One of the Butcher's Dogs poets bought 'Plinth' (the painting that was used for the front cover) and donated it to the event so it was sat in the background propped up on a table. There were also copies of the book everywhere, as well as mini promotional postcards. This generally felt like there were bits of me scattered all over the place, not to mention the bizarreness of visiting one of my own paintings in public. Visiting old paintings always makes me feel weird, like seeing something I know impossibly well but I am completely disconnected from. I also got a VIP mention and a round of applause which was immensely embarrassing.
On the way home, I got chatting to a guy about why I had been in London and I showed him my work. I think he thought I was famous as then ensued a rather gushing conversation. This was then topped off the following week with a talent swap with one of my extremely talented friends - Margaret Yescombe, a professional photographer in London - and a photo-shoot.
So - a public showing, promotional pictures everywhere, a round of applause, a gushing 'fan' (I actually think he had just found a way to 'chat me up' without resorting to dating clichés) and a photo-shoot. I feel curiously self important - recognised and unrecognised - living a fake celebrity that lasted about 5 days. Oh well, at least I got to taste it for a little while and I always like experiencing new things. It looks like some of the shots we got from the photo-shoot were gems as well so I may soon have a new photo face for all my artwork.
Watch this space.
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