Three of my friends dragged me out of my pit last night to go and see a drawing show in London. A sort of invitational melange at Crimestown called Drawing with Dolphins curated by Marcus Cope and Stephanie Moran. It was fabulous and so packed that we had to conga our way twisting like olympic limboers around the curatorial dolphins that hung from the ceiling. Drawings were everywhere including the ceiling. We even snaked our way into the toilets to find some lovely little snowman photocopies, though I felt people were looking at us strangely when we emerged together after 5 minutes. I'm really enjoying this jumble sale approach to hanging shows, I've seen a few recently and was wondering if it was some sort of new credit crunch aesthetic. There is certainly a sense of getting your money's worth (not that it cost me anything).
Recently I have been doing quite well at private views but I did manage one moment of mild humiliation. I wanted to look at a lovely pencil drawing of a woman with no eyes situated behind the buttocks of a chatting clique. I saw my chance when a small space was made by a more confident viewer. Just as she moved away I swooped in for a look. Simultaneously the clique, carrying out some sort of balletic plot, stepped backwards closing the space and I was forced to pull out of my dive pirouetting away with hunched shoulders and bowed head. Three people were watching laughing hysterically.
