A Good Kick Up My Cocky Arse

There is a ‘62 Group’ exhibition coming soon to Farnham. Being a member of said group, I took it for granted that I would be in it. I confidently sashayed to the framer with ‘Jake and Dinos Chapman Have An Idea’ (yes, another prod at the male dominated artworld) the minute I’d cast off. My usual stance is to wait until confirmation before committing to the expense of a frame.

I was rejected.

Seven positives.

1. I got a good kick up my cocky arse. Always good.

2. I was forced (old work wasn’t submittable) to focus. This is the only piece of work I’ve completed in three years. What about last year's Faces? (I hear you cry). Not quite finished yet. 2023’s Faces, then? Not even started. What about that piece in the Royal Academy Summer Show? Made in 2022.

3. I enjoyed the making. The ‘small work’ stipulation proved to be perfectly manageable. I spent Christmas and New Year stitching Ernie Wise’s legs, and enjoyed every minute.

4. I have a new piece of work, framed (not paid for or collected yet, mind) and ready to sell. Well, as soon as I’ve documented the sources.

5. Another artist, hopefully a previous rejectee, has been given a platform. The gallery is small. There is not enough space for everyone. The curators can’t please us all. It can’t always be my turn.

6. I no longer need to take time from my day jobs (I don’t get paid holidays) to deliver, collect work, and pay for train fares to deepest Surrey.

7. It has made me consider, not for the first time, photography. The importance of good photographs was frequently repeated in the instructions. I ignored the advice, blindly doing what I always do, taking snaps with my not-particularly-modern phone.

Joy in the Detail: Small Work from the 62 Group

7th May - 6th September, 2025.

Tuesday - Friday, 10am - 5pm. Saturday, 10am - 4pm.

Crafts Study Centre, Falkner Road, Farnham, Surrey GU9 7DS.

Free.

Cautio Wet Pain

To Whom it May Concern

What I am about to say is not endorsed by my boss, Ken, and he might freak out if he reads it. So it is important that I stress, these words are my own, absolutely not his.

As you may know on a Friday and Saturday, I work at Tension Gallery in South London. I’m not tagging, but we are easy to find. Ken owns the gallery, pays the bills, and has given me a job I enjoy. I will be forever grateful. Despite his sometimes rough exterior, he is as soft as muck with a heart of gold. He selects artists he likes and respects for our exhibitions. He is the busiest person I know. A plasterer, doing a part-time MFA at Goldsmiths, living two hours from the gallery. I have never had a conversation with him which hasn’t been interrupted by his phone ringing.

I LOVE the gallery and working for Ken. It’s the best job I’ve ever had. However, there’s something that’s really starting to affect my sleeping and mental health.

Before I start, I want to point out that on the Tension website, it states clearly, in capital letters, the gallery does not take unsolicited proposals. Be arsed to read the website before you approach a gallery.

The story I am about to tell is not unusual. My life has become dominated by artists asking me if I can get them an exhibition. I can’t.

