Tate curator Jessica Morgan and artist Gabriel Orozco at Tate Modern
Tate curator Jessica Morgan and artist Gabriel Orozco in the artist's exhibition at Tate Modern

No matter how long you work on an exhibition there is always an element of surprise. On this occasion I was not expecting to experience the co-existence of Orozco’s humour with a reflection on mortality.

Gabriel Orozco Lintels
Poignant remnants - from the washing machine. An installation view of Gabriel Orozco's Lintels.

Both aspects of his work have equal presence in the exhibition: a room with the billiard table and many of his photographs suggests a mood of frivolity and pleasure in the small moments of life, while the installation of Lintels, literally sheets of lint removed from clothes drying machines in New York and hung like washing along lines across the gallery, is a poignant and evocative reminder of the dust and detritus that is life.

Gabriel Orozco Black Kites
Looking death in the eye. Installation of Gabriel Orozco's skull Black Kites with Obituaries in the background.

The room containing Black Kites perhaps summarises this best: the skull on which Orozco laboriously worked in graphite (literally looking death in the eye) is paired with his recent series ‘Obituaries’ for which he gathered headlines from the New York Times obituaries. Taken out of context, the one-liners that summarise a person’s life often make for hilarious reading, such as: ‘Burlesque Star Famous for her Bubblebaths’ or ‘Philosopher, Author, Friend of Popes’, and ‘Sensational Human Cannonball’. Let me know what you think of the show.


Tom Evans

This was the first Orozco exhibition I had been to - and I loved it. 'My hands are my heart' seized my imagination at the beginning and the show never let go. Huge inventiveness, variety and imagination - beautifully realised. If there was one piece here or there that was less interesting - no matter - there was another hit round the corner. This was one of the most enjoyable and invigorating shows I've seen at either Tate since - oh - I don't know - Cézanne in 1996?

Ken Baldry

Intriguing. I had seen the snooker table before but not the other stuff. I felt I was being presented with puzzles I did not know the rules for solving (a bit like "Mornington Crescent"). And at least, he is skilled at a time when 'skill' seems to be a dirty word among visual artists, something composers cannot get away with.

Geoffrey Rivett

I am in the minority. I do not believe that in 100 years time anything I saw today will be regarded as significant. Perhaps that is not the point, but a row of Boris Bikes seems as valid - perhaps more so. If the touchstone of conceptual art is whether it sells, he is clearly a good artist. If he can interest people, that is great. But for me the Miro is by far the deeper and more rewarding experience.

Paola Toledo Tonelli

I loved the Poignant Remnants, Dial Tone and the photographs room: just some examples of why we need conceptual art around us.

Mirna Pedalo

I have to say that I really enjoyed the exhibition. Loved Orozco's approach to everyday objects and small, often overlooked things, and thought his work was clever, unpretentious and rather humorous. Also, I thought the exhibition was well curated and just the right size to keep one interested and informed, yet not overwhelmed and lost in artist's work. All in all, I look forward to seeing more work from Orozco.


I enjoyed the whole exhibition, but Orozco's photo of the two puddles with the circular bicycle tyre marks seemed to sum it all up as an exploration of permanence and impermanence, concept and material construction, natural and human made, freedom and imposition, space and time. A genius!


I meant 21st century !!

Bernard Glazier

Didn't grab me. And yes, I won't intellectualise about any artform; if it doesn't excite and knock my eyes out, then it doesn't. Some parts were interesting and inventive - the billiard table comes to mind. But, largely uninspiring. Nevertheless, it was well curated and worth a couple of hours of my time. Looking forward to the Miro...


I loved this show.Its diversity and the fact that it was not huge kept me interested and engaging with it. Particularly liked Yielding Stone. Wonder what a plasticine ball weighing the same as me would pick up around the streets of East London...?

John Harold

I enjoyed the Orozco exhibition - some bits more than others. His aim to get the spectator to re-evaluate everyday objects really worked. Loved the skull and the chessboard pieces particularly. I will be coming again to see the Orozco and the Miro exhibitions. I think the Tate has never had a dull exhibition yet. It's certainly my favourite place to visit in London. Somewhere to come and feed my soul and replenish my creative juices!

