2013. The year that really, really was.

Well 2013 has definitely been one for the books. As its final moments eek away I’m still grappling with everything that I saw, did, ate, accomplished, learnt, discovered and appreciated. I’m really not ready for 2014 to start and feel like I’m being dragged along, heels firmly entrenched, towards Getting On With Things when I’m still not ready to let go of London. So, really, New Years Eve is the perfect excuse for some indulgent looking back. And there’s a lot to twist the neck for….

I totes have a problem

I had the chance to go to Margate yesterday. We took a group of young people from work for an away day and so I was pretty happy with myself - killing two birds with one stone - what with a new work opportunity and a trip to Turner Contemporary. Win. Win.

Margate has piqued my curiosity for a while now – it’s Tracey Emin’s hometown and despite recently being named one of the most deprived seaside towns in the UK, is home to a major contemporary arts museum that recently welcomed it’s millionth visitor since opening in 2011. It also has an old town that’s becoming increasingly well known for its vintage and antique furniture shops. You can see the appeal, no?

Sunshine. And a look back at Venice.

It’s a beautiful, nay, glorious day here in London. It’s hot. As in SUNNY. You know, Properly Warm. And SUNNY, did I mention that? And so what have we done?

This isn't London. Obviously.

Absolutely nothing.

Party’s over syndrome

So the party is well and truly over. We got back to London on Monday, Mum and Max left last night and this has been the brutal shift in my reality:

I’m not expecting sympathy. I don’t deserve it (not least because I’m off to Reykjavik in three weeks time…)

But between now and then there’s still in excess of 300 emails to get through, 1000 words to write up on the Biennale for Artlink and my birthday this Sunday to contemplate.

What a killer trip – Paris, Provence and the Luberon, St Remy and Aix, Arles, Nice, northern Italy, Venice...

It’s been amazing, folks. AMAZING. 

Oh hey, Venice...

Just a quick one to say...

Oh Venice, I do love you.

It’s going to be a busy, dizzy, dazzling couple of days and I CANNOT WAIT.

I dipped my art toes this afternoon, disappearing off to spend a couple of hours at the British Pavilion, under the guise of work, to make a short film about what it's like to work as a steward at the Venice Biennale. Hashtag Frequently Love My Job. 

I  left Mum, Max and my Lovely Boy to drink beer and soak up sun. They coped. 

Anyway, tomorrow it is ON so you better bring it, biennale. Because me, my semi-art-literate family and an Artlink commissioned review are coming for you. 

Venice and the art (of gelato)

So I have returned from Venice, art aplenty, carbs aplenty, gelato aplenty.

I think after our trip to Germany I was a little apprehensive about what exactly would be involved this time around, what with four days, six bazillion art exhibitions, pavilions, off-site galleries and snooze-inducing films to see (well it was a long first day and we'd been up since 5...) never mind a long-range forecast that said rainy and humid.


I shouldn't have worried. 5am start notwithstanding, last week in Venice was glorious. Just enough brilliant art, the perfect number of bellinis, plenty of gelato, not a hint of rain, a hotel near the beach with free wifi on the terrace, sun dresses galore and a pervading air of "Isn't life grand."

Tomas Saraceno, Galaxies Forming along Filaments, like Droplets along the Strands of a Spider's Web, 2009. 

We arrived on the Tuesday afternoon and the vaparetto ride to the Lido set the mood really for the next three days - wind in the hair, sun in the face (of those without hats....) and the prospect of promenading in goddamn VENICE. Sigh.


After checking into our hilarious hotel - a building covered entirely in mosaics of faux 18th century cherubs with a driveway lined with naked marble men - we headed off in the direction of the luscious Giardini, for our first encounter with this epic thing called the Venice Biennale.

The Giardini

It really was pretty special. Apart from the fact that the lay-out of the gardens could be read as a history of the expansions of NATO and/or colonialism, with the British, French, German, Swiss and United States pavilions holding the most prominent of locations (Australia was in the equivalent of smartly painted demountable classrooms....), there was something really lovely and organic about being able to wander from 'country' to 'country' and experience such a diverse range of artistic practices. Poland was a highlight, with an incredibly evocative video installation work about the invisible immigrant experience by Krzystof Wodiczko:

As was the international curated exhibition with a beautiful shadow work by the German Hans-Peter Feldmann:

Hans-Peter Feldmann

Getting back to the Lido - ditching the idea of wandering to San Marco Square given the teeming tourist tidal wave - a handful of us strolled down to the beach for some quality toe-dipping, vowing some serious swimming action before we left.

Retiring to bed with my gelato and my appalling so-bad-it-was-fabulous trashy novel, Wednesday was another day of promenading and art-viewing. By a stroke of luck I ended up in a small group with one of my favourite lecturers, a woman who is so fucking smart and so fucking cool she intimidates the hell out of me - to the point where I end up sounding like a total moron whenever I'm in her presence. You know, "I carried a watermelon". That kind of thing.

Anyway - we were a small little group and we had a great day, taking in the Arsenale, a mammoth building with mind-boggling amounts of art in it, before heading into the main part of Venice (through San Marco Square.... argh! tourists! get out of my way!) to see a couple of the key off-site exhibitions. The Arsenale though was amazing and overwhelming. Just some of the work I loved.....

Lygia Pape

Spencer Finch, Moonlight (Venice, March 10, 2009), 2009

Miranda July, Eleven Heavy Things - Pedestal for Strangers, 2009

Cildo Meireles

Off-site we took in the morbid and totally disturbing Mexican artist Teresa Margolles and the Palestinian Mona Hatoum, whose work (none of it new sadly) was shown in an ingenious fashion, hidden amongst the collections of an 18th century house. Sadly stroppy Italian guards forbade any photography. We ended the day here with Mona, well actually, out in the gorgeous green courtyard sipping bellinis and generally talking all things art and nonsense. It was properly brilliant.


If only the night had continued that way... At the student and staff dinner that night I made the completely imbecilic decision to eat the pasta entree that was garnished with shellfish. Let me state at the out - yes, I was SOBER when I mused that perhaps my last encounter with shellfish (which left me totally vomitous and nearly under arrest) was the unfortunate consequence of also imbibing two bottles of red wine and that I wasn't really allergic. Nu-uh. Turns out I am. Viciously so. Thankfully it didn't hit me until I got home but the next day was a total write off.

BEFORE getting home though, hilariously, one of the waiters at the restaurants, perhaps inspired by the sight of 50 slightly intoxicated women, offered us all exclusive use of his cousin's nightclub down on the beach. Hell yes! Such a fun - and funny - night. Lecturers chain-smoking and tearing it up on the dancefloor to YMCA, the rest of us dancing furiously, drinking dodgy cocktails and generally in disbelief that after Venice the next time we will all be together again will be graduation next April. WHERE has the year gone?


But back to the vomit. So Thursday was a disaster - spent lying in the cool darkness of the hotel room and trying not to swallow lest the gag reflex kick in. Sorry - just painting a picture... I did manage to get to the Iceland and Singapore exhibitions before beating a retreat but basically, I had all of Thursday to contemplate my utter stupidity and the carpet burn on my knee from doing the splits at the club the night before. Don't ask.

John Baldessari

Friday was very genial. A swim in the morning, a trip back to the Giardini (I'm auditioning the Polish pavilion work as a potential dissertation artist...) and a visit to the Australian off-site exhibition before lunch and another boat trip back the airport and then the flight back to London.


Am still feeling a tad shaky after my little vomiting episode but largely I am well and so grateful to have had the opportunity to visit the Biennale. Next stop dissertation with a detour (read: excuse to put it off for an-other day) via my Birthday tomorrow. 29........