Diary of an ageing art slut july 1998

n.paradoxaonline, issue 8 and 9Nov 1998 and Feb 99 n.paradoxa online issue no.8 and 9 Nov 1998 and Feb 99 Published in English as an online editionby KT press, www.ktpress.co.uk,as issues 8 and 9, n.paradoxa: international feminist art journalhttp://www.ktpress.co.uk/pdf/nparadoxaissue8and9.pdf Nov 1998 and Feb 1999, republished in this form: January 2010 All reproduction & distribution rights reserved to n.paradoxa and KT press.
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International Editorial Board: Hilary Robinson, Renee Baert, Janis Jefferies, Joanna Frueh, Hagiwara Hiroko, Olabisi Silva.
n.paradoxa online issue no.8 and 9 Nov 1998 and Feb 99 Peggy Zeglin Brand Disinterestedness & Political Art Ying Ying Lai The Historical Development ofWomen's Art in Taiwan Annie Paul Meeting History with Art: "The Myriad of Myself"on Lips, Sticks and Marks: Seven women artists from theCaribbean shown at the Art Foundry in Barbados Monica Mayer De La Vida y el Arte Como Feminista (Spanish) A Personal History of Feminist Art Activism in Mexico (English) Anja Franke Motiv #11 English / Danish version Angelika Beckmann Silke Wagner : Facetten einer Austellungin der Galerie Meyer Riegger, Karlsruhe (20 Feb-23 March 1999) Jenny Jones Reproductive work and the creation of the digital image 84 n.paradoxa online issue no.8 and 9 Nov 1998 and Feb 99 Diary of an Ageing Art Slutfrom London, the Montmartre of the Millennium Friday night, end of term July (I think!)Ou ee,baby ! Don't let your dog bite me! God Bless rock & roll. It's Friday and its cocktail time again !!! The end of a stressful and far too long week. So shake rattle and roll. TwoGin and Tonics have made their way down the throat and it's not seven o'clock yet.
Why is it that there are periods of one's life when anything that could get screwed up does so and with a vengeance? Everything, every organisation that I am involvedwith in any remote way gones haywire this past year. Also it's that time of year whenit's final show time. All my students are going slightly mad and are extremely stressedout but not as much as me. I have to mark their stuff! I 'm really fed up today. More fed up than usual with all the art management who get awards and lots of praise for promoting the arts, for giving artists a chance etc, etcwhen all they were doing, beside being paid a good wage, was their job! Yet here I am.
An artist, the person who by one's own sacrifice and slog justifies all the artadministrators, curators and whatever who make their living off our backs! There isno justification for their work except the likes of me and thousand of other artists theworld over who daily struggle and wrestle with insurmountable odds to produce ourwork. We have no guaranteed income unless we teach or take other work. Odd isn't it.
Myself and thousands like me who struggle in a huge industry so that a few can glory.
And of those few, fewer still are artists. Such is my cross to bear!!!! Nearest and dearest has just rolled his eyes heavenward once again as I deliver another diatribe against all arts administrators. What does he care he doesn't have towork with them!!! next dayWell was I silly last night or not? Em, who is just about to leave us after six weeks n.paradoxa online issue no.8 and 9 Nov 1998 and Feb 99 here, came home stressed out from her job and we got a bit heavy with the gin &tonics. Considering I really haven't had a drink (before last night!) since New Year'sbecause I have been trying to lose weight, I did okay. But I am a cheap drunk! Em's ex has continued to harass her so she finally got a restraining order out on him, his sister and all his family. I thought that this was a bit extreme until shepointed out that his sister had verbally threatened her as well as writing nasty letterspromising among other delights to gauge her eyes out. As for his father, he just hasdone time for grievous bodily harm or GBH as it's known in the trade.
Then Near & Dear said, ‘You can sure can pick them. The one before may have had a PHD but he was as nutty as a fruit cake.’ Em did not take kindly to this remark and let out some venomous rebuttal. But N & D just grins at her, knowing he had hit a very sore point. Em has about as lousytaste in men as G. The only difference being that she actually gets to live with oneand almost get to the altar before disaster strikes. Where as G. has never evenmanaged that. Talking of G., she was supposed to have a farewell party but it gotcancelled; along with her departure to the north and the new job. She is nowunemployed as well as dateless! So we decided to go out on our own next week. Em turned down the offer as she had booked people and vans to move her belongings out of storage and into her newflat that day. Coincidence or what??? Personally I believe that Em has never forgivenG. over an incident years ago involving one of them winning a date with a mediapersonality that led on to much better things. But I refuse to get involved and as shewas paying for the night out I am not asking any questions about it.
