As London enjoys its second summer of the year, the Pipilotti Rist show opens at the Hayward Gallery and provides the perfect backdrop.
A machine outside creating huge, smoke-filled bubbles, darkened rooms with fabric hanging from the ceilings, mirrors and bright, poppy projections with chill-out room soundtracks all create an of art-warped memory of the best festivals.
The work is effortlessly seductive and enjoyable. The rooms feel full and nothing is still, the videos looping, piercing and slipping off their constructed or translucent screens. It feels like it would be nice to sit down in front of some of the pieces (and there are sort of body-cushions lying around encouraging you to), but the work somehow keeps you moving, peering into this box, walking through these curtains, getting close up to this disembodied tv set – the whole thing slips through your fingers.
Ralph Rugoff told us he was sorry the gallery wasn’t able to open late enough to cater for a post-club crowd and you can see what he means, it’s a 21st century psycodelic blast of a show.