Alex Pearl is not in the Antarctic

I am finding it difficult to get back into writing regularly, struggling with the remembering and recording of things that might be interesting. At the moment I'm spending a lot of time staring at the stars and trying to recreate that feeling of losing myself in space. Day two of my London holiday is detailed below.

It rained all day.

At the Chisenhale Gallery I saw Anthea Hamilton's show Gymnasium which I really enjoyed. It was a light and airy confident arrangement. Later I saw a group show at The Whitecross Gallery, with some lovely and very reasonably priced drawings by Jock Mooney and some chucklesome photographs by Etienne Clément, and a very expensive but undeniably fabulous paper sculpture by Jörg Obergfell, While I was giggling gently I overheard the owners discussing who they were going to offer shows to. I remembered I had sent them some stuff recently and tried to listen in while fighting down a desire to run away – I didn't hear my name (I didn't really expect to) so I went for a pint.

On the morning of the letter's arrival I was preparing to go on a short holiday. I had decided to spend three nights in a budget hotel in Bethnal Green. I had arrived without hitch despite the fact that a railway bridge had collapsed outside LIverpool street the previous night. The hotel seemed modern and clean and I sat in the lobby waiting to be shown to my room. A woman arrived took the key and beckoned me to follow. We left the hotel by the front door and walked down the road to a dilapidated terraced house. My guide opened the front door with a hefty kick lead me down a dingy corridor, pointed down some stairs into the basement and left (rather hurriedly I thought). There was a large bloodstain on the headboard.

I have been away, staying in a basement in Bethnal Green. As a consequence the first few entries of this blog have been written offline.

This morning I received a letter from Dr John Shears of the British Antarctic Survey's Artist's and Writer's Fellowship. It was a nice letter which said:

"Now that the judging panel has met and made it's final selection of the two successful candidates, I thought I would write and thank you for your application to "not go to the Antarctic".

The panel were most intrigued by your very unusual proposal and I would like to thank you for sending it in."

I wasn't too surprised and only a little disappointed. Just to explain. A few months ago I was working on a residency for BCA Gallery, in some sort of homage to Raymond Roussel's "Impressions of Africa" I was making a film about a trip to the South pole largely made under a table in the studio. While working away I spotted that the Antarctic Survey people were requesting submissions for this years artistic antarctic romp and mischievously decided to put in an application not to go. My proposal was made mainly on the premise that there must be too many artists there already but also in reaction to my own cowardice when it comes to adventure. As part of the application I had hoped to advertise my non-appearance at the pole but also to produce some sort of epistolary diary by writing to an artist or writer who was brave enough to go.

I wasn't denigrating the work or ambition of those artists who have made the trip, one of my fondest art experiences was following Simon Faithfull's palm pilot drawings as they were posted online. Personally I felt that my going would not add anything to anyone's understanding of the Antarctic and I would probably get cold and suffer indigestion.

Once submitted I found myself getting more and more keen on the idea of success, of gaining approval for my project and was delighted when I heard it had got past the first cut – then things went quiet, ominously quiet and to be honest I forgot all about it.

So there I was, rejection in hand, wondering about what I should do next. Flippantly I thought, surely this means I have to go to Antarctica, to stowaway and then suddenly pop my head up and say: "well you told me I couldn't not go". This was probably the better idea, but it was my second one. My first thought was: "well, I can not go to the antarctic without help"

My plan is to:

1. Track, as best I can, the progress of the two successful artists and if possible set up some sort of communication with them.
2. Advertise my none appearance at the pole.
3. Write about what I do while not there.

Beginnings