On the way to London I saw the wife of a friend at Ipswich station. I had a sudden horror of having to make conversation all the way to London, of there being signal failure and being stuck for hours in a stifling carriage. The horror wasn't born out of a worry that she was boring but more that I was boring and I would be embarrassed by my lack of social grace. Suffering from severe performance anxiety I ducked my head rapidly and scooted along the platform.
My plans for the day involved meeting Sue Jones in a Cafe and then going on to Cell Project Space to catch "Look! no Hands" a group show involving: Athanasios Argianas, Kim Coleman & Jenny Hogarth and Simon Faithfull. The premise of the exhibition was that each artist used video to mediate performance.
I arrived way too early for my meeting, but not early enough to go somewhere else or do anything useful. Undeterred I filled my time drinking coffee and checking my emails until I realised that most London cafés don't seem to have toilets. After that I moved on to tea. I had texted Sue and, although we had met before, I thought it best to use the blind date technique of telling her I would be wearing a red jumper. The cafe we had arranged our rendezvous was blisteringly hot and by the time she arrived I was sheeting sweat and attracting worried glances from the waiters. I was now suffering from imminent bladder failure coupled with severe dehydration but I don't think she noticed. My biggest fear (apart from wetting myself) was that Sue would ask me to develop some sort of performance for Whitstable but she didn't.
After the meeting I set off for Cell swankily using my iPhone to guide me. I had checked the website but had been unable to ind out if it would be open. I won't go on but it wasn't and I turned away with a small smile.
I've posted a review on Reviews unedited
As I left the area I popped into a little Gordon Dalton show at Keith Talent and was disappointed, not with the work but, rather because it was not what I had set out to see. I felt instantly guilty about the disappointment and went round four times (it was a small show) reading the press release. Apparently disappointment is an integral part of his sculpture, suddenly the central image of a shark costume swallowing the artist's legs made me feel better about things.
Later in the new Whitechapel café I saw Sue again talking to two friends. Feeling embarrassed and not wanting to interrupt, I sidled around the tables pretending not to see her.