Sally Ashworth

Love this exhibition and will come back to see it again. Gabriel Orozco's way of living his life and being an artist are not separate - he uses what he sees and pushes the boundaries.

Love the folded paper images for their intensity and beauty. I was really happy to be in his exhibition but I was upset by seeing the human skull. There is a question about the sanctity of human remains and does that make all the other work just decorative? Or is that why Orozco has decorated the skull?

Christopher Burrows

Excellent,great use of found items,a bit like my photogaphy,I know how hard it is to collect objects for this purpose.

Michael Anglim

The exhibition effused a chilled out, playful non-ostentatious life perspective. Orozco definitely falls into the statistical minority of 'artists I would like to have a pint with'. Curious that he can convey such a warm and contented sense of life with virtually no images of the human face (except a dead one).

Violet Smithers

As I had not heard of Orozco before, I found the exhibition fancinating. The lint that hung from the clothes lines, the burst tyres, the citroen, the bicycles entangled together have really left an impression on me and my husband. The photographs were one too many of the same. I somehow did not understand the shoe box??!!

Gill Hamper

Very mixed feelings about this exhibition. The skull was more impressive in photos than in the glass case, but the car was better at first hand. I found the repeated images of scooters tedious, but the broken tyres really impressed me and made a big impact. The hanging pieces of lint and their shadows were imaginative too. Generally i think the whole exhibition would have been much stronger without the photos.

Peter Holdway

It made me laugh. In a good way. Putting tins of cat food in amongst water melons - lovely! I don't know why, it just is. The DS is really fun as well - I wanted to video it on my phone just walking round it, but I couldn't (rules is rules...). The lint on the lines was kind of interesting: walking around it all rather than standing back and staring gave me a different sense of it. It reminded me of pelts hanging up to dry or rags on telegraph lines or even - get this - lints from tumble dryers! Art IS playful: it plays with our senses, helps us see in different ways. It doesn't have to be masterpiece after masterpiece, it could just be a quirky response. What made me smile was seeing people staring at an empty shoe box on the floor. Financial value on art makes me sick because it implies that the only worthy art is expensive art. If I am moved by a piece, I couldn't care less if it's millions of quid or tuppence. I do get frustrated with people who get sniffy about modern art; it's like "If I can't tell what it is, it's nonsense". There's a lot of "classical" art out there and I wonder why on earth it is given wall space. I enjoyed the Orozco for what it is and the obituaries made me think about how my life might be summed up as a subheadline - something like, Five Kids, Did His Best, Nice Try, No Cigar. Thank you.

Dan Shao

I enjoyed the exhibition, but overall left with a sense of dissatisfaction as I feel many of the works had no tangentiality whatsoever, and walking from room to room was an abrupt and jolty experience. I was most drawn to 'Black Kites', the cover work; it spoke to me really clearly, and was of utmost relevance to my GCSE project that I'd come to research. Yay!


Thought the exhibit was very interesting, I liked that he used so many different media.

My favourite was the obituaries, it was brilliant!! It has a real sense of celebrating life not morbid at all. Gabriel was so varied in his choice of headlines that it captures a real sense of the variety of humanity and individual contributions. My personal favourite read 'spy and tennis star'!!

I also loved the series of photos of the yellow motorbikes, for how much fun it would have been to create the series.

Great exhibit, better than I thought, quite thought provoking. Thanks!

David R Matthews

Three things I liked: the samurai diagrams, the knights on the chessboard, and the paintings in the ventilator room which were only alluded to in the next room and were obscured by the shadow of the ventilator. I was amused by the bicycles and intrigued by the Citroen DS (I am old enough to have enjoyed riding in one of them). But overall Orozco seems to me ephemeral, whose passing fascination for strips of tyres or yellow mopeds does not reach the category of art.

Stephanie Schwarze

The exhibition is interesting and provokes thought, most notably for me Lintels and Obituaries, but the work seems, on the whole, dry and did not move me. Having said that, I am always fascinated by for the opportunity to see the world from another's viewpoint.

