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It was my dad’s birthday yesterday. And I remembered. Then I forgot again. So I phoned tonight and as expected it was only my mum who was cheesed off. She also mentioned for the second time that they hadn’t yet received a thank you letter for the telly they got me for christmas. oops! Maybe I should email it because with ntl you can send email through the tv.
Jan 5, 2004 at 23:42 Filed Under: Blog Comment
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Unless I’ve started to unravel and Google only changed in my head, they’ve changed it back. It will probably change permanently soon.
Jan 3, 2004 at 16:59 Filed Under: Blog Comment
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Well, it had to happen sooner or later. Those bastards at Google have changed the design. I was running a search when it happened.
Jan 3, 2004 at 1:53 Filed Under: Blog Comment
The Year In Review [some old bullshit]
Happy New Year etc.
I spent New Year in the company of Kate, Sue, Nick and Trish round at Kate and Sue’s flat which I dutifully filled with cigarette smoke and drunken chat.
I don’t know if it’s just me but this past year seems to have gone in really quickly. I hit the ground running because exactly one year to the day I was on a plane on the way to Florence. (I didn’t literally hit the ground running). Which sounds like I’m trying to portray a champagne fuelled jet-set lifestyle; and I am. But it’s not as glamorous as it seems- (would you believe that some British Airways flights don’t have coat-hooks on the back of the seats)? But I made it to Florence okay; I didn’t bring the weather with me so much as an epic hangover which was the psychological equivalent of some kind of freak meteorological occurrence. But I got Jim’s work done and ended up in an Italian Irish bar (?!) with some deadbeat from New York.
The bad news was that my dear old Gran didn’t make it through the winter. But at 92 it goes without saying that she went the distance. With marbles fully intact. Which is quite an achievement. My mobile phone had refused to work in Italy due to a combination of it’s decision to tune into the Italian network (‘Siete collegati alla rete WIND’) and Doreen the Demon Landlady sucking all of the credit from my it by calling to whine about rent. ‘I’m actually in Italy at the moment’ [remove phone from ear to pick up the sound of passing Vespas]. So I got the news in the arrivals gate at Stansted airport. I was just glad that I had made it back for the funeral.
No sooner had I paid the landwitch the rent than it was off down to London to do yet another Lambie gig, this time at the Tate. It was a tag-team effort with Danny who was doing a floor in St. Ives and then coming up to pick up where I left off. So I had a week to do as much as possible before leaving to let Danny do the last half. The dynamics of making a Lambie floor are infinitely more dull than the finished product but suffice to say that it involves a lot of kneeling, going round in ‘circles’ and more mental gymnastics and stress than you might imagine. It was also one of the biggest floors I had ever seen, both in Zobop terms and common or garden floor terms. But I had a large and enthusiastic squad of grommets (helpers) at my disposal. Because it was a two stage affair, I was faced with the option of either doing the floor in the agreed fashion or just going for it willy-nilly, idiot style and letting Danny pick up the pieces/take the blame. While the latter course of action presented itself as a highly amusing prospect, I took pity on poor Saunders and got on with my duties in earnest. And while I’m far too tall to have a Napoleon complex, I’m a stickler for doing things properly, so I worked both myself and the grommets to the bone. And still managed managed to get nutted on booze every night.
I went down for the opening and hooked up with Trish. We drank champagne and rubbed shoulders with the glitterati and filled our pockets with the expensive jelly beans that had been laid on in enormous jars. I also met up with Skeeter, a friend from art school, and was glad to note that he was staying in ridiculously cramped conditions and paying an extortionate amount of rent, at least by Glasgow standards and probably by London ones too.
So I returned to Glasgow exhausted but mostly happy. I was helping Toby out at The Modern Institute by sorting out the computers and successfully managed to accommodate every request bar being able to download cups of coffee from the internet. I took the liberty of getting creative with the standard spoken Alert messages so that when someone asked the computer to perform a task it found disagreeable it would say things about Aliester Crowley or pass comment on Andy Warhol’s oeuvre in a tone akin to that of a demented dalek.
Between times I was helping Jim out in the studio which is always good on account of Jim’s practice being particularly accommodating to the idea of drinking Irn-Bru and smoking cigarettes at all times.
Then in February I had work in a show at the old jail in Bridgetown, as organised by The Franz Ferdinand chaps. I showed a text piece, which I don’t normally do. I don’t show them because I don’t make them. Fascinated as I am by text, I haven’t yet figured out to my satisfaction exactly how words work. But this seemed like the perfect opportunity to both experiment and get an idea out of my head that had been lurking there for quite some time. Initially conceived as a video piece called ‘The Alwayses’ involving me saying the word ‘always’ repeatedly until I collapsed; I simply wrote it on the wall repeatedly until my pen ran out. (And I was reliably informed by Rob ‘Churminator’ Churm recently that it is still there).
