12/11/2019

Like many artists I'm always scouring the pages of Artquest, Art Rabbit, Wooloo and the like, sifting through the many art opps on offer. Although there are always lots, when you whittle them down to exclude ones you are too old for, the wrong ethnic or sexual orientation, the wrong artform, outside the location, or you have to pay a whacking fee to enter, there aren't too many that are worth trying for.

You feel you can narrow the odds by seeing if you know the selectors, by seeing what kind of work the gallery or whatever has shown in the past, and by feeling that the time is right to enter. I've had scores of disappointments, and the glum feeling of getting that rejection letter - 'Thank you for...we were overwhelmed by the quantity of... however on this occasion...'

So when I read the email confirming that I was shortlisted for the Contemporary British Painting prize, all I could do was stand rooted to the spot and say 'Fuck' about twenty times. Then I walked round for about a week with a lovely warm feeling in my stomach trying not to show off.

It was joyous to see my work set up in the gallery at Huddersfield, standing securely on smart plinths, and to look round a show full of beautiful work of great variety. But mainly it was the lovely feeling of being part of something, and meeting the organisers and painters; the funny feeling of being with your tribe, people who like you spent much time alone in their studios, questioning themselves, making solitary breakthroughs; people who wouldn't look at you all funny if you go close up and squint sideways at something, or will patiently answer questions about poppy oil versus linseed.

So thanks CBP - but maybe I won't tempt fate by applying next year!