June 27I have another nephew visiting me !!! So far he has managed to give me the wrong arrival date so that I turned up at Heathrow and no nephew. I was so pissed off Itelephoned my brother collect to tell him that his son might have evaporated in mid-Atlantic. He told me not to worry as they were just about to leave for the airport toput him on the 'plane and that the information he had faxed me was wrong. A typowhich he had only just noticed that morning and was wondering, just as the 'phonerang, as if I might have been confused over the matter.
Confusion has nothing to do with it! How about rage and the desire to strangle brother and nephew and need to bite the head off an unsuspecting tourist who juggledmy tray thus spilling most of my coffee out of my cup. No, I am not annoyed not inthe least! So back I went the next day. He did arrive eventually. I just have to admitthat, as G. said: ‘They are country bumpkins.’ But very nice ones. I think this one israther sweet so far. But then he sleeps a lot from jet lag.
The really tragic news is that assistant has decided he is of no use to anyone but his granny's garden and I have not seen him since last time we met at the RoyalAcademy. I feel so helpless that I can't help him in anyway and I still need an assistant!! n.paradoxa online issue no.8 and 9 Nov 1998 and Feb 99 Near & Dear and I have a wedding anniversary in two days.TWENTY YEARS!! FridayWedding anniversary is now divorce. No meal out. No Flowers. No card. Just me and nephew who went out and got a bottle of wine. Mind you, he was at the wedding aswell in a very fetching blue romper suit! No, what I have to thank is football. We are inthe midst of World Cup Football and the testerone is so thick in the air that you couldhave a sex change just walking into a pub. Wham! Just like that! Suddenly a beer bellyand trousers drooping, revealing a bum crack and your head is filled with tackyinformation about which female neighbour has the best legs and names of playersbefore you could put your second foot forward into the establishment.
I tell you it is lethal. I am so glad England has not made it to the finals. Otherwise you might as well kiss civilization goodbye on this island because when there's a gameon with England playing you can even get a table at the Ivy restaurant. London becomesthat empty. No traffic is about. No human being moves for fear of missing something.
When a goal is made you can hear the roar shaking the buildings as you quietly try togarden out of earshot of a television. But no hope! Every set in the land is on loud. Veryloud. I can not believe that every male in Britain is as deaf as Near and Dear and has tohave the volume up that loud ! My man is what I would term rather unemotional. Coolin his temperament. Sanguine. Great disproval is expressed with a slightly raisedeyebrow. A light scratch of the nose is high emotion. But with World Cup even he wasjumping out of his chair and yelling YES!!! YES!!! .Which is more than I get in bed ! Theday after England lost I witness several arguments in public over what would havebeen better tactics or if so and so was not booked and so forth and so on. You couldhave been forgiven for thinking perhaps that we had all been told our television licencefee had doubled overnight or air had been rationed. You know something serious.
Now can you with any stretch of the imagination think of an equivalent activity that is dominated entirely by women ? That is solely for women. Which only has womenin any position of importance in any media in serious discussion on the matter whileoccupying all public and mental space on prime time television. Then there's the spinoff shows and not to mention the merchandise? Well I can't! Furthermore I can't see itever happening. Some man would be sure to yell sex discrimination or complain thatto much time was being wasted on a minority interest.(Despite the fact that half theworld is female.) Sunday nightI am having one of my more infrequent little blue patches that used to come around in my now forgotten periods. However I have taken Bach's Flower Rescue Remedyand am feeling a bit better. We now can look forward to France being in the finalsagainst Brazil. A bit ironic considering the French aren't at all that keen on the game.
No, give them the Tour de France any day. Apparently most chic French people think n.paradoxa online issue no.8 and 9 Nov 1998 and Feb 99 it a little bit to common. Well, we'll just have to see. Some how I think the Frenchnational ego will get the better of them.
