(no subject)
...was unexpectedly good fun, though I was crotchety by the end of it and really didn't see enough actual art.
monday night
I went to Erika Verzutti's show at Blow de la Barra and then snuck into the after party at Detmar Blow's house. Later I wished I hadn't, Mr Blow is meant to be a horrible man who went round having loads of mistresses whilst Isabella was constantly trying to top herself. I wished I hadn't even more on tuesday morning when I was sick into a casserole dish, though amazingly i made it to work on time.
tuesday night
Was the brilliantest. Started the night at Yayoi Kusama and Phil Collins' opening at Victoria Miro, which is always fun as Deborah works there and I love Deborah and they have champagne, and then N, A, Sangeeta and I went on to the Lisson Gallery's after show party in a massive Orthodox church in Regent's Park. They must have flung so much money at it - unlimited champagne, cocktails, an oyster bar, amazing mini-meal canapes, big beds to sprawl on, and Jarvis Cocker DJing. N and Sangeeta and I danced lots and lots and lots. That has to be the most ridiculous party I've ever been to, AND it was actually fun.
weds night
was the actual opening of the Fair. We all went over there at four pm, and did the usual hanging out, chatting, and not really looking at the work. By this stage I was knackered so I was happy to go home with the Linden Mansions family and get dinner near to the flat.
thurs night
we celebrated Cartier Award (selected by moi) artist Mario Garcia Torres' performance, which went brilliantly earlier that day. It was far cleverer than I expected. The dinner was at Shoreditch House where I was put on a lowly table but had fun as I was near Herve, the cute little Frenchman who is the Director of the Cartier Foundation and with whom I have now spoken terrible drunken French with twice.
friday night
I had to run round Liberty's finding a suitable present for my first ever private donor, who I was meeting in a terrible Heddon St gallery called Aicon to say thanks. What do you give a man who's just given you #5000? Well, I got him some posh organic chocs and a sort of English, manly scented candle, if that's possible. Then I ran off to RL's place where he was hosting a dinner for our colleague in India Pooja, which was mildly boring but nice to be sedate. Then met the beautiful N and collapsed in a comatose state next to his loveliness.
saturday
I was horribly late for my meeting with Anna C and Shu lea Cheang and Armin Medosch, who is basically Mr Media Art, but they forgave me and we had a good meeting and they seemed keen on doing a project on the shoestring budget we have. Then I ran over to the Fair to have coffee and wanderings with Mum and N, then went to a different gallery, then Mum and I went to Ping Pong for a dumpling fix, and then N and I headed to a bizarre thing organised by the Polish Cultural Institute where I got to see Janek and drank neat vodka after the cocktails ran out. Then Anna C, N and I headed to the Afterall party which was also a bit bizarre; Anna and I started the dancing, but like morons. No, really badly. (the next day Anna heard a rumour from a friend of a friend that 'the party was good but nobody danced for a bit because of these two idiots': THAT WAS US.) Oh lord. Got asked for the umpteenth time by someone 'are you going to move to Bristol to be with N?' I managed not to punch her in the face and instead just excused myself and had another drink. Fucking unconscious sexism; nobody ever asks N if he's going to commute from London to be with me.
Collapsed again into bed with the lovely N.
sunday
Was Anna V's birthday drinks in Camberwell, which was nice to just relax and be in a pub. My brilliant idea to jointly get her an ipod shuffle went down well. N decided to stay for the night instead of getting the train back to bristol, for the win, and I got to irritate his semi-sleeping form by calling him a woodland nymph. But he is a little bit like a woodland nymph, granted a woodland nymph whose idea of entertainment is getting me to bounce up and down on the bed so my boobs will jiggle. For god's sake, anyone who's seen my boobs will understand what a pathetic sight that is. It took so much bouncing it sounded like we were having bodacious, tub-thumping sex. Which we weren't.
There endeth the description of Frieze week.
Notes on stuff:
- Dragon's Den is back! Hooray!
- My room is the most disgusting midden you've ever seen. I have the worst habit for not unpacking bags. Or putting anything away. I must become a super organised, hard working, healthy person. I get the feeling I need to exorcise the internets before that's going to happen.
- I want to do a solo show for Janek. It's a very good moment. But I have no idea how.
- I just realised that Frieze not only published my commissioned review, but they've put aside a full-page advert in the magazine announcing me as the winner of the prize and telling everyone to read the review. That's really nice. I have to think very quickly about another review to pitch them, as I want to publish lots and lots so I don't have to do this stupid job any more.