23 May - Macbeth & Biennale

I must be the only person in Europe who when booking trip back in Feb for self and a few friends to Venice (for early june) did not check about any events in the city. Safe in the knowledge that movie festival is in September and the Biennale runs Summer to September also. Ah but had not given a thought to rampant commercialism and exploitation of just about everything and guess what? Biennale acutally opens first week of June and runs to ... November. How mad is that? yes I know the scope of it has so increased that it covers 3 or 6 times the original area and they add on the other Biennale empty year and make that the architectural one, so that local food vendors ie restaurants can be kept in gold painted gondolas all year round. I didn't know. You'd think I had never gone myself in other previous years. So when I came to booking hotels I obviously left it to early May, month in advance is pretty good planning you'd agree.

Not a space, not a room, nothing! and friend's flat occupied by her musicians there for her mini festival. Never occurred to me that she'd chosen 1 June so as to be part of Biennale jambooree. At moments like this a rich russian friend with a yacht would be a welcome addition to my life.

But then the palazzo was found! The only one in Venice with private large landscaped garden . Go on a search if you like, but be smarter than I am and notice straight away that the rentable parts of it do not have balconies on the Canal Grand alas, so you can forget dreaming to play some 18th century painted dame. Never mind, will be dining in Mazzorbo. You must know have been to Venice plenty of times (including a spell in hospital there in 2003, won't go into it but they have one of the best departments for ophtalmology/transplants etc) so have to find new things to delight me.

As for Machbeth in the title, well we went to ROH and a friend took us to backstage canteen and was kind of surreal to eat a sarnie surrounded by the vast chorus. Plus I was laughing... in Verdi's world they call him Macbetto. Just too funny.

30 March - Europa & Women

(unedited) It starts with crossing the road in front of Westminster and there's our maire on his bicycle, cunningly wearing a black beanie from which only a few white locks were escaping but unmistakably sort of misshapen and various other people turned at the same time. Dear boris you don't know how many letters never sent I have composed to you when am mad about the buses, the tube, the trains and the traffic! exh in smith square. gorgeous, never been here before. in support of european baccalaureat small gathering so too many canapes and too much wine great (or great at the time conversations) that remind you of a bunch of things that only central europeans care about and not the inhabitants of an island that has refused the Euro. picked up lots of literature, speeches etc on european union roll on Lebanon when I'll go visit CK whos moved there because lebanese husband had had enough of low level racism he faced in Austria. told P. the sculptor/writer that my male friends can't stand Tracey Emin and I on the contrary feel for her and her struggles and totally get her. And I like Margate. But have never met her and certainly not prior to her sobering up a bit, she must have been 11 on a scale of obnoxious. art, I like collages , I like found stuff put together but not video. too much wine. tbc

5 March - Sheph Bush & LA art galleries

Going for dinner with old uni friends of Toph somewhere local to them in Sheph Bush. Regular thai place not that special food wise. He doesn't say much but he's nice, a good listener, though I can't rememer what he does, maybe writes for school type magazines? She's more interesting, does legal work with/for refugees so knows about foster parents and that gives somethign to talk about. They ahve a few kids, but the youngest at 7ish turned up just when they were ready to feel freer and now they're stuck for a few more years. So it's camping hols rather than freewheeling in Bali for them. Their daughter who doesn't want to go to uni. It's ok lots of people didn't but they are then the ones I know know who will somehow mention 'I left school at 15, I didn't go to uni' - subtext, but don't think you can patronise me as have since educated myself at the university of youtube etc. I mention anotehr friend who doesn't want hers to go to Uni for financial reasons/burden but it's hardly easier to come by a job and daughter wants gap year too, paid for by mother. I say let her go, maybe she'll find a job in Colombia or some such, see what happens, refuse to fund the trip beyond paying for half of it, if she really wants to go, she'll go sweep hairdresser floor for a year to get the money. for anyone with younger kids/babies/toddlers, I'd recommned reading the idle parent manifesto on the Idler Academy website. Great fun and I agree.

Back to the dinner above, wish I could meet her sister.. she runs an incredibly beautiful gallery in Santa Monica, the Louver? great pun on words. Took a look on the net and though how fab, spend the day with this art (all top notch) and wait for brangelina to drop by once in a while and get 2 of these and 2 of those and hey presto, that's your healthy lunch and juice paid for on the beach before you go to a yoga class at that great place P. took me too years ago before London had anything remotely comparable. They still don't.