July 3Still no night out with G. AND she has managed to land a job as an Arts Officer for a Suburban Borough of something or other. What an art slut! She has beenswanning around all over the place so smug at landing a job after the northern onefell through. (I have yet to know the full story on that!) Meanwhile I worked out that I am living beneath the official poverty line.
Rummaging through the clothes rack at the Buddhist shop (Note: that the Buddhistsseem to attract more wealthier and middle class people than any other religion thesedays for their charity shops) I have got some very lovely second hand designer clothesfor myself and the nearest and dearest. His Paul Smith suit came from there. It's amoot point that he is too fat to wear it now but it used to look very nice on him.
Which reminds me I must let out his other trousers before our holidays and get thetravel insurance !!! Friday 10I have not gone to a garden party this evening because once again another social event has fallen foul of the bloody weather. It has done nothing but rain this year!My studio is so damp that I have started using electrical heaters because my paraffinheater is too wet. It produces wet heat. Nothing is drying because it is always toocold and damp. When I'm rich and famous I will have gas central heating! I am trying to complete a series of prints but it's defeating me because of the dampness. Apparently everyone in all the studio complex is having problems. Nondrying oil paint is giving my neighbour above me problems and the sculptor nextdoor is cursing his wood because it has absorbed so much moisture he can't chisel it.
Please God one day can I have a central heated studio with dry gas radiator heat.
The snails are so prolific and big in the garden that I have taken to hitting them with a cricket bat. Will people think me a hard cruel woman ? After one has witnessedsunflowers, basil and every flower munched to just small stumps then you too wouldweep. Snail poison is not really part of the answer because it becomes part of thefood chain and hurts the birds. We have tried beer and a bucket of salt and throwingthem into the neighbour's gardens but the sheer volume of the little buggers defeatsyou. So now I just smash them and feel wonderful. Pretty good therapy! MondayI was art-slutting at the Royal College of Art graduation exercise on Friday - a strange but true story! My dear friend called Bett, who became an art historian onlyto give it up for art administration (yes, I am surrounded by them!) has been made aFellow (surely a Fellow-ette!) of the Royal College. When she phoned me up several n.paradoxa online issue no.8 and 9 Nov 1998 and Feb 99 months ago to let me know she was in town freelancing as an art administratortrouble-shooter (getting rid of unwanted artists perhaps? I said I'll shoot any of themfree but if I could get paid for it all the better! Bett didn't think that sentiment funnybut then her sense of humour was always a bit thin, unlike her bottom) Well, I thoughtgreat! We used to have wild fun in our student days. Anyway, last week she 'phonedme to ask if I would go as her guest to the RCA Convocation ceremony. Sure why not? Get to see how the great and the famous live.
We started off at 10:15 with sherry in the Senior Common room . Pllleeeaaasssee !!! Sherry at 10 A.M.!!! Only my English great aunties did that. But, so did we and verymerry for it all we were. Zandra Rhodes was there to get a Honours Doctor with hershocking pink hair, at almost sixty looking like a geriatic punk and the gallery owner.
A., looking as wonderful as ever on HRT was also given an Honorary Doctor. She justhappened to deal in the work of the ex-head of printmaking (Funny how there are allthese connections linking honours and favours!); not to mention Lord M, PrincessS's ex. He, like the rest of the royals, is not much taller than a enlarged dwarf! Bettand I started to giggle when we saw him walk into the senior common room and wejust couldn't stop. Sherry that early in the day is lethal. I commented that "Do youthink the royal family are related to the Munchkins?". And that really did it. We wereoff into fits of choking giggles; barking with laughter behind the potted plants -trying not to wet ourselves.
The ceremony in the Albert Hall was amazing. Talk about pomp and circumstance complete with trumpet fanfare. Peter Blake was made a Honorary Doctor as was thefilm maker Ken Loach. Peter look very jolly and rotund and turned to wave to everyoneafter he was handed his scroll and everybody cheered .