Hot on the heels of the runaway success that was The Alwayses, came a show in Lloyd Jerome’s which is both a dental practice and a gallery. And never has there been such a need for a canister of Novocain. At the time I was making work with sea creatures floating in space and showed some collages. The opening was funny because Robby Coltraine of all people asked me how I had made them. I paused slightly, wondering how to reply without making him sound stupid; then I thought ‘maybe he is stupid’ and said ‘I cut them out and stuck them on’. And he went on about how he thought I had used photoshop. To which I didn’t reply. Then somewhere else in the room a semi-infamous local junky threw some sort of tantrum. I’ve got nothing against junkies per se- I’ve spent many an enjoyable evening in the company of such characters, but this gentleman’s tantrum was directed towards a Playstation (Lloyd Jerome Gallery’s finest feature) and I do have a soft spot for the video game. As he was dutifully ejected I thought about the side-show that is an art opening and realised I was glad to be making art in Glasgow.
All the while I was seeing to my duties down at Transmission. Of course.
The mail at the gallery often comes addressed to long-gone committee members and people on the phone often ask who the director is. I was already tired of reciting the spiel and either told them either that I was the director or told them it was Rrose Selavy. I briefly started ‘redirecting’ anything that still came in addressed to Alan Michael. This simply involved writing ‘New Direction’ in bold letters and posting it to Alan’s home address. A hilarious activity. New Direction was a pornographic publication popular (only with deviants of course) in the eighties. The quasi utopian nature of the title (literally the title, not the content) somehow came up in conversation with Alan and briefly became a two-man in-joke. But my antics were brought to a halt prematurely when I was rumbled by fellow committee member, and Alan’s then girlfriend Kate Davis.
Then in May, for some reason I started this blog… and everything since then has been recorded in the lore of Burning Salad.
Well almost everything.
Actually, very little. The ‘Salad aint even the half of it.
The instances of my having been too busy, tired, or grumpy to sit at a computer and type are numerous and varied. And the task of retelling unrecorded events is too arduous a task to make the results worth reading. There is however one notable exception. And it is with this that I will wind up this post.
It was an impromptu online exchange that happened in an internet cafe in Greece. All I can say in my defence is that I did it purely for my own amusement. You may or may not find it as hilarious as I did. It was such an amusing event that it appears here almost exactly as it did then, word for word. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. And the guilty.
*As I surf the web, an MSN Instant Messenger console pops up. The previous customer has obviously failed to log out*
Knightstar_2000 Hey Jules! How are you? Are you still going all Greco Roman on us?
Me masquerading asJulie73 I’m fine.
Knightstar_2000 Are you still in Athens?
Julie73 Yes.
Knightstar_2000 I haven’t heard from you in… ever! How are you?
Julie73 I’m okay.
Knightstar_2000 How is Athens?
Julie73 It’s good but it’s really dusty.
Knightstar_2000 Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t sound like your normal self?
Julie73 Yes I’m fine but my bones really hurt.
Knightstar_2000 Your bones?
Julie73 Yes my bones.
Knightstar_2000 Oh. So what’s Athens like?
Julie73 It’s very nice but it’s full of damn cats.
Knightstar_2000 !
Julie73 I swear I’m going to smash one of those bastards.
Knightstar_2000 ???
Julie73 I will smash a cat.
*Long pause, no response*
Julie73 I will smash me a cat before the moon turns.
*No response*
Julie73 I am glowing you know.
Knightstar_2000 How long are you in Athens for?
Julie73 I don’t know.
Knightstar_2000 I miss you.
Julie73 Me too. *Note my restraint*
Knightstar_2000 When are you going to Chicago?
Julie73 Parp.
Knightstar_2000 Parp?
Julie73 Paaarrrrrrrrrrrp!
*Pause, no response*
Julie73 The windy city.
*Pause, no response*
Julie73 I don’t know when I’m going.
Knightstar_2000 Have you phoned that guy Doug yet?
Julie73 Of course not.
Knightstar_2000 What? Why not?
Julie73 I’m afraid of him.
Knightstar_2000 Whaaat??? Are you kidding?
Julie73 You know.
Knightstar_2000 No I don’t know. PHONE HIM!!!
Julie73 I’m eating vegetables but I think my bones are melting.
Knightstar_2000 I don’t know what you are talking about. Are you alright?
Julie73 Yes. Athens is very hot you see.
*I terminate the exchange because the man in the internet cafe is hovering*
About five minutes later another MSN ‘Buddy’ gets in touch wondering about Athens and an almost identical conversation ensues.
