It’s almost Wednesday tomorrow. Well, in fifteen minutes. The end of the start of the week and the start of the end of the week, all conveniently rolled into one manageable twenty four hour period. Trish arrived last Monday, the day after I got back from Athens and everything has been a blur since then. We went to Ikea- for me the second time, for Trish the eight hundred and second time. It’s still a strange place. Maybe the Ikea of the future will sell flat-packed robots and I’ll like it more. It’s not a bad place its just a bit of an overload. It’s a bit like an art fair. When you see something good you stop and look at it and then you’re not sure if its good or not because there’s so much stuff everywhere that is definitely bad. Then you’re not sure if some of the bad stuff might actually be good and then you’re not sure what’s bad and what’s good anymore. So we left with an assortment of furniture that seemed good, went bad for a while and is currently fluctuating between the two.
So we painted a bit, built a wardrobe, painted a bit more, built another wardrobe…etc. All my stuff is still in boxes and has been shunted around the flat a few times. Currently it’s all in the living room. Against my better judgement, an executive decision was taken to think long term and not just paint around the boxes.
Everything seems to be tidy and in the ‘right’ place and the flat is running like a well oiled machine. Precisely what kind of machine is still as yet unclear. Maybe my only escape will be to get really drunk so I can see everything as an unfocussed, overlapping mess again.
No time for a real update yet. So in the meantime, here is a very bad and contrived joke I just thought up.
Confused Gardener: “There’s a funny wee man at the bottom of my garden. He’s wearing really bright clothing and a pointy hat and he’s got a fishing rod. And he seems to know a lot about semantics, the philosophy of language and left-liberal politics”.
Gardening Expert: “Don’t worry, that’s just Gnome Chomsky“.
A chance to update at last. Well, The Frieze Art Fair was a plus. It was the usual sort of art fair schtick. The champagne was flowing, the collectors were collecting and the dealers were dealing. And Transmission was a pillar of magnanimity. The stand stood out in a cranky sort of way. Which was a plus. And, of course, I got the chance to hook up with Trish. Which was a bigger plus. Then on Thursday night, after a hard days arting it up, it was off to The End for the ‘Stute party where the Optimo folks were doing the honours. Drinks cost London impossible-to-get-drunk prices but a good time was had by all it seems. On Friday night Trish and I met up with one of her friends who is an unashamed city-boy type. I got to meet his mum and dad too. Wow. It was all a bit weird. The poor chap lives in a completely different dimension. So I dealt with the weirdness the only way I know how and got tanked up on some very fine wine. This, and about three hours sleep, did not make for the best awakening and journey to the airport early the next morning, but against all the odds I made it.
So here I am in Athens. Its a big dusty city where everything looks like its either falling apart or just being built. Including the museum where we installed the floor. When we got there on Sunday they were still putting the siding onto the walls amongst (many) other things. It was very like a building site with a museum hidden somewhere inside. And it still mostly is. The Greek way seems to be not to worry about anything (ever) and then try and maybe get something done at the last minute if it still seems important in any way. But we got the floor done eventually and tonight is the opening. If they remembered to put hinges on the doors.
The Janitor has died.
I’m off down to London tomorrow with the gallery for The Frieze Art Fair. So as usual I’m frantically trying to find and wash socks etc. I’m looking forward to getting down and seeing the work, not least because Joanne (Tatham) and Tom (O’Sullivan) have built a monster size sculpture. And come to think of it, Peter Donaldson dresses up as monsters in his videos, Larry is a monster and maybe Sue turns into a monster when she drinks champagne. (I know Kate Davis does). Who knows. It should be a good laugh anyway. All I know is that I’m going to swan in once all the hard work’s already been done, just in time to drink booze and party before promptly disappearing to Athens for another Lambie floor gig.
I might not get to update very often while I’m away so I’m going to go and get something to guard my blog in my absence.
Today I found myself back within the perimeter fence of the art school. I wasn’t going on a tour of the Mac building. The real reason was even more depressing than that. I was attending a meeting about the future of Tramway. There is a very real possibility that it could be flagrantly sailed up the river with a bunch of ballerinas at the helm. (It’s probably my duty to now state that I haven’t got anything against Scottish Ballet, ballet per se or any kind of dancing for that matter). But it is a serious matter and a lot of people are working very hard to save it.
Well I suppose that’s photograph week all wrapped up then. And it looks like its been a runaway success. What with a picture being worth a thousand words and all. So that’s over three thousand this week. Actually four thousand if you include the mural as a picture in its own right. I have patted myself on the back and given myself a handshake.
Opening at the gallery tonight. Had a good night. I’ve not been out drinking for ages (apart from last night) so the drinks I drank tonight were good ones. Danny ‘The Man’ Saunders gave me an amazing Wolverine t-shirt that he picked up on his worldly travels. And in order to show off properly he threw in a free complimentary cigar that he picked up off someone or other by the name of Pettibon. !
Waited for ages in a queue for a taxi at central station which would have been much duller if it wasn’t for the big fight that made the cops turn up and some football fans acting weird in a cheery drunken sort of way and all those chaps who are oblivious to everything apart from whether or not you have too much spare change.
And I also saw Jack . Who is an old friend. We never ever keep in touch and we never really hung around that much in the first place. But I respect Jack more than everyone else that I never keep in touch with. We bump into each other on the street about once or twice a year and mutually claim that we might try to keep in touch and then make each other feel better by doing nothing of the kind. This time I hope we do. We could reminisce about how strange it is that we never bothered keeping in touch.
I drank too many drinks
To make it home in time
To put another shitey photo
On my journal