectacle, storm damaged railtracks notwithstanding. The prospect is tantalising as this show is themed to a Tom Waites soundtrack, and with Bartabus's penchant for the dark side it should be memorable.The spectacle this year is a cause celebre as Tom Waites is suing Bartabus for half a million euros. He claims no proper permissions were sought and his artist's rights are being subverted, going to be no winners there then!

Well the winners were those who got to Aubervilliers. Angels descend from the heavens to bareback mounts and cossack leap through a snowstorm, rattling  skeletons gallop helter skelter, a careering Percheron carries half a dozen hoop jumping anges, high wire acrobats teeter precariously above a somnambulist herd of greys.  Between these breathtaking passages Bartabus performs poetic vignettes, on a succession of superb horses he demonstrates the most complex and skilful dressage riding. This is all accompanied by full tilt Tom Waites and a carnivali band that could give you nightmares. Dustbowl soul, the man in black Johnny Cash is in their somewhere, probably waltzing with Rebecca Horn. Oh, I nearly forgot the turkeys, brilliant.

Part one passed off spectacularly well so on to the Pompidou for part two. Part two unfortunately had the potential to turn the weekend into the proverbial curate's egg. Part two was Cy Twombly, but he didn't open for another three days, calender cock up, brilliant. There was a minimum wait of seventy five minutes for the Magritte and I wouldn't wait that long for a bus let alone a Belgian tram, so the standing collection then, no problems, there are some old friends to visit and the collection is constantly changing. So first to find the Roualt, brilliant. Then on to find Jarry and Ubu Roi, the day still had possibilities. Leaving Ubu Roi I was drawn by an electronic humming into a side gallery and discovered the Keith Tyson display.

 I was aware of Tyson, the Artmachine, the Turner Prize, the Large Field Array and he was unlikely to be an artist that would speak to me, to be honest I had him down as another over ambitious, celebrity, turbine hall tosspot. I probably still do but I had a thoroughly entertaining hour with his drawings. I suspect I have been slightly drawing starved, it was such a joy to see so much expended effort. 

The drawings are raw, uneven in quality and studied in their unselfconsciousness, the quasi science is interesting tosh, and a hook to hang on, I'm old enough to have lived through the heady days of ley lines, anyway I really enjoyed them. The drawing here is not typical, Tyson claims he produces the drawings as one would use a sketchbook, interesting claim, and the ideas and techniques just proliferate.