Jan 2, 2004 at 21:40 Filed Under: Blog Comment
Merry Christmas/Hannuka/Kwanzaa etc.
[insert preferred salutation from above list]! It’s that time of the year again. Capitalist mayhem, Jesus’ birthday and a pagan festival all rolled into one…And it wasn’t a bad haul this year either. The highlights include- a bottle of Diesel aftershave, which has come along at just the right time since the one I got two Chrimbos ago ran out last week (and it seems to be called ‘plus plus’- not the sexiest name but it could imply that it’s actually up to the task of altering my smell); a jelly frog- non edible but amusing; and Heavier Than Heaven, a Kurt Cobain biography. Ah, Kurt.
My mum liked the book and ceramic bowl I got for her. She looked interested in the book and said she would plant a plant in the bowl. Dad liked the book full of semi-useless miscellany I got for him. And the Jackass dvd went down well, as expected. He loves that type of thing. He’s always going on about how funny Jay And Silent Bob are etc. And he got into putting lightbulbs in the microwave for a while.
When I was home he would say ‘Have you ever seen what happens when you put a lightbulb into the microwave?’
And I would say either ‘No’ or ‘Yes, you showed me last time’ to which he would reply ‘Watch this…’
My mum would then look nervous and protest slightly before stranding back to watch. My dad would then unscrew the nearest lightbulb, put it in the microwave, turn the dial and stand back grinning as the microwave looked like it was going to explode. Somehow it manages to make the lightbulb glow very brightly and flash out arcs of light of various colours. All in a fairly unstable fashion, of course.
I never found out how dad discovered this pastime. I think he probably saw it on television and just copied it. So maybe I should have given him a crash helmet to go with the Jackass video. We’ll see.
I also got a cat bowl. Not a bowl with some kind of cat motif on it. A bowl for a cat. But I don’t have a cat.
Dec 25, 2003 at 13:07 Filed Under: Blog Comment
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I said goodbye to Jamie at the airport today. It was great having him over. I filled his head full of Scottish nonsense.
Dec 24, 2003 at 16:04 Filed Under: Blog Comment
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I went to Edinburgh to show Jamie the castle on Friday and the weather managed to hold out. Then on Saturday we did The Barras but it was grey and rainy. On Sunday we went up north via Loch Lomond and Stirling Castle but had to turn back because the old single track road we were on was too icy. And at one point it looked as if we might not be able to even get back because the car was just skidding on the ice. At the top of a fairly steep hill. At a funny angle. Backwards. But I got out and pushed and we made it home okay.
Today we had lunch at Soba which took a long time to arrive because the waiter forgot about our order. And then we forgot to pay. What’re the chances of that?
Tonight we go to the Uisge Beatha to drink whisky. (Uisge Beatha is pronounced ‘yskkvai’ and means ‘that which may appear to be authentic may or may not actually be so’).
Dec 22, 2003 at 18:58 Filed Under: Blog Comment
Escape Clause
Last night was the gallery‘s annual Chrimbo party. So it was time to do Santa duty again. We couldn’t find the costume so this year all I had was a hat, a beard and a red ‘cape’ made from a single sheet of crepe paper. Minimal Santa. As opposed to last year when I had the full suit but managed to come off as a somewhat grumpy Santa. The venue was the Polish Club which was a lovely wee place with reasonable priced Polish beer and old fashioned decor. The music was playing, the refreshments were flowing and it seems a good time was had by all. The highlight of the evening was the raffle which I had the dubious honour of overseeing. (With the help of Trish who was dressed as a sexy elf). Charlie Hammond, Transmissions in-house charity shop enthusiast had sourced the prizes and I was on the mic calling the numbers. It started well and then attention spans began to max-out but Minimal Santa carried on regardless. We got there in the end and a lucky few found themselves in possession of a variety of semi-useless items. The revelling horde then vacated the premises and descended on a local nightclub where the drinking and merrymaking was enthusiastically continued. All in all a very enjoyable evening. And Jamie seems to be having a good time despite the inevitable rigours of jet lag.
Dec 18, 2003 at 22:55 Filed Under: Blog Comment
Ho Ho Humbug
Today I went Christmas shopping. Oh, the horror of it all. So I gave up and decided to make my presents instead.
For Mum- A macaroni necklace.
For Dad- Abstract papier mache.
For Trish- A macaroni necklace.
Problem solved.
Jamie should currently be in Amsterdam on his way over from New York. I’ll meet him at the airport tomorrow morning. Assuming, that is, he hasn’t got hopped up on dope and magic mushrooms and gone AWOL.