Andrew Maugham

I found it difficult to get a handle on this show. Despite spending approx 75 mins in the nine rooms, I had a nagging feeling I was missing the artist's point. Nevertheless I responded very positively to two items - the photo series of the yellow scooter looking for a mate and the floor sculpture of pieces of burned out tyres. I can't explain why but that's what I remember most strongly from my visit. (Having said that, I picked up a pc of the sleeping dog because I like animals!)

Chris Weallans

The Gabriel Orozco exhibition is diverse.

With previous exhibitions I have encountered either some invisible watermark of the artist's voice collecting the pieces together or a wiry ribbon of chronology leading me like Theseus through the labyrinth of connected rooms. Here there is no such false luxury and I am forced to observe each item in its own light.

My personal favourite was the Atomist series which looked, or felt, rather like the geometric abstractions of the early 20th century. These were not a throwback or derivative but seemed fresh and separate. It was as if the early abstractionists had something they forgot to say so Orozco said it for them.

Overall, however, I could not get any sense of Orozco's identity as if there was no easy way to tell that all these things had been created by the same person. If I were to be confronted with a new Orozco piece I would have no evidence to determine if this was true.

Much of Orozco's work is small and intimate and seemed to be swallowed up within the oceanic rooms of the gallery leaving a feeling that this was left over flotsam from a greater and complete world that had been destroyed by a major catastrophe. It was hard to tell from these meagre remnants how glorious the once was world might have been.

This left a sense of sparse and empty beauty that I could not glean of any of the remains but was rather suggested by my own desire for form and completeness.

There is a small desire to return, not as if to Manderley but rather, to an incomplete crossword that I let fall beside my deckchair on some vast and summer beach.

Alan Paul

I thought that the show was very disappointing and I that many of Orozco's 'Works' were childish, not only the shoe box but also yellow motorbikes, the lift and the Citroen, though I have to admit that the latter was amusing and quite surreal. In many ways he is a bit of a joker and there was certainly an element of surprise, as in the oval billard table. I liked the few brightly coloured pictures with circles and the obituaries were interesting, but the minute telephone numbers seen through a lattice of paper seemed a lot of work for very little purpose. As for the pieces of worn out tyre, we can all go around picking up various bits of rubbish and displaying them - what's the point other than to say what we all already know, that things wear out and decay and the remnants lie around the place.


The work was incohesive and rambling with a sense of futility, but that's the point right.

Inside those hallowed walls we seek the unexpected but I struggled to find it in this work? Yellow bicycles, blown out tyres, an empty box, a list of random obituaries. The exhibition space validates Orozco's perspective and thereby demands a response. But was it enough?

But maybe the response of finding the unexpected comes when you exit the building and 're-enter' your everyday in the constructed environment we are so familiar with - it certainly achieved that for me.

Michael Ackerman

I shouldn't have minded so much, had there been any chocolate cake in the members' room. But there wasn't!

Stephen Lanigan...

Orozco is an artist who simultaneously loves his field and manages to poke fun at it. From the obituaries, to the asymmetrically cut ink blots, to the lint on the line, his work is engaging at all times. For me, his most dramatic work at the exhibition was the torn tyres on the floor. Hopefully Tate Modern can acquire some Orozco as permanent fixtures in the gallery.


I saw the show at MoMA. Your work is highly radioactive...adioactive...dioactive... ioactive...oactive...active...ctive...tive...ive...ve...e... I like your work and I will like to have a conversation with you. I do not know how to reach you so I thought this may work. My email is gmstudio@live.com and I live in New York. Thanks giuseppe

Bill & Chri...

One of the most stimulating exhibitions we have seen for a long time. Not crowded when we visited, a big plus. Diverse, imaginative and full of ideas.

julian harcourt

Popped in yesterday lunchtime so a brief visit. Not too busy so easy to get round and enjoy a highly enjoyable lunchtime.

