Well now.
Christmas table laid and presents wrapped and feeling quiet smug. Kids returning on planes and trains tomorrow night and I can’t wait.
I love Christmas and our very old beamed house lends itself to it. Deep red and green and gold – it glows in the firelight.
Every so often I come back from somewhere spartan and cutting edge and wonder to myself about dressing the whole place in cold twinkling silver, but somehow I know it wouldn’t work.
Today I went to talk about an open submissions exhibition we are organising for Sevenoaks Arts Forum -a group of 50 professional Kent artists that I facilitate. One of the Kent arts officers will be choosing the work for us and the hang will be co- curated with SVAF. We are aiming for a spare, curated, professional show – we have great talent – so why do I feel responsible for the content being good enough?
I visited my collection plate en route. Interestingly all the money has been left and it’s the items that have been swopped. The plate now boasts a plaster, glasses lens, bus ticket, rubber and a dried flower. The blue baby mitten has gone.
Interesting. Has the fact that it is called ‘Collection Plate’ made people feel that the money was sacrosanct and not to be taken?
It still has a week to go and it will be fascinating to see when I go to photograph it at the end if all the coins still remain.