15 October - Art & Thieves

We go to a gallery where friend of L. is having a show. Mirrors cut and arranged in novel ways and rubber flooring. I like but can't tell you if it has any art meaning, It's in a large gallery in Bond St so am assuming they know what they do.

The after party is at the Arts Club in Dover st. I've never been, fancy that, who could I have missed it. When we arrive there's a small commotion, fire alarm, so we're kept outside waiting for a bit, and H and A go to the grocery store opposite and buy cheaper drinks there. We eventually get let in by a very rude manager who wants to know who we are etc, probably sick and tired of Frieze week, go downstairs, find other people we know - nice room - , find that someone has paid for the wine and I start to chat to one guy O. who was at uni with Toph, only different college and who is riveting (probably in small dose) and good friend of other friends so Toph gets a few mins of jealous feeling which is never a bad thing. This guy is not attractive per se but you can tell he's never had a problem getting women because he knows how to be interesting. I call Toph over when a certain mineral is mentioned that I know he has some trade in. And how wonderful to watch this guy's face when I reveal that I know what potash is. Simply brilliant, never second guess anyone in the world about what they may or may not know.

Upon exiting whilst J is retrieving his bag, I ask the greeter guy if he's Italian and he says no, Algerian, therefore a small conversation ensues during which he tells us the place is about to close for renovations, that Gwynnie Paltrow and thieves in mayfair! The Arts club, gwynnie paltrow is paying for some of it but he doesn't give a shit becasue they're all being made redundant in the meantime.

It's at this point that he gets called over by the other reception guy because our friend J.cannot find his £600 bill amberg new bag with all his life in it. He was made to check it in though there are not tickets, you just leave your bag in or on top a cupboard behind the entrance desk! G. says she was asked to leave her bag too but had refused. And you can't enforce stuff with laywers. They must have missed me but I'd have refused to enter a club with such a stupid rule. Check the contents if you want for smuggled whisky or weapons but am not leaving you anything. Nor coats on any hangers anyone can help themselves to.

J had various phones/chequebooks /house keys /receipts/passport in there. I guess even taking the keys out would have spoiled the line of his jacket. Much ado about must have been taken but one of the only other 2 members who left already, they go to try and call them but get no reply blah blah. In the end J goes home to G, next day no sign of his bag with those members. The bag has gone. We suspect major major foul play from the management since they had said nobody else had come in after us (though I guess any clever chancer thief could have sussed out what we were carrying whilst stood outside, followed us in and taken the bag as soon as J left it there and exited?????????

The lesson here is twofold, don't obey spurious rules (I wonder if they're actually posted in reception, no one is allowed a bag inside, go tell that to women) and besides everybody knows Boy George used to nick stuff from all the pockets when we was a coatcheck boy at the Blitz? and don't buy manbags that cost the same or more than women's. Maybe I wasn't asked to leave my £12 (down from £35) cheap bag because it quite clearly advertised itself as worthless and not containing any expensive wallets or expensive key rings? Ditch the designers people and you'll save more than money. All the hassle he had to go through for days after and they're still trying to deny liability. Boycott the stupid Arts Club, don't care if Pissarro stayed there a hundred years ago. And Gwinnie if you read this since you're always on the net, tell your insurers to pay out. Our J. has impeccable credentials and no need to go through a charade to claim money for no reason.

24 June - Art Again

We're on the street eating something and millionaire ex TV person now visual artist ex colleague of Toph goes past and stops for a hello. Upon enquiring about what he's up to, he says he's off to Venice with his work. So Toph asks 'For the Biennale?' and GF says yes.
I'm thinking surely not, it's G&G who are the UK entry (or was that two years ago? and it's Tracey Emin now) but certainl ynot GF. I'll check later but Biennale my arse, maybe he's exhibiting in Venice DURING Biennale, but why give the impression you’re part of it? It's a major distinction he should make.

Toph comments he bought his way in perhaps and that’s what happens if you’re heir to a supermarket fortune and then become a visual artist? I say, you're right, and why resent nepotism or what money can buy you if you have some to use? After all for all I know Mr top Dentist in the whole of Dulwich is probably busy making it easy for his son to become the next top dentist. Toph and I (and a large proportion of our friends) have got to stop resenting the fact we didn't have anyone to pick up the phone for us at crucial times and say 'Give my boy a job will ya? I'll pay you back the favour or here's a wad of money just don't tell him that's the reason he's getting the job or his pride will be hurt'.