An entitled arsehole visited the gallery at 3.30pm yesterday. We were closing at 4pm, when the exhibiting artists were due to collect their work. I politely told him this and made him a cup of tea. It’s his second visit. On his first visit, he invited himself into the office, where I had been happily chatting to a couple of artists about nice things. I went to make him a cuppa (I’m still talking about his first visit) giving him the opportunity to sit in my chair at the desk and dominate the conversation for the next ninety minutes, or so. Meanwhile, knowing that I would now be finishing gallery admin at home that night, I busied myself front-of-house and waited for him to leave. By the way, that’s what happens when you come into the gallery and talk about yourself for two hours. I end up doing the work at home. Ken doesn’t ask me to, I just do. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind looking at your work, in fact I often ask to see, but I don’t have the time to look for two hours. I also don’t take kindly to people coming into the office and taking my laptop so they can show me their website and explain every detail. It’s happened several times. At this point, all I am thinking about, as you drone on, is the work you are preventing me from doing and how that will impact my evening. You have successfully shot yourself in the foot. A large part of my job is welcoming people and discussing the exhibition. I love that and do it well, but that’s not what I’m talking about here. Anyway, back to yesterday and Mr Entitled’s second visit. It’s 3.45pm and I’m attempting to clean the gallery windows. He spends the next couple of hours following me around, watching and talking as I remove work from walls, paint over dirty patches and wash-up. He has an opinion on everything I do. All negative. At one point, whilst I am up a ladder filling holes in the ceiling, he points out that I have mis-numbered the ‘works list’. I don’t show it, but I'm upset. I typed the list tired, on a Sunday, in my own time. But still, I am annoyed with myself for having made the error. The exhibition is over, so the mistake I hadn’t noticed is no longer relevant. I politely remind him that the gallery closed over an hour ago. He finally gets to the reason he came. He was ‘hoping Ken would be here’ so that he could talk to him about his work. I don’t know for certain, but I suspect that is exactly why Ken wasn’t there. He knows he is going to get bombarded from all directions, when all we want to do is de-install the exhibition. Mr Entitled didn’t care about me getting home at a reasonable time. He had other priorities. For the record, I feel massively uncomfortable approaching Ken about ‘your work’. I don’t want to add to the bombardment.

About 80% of the people who come through the door ask for an exhibition. Some in the first five minutes of their first visit. They don’t even pretend to look at the show. Some don’t even bother to visit the gallery at all. They send a private message to my Instagram account. They think we are friends. My real friends don’t ask for exhibitions, and I love and appreciate them for that.

I don’t know how other small galleries work, but I think I know how Tension works. So here are a few tips, if you are hoping for a show in Penge.

1. Ken must like your work. Look at the website, and read it. Are you a good match? This does not mean your work is bad, just not to Ken’s taste.

2. Do not ask Ken for an exhibition. It annoys him. He does the asking. There have been forty-nine exhibitions at Tension since it opened and only one was given to someone who asked. That particular artist visited and promoted the gallery for two years before making a move. Mark Wallinger has a solo show in May. Believe it or not, he did not ask for it.

3. Do not come to the gallery purely to promote yourself. Especially, during a preview. Read the room. These events are not about YOU. I’m pouring drinks and collecting glasses. Putting your phone in my face, or Ken’s, isn’t appropriate. I can’t see without my glasses, anyway. Also, if either of us disappear into the office at any point it’s because we’re knackered. We’ve been there all day setting-up. We won’t be home until very late that night. We need a five minute breather. This is not your cue to follow us into the office to continue your quest.

4. Don’t ask me to visit your studio. When I politely say, ‘I’m sorry, I’m working that day’ (I work full-time and have family caring responsibilities) don’t reply with, ‘You could come on a Sunday’, because what I’m hearing is, ‘I’m a selfish bastard, and the world revolves around me’. On a Sunday, when I’m finished with all the other life-shite, I make my own art, if I’m lucky. As for Ken, if he wants to visit your studio he will let you know. He hardly has time to visit his own studio, never mind yours.

5. Be part of the Tension family. Come to the talks and actually look at art (the first thing Ken asks is ‘Did they look at the show?’). Put the effort in. Follow the gallery on Instagram. Comment on our posts. Share our posts. Promote the exhibitions/ talks/ coffee mornings. Turner Prize winners aside, this does help. It gets you noticed. It may not get you a solo show (initially) but you might end up being part of a group show. If this happens and you are a diva, you won’t be back, no matter how strong your work.

6. Don’t get upset when Ken doesn’t follow back on Instagram. He hardly follows anyone. Play the long game. If you are persistent with your comments (genuine comments about the post, not me-me-me comments) he will eventually look at your feed. If he likes your work, he may get in touch.

