In Brest, after the shows, a young man came up to me and told me he was moved by my work. He said my smile was something very special. At that time, much as I was touched by this, I also thought to myself, whaddaya mean, my smile? What about my art?
Recently, a couple of Belgian programmers told me that what attracted them about my solo was me. Again, I thought, whaddaya mean me? What about my art?
I was starting to think, maybe I am not an artist after all, maybe I am just a nice person. What the fuck?
The other day ML told me that all those years ago, when I was a young wannabe dancer, Krishen had told her that I was an instinctive dancer.
What??? It wasn't my intelligence? My rigour?
And so, once again, I find that I am sometimes full of shit. I say that I believe in the intelligence of the whole body - a body governed equally by sensation, intuition and the intellect; yet I want to be recognised for my intellect more than anything else.
I had an epiphany while talking to Alexandra the other night - that for me, making art was an act of love. We then laughed about how impossible it would be to use that as a tagline in the art market. Just not fucking intellectual enough.