A proper reason for a party

I am so, so happy that Shannon Matthews has been found alive and well.

It's so rare for that to be the outcome once a child is missing for over three weeks. The whole situation was beginning to become eerily like that of Madeleine McCann and it would be so awful to go through all that as front page headlines yet again. Also, it was really humbling and inspiring to see all of the Matthews' friends and neighbours, who had taken it upon themselves to contribute to the search for Shannon, properly celebrating her discovery. Whatever controversy concerning her family situation, her abduction and the length of time it took to find her now arises, it feels like those, who for no reason other than huge empathy for her family, took upon themselves to contribute to her search, have been amply rewarded, as they justly deserve. It is inspiring. I am pleased that amidst other elements of the news story, the parties and celebrations surrounding her safe discovery, are being focused upon in such a positive light.

Juan Muñoz at the Tate

I've had such a lovely couple of weekends in London, actually getting out and about and enjoying it. It reminded me of how easy it is not to do much in London over the weekend - just potter from one party to another and deal with the hangovers the next day.

But if you do make that effort - there's so much going on in this fantastic city on every level: culturally, socially, politically and so on. It’s culturally that I’m interested in here.

Last weekend, my youngest sister and I headed to the Tate Modern and Juan Muñoz's exhibition. It was a gorgeous day and lovely to walk along the South Bank. I hadn't been to the Tate Modern for ages and was reminded just how impressive it is. I hear that the architects are from the same company (Herzog & de Meuron Architekten) as that which has worked on the Bejing bird’s nest Olympic stadium, which itself looks pretty incredible, whatever your feelings about the rest of the Bejing Olympics.

Back to the Tate. The crack is definitely worth seeing - wiggly its jagged way across the whole vast Turbine Hall. It's great seeing everyone enjoying it too - adults looking it in, taking photos of it, sitting or lying around it and chatting, whilst children run, jump and fall in it, more or less managing not to hurt themselves. A friend of mine crafted a photo of himself clinging to it for that "cliff hanging" moment, or, to recreate a brilliant birthday card I've seen a few times of a man seemingly clinging to a ledge, which is actually just the pavement post a very heavy night. This friend commented on the success of the crack as its interactivity with its audience. He thinks the only other Turbine Hall exhibition that has matched it was The Weather Project by Olafur Eliasson, which incorporated a lingering mist, a mirror over the entire turbine hall ceiling reflecting the space below and a giant semi-circular form made up of hundreds of lamps and reflected to create an impression of a whole sun. First, it led its viewers to respond and react to it more than does most art. The mirrored ceiling prompted people to spend ages looking up, staring at themselves, or lying on the ground and making silly shapes. Secondly, it too was talked about in the media and not just because it required safety warnings!

Last time I went to the Tate – many, many years ago now, it was Louise Bourgeois’ giant spider, which occupied the enormous space. This was the first of the Turbine Hall exhibitions, which were sponsored by Unilever for the next five years. Talking of Louise Bourgeois, I wish I had made the effort to make it to her more recent exhibition at the Tate, which another friend of mine told me was brilliant. Unfortunately, that was during my non-cultured time!

To return to Muñoz, his exhibition was great. I loved the metal, smallish sculptures of spiral staircases and balconies themed on common scenes in Spanish towns, which were in the first room. I could happily have one of those on my wall. However, that did end my desire to own, as opposed to just enjoy, Muñoz's art because his anonymous, almost human figures do become increasingly sinister. They are often hidden or partially concealed so that you can't fully look at them. Or, their eyes are shielded by gill-like covers. They are human enough that they're familiar, but still alien, being either dwarves, or having round bases in place of legs and such like, which is enhanced by their odd expressions. Particularly menacing characters were the two hanging figures, who looked so uncomfortable and contorted. Also, the five seated figures who appeared to be participating in an evil convention.

A friend of mine found the Terracotta Army-esque room very creepy. It is full of huddles of identical figures – 100 in total. They have the same head with the features of an Asian man, the same odd smile and the same clothes, though worn in different styles. I didn't have an eerie sense from them because they were smiling and I found their smiles convincing. Plus, I liked being able to walk around them and look them in the face, which was so difficult with most of the other figures.

It was certainly an intriguing exhibition. I knew nothing about Muñoz. Now I know that most of his sculpture, of which he created a vast amount, was done between 1980 and 2000. He worked in a variety of mediums (iron, bronze, plastic, wax) and in different styles. He was always interested in space and the human interaction with it, which appealed to me with the staircase sculptures, but not the human figures, especially as they were never quite human. Yet he managed to make his work oddly appealing in its purity and its pleasing texture. Having seen the wonderful Henry Moore sculptures at Kew, where you are able to stroke, sit on, walk through and clamber over just about all of them; I was sorely tempted to do likewise to some of Muñoz’s. It was not to be, but I’m very pleased to have gone along in any case.