Later that evening we're in Hoxton for an art show that's been sold to us thus 'You must come, something something Schnabel, and Kate Moss will be there and all manner of gossip pages model fodder'. Who's the artist I asked... 'can't remember' was the reply. But since it's an opportunity to catch up with Shoreditch friends since we can extend the invitation, we're going.
Upon arrival it all makes sense. It's not Julian Schnabel anything, but it's his son, Vito who's presenting/representing this young New Yorker who paints and makes sculptures of the scatological humorous variety and sells from between £3 to £25k. Which is not unreasonable. Turns out he's the son of a famous NY art critic. But I still can't remember his name. I like some of them, mini scenes a la Lachapelle, full of details and irony but the 12 year old son of a friend finds the turd ones funnier. But of course.

No Kate Moss that I can see but maybe she came and went since that paparazzo something Young is on hand with his camera. But there's Alice Dellal and her brother. Oh wait, it says here that the gallery is owned by their millionaire property developer dad. So no wonder it's well attended and there's that guy who runs the Royal Academy these days.
So it's a classic example of something that in Italy goes under the following category 'They make it and they eat it'. Meaning the whole shebang is self supporting from within a very close circle of people. I wonder how my friend I asked along, curator of shows where art sells for £100, feels about all this, since w/o being able to phone magazines etc and mentioning the list of names that will draw any attention to you (schnabel/moss/dellal in London or Schnabel/Wintour/Keef Richards' daughters in NYC, who's going to come to your show? and if the press don't record it, it's like it neve happened? and if your name doesn't link to other names, why buy you?

Later on I do go and check the Biennale site extensively for traces of our millionaire visual artist and I find none. It was ... exhausting, since I started going off on tangents to see who the entry was for Japan, for Croatia and so on. In our limited 16 hour lives one can only really go into one subject or two. Brain/time not enough to cross over many. I simply have to give up spending time on Art since I'll never really care enough. And cinema. I just have more than a passing knowledge in the field of music and that's that.

19 June - Photos & $$$

Leafing through catalogue on photography auction. Feeling bad on crowded train when some Mapplethorpe or H Newton or Saudeck appear on the page. Ah the nudity!That's actually not so bad but it's when you hit a page with a YOUNG nude that you worry.

As ever it’s strange to try work out why this photo/this photographer sells for £30k and that one for £2k. Or how times change. Right now, 20 odd years after their time, I wouldn’t care to have a Mapplethorpe photo of Lisa Lyon. Why would I? Why would you unless you were buying it as a commodity to sell on.

And there’s the added minefield of some of these are print #6 in an edition of 10 or print #20 in an edition of 200. What’s worth more, how do they work it out, mathematically like betting? Or is some other equation at work? And if you were a millionaire in love with a print would you then seek out to buy all other ones in circulation so that you’re the only one with IT and thus your only one also gains in value? Would you destroy the others to inflate the value of yours? And so long as the negative was not destroyed and you can still get more prints, photos will never achieve the same prices as a one off painting? But where does that leave audio visual installations? Does anyone buy some video art to watch at home? And once the end product is a 20p DVD, how do you give the work itself a value?

And why can David LaChapelle sell a print of a cover he did for Vogue (Alexander McQueen and Isabella Blow). Did the magazine not pay for that commission? Ok the copyright is with the photographer but can he make money ad infinitum out of something he didn’t fund in the first place? And if that’s the case why can’t a musician make all the money out of the sale of his record after deducting what the record company spent on it and made, say in the first year of its release? Though why artists have to pay 50% or so commssion to galleries escapes me. It's way too much for what they do . Why why why? See, if you’re 4 years old you ask why why whywhy about the clouds in the sky and so on, but if you’re old you’re still asking why why why.

8 October - Sexy Paintings

So I didn't go to the new Saatchi, have a downer on him. But went to another gallery behind the Ritz specialising in oriental artists, in fact Chinese as they're all the rage. No sign of crunch time here yet as the champagne and sushi kept flowing and the DJ kept djing and the burlesque clad girls did what they normally do ie stand around and look pretty. I have no idea if Li Bo will sell any of his ultra sexy paintings, they were not expensive and I'd buy one if I had the wall to hang it on as £1,500 to £3k does not break the bank.Still, if he doesn't sell now, he's only 21 and can take a bit more rejection.

