This is what I woke up thinking last Sunday, just like that, a complete statement. The essay we were asked to do the next day was based on a poem called 'Why I Am Not A Painter', which includes the phrase 'I am a poet'. So I have been pondering this and then acting on it. Now I have several A4 print outs of photo portraits of my near family on the wall next to my desk.
That just gets me to 'I am a curator', so I have a little way to go before I become the Tate with its huge halls, marble floors and my memories of that clanking piano which was suspended from the ceiling and crashed open every few minutes. Though inside my mind I have the Rothko room. To me it never moved away from the old Tate. I have enough vast buildings in my brain to last me a lifetime...
...try Derek Jarman's garden:
http://wellywoman.wordpress.com/2012/06/30/garden-tour-derek-jarmans-garden/
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