You're Feelin' Fine

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I am in Venice. I am sitting in corners of cavernous white rooms absorbing art and feelings. I am listening to the art talk to me, it's telling me about our futures. I'm peaking at Vanessa Beecroft's sculptures through crevices in marble walls. Sarah Lucas is representing Britain in all her overtly sexual, provocative style, questioning how we view women in society and I'm laughing. I'm falling in love with Joana Vasconcelos and her intricate plastic flowers lit up by the most delicate lighting. I'm surrounded by women communicating things to me and I'm so happy I could cry. I always wanted to be here.

I'm lying. I am nowhere near Venice. I haven't got a passport currently, or any money, so I'm going to have to just imagine what it'd be like being in Venice at the moment. I'm actually on the sofa in my pyjamas with little black puss asleep just behind my right ear. I am supposed to be packing things and preparing for D.I.Y Cultures on Sunday. The zine man Martin has a table and I'm there too with my wares. I'm excited to be there, not as excited as I would be going to Venice, but I'm hoping for a good day, I'm hoping to meet a few people and I'm hoping I'll sell enough to at least cover my train fair. That is a lot of hope.

It's a shame I'm not in a better financial position as I've got some exciting ideas for things I do want to do, but without the capital I can't do them. I do have indiegogo here which I've pretty much ignored because I don't want to admit money isn't great right now, and I'm not good at promoting myself. It's a pride thing. It's always a pride and confidence (or lack of) thing.

Do you remember when I wrote about Art As A Commodity? I'd been invited by Hiscox to attend a talk that happened Tuesday night. I didn't go. After really thinking about it for longer than five minutes, and remembering my outrage at the art market I made my apologies and said "Thanks, but no thanks". As much as it would have been terribly interesting to attend, and a good networking opportunity for me - I'm not so easily bought. Especially not by a multi-national million-dollar company. I have integrity and Hiscox are not a company I want to support. When the company is making £216.2 million PROFIT in 2014, if they want me to attend an event and write about it, not only can they pay me, they can pay my travel too. I also don't want this space to become about companies buying me. Especially when it's the kind of capitalist shit I disagree with. It may work for some but it's not going to work for me.

Have you seen Bill Bailey and "Hey Asda, I ain't gonna be your bitch?". You should, it's amazing and actually sums up how I feel, so hey, Hiscox, I ain't gonna be your bitch. (For my American friends, Asda is part of Walmart, and Bill Bailey is a national treasure).

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When I moved into my flat, in March of 2014 I was informed that the bay window was going to be replaced; within three months. Yesterday I was woken by a grey-haired, weather-worn builder informing me that, yes, today was the day; the bay window was coming down. Exciting as it may be to finally have a window bay that doesn't leak or have any mould, it is also the only source of natural light for my living room and kitchen. I am writing this from a cave. It's only supposed to be three weeks but I am already mourning the loss of the gorgeous evening light that I get. If you're ever renting a Victorian property, apparently these types of works are common place; they just never happen on time.

I never expected to have a show home, or even one that was worthy of Apartment Therapy, but having builders is a little frustrating. Especially when it means you have to make extra cups of tea. I am going to use this situation to my advantage though, and redecorate once I have the landlords permission. Which is all different types of perfunctory when hopefully Martin and I will be moving come August.

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But back to DIY Cultures, I'm excited, and if you're near London or even in London on Sunday, come say hi, we can have a selfie and put the world to rights. This is the first time in four years I've taken my wares to the public when I've been present, and there's a different anxiety than when I exhibit. Without sounding arrogant, exhibitions come easy to me now, I apply, if I get it the work goes up and people may or may not like it. I'm generally not around all day to listen to their thoughts on my work. A stall at a fair feels alien and vastly different, people will be inspecting my wares in front of me, not only do I need to be confident in my products, I almost need to become a sales person.

I'm not good at any of those things. Yet, it will be a learning curve, and one I really need to listen to, especially if I ever want to be self-employed. I've got business cards, and I'll put some paper down to start a mailing list and maybe if I hope and believe in myself it'll pay off.

Either way, I need to shut up and get preparing, TWO DAYS TO GO!

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