In search of Jockum Nordström I set off to the Camden Arts Centre (2013), about 30 minutes later than my 'absolute very latest time to leave the house' phone reminder. Arriving - amazingly, pretty much on time - after a fierce 4 mile bike ride; awash with hot sweat and huffs and puffs, fan in hand and several bags, as usual, of unnecessary things, placing myself at the back of the crowd.
Well, Jockum could barely be heard, it was mostly the curators voice we could hear, loud and clear. Shame that she (the curator) hadn't thought about the acoustics and that Jockum is a softly spoken Swedish man. I found myself grimacing throughout, searching for allies, or anyone who was willing to put a word in. Nope. This is so typical - people are happy to pretend everything is ok, yet they can't hear a thing! I was not happy but decided to stay put. I can't be the one complaining here. I should have moved to the front, but I didn't feel it appropriate.