Giacometti Tate Modern, London, 10 May–10 September 2017.
I met a stranger on a train and a week later we are at the Alberto Giacometti exhibition at the Tate Modern. I fear being smothered by the stench of decay, depression, and despair. A confrontation with atrocity and human isolation. A Godless world of self-deception, anxiety and ego. A futile search for meaning when there is nothingness and suicide. Dear reader, I share with you the cluttered colours in my mind with honesty and sincerity, exposing my vulnerability and fragility, with rawness and trepidation.