WHEN A VEGETABLE’S A FRUIT CALL IT BY IT’S NAME:

Saw my good friend John, up form the southern hemisphere
to put things right. He’s got the glue to bring fractured
tribes together, friends long gone bitter when they used to
make poetry & fabulous things that made me believe you could
sell your art & still have integrity, the first of their kind
I ever met. I was raised believing that money for commissioned
art was a dirty thing until I met the disparate bunch John brought
together at the end of the 80’s, end of everything, beginning of
the next thing that was so much better. I’d only ever hung around
with the fine art crowd, a proud tribe who believed they knew stuff
others never could, levitating on their own importance, then I meet
this tribe in London, brought together out’ve a collective
who-knows-what, but John knew exactly what he was doing, what
connected us & he was the glue until he flew south & it got bitter,
sad, lost it’s vision, when it used to see right through the
bullshit. People who’s art I believed in & still do, if only they
would drop their guard & break through the walls they’ve erected
between them. Life, it’s too short. I got no time to do half the
things I want to do, let alone throw time away. I want to see
that tribe back together, sparking & jousting, watching each other’s
backs & giving freely to each other the way they used to, but this
time in the knowledge that there is so little time left, that we
have to make it count.

(K)