This site is no longer updated. All existing and future homologue posts can be found at

We say: the writing of a text is its dying song.

Here I am telling poems at the Icelandic Embassy.

You can’t tell from the sound, but there’s a section where I wrote the words on paper as I recited them, dragging the line of text between opposite walls, carrying it through the air on a page of my notebook. I held the open notebook horizontally like a tray, and wrote against it as though the words were balancing on top and might drop off the edge of the page if I let it tilt too far. Read the rest of this entry »

Speaking of that Kaprow statement, my ongoing work Musica Practica is programmed for Tate Britain’s Late at Tate event in February. Moving the performance into a museum makes a change from its original South Bank location, where it took place both outdoors and outside of a designated art space. It meant people stumbled upon the work without any preconception that it could belong to an art context, and as a result, for many people it never did: it was just a thing that had happened to them that day – or perhaps they had happened to it?

Putting the performance into a museum makes it clear from the outset that we’re dealing with an art thing, and there’s no doubt this will substantially change the work. Read the rest of this entry »

“I’m put off by museums in general; they reek of a holy death which offends my sense of reality. … Moreover, apart from my personal view, most advanced art of the last half-dozen years is, in my view, inappropriate for Museum display. … Museums do more than isolate such work from life, they subtly sanctify it and thus kill it.”*

Statement by Allan Kaprow for the catalogue of his 1967 exhibition at the Pasadena Art Museum, cited in Allan Kaprow – Art as Life, Thames & Hudson 2008. My a-n review of the book is here.

Andrew Graham-Dixon: Tell me why this is a drawing.  Why is it a drawing and not a text?

Lawrence Weiner: Oh, using text for drawing is no problem.  It tells you something.  But drawing is explicit.  Drawing is not implicit; there’s nothing hidden in a drawing.  When you draw for people, you’re drawing something to tell them: it’s a message.

From The Culture Show (BBC2), 2 Dec 2010. Thank you Sarra for the extracts!

Other people in three studios:

“‘You know,’ Cage reportedly said, ‘when you enter your studio, everyone is there, the people in your life, other artists, the old masters, everyone. And as you work they leave, one by one. And if it is a really good working day, well, you leave too.'” (Robert Storr, pp. 59-60)

“The best ways to waste time in the studio are those that are unproductive and not related in any ostensible way to making art. I’ve fallen into a new way of wasting time, and it doesn’t involve the internet. My new activity is engaging and completely useless. I can’t tell you what it is; it’s embarrassing to me. I find a lot of what I do in the studio pretty embarrassing, but it’s no more embarrassing than what I make. I’ve never been able to work with people around. I don’t want to think about myself when I’m working. It is very hard to get into this state of un-self-consciousness, where I can get lost in the work.” (Rachel Harrison, p. 217)

Read the rest of this entry »

I’ve just spotted online the Jolly (Good) Show review I wrote for a-n. It opens: “People don’t like it when you get your shoes lost under the desk and you slope around the office in your tights. It’s not professional.”

It occurs to me this is the second review I’ve written involving tights. The other one is at Kultur Fabric: a fictional exhibition I invented by writing its review. And then there was that plan I had involving all the tights with holes in, which never amounted to anything. I do still have all the holey tights, in two large cardboard boxes.

I like this a great deal.

(shoe by Tag Savage)