I’m unusually strongly affected by Christian Boltanski’s death. I remember seeing his art on Melvyn Bragg’s South Bank Show. I didn’t fully understand it at the time but I remember taping that off the TV onto VHS and I wore that tape out from watching it over and over. I met Boltanski in London in 2018. It was the opening night of what would be his final show in the UK. I got slightly drunk on the free fizz. I saw him sat looking from a distance at the wall onto which one of his looped films was being projected. I nervously approached him and asked for a photo which Kathryn took. I said “I love this show the lights are beautiful”, like a divvy. And he gestured with fully outstretched arms and in his deep Parisian accent said “éphémère éphémère” !!! Which I realised later meant May Fly, after the insects that only live a few hours. That’s what the lights where. Tiny dots of flies. Boltanski’s world is about big themes. War, The Holocaust, death and chaos but he uses very delicate, precarious and temporary installations. You are sometimes scared to breath around his work, a critic once said. RIP Art Father.