I feel like a bit of a con-artist at the moment. I’m presenting the world with a convincing impression of an artist, when in reality I haven’t really engaged with my practice for weeks. I feel really disengaged from it in fact. I am busy from dawn til dusk, (and often for an additional hour from 3am – 4am thinking, planning organising).
I don’t play chess, but my life feels the way that chess looks to an ignorant bystander. Lots of different elements shifting up down and across according to their own rules, with no clear route through to success, but compelled to play out their drama.
All the usual stuff going on – home, kids, money, agent work for Creative Partnerships, thinking about my art and suspecting it’s mostly rubbish. I feel uniquely persecuted in my struggle against the chaos of home life, even though I know it’s far from unique. You know the story and I don’t want to talk about it any more, I’m boring myself.
