8 June - I love Sophie

Calle.... This is from a review of her work displayed in the French pavillion at the Biennale. And this is why I wish I was an artist, because I could make 'this' out of something as routine as... a 'happened to everybody at least once' type of experience. But am not... I also like her because of so many of her other previous projects. Go find her.

...Sophie Calle scared me in a different way. Ditched by email, Calle presented the letter from her erstwhile lover to over 100 women, who pored over it, analysed and deconstructed it, lampooned and otherwise went through the text phrase by phrase, word by word. I feel a bit sorry for the guy, who, Calle told me, has now heard quite how public she has made the letter. Unless, that is, she was lying. You never know with Calle quite where truth begins and ends. Calle asked psychoanalysts, sex therapists, crossword compilers, private detectives, professors, clowns, actors and singers to give the poor jerk's words a thorough going over, and, has filled the French Pavilion with hours of film, texts and other responses to the offending missive.
The letter is danced in Bombay by a woman wearing anklets, and by a ballerina in a lighthouse. Comedians and clowns have a go at it. Miranda Richardson reads it, then tears it up. A chanteuse sings it, and so does Laurie Anderson. Onions are peeled and tears flow. Thank God the poor sap didn't dump Calle by text message. The artist also advertised for a curator, and the artist Daniel Buren applied for the job. Calle acknowledges that her talents lie in producing the material for her work, and that she needed someone like Buren to install and orchestrate it. I could have stayed for hours....