Bett looked a bit daft with her funny little hat and tassel. It's the closest I'll ever get to receiving an award from the Royal College. I used to have real slagging matcheswith the ex-head of printmaking who retired about ten years ago. He was so pissedmost of the time he could never remember that we came to blows and would start allover again the next time I met him at an opening. After a splendid lunch where wemet a wonderful couple who were great designers in the fifties. We decided that wecouldn't just go home so we went out shopping and then home after a discreet timeto watch Wimbledon tennis on TV over a few glasses of Pimms! The English art scene is still fairly chauvinistic and dominated by men and the old boys club network operate very well in the teaching appointments. Despite the higher profile of youngwomen artists its still very much the "blokes" who get the jobs. Even thought the majority ofstudents are women, the majority of lecturers are men and they're the ones that get tenure.
Just look at what happened at Brighton recently with another ex-head of Painting and Printmaking! He was so uncomfortable with women that he couldn't look themin the eye when talking to them. The external moderator this year took S. aside andasked her if there was anything amiss? Had she done anything wrong because thehead just wouldn't look at her during the moderation. S. told her not to worry because n.paradoxa online issue no.8 and 9 Nov 1998 and Feb 99 any woman made him feel so uncomfortable that he felt as if his balls were about todrop off. I understand, it's one of the benefits of a Jesuit education.
August. Somewhere very far north in Western Canada.
If I see another TREE I'll scream. The so-called shortcut my dear brother suggested added not only an extra hour and a half on to our already tedious journey but theonly vehicles we saw were logging trucks and pick up trucks full of loggers. Whenwe did manage to reach civilization in the shape of a gas station and general storethe air was filled with smoke from burning trees. A huge forest fire thousands ofmiles north was blowing smoke everywhere and not on just one province but all theprairie provinces. They were all screened in smoke for days from thousands of fires.
We could even smell it in the cabin interior of the aeroplane when we took a shortdetour to the 'ol home town. They have the nerve to be smug about how pollutedLondon is.
This holiday is soooooo needed!! It's not until you begin to chill out that you realize how fried you can get. I could tell my priorities changed when the all consumingtask for the day was remembering to bring the cheezzys for the beach and getting ahigher score on Super Mario than my six year old niece. There's a lot to be said formindless activity. It's just that some art administrators mistake it for civilisation/culture.
August 23The plane ride back was a lot better than the one going out. For one thing I could actually identify what was presented to me on my plate for dinner. Going out nearand dear, along with the pair to my right, got into a very animated conversation onwhat exactly we were eating. The substance presented as meat had us all foxed. Imaintained it was definitely not of a former living being because I could identify theknitting stitch in its texture. Knit one, pearl one first row; pearl one, knit one, secondrow always produces the seed stitch whether in sweaters or non-organic substancesserved up in your aeroplane lunch. Who says encouraging women into science hasnot had its benefits! On the home run I attempted to sleep on what is known as the red eye run; this I learned from the air hostess who also informed me that it was her first overseasflight. Near and dear got rather animated at the sight of the northern lights as weflew over Hudson Bay towards London. One poke in the ribs to wake me was tolerablebut the dozen or so that he thought necessary caused me to hiss through my clenchedteeth at him with threats of tipping his beer on his lap.
"I've seen Northern Lights before. I want to sleep. Wake me up when they serve I woke as we were landing at Gatwick. N. and D. said he couldn't wake me so he ate my serving not wanting to see it go to waste, despite the fact he somehow managed n.paradoxa online issue no.8 and 9 Nov 1998 and Feb 99 to do it before many times. So we ended the holiday in the traditional manner ofhaving an argument and I knew we were home again.
All in all it was a tolerable holiday no major trauma this year with any of the relatives except the pet rabbit know as the "Holy Bunny" (because of its crossshaped stigmata on the head) when he decided to take a bite out of me. Next timeI will not try to seek him out in the backyard to return him to his cage because thechildren are panicking at the predatory hawk that is continuously circling theback yard looking for a snack. I will instead give the hawk crackers. The rabbit ispossessed not blessed! Hasn't got a blessed bone in his body; at least a few lessafter I gave him a swift kick for the massive bruise that still adorns my arm twoweeks later.
Em had house- and cat-sat for us again and as usual the cats were traumatised. G has settled into her new job out in the outer regions of suburbia and loves all thepower her position holds as the one and only Arts Officer in suburbia. Lots of invitesfor Private views starting next week. Bett has left copious messages on the ansa-phone about how bored she is and did I know any eligible men and could I make sureI invite them to my 50th next month.