Challenging and imaginative - I'll be back and this time will listen in via the iphone option

Lawrence Owens

We all have our dreads. The threat of social embarrassment lurks unbidden: ladies have a particular aversion to tucking their skirts into the back of their knickers when leaving the bathroom, while how often have you dreaded speaking to the earthly incarnation of your ideal wo/man while boasting spinach between your teeth? This occurs across classes races and nations alike. Socially - and we are talking about art after all - the thought of betraying hard-attained middle class principles by using the wrong utensil makes us blench...how loudly would you laugh at someone inadvertently using snail tongs to extract troublesome nasal hairs at a black tie do?

Perhaps the most worrying of all these issues, however, is art, its appreciation, and what a total idiot the wrong opinion can make us look. It is a culture of snobbishness to an extent; it is a rare man indeed who can stoutly hold Daily Mail views about the latest oleaginous outpourings from Tracy Emin while standing in a room of art 'appreciators'. And of all of the environments most likely to intimidate one into appreciation of whatever rubbish happens to be there, the Tate Modern rules above all. This, after all, is home to one of the world's greatest collections of Modern Art, things we *know* changed the world and the way we perceive it. The halls echo to greatness: Picasso, Modigliani, Braque, Cezanne, Rodin...the list runs ever on.

It is the ultimate temple to the greatness of human endeavour, validated by social approbation and vast financial value. And, as a fairly well-educated nation, we have appropriate reverence for such things. And herein lies the problem. Every good detective (and criminal, come to that) knows that the best time to murder someone is during a spate of murders by a high profile perpetrator; thus one's personal excrescence becomes disguised, differential characteristics swamped by public furore and desperation to capture the more visible perpetrator. Thus the petty murderer may creep in under the radar...I think you can see where I am going with this.

The Tate necessarily validates what it displays. It also necessarily pushes the boundaries of what we know and understand about art and perception...for else, why is it there? It also thus preys on our fear of ridicule; if I displayed a shoe box as an art A-Level piece, then I would be failed. It is as simple as that. In the Tate, however, it will achieve a measure of greatness before it even begins. Critics cry about the Emperor's New Clothes concept: nobody is prepared to be the first to mock, lest they be judged an intellectual dwarf and artistic moron. And yet...and yet...every so often the eagerness we all feel to push the nebulous envelope of artistic human progress hits the skids. A good example of this is the possibly fictional display of a starving and eventually deceased dog in an art gallery by artist Guillermo Vargas. Investigations have been unable to confirm whether this installation - a dog tied to a wall in a gallery, eventually dying from thirst and hunger - really happened. What the enormous backlash does indicate, however, is that there are some things for which the Emperor's New Clothes are simply not argument enough. So, we have our limits. But how anodyne does art have to get before it stops outraging core feelings and instead induces an uneasy sense of aesthetic uncertainty and social dread?

We are in danger of filling the postmodern artist cliché swearbox in describing. Orozco; here are a few of the choicer terms: playful, provocative, game-playing, intellectually rigorous, compelling, affecting, frustrating, diverse, surprising and humorous. Well, yes. Or possibly no. So let us go and look up the skirts of the emperor's new clothes.

The breathless lauding by his fans declare him to be skilled in the manipulation of found objects and inconsequentialities, challenging the way we perceive what is relevant and what is not. So he deliberately makes useful things useless, thus challenging our view of what they are, reformatting the language of perception and utility in a changing world. He challenges also the sense that the viewer is an adjunct to the work, thus some pieces enable the onlooker to become involved, to play games that have been reformatted with ironic twists and turns in the same manner as the deliberately useless objects mentioned above. Other games can't be played, like an impossible game of chess with only rooks on the board. Then there is a facet of what might be termed dissociative narrative: telling people's stories without actually involving them in any way. Archaeological traces of existence, like the sheets of lint taken from New Yorker's washing machines that attest to their existence and activities, yet which leave them utterly anonymous. Likewise, a list of people's phone numbers, separated from the names of the owners, and presented as a roll, mounted on Chinese paper. A list of obituaries, ditto. Strips of blown-out tyres decorated with pools of molten aluminium. A ball of plasticine rolled through streets, leaving negative impressions of what it has passed over and through. Another piece squeezed between his fingers to form the shape of a heart, photographed against his torso. And, most fleetingly, his own breath as beaded condensation on a piano. Out of sight, out of mind, out of context. He also does a rather laboured sense of trompe d'oeil, whereby the deconstructed objects look normal from one perspective but suddenly tear off their whiskers and reveal themselves to be...well...useless. Some of the useless objects are in fact only temporarily useless, and can be restored to their glorious utility upon demand. Finally, there are objects that challenge our notions of what art is, which at first glance appears to be not art in any way; these are either there in the flesh, or photographed in situ: a deflated football with a puddle of water in it, the navel of a baby, his Schwalbe scooter parked alongside others of the same type...and, finally, an empty shoe box.

