We all sat in the Black Swann, revelling in our hard work in setting up the Art Trail, ideas were flowing, philosophical debates between the others were binging around the table. I sat and tried to absorb the intelligence that flowed around me, and not let the negative thoughts that so often determine my emotions creep in and whisper ‘you’re not really an artist’.
Then Jay turned to me and asked the immortal words ‘how’s the residency going?’
I paused, then launched into a diatribe of how I’d been feeling…
And while the words decided to network around the room and stop off at the bar for a bag of crisps, they slowly wormed their way back into my mouth, my tongue flapped around a bit more, lapping at my drink to wash away the salty crisps.
‘I hate my work because its too safe!’ The words jumped out of my mouth and danced mockingly on the table.
And then, with one swell foop of creative inspiration, Jay swept the contemptuous letters off the table with a vaudevillian hook.
‘Hacksaw, cut em up and see what happens, do something free, thats what I’d do…’
And with one simple sentance, the audience were blown away and the show transferred to the West End.
