The Sleep Over

That’s right, we went there. For one night only TANK became a hotel/bordello/gallery space in which we slept. Don’t get me wrong – we had good reason to. The first installation of Emma Winters’ extravagant piece “A Tale of Trails” had been installed and open to the public for a month previously. Turns out, building a gigantic tree out of willow branches and pages from old books is not only awesome cool but extremely beautiful. Emma’s installation at TANK is only the start of a project in which new worlds and dramatic settings will be created in spaces all over London.

The night in question was Emma’s closing party. As we made merry amist the billowing smoke and otherworldly-music, sipping on Vodka and Lyche cocktails (easiest thing in the world to make – Glass, Ice, Vodka of choice and Rubicon Lyche juice to taste. Stir, shake, what-evz – Banging!) it occurred to us that we should bring blankets into the grotto and spend the night. More fun that getting the bus home and besides why would you sleep in a bed when you can sleep on a hard wood floor?

I’ll tell you something though – making rubber Catsuits with what I now refer to as “The Lyche-Over” is a savage way to spend a morning after.

Kisses.xx

George

The Poetry Reading

Our new Exhibition has just opened. Rather than being a direct collaboration between our two artists Stephen Lee and Maria Chevska the gallery has become a space where their work is seen in conversation. We held the Private view for the show “Eye of the blackbird” on Thursday 10^th February. I was really excited (I love a good private view). I suddenly, however, became filled with fear when Maria asked me to read a poem...

You know that dream when you’re stood in front of a group of people reading a poem and it all goes horribly wrong and you run off crying and wake up in a cold sweat? It’s much worse when it’s real. So much worse. First time I read poetry (from memory) I was 10 and I froze half way through “All the World’s a Stage”. You know the one, good old Bill Spears, As You Like It, if my memory serves. Absolute nightmare, shamed myself and everything.

Second time, Sixth Form, I was playing Uncle Ben in Arthur Miller’s “Death of a Salesman” (So depressing I can’t even tell you). Right before I walked on stage my mate shoved a bottle of Amyl-nitrate (poppers before they were shit) in my face and I just fell on stage, stood up and blanked. We tried to pick it up but one shouldn’t say the F word on stage, should one?

A few glasses of wine on and with the lovely Becca reading alternate stanzas of Wallace Stevens poem “Eye of the Blackbird” we were set to go. A crowd had assembled in the upstairs gallery area and we went for it. It is a truly wonderful poem and I think we read it really rather well. Un shamed at last and thinking about running at Monthly Poetry Slam as a result. If any of you are interested in getting involved all you have to do is get in touch!

Kisses.

George xx