AGGGHHHHH! MY 50TH ! I have to start planning it. I have NO MONEY!!!!! September 6Have designed my invite /declaration for 50th birthday party. Will send them out this week after I print them up. Making lists of who to invite will prove to bemajor problem. Will not invite the dreaded FiFi as she didn't invite me to hers. Haveordered all the wine (cheap fizz) and will order the cake this week. I hope to get lotsof presents. Took N.and D. out to an Italian for his 48th. Apparently there is a glut ofbirthdays in March and Sept/Oct because they fall nine months after summerholidays and Christmas.
Bett has new contract at the Whitechapel and phoned to see if I am going to opening next week. Will go and meet her there. I deliberately gave the M.A. openingat Goldsmith a wide miss. I find it too discouraging and pretentious.
Have discovered wild yam cream as a hope for curbing hot flushes! A list of things they do not tell you about the menopause in all those books on the menopause.
1.Your figure turns into the same as your aunties - square,big busted and overweight.
In fact you automatically go up at least one size as soon as the change starts. Yourweight moves around your body redepositing itself between your shoulders and yourhips. So you now have a bigger cup size and your hips merge into your waist. You get tohave thinner thighs because all the weight goes up to your hips and waist.
Which brings me to point 2.
2. You can not get rid of your weight. Except with a very ,very big effort. You may need more gin and tonic's to cope with life but they stay with you for ever; especiallyaround your waist.
n.paradoxa online issue no.8 and 9 Nov 1998 and Feb 99 3.You haven’t the energy to get rid of the extra fat. Forget it. I could happily sleep my 4.I do not believe Japanese women do not have hot flushes. Anybody who does not have them is lying !! Except when your homeopathic remedy finally kicks in.all the wildyam cream herbal remedies make you constipated.
5. Men ,especially husbands and partners of the same age, go off sex. Just when you don't have to worry about pregnancy and pre- menstral tension any more,they go off it.
The biggest kept secret of all time is that men over a certain age can't get interested anymore. Why do you think Viagra is in such high demand ? Why do you think they all getsecond trophy wives much younger than themselves, except in an attempt to stimulatethat flaccid muscle into action.
6.You get very fed up with your husbands /partners stupid habits and boring jokes.
Most men still have the humour of a seventeen year old at the best of times. At this stagein the proceedings I'd rather not have the body which has the non-functional and flaccidmuscle as well as a sense of humour that has stopped at seventeen. I can't seem to findthe benefit of having it around and life without a sophisticated sense of humour is notworth knowing.
Thursday September 12Went to the opening called Speed. Met Bett. She still had a pink feather duster in her hand from her attempt to give a "Professional Look" to the exhibits. In other words theywere looking like they had just come out of storage and with only minutes to go beforethe punters arrived she started dusting.
Can not say I blame her! One of my last criticisms of "The Open" there was that it looked as if it had been hung by students with the labels all crooked and pictures wonky! D. turned up with the ex-wife of his best friend??? She gushed on about how much she wanted her ex's picture collection especially my pieces. I told her to buy her own andcome to my next sale.
Bett was in full steam swanning all over the place. At one time she was talking to the director of the Serpentine who began her vocation as a humble curator of the open studiosin Wapping in the early 1980s. Believe it or not. She eye-balled me and I her before Bettsaid questionly, ‘Do you know each other? ‘We both burst out at the same time .
‘I didn’t recognize you.’Considering she has more income than me and more access to more expensive beauty products and the services of the make up counters at Harvey Nicks, she has not agedthat well. H.was there. He is always good for gossip because he works on so many top artand exhibition catalogues. But things are quiet at the moment. Told me to wait till afterthe new Bankside Tate's "Topping Out" ceremony. G. promised me her ticket but I'll believeit when I see it. Next week is more openings. Tuesday is the night for all of Cork Street.
n.paradoxa online issue no.8 and 9 Nov 1998 and Feb 99 Friday 19 SeptemberEnd of another week! Started back to teaching my classes including the 17 year old’s. Thank God I'm not 17 any more and never will be again. It could almost beclassified as a disease. The openings on Tuesday night I did with G. She comes up totown quite frequently in order to survive the 'Burbs. The hot gossip with her is thatshe has met another man. This one seems reasonable and actually human. HoweverI live to be contradicted.
