My new resolution is to start each day with a job application - bonus point for virtue - and just churn them out until something, anything, comes along. Last week I applied for an internship with the education department at the National Portrait Gallery and I would love, love, love to get it. Over-thought thoughts and scribbled mind maps all seem to suggest this is something I should explore and the more I contemplate the old existential headfuck of "what makes me happy/when do I feel most creatively satisfied/what do I enjoy and what do I think I'm good at?" I come back to the idea of museum education. Who knows what will happen but it would be a fabulous way to explore some of these over-thought thoughts.
Whether or not I manage to get any career leverage happening here in bloody London remains to be seen - book notwithstanding - but at least my travel plans are starting to come to fruition, thanks to some savvy early bookings and friend of friend arrangements. LB, Tors, The Hungry One and I are all off to Cornwall in a fortnight for a long weekend. I have always wanted to go to Cornwall so I'm really looking forward to it. There's the tentative suggestion of lunch at a certain philandering fishmonger's restaurant while we're there but basically I'm just looking forward to some walking, some fireside sitting and some general exploring of the area. It won't be warm enough to swim or frollick on any of the beaches but it will still be lovely to be near the ocean, even with a whipping wind.
|Michael Landy, Semi-Detached, 2004. Installed at Tate Britain.|
We're off in a little while to Borough for some Oscarsfest preparation (read: dinner and a movie with Tor). I was in London for the epic foodfilm moment that was the 2010 edition but thankfully this year the locale is SE1, which may as well stand for Seriously Excited.
|Still from Andrew Kotting's film Wake for a Deadad, 2006|
There's actually been a few outings this week. My date for one on Wednesday was a talk at the NPG with Michael Landy and filmmaker Andrew Kotting, who were both discussing their unconventional portraits of their fathers. These were, respectively, a to-scale replica of the family home that was created for the Duveen Galleries at Tate Britain in 2004 and a film following the artist and a blow up version of his father as they re-visit the significant places from his father's past. It certainly leaves painting with a lot to contemplate.
|Gabriel Orozco, Island within an island, 1993|
|Gabriel Orozco, My hands are my heart, 1991|
The other highlight of the week was high tea yesterday in honour of my old flatmate Katie's birthday at the Haymarket Hotel near Piccadilly. Expensive champagne, a tiered cake tray laden with crustless finger sandwiches and petite treats of the sugared variety - it was heaven, served on a floral plate.