Strangers don’t usually come up and talk to me in art galleries – asking how the sculpture ‘works’ or what it ‘does’. But the Anish Kapoor exhibition at the Royal Academy is unusual in many ways.

Svayambh (1997): A large block of dark red wax moves imperceptively slowly along tracks through 4-5 galleries, smearing wax along the floor tracks and walls as it passes through archways separating the rooms. Every few seconds, a bored-looking invigilator tells visitors to ‘stand behind the line please’ as a steady stream of visitors repeatedly steps over the wooden baton on the floor designed to keep them back from a work. The compulsion to investigate what it is, what it’s made of and how it works, means the visitors either don’t notice or disregard the security cordon.

In the final gallery – where there is no barrier and no invigilators – there are hundreds of indentations made by curious fingers into the soft wax which is being pressed and shaped by the moving parts of the sculpture. Other visitors try to satisfy their curiosity reading the guide or asking one another what’s going on. Most exceptionally, some visitors come up to you – offering to ‘demonstrate’ how a mirror-piece works, or how to get a resonant hum from the corten steel form Hive (2009) by standing very close and whispering at a certain low frequency.

Usually, in an exhibition of contemporary, abstract sculpture – the audience moves quietly around, looking with respect and detachment at the objects on display. Not in this exhibition – people are talking to one another – to their companions and to strangers. And they are constantly pushing the boundaries of what they can – and are allowed – to do in the space, much to the irritation of the RA staff. In a recent BBC documentary about Anish Kapoor, we were told of a public outdoor work in the USA with a mirrored surface which has to be cleaned everyday because of the large number of people who want to touch it. It was designed to be touched and need cleaning – so this has been part of the maintenance schedule from day one.

The RA exhibition was extremely popular (fortunately for them as it must have cost a fortune to install) – and with a wide range of audiences from the typical ‘dinner and a show’ silver-haired-RA-regulars, to students and many young families. Perhaps this high volume of visitors added to the informal atmosphere which created what felt like a very ‘social space’ in the galleries. Safety in numbers.

People were genuinely enjoying interacting with the sculptures – from the optical illusions of the mirrored pieces and the large yellow funnel Yellow (1999), to the haunting sound effects of Hive.

I had never thought of Anish Kapoor as a participatory artist – but this was the most interactive exhibition I’d seen in a long time. And most interesting, one of the few exhibitions which enables and encourages – whether intended or not – social interaction around the sculpture.

Before today, I can safely say I haven’t jigged in a contemporary space since drinking a bit too much at Camden Art Centre’s closing down party (pre-renovation). Perhaps – had I been able to get tickets -  I would have swayed along to Nick Cave at Tate Britain for the Egg Live events. But it’s safe to say that dancing and galleries aren’t usually things that go together in my life.

But at Tate Liverpool today I had to stop myself several times from dancing joyously to the soundtrack (it was Dexy’s Midnight Runners) on my headphones in the This is Sculpture exhibition co-curated by Wayne Hemingway and Son.

The gallery has been transformed into a disco – with bright painted walls, glitter-balls, mirrored walls, neon-lit plinths and some gems from Tate’s sculpture collection. Visitors are invited to wear headphones with a choice of soundtracks (there are two channels and everyday of the week there is a different choice of soundtracks). In the middle of the floor a flashing dancefloor encouraged visitors to ‘dance here’ in Tate’s house font. It might sound horrific but it’s absolutely brilliant!

There was a fairly eclectic selection of figurative sculpture from the C19th, Modern and contemporary periods including some well-known classics such as Maillol’s Venus and lesser known figures (you don’t see a lot of Ossip Zadkine – more’s the pity). Some sculptures looked completely at home in the disco – Leonard McComb’s Portrait of a Young Man Standing (1963-83) which I’ve always found to be a rather odd piece – a realistic figure in gold – seemed a perfect ‘bling’ piece among the neon and glitter. Alan Jones’ Chair (1969) and Reg Butler’s Girl on a Round Base (1968-72) looked like they belonged in, or came from, a nightclub world (perhaps of the Stringfellows variety). Ron Mueck’s Ghost (1998) – an oversize, awkward teenage girl dressed in a leotard and leaning against the wall – appeared too shy to dance. Other figures seemed ready to join in the dancing when their favourite track came on – although I’m not sure what would have got Foley’s statue of Sir Joshua Reynolds to join in. Degas’ Petite Danseuse de Quartorze Ans (1880-81) never looked more at home – her little face haughtily tipped upwards and her foot turned out in a ballet pose.

Some visitors tapped their feet, others danced a little on the spot as they looked at sculptures. A few – mainly older visitors – didn’t join in or wear headphones at all but most (and me included) just walked round wearing headphones. We nervously skirted around the dancefloor like guests at a wedding before the dancing starts. Only a few brave souls actually walked onto the dancefloor and danced. I was tempted and when a familiar riff started I had to call on all of my curatorial sang froid to stop the urge to dance. ‘Don’t fight it, feel it’ – perhaps I should have listened to Primal Scream.

I’ve not had such a good time in a gallery in ages – I spent the best part of an hour in the space looking at sculpture and watching other people. The atmosphere was actually quite conducive to looking at art – it was far more relaxed and sociable than usual. The mirrored surfaces worked well – providing 360 degree views around the back of sculptures. I could have stayed looking and listening for hours, plucking up the courage for a boogie – but then Prince’s Purple Rain came on the headphones and I fled – all good things come to an end.