7. Bring us a postcard-sized photo of your work. Write your contact details on the back and a bit about yourself. I keep them in a box and we look at them. At the beginning of 2024 we had an exhibition of a hundred small works. Every invited artist had visited the gallery and left their details, or were Instagram supporters.

The thing is, if you come into the gallery and say you are an artist, we already know you want an exhibition. It’s a given. If you don’t want one, go ahead and ask. Make my day, punk.

Better Than Nobody

I support Brentford Football Club by mistake.

Several years back, at the dinner table, my husband and son were dominating the conversation with their beloved Reds. For a laugh, my daughter and I offered our bullshit opinions on tactics, and the like. We told them we loved football, they had just assumed we didn’t. Sexist bastards.

When asked who we support, I glanced at a pile of freshly laundered sheets and said ‘Brentford’ (out of date reference) and that we were off to watch a match that very afternoon.

And so we became football supporters, as much as two people who are totally uninterested in football can.

Due to ongoing random questioning about Griffin Park, we have been forced to follow the Bees for real. Turns out we are lucky charms. I kid you not. Since the day we gave them our magical blessing, Brentford FC have risen through the ranks to the Premier League. It’s uncanny.

Or it could be that they are a ruddy excellent team, with brilliant management and a great work ethic.

In the words of Steven Bartlett, ‘Brentford are special. Very, very special. Based on their resources, they are objectively overachieving’.

Steven goes on to ask Ivan Toney, who has played for many teams so can ‘compare and contrast’, what makes Brentford different?

“Everybody just mixes together. You just get your lunch, you just sit down here, and you talk with whoever. Nobody at the club thinks they’re better than nobody. That comes from the manager and his philosophy at the club”.

I recommend listening to the full interview. Especially if you are my old boss.

Steven Bartlett, Diary of a CEO. Interview with Ivan Toney, 19th August 2023.

Don't Feel Bad, Joe

I have been applying to be part of the Royal Academy Summer Show, on and off, for 30 years. I have never been accepted, and this year was no different.

Last year, I was on a telly programme, presented by Joe Lycett, which documented the highs and lows of a group of artists who were hoping to be chosen. Joe referred to me as Queen of the Rejected, in a nice way. I had entered RA Bastard Shites, a piece about being rejected from said exhibition. I was asked to cover the title.

The process starts in February, when you pay the fee (now £38), fill in the online application form and upload your photos. The first round results arrive by email towards the end of March. If you are successful the RA judges give your work ‘careful consideration’ upon its delivery to the Academy at the beginning of May. Results of the second round are announced later that month, at which point you will either collect your work or leave it for the exhibition. There’s still a chance you could rejected, they always take more than they need.

Today is Varnishing Day. So called because the likes of Turner would varnish work after it was on the wall. It’s full of pomp and ritual. The artists go to a church service at St. James’s, then stop traffic on Piccadilly as they march to the RA, where they finally see their work on display. Some complain that it is too high or low. BFF* Joe had his sculpture, Chris, accepted one year. It was displayed on the floor, in the corner, butted up against the skirting board.

Joe got accepted, for a second time, this year. Although he is prolific on social media, he just announced it a few hours ago. He has known for a while.

This is what I’m thinking. Joe is a nice person. He feels a bit bad that he got accepted on account of all the people who got rejected. I don’t want anyone to feel bad on my account. I see it in other artists, too. They get accepted, but don’t like to say so, for fear of making the rejectees sad. It makes me feel way sadder than getting rejected ever could.**

Artists, please share your good news. The majority of us are happy for you. Screw the others. They need to work on themselves.

And on that note, I have two RA rejected artworks available as limited edition prints. This year’s rejection Exile Textile 3, and last year’s rejection RA Bastard Shites.

Alison

*To whom it may concern - I know Joe Lycett isn’t really my friend, but thanks for telling me repeatedly.

**Of course I could be over-thinking the whole thing and JL gave it no thought at all.

Photo by Phil Shelly for Klein Imaging.