I was meeting a friend who in turn was meeting the ex married lover who she's had no contact with for a few months. She had deemed it a safe option to meet in public and with me as chaperone. Neither of us had expected the sexy paintings though. He took one look at them and declared they were too much (of a reminder of his nighttime romps with my friend) and having just come straight from his psychotherapist and not wanting to undo the good work... they repaired to the pub. My friend told me she finds him slightly pathetic now which is a good sign of recovery and getting out of providing just the relief from his stupid marriage if you see what I mean.

This quick exit though left me with no one to talk to apart from the lovely host but she has also other people to entertain and ones with pockets perhaps. I ended up chatting to this woman who normally ignores me at events though we know various mutual friends. This time she had her son in tow, fresh from joining Goldsmith where he will be an artist, and so I made nice conversation with the 20 something and this suddenly must have put me in her good books. Bizarre. I forgot she had been married to a famous magazine editor who in turn is the son of a famous painter (but she reminded me). When I got back I told Toph and he reminded me she'd also been the lover of a crazy actor father of a crazy singer. But what does the woman do I asked? She's a writer/columnist. Ahhhh. I see. All in all another one of the evenings I seem to have recently where I go out of my usual curiosity and because it's nice to be invited but I then have no appetite to talk to anyone much. What's going on? Will books be my only friends? Eventually?
tbc

6 September - Art & stalking

ok, am now filling these in retrospectively in October as had too many September tbc's and I hate being so slack/forgetful.
I went to an art launch for a colleague who had taken a sabbatical of six months to finallyget an exhibition in place. I didn't know what to expect and was very happy to find it of a great standard. I may not know much but I had no problem reading the blah blah stuff and understanding her journey into the finished product, unlike some other people. I guess I'd have enjoyed it even more if I truly appreciated that the journey is as important as the final product. I liked it but there was a certain reliance on rorschach test type images that ultimately would not hold my gaze for long and I'd find them trite. I liked some sculptures but at 5k each they were not that appealing after all.
I was about to leave after two beers when on the stairs I went past the BF's ex who doesn't know what I look like. From then on another entertaining half hour was spent stalking her to my hearts' content. She works in the arts too so there was a logic to her being at the launch. Funny how she's exactly shabby as her photos I'd previously seen. I mean, it never fails to bother me why people who earn more cash than I do can be so reluctanct to spend it on a good coat or a good pair of boots or... their hair. Nobody age 35 should go around with hair in bunches, it's just unbecoming. Anyway, I ended up taking a short vido on my phone (as you do and because this way I can stare at her any time I want) and phoning the BF to say 'your ex looks like a camel, how could you?' He said 'She scrubbed up well, sometime'. Bless, how sweet. But yes, if you're nearly 6ft tall and you don't have the face of a model, it's not easy to dress. I nearly tapped her on the shoulder to say the slightly 70's gym shoulder bag had to go. I did tell the BF she was with a short ugly g/friend which seemed to make him happy. I mean, she was not there with some hunky artist or patron of the arts.

12 May - Turners & Turnips

I'm well acquainted with that waste of time that is retroactive jealousy… I'm the one who googles ex lovers of my lovers and get worked up about stuff that no longers figures in his mind.

But this morning a colleague takes the martyr top spot… Her husband’s previous past long relationship (12 years?) was with an artist who’s on the Turner prize shortlist and let’s face it, she has 1 in 4 chance of winning - £25k thanks very much and all the publicity and commissions you can handle, plus she's already repped by a top gallerist - and so er… yes… she’ll be in the public eye a lot. It will hurt a lot to see her face everywhere (pretty in an exotic sort of way) and the fact that it had ended in ’01 is not much consolation. My colleague is also an artist but as we’re not working in a museum or a gallery or in the arts period, you can assume she’s a frustrated and not so practicing one and has a long way to go to make it to the Turner/Turnip. I try to make light of it, after all, who can name the winner from 2 or 3 years ago, but she's not having it. I tell her that she earns twice in a year what the prize is but she replies that the artist has been doing what she wants, not what she has to. Fair enough.

I hold my colleague's hand, I feel dreadful for her, but the reality is that her husband is happy for his ex, and for the nurturing role he played in her development and not looking back. At least that’s what I want to believe. And did I say he also taught or mentored one of the other female short-listed artist? He must be feeling pretty good in the talent scout department. Wonder if he gets invited to the ceremony/dinner and my colleague will have to go and smile congratulations? Then again she could use it as a PR exercise for herself, but no, it would probably be too a poisoned evening for her.

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....