Tuesday, 27 January 2015

Purple is half-mourning

Tears and black fluffy kitten ears, pearls for Daddy's girl and a candle flame for the elevation of his soul. An airy funeral with white flowers for his innocence and no one to guide us through the service.

But I have been found by strangers on the internet and an art project bobs up in the wake of the wake. I am to keep the captain's log, the black box of an exhibition called The Violet Crab. On a cabaret theme.

I think of Tyrian dye for imperial togas drawn from the shellfish. Born to the purple. Not unwanted in a back street like him.

I wear soft things for comfort these days, mohair or a tendrilly marabou boa that sticks to lipstick when you inhale.

Bist du bei mir, geh ich mit Freuden
zum Sterben und zu meiner Ruh.
Ach! Wie vergnügt wär so mein Ende,
es drückten deine schönen Hände
mir die getreuen Augen zu.

Two of my drawings get stuck together (tacky white ink). As the curatorial assistant deftly slices them apart with a Stanley knife he is slashing my barnacle soul off the submerged hulk but I am not ready to break through the surface. Not yet.

Oh don't worry, I can see you through the distortion of the water, but I see Daddy more.

The Violet Crab at the David Roberts Art Foundation (6 Feb-2 May 2015) is designed and directed by Than Hussein Clark and produced by Vincent Honoré (director) and Nicoletta Lambertucci (curator), with Dan Munn (curatorial assistant). 

More pictures if you scroll down.