so – back to the private view….in London for a private view last night. Walking from Liverpool Street towards Brick Lane two scurrying men, heads down came towards me. As I veered round them I suddenly clocked in. Gilbert and George. On their way to supper as they do every evening. Breakfast and supper, same place every day.
In the dusk, with the tall Hugenot houses both sides of the street they appeared positively Victorian, but then the whole area still carries the ‘Jack the Ripper’ vibe. Side streets that were they to be candlelit would put you back there in minutes. Look twice and you can see the ghostly horse and carriage waiting patiently outside the door.
Siamese twins by choice..a life lived as art, as performance, as incredibly public and as incredibly private too.Their art a ‘love letter to the world,’ their chosen costumes suddenly fashionable, their art still muscular and political, and yet their avowed right wing leanings……
Self and art.
I have been thinking a lot about both this week. I enroll on my course this afternoon.
Self cofidence in me is ok. Age helps.
In my art it is still problemmatical. I have been interrogating myself as to why I haven’t been working outside of this years projects.
I am now asking myself the question why do I think I have to?
and that’s new…
