Heather Phillipson review – eggs on the Underground are a cracking joke
Gloucester Road station, London
Cartoon bad smells and fried eggs on the platform greet tube commuters as the artist wittily gives them a riot of symbolism to ponder on their journey
Giant fried eggs lolloping on a disused tube station platform. Rotten eggs and hard-boiled eggs and farting eggs. An egg cracking open to reveal the chick within, bright yellow, matted and wet, like Donald Trump’s hair. Nearby are some shiny dustbins. On a screen, eggs go by on a conveyor belt. Danger signs flash. “I’m microbial,” says the desperate handwritten message on the screen, an urgent plea from who knows where; “Oh mother”, “A gibbering omelette”, “Chemical waste!” Someone is trying to tell us something.
It is all enough to turn you vegan. Heather Phillipson already is, but her My Name is Lettie Eggsyrub – the title is daft – is no finger-wagging demand. This complex arrangement of giant fibreglass eggs, oversized, manic chicken feet, giant bricks and video screens runs the length of the 80m-long disused platform, opposite where the eastbound District and Circle line trains come and go, heading towards Victoria and Upminster. It will occupy the space for a year.
Related: Fourth plinth review – ‘My heart is in my mouth’
Source: Guardian Transport
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