The notion of art as idea and concept more than execution belongs to Marcel Duchamp first among any; think urinals, Rrose Selavy merchandise, mass-production of miniatures of his art, the snow shovel...all this was a non-destructive (therefore non-Dada) reaction to conventions. Very good. Fine. But it was inherited and reinherited - by Andy Warhol, for instance. How about useless objects? Well, look no further than Man Ray and others of that period: the iron with the nails on it, the blue baguette. How about transience? Deliberate impermanence has been a staple of art in both the gallery (bowls of increasingly putrescent fruit) and the outdoors (Richard Long et al's field art), so no great surprises there. How about the role of the audience as part of the artwork? Well, audiences have walked over, played with and even eaten artworks from the 1950s onwards - look at the pile of sweets that Feliz Gonzales Torres placed in a gallery for visitors to help themselves, and he is not alone in this. What else? Well, the 1960s - when Orozco was born - saw a plethora of minimalist and deliberately mundane works of suburban life and times that both ironically underscored the drudgery of our existence and also made us see ourselves from different perspectives, as consumers and drones. So, too, was there work which negatively respaced our perceptions of reality - Heidi Bucher filled houses with latex in the 1960s and hung the results from helicopters, while Rachel Whiteread filled a house with concrete and then knocked down the house so as to better appreciate the negative space made positive. Clearly, then, everything he has done has its antecedents. What is brought new to the table? I can offer you a thousand conceptual notions that are terribly, delicately clever - concepts that are significant, personal, tragic...but that doesn't make me an artist any more than it does Orozco.

The two main pieces that made it to the public attention are LA DS (1993) and Black Kites (1997). The former is a seemingly normal - when viewed in profile - Citroen car, but when viewed from the front the middle section of the car has been removed, and the two outer thirds welded together to provide an unfeasibly narrow, slightly space-age looking vehicle. The philosophical point behind it, obviously, is to challenge our utility concepts, as it doesn't work as a car, yet deceives us. Black Kites is a human skull decorated with pencilled harlequin geometrics, and it is not especially surprising to discover that it was made as a response to a brush with mortality.

The fact that these two items decorate the advertising for the exhibition and are described as signature works. For me, they are YBA-style freaks, and are, frankly, rather average. The fact that the entire exhibition fluctuates so wildly in terms of quality and conception makes me wonder if this is really a mature artist, deserving of the hallowed ground of the Tate. The two latter-mentioned are both very pretty things, and I have a feeling that they were shoved in to give sex appeal to a rather humdrum assemblage of half-hearted oeuvres. In many respects the aforementioned empty shoe box is the most significant object in the exhibition: a terribly clever conceptual notion - and fine to play with the public's notions of what art is - but, at the end of the day, an empty gesture. Sound and fury, signifying nothing.

carole RAMBAUD

pop in yesterday loved it!


Went yesterday to see it as part of my birthday celebration, and what a celebration it was. Such a good show. Thought provoking, moving, light hearted and full of surprises about everyday life, and the deeper questions that life in its finitude poses.

Well curated. Many thanks

Becca P-F

Loved the exhibition, particularly delighted by the interactive mobile site with audio clips - really added to the experience. Gabriel's work is completely joyful, utterly unpretentious and a pure celebration of the ordinary and the everyday... the perfect antidote to today's overblown, celebrity-obsessed world. Thank you.

