[1]. It's
been nearly a year since I was told that I could go ahead with Dogleg - as long
as the council weren't involved financially or in the organising, then there was
no problem. No problem in using one of their disused buildings anyway. Great.
I expected nothing less. It's an empty building - can I use it for 6 weeks and
leave it in a better state than when I found it? Yes of course you can young man.
So why the hell hasn't it happened yet?
There
was an initial problem with content, but that got ironed out, but I'd receive
letters from the council saying 'that OK we told you about 2 weeks ago, well,
we need to have a meeting in 3 months time to decide whether that OK is OK' OK?
It got OK'd - but I wasn't invited to the convention and didn't get contacted
about the result - so rang up and got an answer. Other stuff happened, then I
set a date, something else happened, then it was Christmas, then set a different
date. Then my computer began to conjugate and reflect on its own metaphysicality,
and it realised that complete dependence on a human boing[sic], especially one
with no knowledge of grammer or spelling for words longer than wheelbarrow, could
not be tolerated anymore, and promptly glassed me. I lost all face, got charged
to have it fixed, (though not very fixed, in fact not fixed at all, so back to
the garage again). I hope it's happier now. It seems to be freer, somehow lighter,
more carefree, like a volleyball player in a Tampax ad. So I had to postpone it
myself this time, to get back to where I was.
But
I still haven't got used to how things go with regards working with councils.
There seems to be this unwritten rule that you must have a meeting to finalise
things, but to leave just enough out, to justify arranging the next one. I suggested
to my cohorts that they were a bit like the 'Peoples Front of Judea' from the
'Life of Brian', but I didn't get any big laughs.
The
meeting before last perturbed me. My press release was more than likely going
to have to change. I instinctively laughed when they told me and suggested that
they were joking. 'Usual procedure', said the man who I was later to learn that
had never heard of Matisse [1a]. I didn't pass much thought on this really, thinking
that they wouldn't change anything, maybe add a little paragraph or something,
but I got a call from the local papers, and emails from certain people - and they
all said how amazing it was that the council have organised this show. What!?
I was rescuing mating toads from a flooded river when I was called for this interview,
so remained calm and polite, but an ear was burned when I rang the council.
[1a].
No, that's not being snobbish. I like the guy. Don't give who he's heard of or
not, I just found it odd. I mean ... don't you?
[2].
Some very encouraging emails, and inquiries about buying art from the show by
an American and two locally. People have been good to me when I've asked for their
help, and the artists have been patient too. The tabloids won't be enamored though.
Only recently, the current show at the Saatchi Gallery, 'I Am a Camera', attracted
the attention of the Child Protection Agency and the News of the World newspaper,
egged on by 3 half-wit perverts that think some of the work needed to be seen
by the police. The artist in question, Tierney Gearon, is understandably distraught
at the accusation of child pornography, and I will be writing about this next
week after the proposed threat by the police that they will take down the pictures
themselves on Thursday 15th March if they have not been removed. Even the newsreader
warned (in a slightly apologetic tone), 'This report includes images from the
exhibition.' There doesn't seem to be a link with her work and Dogleg, but there
is.
You always
hear taxpayers saying 'I'm a taxpayer' when they complain about the arts here
in England, and that money should be put towards education, health and transport,
presumably to ensure that we have a more intelligent and fit society, that shifts
from one shop to another with greater ease. No, take a day off work, do something
you don't usually do, like take a walk or something, make a great big fat chocolate
cake for the kids, and stuff it with brandy or something.
There
is a cafe on Upper Street (a 'cooooooool' street in Islington, London) called
'From Art to Zen'. Oh piss off.
[3].Things
like having to get my vacuum cleaner electronically tested before I start hoovering
the carpet, or having to draw up contracts with people I've known for years, making
sure I put lots of arrows on the wall saying, 'Exhibition this Way'. 'Is it down
here?' he said, pointing to a large painting on the far wall. I try and tell them
that people aren't stupid, but no, it would ensure people will know. (Am I a whinging
old git?).
I
will be not be making arrows. I was complimented at the last meeting on how wonderfully
simplistic I see things with regards to putting on shows. But it is simple - find
a wall, preferably with a roof, hammer a nail into it, and hang the painting.
Or put the sculpture on the floor, or turn the video on - get some booze, and
invite people to come look at it. She too is constantly frustrated by the bureaucracy
in councils, and I'm very glad she's there. Y'know, it takes 8-12 months to put
up a signpost in Northampton. I suppose it's the same everywhere.
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