We walked into the Barry Flanagan show and with in the first 5 minutes I got cold-shouldered by the director of the Camden Arts Centre and chatted up by M. Hewas wondering how come he hasn't seen me much at the Delfina Gallery and smiledcharmingly at me. I really wasn't up to it so I said to save me a seat for the next onejust before G. got me into a corner to hiss at me. She wanted an in-depth discussionon the new work. Immediately! ‘For God sake it's just a women's fanny. Not more of The Sun erotic school of art!’ ‘There's not much you can say about them. Who would want a six foot fanny in ‘Yea, I see what you mean. I just wasn't too sure what they were supposed to be actually!’I gave her a strange look. Then we both sighed deeply at the obvious clumsiness of the new work. Unfortunately for us the artist was just behind G. He turned aroundand sneered. G.was about to open her mouth again but I grabbed her arm and led herquickly out the door. I thought it best as she was going back there for dinnerafterwards. After a few cursory glances at some pretty appalling shows we swanneddown and around the corner to Timothy Taylor's new gallery. Taylor being HelenTaylor's husband, Helen Taylor, being the Duchess of Winsor's daughter. Tres chi-chi opening of Latin American painters. I hate to say it once again but I am so fed upof looking at young immature work.
G. and I after a very serious discussion about the work, out of earshot of anybody we recognised, decided to rubber neck and see who the celebs were. We caught sight of Helenand mummy upstairs in the office chatting over drinks with various people. I candefinitely say they are not true born blondes. Even from that distance, I could see roots! We decided to window shop along Bond Street before G. went to her dinner and I trotted back to the East End. What we could do with a few thousand ££'S !!! Sigh. Iasked her, in a quiet moment brought on by lust in front of the Donna Karen window,just what she was going to buy me for my 50th. I felt her stiffen, swallow hard andgulp. Not a good sign I would say. Must double check my party list. Can't rememberwho I invited? TuesdayIt's the day before my birthday. Nearest and Dearest is out of town inspecting and supervising a project. He has promised to be home for tomorrow. G.and Em and n.paradoxa online issue no.8 and 9 Nov 1998 and Feb 99 Bett have booked a table at Pont de le Tour on the Thames next to the Design Museum.
Em knows it well as she use to work at the D.M. Near & Dear at first wasn't going tocome as he is in one of his "I'm too broke after the holiday" moods. Em turned andsneered at this bit of whimpering when he uttered it. Her sneers are like laser beams!He even gave me my present two weeks ago in a cardboard box unceremoniouslyplunked on the table. It was a Poole china coffee set in a gorgeous shade of steel bluewhich I wanted but why he couldn't have given it two weeks later and wrapped isbeyond me. The air was a bit frosty between us for a while after he revealed it wasthe birthday present. Yet this is the man whose employers think is one of the mostwell mannered and charming people they have and constantly send him out to dealwith clients. Have I missed something here.
Both Bett and G. went to the new Tate's "Topping Out" ceremony. G.had a wonderful time and was very glad she didn't give me her ticket. Bett meanwhile, hada tap on her shoulder, turned around and was confronted with a ghost from her pastin the form of her ex-fiancee who she ditched some 10 years ago. I remember it well.
I felt really sorry for the guy. He was lovely. He has since married badly. It is a completeand utter disaster and he made sure Bett knew for over an hour while all the artworld of Brit Art swirled around her. She was pinned to a wall by a barrage of woeand pain; not one but two breakdowns and wifey is the woman from hell. He wouldleave except for the children. At this point, Bett apparently yelled out.
‘What Children ? You said you never wanted children !’And a silence suddenly replaced the din of chit-chat that surrounded them up 'til G. said that she thought it was spectacular.
‘Everybody looked at them.Even Nick raised his eyebrow.’I enquired why she didn't rescue Bett and her reply was:‘What ! And ruin the fun!’Anyway Bett survived by feigning faintness at not having a chance to get to the nibbles and bolted. Apparently at that point she caught sight of G. grinning like aCheshire cat and tried to make a bee line for her. Bett's hands were itching to stranglesomebody but G. had slipped away through the crowd. I got both sides of the storyand either way I was glad I didn't go after all.
