Vault Art Fair and the brand of Glasgow (here I am stating – there I am showing).
Under one guise and then another – and then another. I journeyed West yesterday over to Glasgow to meet a friend, first of all, for coffee and then we took a walk through Kelvingrove park, over the hill passed Park Circus in the sunshine – the chime of Glasgow University tower donning against the odd cloud hanging in the sky. My friend then left and I journeyed with another old pal down to King St. – venturing in to Transmission Gallery I caught up with the resource room in the basement, got to grips with its goings on. I then took a step out of the glass door and headed further south towards the river Clyde. I arrived early at my final destination – the Briggait and found myself cut off from the vault inside. I stood waiting at the door for tickets that I needed to get in – but then a member of the filming crew passed by (he was head camera man, and happened to be friends with the other person I was with at the time). He soon returned to the door where we stood and gave us both a film crew pass.
Inside there was stall upon stall of art for sale or art for commissioned value or art for oysters. Commercial standing stood next to not-for-profit artist groups – and together they stood pretty well.
All in all I am happy with the submission I made to The Mutual – a story-cum-interview with fellow artist and writer Sophie Frost, attached to the back of an A3 page – folded to perfection in to a ‘pamphlet for sale’. Together with the pamphlet and the backing design we were asked to put together a flag: this flag then performed as a title for the work enclosed in the pamphlet and was also screen printed to bespoke canvas bags, scarfs and bunting – all of which are too for sale in an increment of prices.
For the speeches, I was asked to make the most of my film crew pass – for this I climbed the stairs to the surrounding mezzanine and ‘spied’ on the goings on from above! Then back to the train, back east again and now rain – yet more rain. Its as if I had dragged the representative weather with me and now I sit underneath the cloud.
footnote
“She would always, without fail, wear a scarf – but on my arrival her neck was bare. At the back of the stall there was a neatly folded yellow screen printed scarf, left for someone to wear – why she did not have it wrapped around her neck I did not give any time to know: I said she had to put it on – and from that point onwards she became to me who she always was. It all felt complete and its as if I had never left!”
