Soho, the land of film makers and porn and, well porn. Just the sort of place Jack the lards of the art world Caravaggio, Rubens and Constable might have gone looking for a 'model' to paint. Hang on a minute what's that hanging around on the corner with all that flesh hanging out. No it's not a hooker working the day shift, it's a masterpiece (a full sized copy, so don't go down there with your mate Stanley). Ambient takes on a new, upper crust twist in the form of original ads for the National Gallery.
The 30 masterpieces have been going about their business in the streets of London - outside pubs, bookies, sex shops (what no urinal?). All I know is that I have never wondered down the back lanes of Soho (on my way to a recording or editing session, I swear) and found myself thinking, "Must go to the National in Trafalgar Square." Until now. If that isn't art I don't know what is. It certainly bought about a change in my emotional status. The incongruity of lusty oil paintings hanging out in the open where the ladies of the night like to hang out, is something I am sure Rubens and co would have approved of, "Want to come up and see my etchin's love?"
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