I have got two birthday cards and one present in the post so far. I am having a pedicure at 8:30 a.m. tomorrow. I am not having my hair done as I'm trying to growit out. I may regret this choice. The day after my birthday I am going all philosophicalabout being 50. What a relief to have it over and done with. Now it's only the party toget through without any major disasters.
Near and dear managed (just) to get home in time for the birthday meal. At that point in time I was well away as I had already managed to down a bottle of champerswith colleagues in the art department. G turned up on time. Partially, I think, it isbecause she will use any excuse to get into town away from the delights of her new n.paradoxa online issue no.8 and 9 Nov 1998 and Feb 99 suburban environment and into the arms of her new man. We had a lovely meal at aCantina on the river. Em didn't manage to make it because of a very late shipment ofart that had to go to Sweden. Near and Dear managed to get really pissed in his usualvery quiet way. So quiet that G and I hadn't noticed he had fallen asleep and slidunder the table. It was only when the bill arrived that we stopped talking and noticedhe wasn't there. G perceived a familiar sound of snoring and looked under the table.
We managed to wake him by sticking our heads under the table repeatedly(pretending that we had dropped something)and hissing at him. We were eventuallysuccessful and he slipped back into his seat without anybody noticing I think. Thetable next to us filled with trendy young media types who were gigglinguncontrollably. It could be they were on illegal substances but on the other hand.
I paid for my meal and his on my card and bolted gracefully out of the restaurant asquickly as I could. If anybody had asked me if I would I care to push him in theThames before I went home I would have. G thought we should have left him underthe table sleeping.
However Near & Dear didn't fare much better at the party on the following Sunday.
Having managed not only do nothing what so ever towards its preparation becausehe had been out of town during the previous week. He insisted on cooking a traditionSunday lunch then walking out on it while it cooked to go to the pub for two hours.
Needless to say the whole mess landed in the rubbish bin and we had a blazing rowwhich only ended as the doorbell rang and the first guest arrived. He stomped upstairs to have his Sunday afternoon nap and slept through the first 3 hours of theparty. The really great thing was that nobody asked where he was.
I fear that being fifty is going to very dangerous for my marriage. At this point in time I really don't give a toot about whether it survives or not. I do not care if myparents think of me as a failure for walking out on my husband. I don't care if myhusband can not survive without me. Can I survive with him is the point of the matter? I have become totally intolerant of his behaviour, my three part time jobs and athousand other things in my life. I think I need to have a new and more exciting life.
October 15I can not believe what I do for my friends, especially G. Since this new man has come into her life, and he is v.v. important, we have done more shopping for the"Right Clothes" than I can ever remember. No man has ever affected her like this.
We live at Fenwicks ! We have bought, then taken back, three suits.We have bought,but not taken back, four pairs of trousers and one drop dead sexy top. We have takenback one pair of gorgeous maroon trousers that split on her, just as she was about togo out on a date. I lied to the sales clerk saying that as a fashion lecturer I think thatthe fabric was faulty. I did not tell the sales clerk that my dearest and nearest friend inher excitement at going out with "THAT MAN" she had put the trousers on backwardsand split them when she sat down to talk on the 'phone. The "brilliant trousers that zip n.paradoxa online issue no.8 and 9 Nov 1998 and Feb 99 up the front and fit perfectly" in reality zipped up the back. G only worked that one outwhen I pointed out that the label is always on the back. What, I ask myself, is that mandoing to her head ? So we bought another suit only this time it had a very short shirt andwe'll probably take it back next Saturday and exchange it for something else. In order tomake me go with her she keeps taking me to Maison Bertaux for cake and coffee beforethe next forage in Fenwicks. I have come out with a big 'orrible spot on my face.
Work in the studio is now a production line. I have started on some new sculpture that is a multiple. It is v.v. fiddlely and involves lots of stapling and tiny little sheep. I mayabandon it. But I need to find some industrial wheels - like two dozen.
October 18G. has told me she is in LURV! Very definitely absolutely in LURV! Have I heard this before ? But she seems v.determined about it. I fear the worst. Have not met him yet.
