Yesterday afternoon I visited Salts Mill, an old industrial space which now houses a collection of cafes, shops and galleries. It’s a popular place for a weekend trip out, especially now the neighbouring park has been done up and includes a lovely new children’s play area.
I want to think about the first main space that the visitor enters in the Mill, the ground floor 1853 gallery. The heavy door opens onto a huge room, broken up with antique tables, vases, huge potted plants and postcard stands. Light falls through the massive windows. There is an overwhelming smell of lilies, and piano music gently drifts through the space. The walls are hung with works by David Hockney, but what struck me yesterday is that almost nobody was looking at the art. Although the space is described as an art gallery, in fact most of the visitors were wandering, chatting, and perusing the various books, art materials, posters and postcards on display.
This is clearly a place where people come to soak in the calm, relaxed atmosphere, maybe have some lunch or buy a book, but also (whether consciously or not) to increase their cultural capital. It is a self-consciously intellectual place, and the items for sale in both the gallery and the bookshop have been carefully chosen to add to the feeling of the visitor being part of a cultural elite. Heavy, richly illustrated art books, address books covered with liberty patterns, paints and brushes all suggest that by buying something from this gallery/shop, you will be buying into and becoming a part of this intellectual, creative society. This Moleskine notepad will be the one you write your bestselling novel in, that set of brushes will inevitably lead to the Turner Prize.
It’s Bourdieu’s Love of Art in action – and yet no-one is looking at the art! They are flicking through books, pointing out birthday cards to one another. So, my question is, is it an art gallery, or is it a shop?
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