Jane Daly

I visited yesterday and loved the exhibition - thought provoking, witty and impossible to pick a favourite. Must make a return visit!

Steph Stevens

I really enjoyed it. The obituaries were my favourite, I kept going back to make sure I'd read them all. Also liked the telephone directories, bought back memories of using public phones many years ago!

Dick Watts

I was amazed by the variety of this work: graphics, painting, whimsical pieces, large installations, found objects, etc. At least a third of the pieces brought a smile to my face - lintels, the "squashed" citroen, "obituaries"; a third were serious and thought-provoking - tyres, etched skull; the rest were beyond me. On the whole, I left wishing there were more to see...

Michael Parker

I went yesterday and really enjoyed seeing the diversity and beauty of most of Orozco's work. Thought that giving up the largest room to his Berlin project was a bit of a waste as to me it only confirmed what an ugly city it is but... I loved the Citron, Bicycle sculpture and Lift. My favorite part of the show was the other photos in room 5 or 6, very smart and funny and wonderfully printed. There weren't many people there though so I hope that the show is successful.

Penny Spelling

I wasn't particularly moved by this exhibition, no big wow moments, and struggled to find anything that held my attention for longer than a few seconds. Not good.

I quite liked the Obituaries and I thought the photographs of the Schwalbe scooters was vaguely inspirational as the kind of project that I could do, but did they merit space at the Tate? The tyres made the most impact, with their smell, road layout and imagined histories.

I was irritated by the neead to use a phone that I don't have to access the commentary. This must exclude a large proportion of visitors.

Chris Rhodes

I liked the skull - in particular the assiduous effort in marking it in that "chessboard" theme, which one might connect to the endlessly moving horses: the restlessness of consciousness and never-ending quality of an entity exploring and interacting with its environment.

The "obituaries" I found most significant. It became almost a game to try and identify whom precisely the pithy little aphorism summarised the life of to provide such an abrupt and succinct epitaph.

Brian Hunt

I enjoyed the small room with the colourful variations on patterns; the interaction of the different revealed aspects of the master shape with the changing colours was exciting. I was also amused by the almost two-dimensional reconstruction of the Citroen car.

But, sadly, other rooms left me cold. For example, the numerous photos of two motorcycles against different buildings or walls very quickly lost significance, especially since many of the backgrounds were similar. The importance of context on meaning is an old concept, but the message does not need a whole roomful of photos; 3 or 4 using very different settings for the 'bikes would have sufficed. And photographically, anyone with an automatic camera could have taken the images.

Another room which disappointed was full of exploded tyres laid out on the floor. One glance was enough to appreciate the possible disasters they implied, and apart from that quickly assimilated message there was nothing to experience; certainly nothing artistic. Was a whole large room necessary to state the obvious?

I sometimes feel that "modern artists” are thrashing about trying to find new things to say, and their "concept art” involves no artistry at all. And some art critics, desperate to appear fashionable, couch their comments on "concept art” in pretentious psychological terms to justify what is essentially shallow. I visited a photographic exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery in early February, and was amazed that so many uninspired portraits should be given display space in a prestigious public gallery. The point of a good portrait is to capture or reveal something of the inner qualities of the sitter, but many of those images were like poor family snaps; a person standing awkwardly, with blank expression and dangling arms, in front of a wall. I may be out of step, but I look for skill in Artists, and a vision which can open our minds to new experiences. They should enrich our lives, not reinforce the banal.

bernadette barcham

visited 13/3/11 with my husband one of your attendants told us to visit the Orozoco exhibition as it would make us smile it certainly did.My husband loved the citreon and we both liked the obituries and the skull.I will always look at my tumble dryer differently now after seeing the hanging lint very enjoyable thank you


I have to say I agree with the last writer's comments. I am a very ordinary person with little art knowledge. I took my teenage son along to the exhibition as a 'different day out'. We both found some of the works fun and interesting. We particulary liked the abituary pieces of writing on the wall. Far more intersting than the skull which had drawn us into the exhibition in the first place.(Exactly what the piece was meant to do, I know). However, what fascinated us more than the exhibition was the interpretations of the works by other onlookers.They were exhibition pieces in themselves. You either like it or you don't. We liked it but it didn't blow us away!

