Learning to See: Bridget Riley, Margate Skies, and the Art of Perception

This week I’m sharing something a little different: a blend of Margate’s shifting sunsets and moments from Bridget Riley: Learning to See at Turner Contemporary. Riley has often spoken about how her work is rooted in nature in the rhythms of light, colour, and movement. Standing in front of her paintings, you can feel that connection immediately. The eye dances, the colours hum, and perception becomes almost physical.

But the truth is this: it’s almost impossible to capture the exhibition on camera. Riley’s work isn’t just something you look at; it’s something you experience. The colours breathe, the surfaces seem to vibrate, and the whole room moves with you as you move.

So this post is a small offering a glimpse, a gesture pairing the skies of Margate with the visual language Riley draws from. I hope it gives you a sense of the atmosphere, even though nothing compares to standing in the gallery itself.

If you enjoy gentle explorations of art, perception, and place, I’d love for you to follow along each week.