Near and dear is still in disgrace about his behaviour on my b.day. He claims he doesn'tfeel very well. I claim he won't get any better if he keeps this behaviour up. G says toignore him as she finds his talking about golf more offensive. Bett just rolls her eyesbackwards into her head when ever I try to talk about near and dear. Most disconcerting!But then she has had so many serious relationships that I had lost count. After husbandno.3 I suggested she ran an Evening Adult Education class on marriage and what not todo. She stopped talking to me for several years after that.
ThursdayWe have taken the suit with the skirt back ! Afterwards I took G. to the nearest cappuccino bar and told her outright that I was not going shopping with her again. Atleast not until I got to meet this man who is turning my friend into a blathering idiot.
G.looked at me in total panic and said it was v.v.important to her to get it right.
‘Right for what?’I asked.
‘This man is driving you insane.’She just sat there with this look of perplexity welded on her face. I might as well of spoken to her in a Martian sub-dialect. I fear we are going to have one hell of a brokenheart, or worse, a marriage situation. I am dreading the future! SaturdayBet has just phoned with her news. She has been asked to be a jury member on next year’s Turner Prize panel. I replied that I wouldn’t be compromising her by beingnominated now that I am 50 ! She didn’t think that was funny.
This year’s list is bad enough. What with Sam Taylor Wood being married to a prominent gallery owner, Chris being ethnic, Cathy De Monchaux appealing to everyunrepressed fetish freak and the whole thing gets more boring every year!! I am nowforced to listen to Bett drop names and look for her photo in December Vogue in the n.paradoxa online issue no.8 and 9 Nov 1998 and Feb 99 pages at the beginning with hundreds of miniature pictures of people at arty partiessupposedly caught unawares in their designer frocks and their capped grins glitteringin the flashlight. I have yet to see a bad photo of anybody. Everyone always seems to havetheir photogenic side to the cameras. Come the night, I shall plunk my cat Fat Mabeldown in front of the television so she can whether her relative's owner, Cathy De Monchauxloses ! (Her cat is related to mine).
With both Bett and G. going to the same affair there is a slight air of guarded rivalry over what the other is wearing. Bett will be not too much of a problem as she will justthrow money at it but with G. if this present man situation is not cleared up by January,I may land up being on intimate terms with the sales staff at Fenwicks. That is if she isn'tbarred from the shop by then.
SaturdayWith G. being so far out of town in suburbia I have curtailed my Art-slutting a bit. As I keep bumping into M., the fellow I got a bit drunk with at the Delfina, I need a built inexcuse like G. He always shoves a drink into my empty hand before I can object and raiseone eyebrow. However that was only a minor hitch as Bett now keeps ringing me to see ifI can accompany her to various openings. She invited me to a special evening at theWhitechapel where the style guru Stephen Bailey was giving a talk. It was like listeningto a record being played too fast. Odd that, as the Exhibition is called "Speed". At last theWhitechapel has a decent exhibition and the labels don't fall off. I suspect that Bett hasgone around super gluing them to the wall. The munchies were brilliant! The studio work is eating up so much money. I am haemorrhaging money. Which is in rather short supply of late as I have lost my one day-a-week teaching at art schools.
What a story of bullying and out right male chauvinism that was! I am so fed up with it.
When will it stop. Why do so many men think that if a woman has power, like an universityeducation and teaches on the same staff as them,that she is crazed with the desire todominate them, gain control and make them impotent. Talk about transference! I amfed up of the explanation that candidates picked were the best that applied when you seea man, usually younger than you without half the teaching experience,research orexhibition record land the position. I graduated from art school in 1971 and now in 1998I see that most art departments do still not have more than 5 or 10% women on staff andthose that are there usually don't have tenure. Yet the art departments in the UK aremore than half women in their student body. The revolution is a very long one indeed! Diary of an Ageing Art Slut was published anonymously 1997-2004 Copyright : Elaine Kowalsky, 1998n.paradoxa: Issue no. 8, Nov 1998 n.paradoxa online issue no.8 and 9 Nov 1998 and Feb 99

Source: http://www.ktpress.co.uk/pdf/nparadoxaissue8and9_Elaine-Kowlaksy_68-80.pdf