I once went to the Tate Modern where one of the works of art on display was a mirror. Just a normal mirror. Not even a mirror with a frame. A rectangular mirror. In the Tate Modern. The plaque next to it described the work as ‘genius’ because the viewer creates the art themselves. If I could’ve thrown that ‘art’ at a table and spat all over it while shouting, rather ironically, ‘Reflective surfaces!’ then I absolutely would have. But as we all know, breaking a mirror is bad luck and I don’t know if I need many more scrapes in my life. Although it would help me write a second book.