As my son pointed out, if he would have offered a piece of writing or a box for his GCSE he would have failed.

Ben Strivens

Having popped in to the exhibition as I am a Tate member not as an Orozco fan or afficianado I came to the exhbition blank.

I had seen the skull in the advertising and it seemed an interestingly attractive thing and was not sure what to expect from the rest.

I am glad tha I did enter.

It's not, by any means, flawless; however, there were a number of interesting works. Notably the photography, the number scroll, the obituaries, and the body parts sculpted from clay. The citroen is certainly striking as is the skull, and the lint on a washing line does provoke a reaction.

There were other areas which left me slightly cold, however I did like the eclectic nature of the exhibtion. As the poster above who wrote an essay points out, it feels not so much matured as an artist in progress...but definitely worth a look.


As a first time visitor to Tate Modern who used my stop smoking money to join as a member I can honestly say I was thrilled with Orozco's work. I have always loved Modern Art and thought it was only something the wealthy got to enjoy. I am so pleased I was proved wrong, even with a very modest earned income the members area on floor six treated me like a king and I would highly recommend Joining. Any way back to Orozco here as he is the important one here! My main loves of the exhibits were the lift and the skull! The lift was such an eye opener with the lovely modern interior, bright lights and clinical white internal walls, only to be confronted with the industrial partially rusted exterior that put me off lifts albeit briefly until I used the ones in Tate to get me to level five! Anyway the skull (AKA Black kites) appeared to be the star of the show as crowds were flocked around it. I also enjoyed the tires that seemed to have melted metal in them, took me a while to work out what they were, and the "washing lines" got me thinking for a while. Anyway as you can probably tell I am not the most art educated person, however the point I wish to make is you don't have to be an art expert to enjoy a day - or many days out at the Tate, you only have to enjoy what you see - and don't forget that membership!!!

Maggie Pyne

I drifted through reading the notes and with a wry smile on my face most of the time, picking up a sense of desperation on the part of Gabriel Orozco looking for something else to do to keep the shock/surprise/going and on the part of Tate trying to fill their great exhibition space. I did kick the shoe box moving it along a bit. He clearly loves graphite and is at his best for me when he demonstrates his skill in using it. I was absolutely entranced with the exploded tyres so finally he did it for me.



worth going just to experience the challenge of wondering what the artistic point of a shoebox on the floor is - perhaps just to see how the public reacts to it? Like some of the other posters, I wonder whether this artist deserved such a major exhibition.


Julia Theobald

In general I found this exhibtion disappointing after all the hype. I did not find anything interesting or challenging about most of the exhibits. The exceptions were the Chess set with all the galloping horses, the elevator, the obituaries and i quite liked the smell of burnt rubber in the room full of tyre debris. The washing lines full of tumble dyer lint cast some good shadows on the floor and some of the exhibits were slightly amusing but I thought there was no real depth to it. Bein generous I would rate it 3 out of 10. Although I like Gabriel Orozco as he comes across as intersting on the film..i didn't really feel any of this was great art and i was not moved, excited, or awestuck as i am by most of your other exhibitions e.g Cildo Meireles or Rothko or Ai Weiwei's sunflower seeds.

Cathy Bacon

I went to this exhibition as I was in the area and am a Tate member, not because I am a particular Orozco fan - infact I knew nothing of Orozco before I went to the exhibition.

I went with a friend and our two toddlers and we were a bit disappointed. I found the exhibition quite inaccessible - I just didn't get it! Some of the pieces were interesting - I liked the bicycles and the car, and the chess board with only rooks. For the most part however it left me cold, and our toddlers were only interested in playing in the elevator!

Thierry Levenq

I really enjoyed the photography, the skull and the obituaries. Clearly a lot of humour there and it is good! But I think the sculpture work has very limited interest. Really bored of these installations which are being called art by artists and museums