Self Made

We are leaving in the rain. It was so heavy this morning that we were forced to cancel our last minute AND Festival tour and order a cab straight to the station. The train carriage is warm and steamy and I am relaxing, writing thank you emails, while watching wriggling water droplets race diagonally down the window. Miss Dover sits next to me in a polka dot halter-neck dress underlining sentences in her book. We have met some lovely people and had a great time (although I fear our rather lightweight approach to alcohol and late nights has let us down). My eye has almost returned to normal. Probably, by the time we reach home, it will be as if it had never happened. Last night we managed to obtain complementary tickets to the Premiere of Gillian Wearing's "Self Made". I enjoyed it, running through nearly every emotion possible. I though it a good film worth seeing. By the end of the credits, however, I felt used, worried about exploitation both my own and of the subjects of the film. One of the characters, Ash, seemed to have been manipulated into reenacting his greatest fear, that he might suddenly attack a pregnant, middle class, white woman, killing her baby. He looked distraught in the post production interview. Miss Dover asked a perfectly phrased question about this issue in the q&a session afterwards but did not receive a satisfactory answer. Later we sat with other artists around a table of drinks, jokily taking the film apart. I wonder if that generation of artists that seem to take, rather than give, is passing on. Anyway I'll send Gillian a ticket to my forthcoming gala event. She seemed shy, I wonder if she will come?



We saw this next piece by accident. It is by Deborah Barrett and is called. "I feel like shit today"