Saturday, 21 February 2009

(Someone) Laid A Trap For Me (Perhaps)

So I woke up this morning upset, as though Phone Alarm Lady had interrupted a bad dream before it got resolved. I just felt angry, I did the wrong thing, I should have gone for the show. Everyone will be talking about it on Monday, and I will not be part of things (again). I hate that school feeling, I have to go or I'll miss out, but more than missing out for me, I'll miss out on the cachet. When we chatted the other day, I decided I didn't need to do it, it wouldn't feel good, I'd be there not as a professional but as a dresser. But then actually I'd have been there as a fan, as Peter Jensen is one of my favourites. Who goes to these things, industry, consumers, and student slaves. Linked to get a ticket, laboured to get in the backdoor. What terms do I want to be there on? I felt ok about it today, and decided it was like 'How to Talk About Books You Haven't Read'. Maybe.

I felt weird at the opening last night, still, after all this time, like a 'look what you could have won'. Gross of me to think this. Maybe it was the gin. I've just started thinking how my working class background is ingrained in me, like in my skin stamped in, that I'm kind of pulled towards a work ethic and Having A Job, even if my mind is more intelligent, academically inclined, and middle class. I don' think that's the real reason. I liked what Mark Wallinger noted about the races, how there's a missing middle class. I think that I would like it at the races, poor people betting on rich people's horses. I don't know why I should have such issue with my class background.

I don't know why I'm going to look at a studio. I just suddenly felt like I could have ideas again, and that could be worth something. When people ask 'what do you actually want to', I find it difficult, because what I want to do is make things, write things, see amazing things, and talk about ideas with people I am excited by. These things don't pay. I want to be able to exchange a skill for money in the world, and not feel compromised between what I can do, and what makes me tick. So watching all of them at the party, cavorting with lightness, paid to have thoughts, was really painful. They were as glowing as celebrities, you could almost see the freedom. I was jealous. It seemed so apart from the fashion world. I even had to go to the Approach after class the other day to see something real. I want to make art again, maybe it'll happen once I realise I am capable of ideas.

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