21 Rooms Of Balloons

Admittedly, I don’t know anything about the so-called Balloon Museum. This is a symptom of Instagram, it’s all very surface-led. So as I’m about to head in I have no idea if it’s an installation or an actual museum dedicated to the historical manufacturing of balloons. I don’t even know if it’s meant for adults or if it’s just a bright, bouncing, basic entertainment tool for active toddlers and desperate parents. But it doesn’t matter. That’s Instagram for you. Photo – Balloon – Like – Let’s go. And in the name of expanding horizons across art and culture at the start of the year (I think balloons can be classed as culture) is this such a bad thing to use Instagram for? Luckily this isn’t an existential deep dive into the debated cultural benefits of social media. That’s the next article (kidding). This is all about balloons. And we’re going in.

It’s 5pm and the final, thankful Monday of January and I haven’t done as much work as I’d hoped today. In fact I haven’t done anything today. I don’t even think I’ve hoped. So these balloons have got a nice blank canvas to make some impact on my day in almost any way possible. On approach, the welcoming facade is ‘fun’ and slightly seaside arcade-like with neon lights and music on a loop facing out onto a cold dark riled-up Thames. I’m told at the box office that the museum has 21 exhibition rooms. Which is a lot. That’s a lot of rooms full of balloons. “🎵…99 Red 21 Rooms of Balloons…🎵”

Walking into the first room is surprisingly an instant grip. A dark cavernous concrete vault with multiple illuminated balloons suspended from the ceiling, lights gently glowing ethereally in each one with a curated textural sound composition pulsing out. Here we have ‘Electric Moons’. Created to evoke “celestial bodies dancing elegantly in the air” and it’s almost trance-like as a number of us fixate on the weightless bulbs of light bobbing along. It’s interesting to observe how people respond coming into this space. An instant calm and stillness, necks craned. It even takes a while before phones are pulled out, so mesmerised are people they don’t even think to record it for like, at least thirty, thirty-five seconds.

Moving on from there each room brings something different. Very different. From a geometric inflatable maze that we’re invited to squeeze around and under to pass through. Onto a room of giant almost intimidating inflatable neon pink bunny rabbits crammed into the arched brick roofs. Some on their backs, others with their big sad floppy ears squished over. Another room hosts menacing black balls that come to life with animated red eyes and chatting teeth. And then there’s something that feels like the UV-light love child of Keith Haring and Cyberdog. It’s all quite wild and walking through lifesize inflatables with scary faces in dark rooms with UV lights does make me think what an incredible rave this would be. This is before I’ve even come across what for me, is probably one of the highlights. A huge melting mirror ball that continues to cave in on itself repeatedly reciting ‘HER JOY’ in a monotone robotic recording. I swear this reminds me of someone. Maybe that girl I met in a party in Berlin that time.

A gigantic ball pool is the museum’s piste de resistance. Quite a queue has been forming in anticipation. We’re given surgical-style shoe coverings and nonchalant safety messages are displayed, all of which add to the excitement. As we head in, stretched out ahead of us is a yellow expansive sea of dreams. Pretty much the scale of a full-sized swimming pool, the balls in the pool are mirrored on the ceiling by hundreds of balloons, and in the middle one giant ball with the most incredible projections. As this moves into ‘show mode’, the imagery moves from mushrooms to acid house smileys, wide morphing grinning faces like someone out of an Aphex Twin live show, with overlays of panting and cursing sounds. It becomes clear to me that yes, this is for children, adults, and everyone in between – but very much born out of what I imagine have been multiple nights and days of mind-expanding self-discovery quests, all in the pursuit of art. And balloons.

As we come to the end I feel that The Balloon Museum may in many ways be playing itself down. What it is in my view, is an incredibly curated expanse of global artists and exhibitors. All installations run deep with their purpose and meaning which would have otherwise clumsily occupied random side rooms at most other galleries. The space also gave a lot to it too. Weaving through the arches and caverns of a historic London riverside location made me think it could’ve been even more spooky. Leaning into some of the darker undertones of the more flamboyant and vibrant inflatable figures. It reminds me a bit of Christmas At Kew Gardens but indoors and with no sniff of mulled wine. A ‘fun for everyone’ style event, but one that has had painstaking attention to detail and one that I wonder if the artists feel they’re getting the right sort of attention for. But it is all attention after all.

There were no balloon animals or opportunities for helium intake and no hanging onto a fistful of 50 balloons all at one time to float up into the air. But it was interactive (you could touch almost all the stuff) and it was a real journey away from a regular Monday afternoon in what has been the most mathematically divergent January I can ever remember which gave us 5 Mondays in one month.

More info HERE.