We don't know art...

Rick and I are bad art reviewers.

“The ethereal and unexpected juxtaposition of taupe and mauve invokes a profundity reminiscent of a cat silently but contemptuously contemplating a cardboard box—simultaneously ephemeral and everlasting.”

“One could argue that this artist's use of glitter on burlap is a daring critical exploration critique of modern society's penchant for gilded superficiality, but truly, it's a symphony of textural defiance that sings to the very soul of post-modern ennui.”

So trust me when I tell you that when we made plans to visit the Saatchi Yates Gallery in London to catch the Bathers exhibit, it wasn’t because of any insightful or intellectual reviews that spoke of art in tongues we could barely parse. Nah—we just wanted to see the David Hockney paintings we’d heard were included. He's a personal favorite, after all.

To our genuine surprise, walking into the gallery was not the grand, snooty experience we’d braced ourselves for. To be fair, we almost didn’t walk into the gallery at all. It was a rainy Tuesday, we couldn’t see anyone else inside, and when I pushed the door it stayed firmly shut.

But then I saw a small movement just to the left of the door inside at about the same time I noticed the “Pull” sign. I’m a dork.*

Inside was one giant white space with maybe 20 pieces. I was initially put off, but it turned out to be really cool. Weirdly, with all the pieces hung at eye level, the whole thing felt more intimate. You could get really close to each one. Which was important for some of them, like a crazy small Picasso.

I also loved the fact that the pieces were hung, well I guess I have no idea what the concept was behind how they were hung—it sure as heck wasn’t chronological. So two pieces that were shown side-by-side were separated by centuries. I’m sure I could go on about the “unexpected conversations between various artists’ works that made the visit special” or how “the dynamism of an explosive Picasso was steadied by a nearby Van Alsloot from centuries before.” But I think I’ll just say, “Cool!”

And yes we got to see the Hockneys—along with a Rodin and a Damien Hirst, among other pretty great pieces. It was a nice little afternoon, we saw some stuff, and I figured out how doors work.

Here are my favorites.