nearly arrested – take the risk – retreat foiled

art4good is batting great numbers.

the first person we reached out to, alison lapper mbe is firmly onboard, donating some of her work, and opening doors to other artists.

this is a massive win, and came from very simply, just asking.

so the next on my list to try to get on our team is dame tracey emin. tracey is one of the uk’s most prolific artists, and having beaten cancer, currently has a show entitled ‘a second life’ at the tate modern and is just the calibre of artist we want on our team.

my research on tracey has been unofficially going on since i read her autobiography ’strangeland’ twenty one years ago.

born eight days before me, we grew up in the same world, though her in margate and me in london.

i discovered she was doing a talk ‘on painting’ last night at the wonderful emmanuel centre in london, so booked a ticket.

my plan, to either talk to her as she signed books after the talk, or if time was tight give her a handwritten letter inviting her to join the team.

i boarded the crowded train at cardiff central, and the jostling crowds reminded me of scenes from india where they literally pack people onto the trains, and as i slid into one of the last seats, the announcement crackled over the tannoy “we apologise for the fact that  the train is so busy, it seems to be thursday is our busiest day of the week nowadays”

how very british.

an uneventful journey saw me arrive with ample time to navigate the underground, and streets of london, only stopping to caffeinate myself at black sheep with a cup of damn fine coffee, black as midnight on a moonless sky.

the queue for my recruitment opportunity was growing outside, and there was a buzz of excitement wafting across the evening air.

i was getting excited.

would my plan work?

nervous energy, and it felt like i had a tummy full of chrysalis’s about to burst into life.

for the second time in the day i had to queue with crowds of people.

my favourite thing.

but as we entered the auditorium it was worth it.

it was beautiful.

and huge.

and very quickly filled up to its 900 capacity.

the noise of these people and the thrill of what my challenge was, seemingly injected adrenaline into every vein.

there were books on every seat, and i knew they were included in the ticket price.

however, quick maths allowed me to realise she wasn’t going to be signing 900 books.

how was i going to get to give her my letter?

my window of opportunity was closing.

the decibels were rising.

and the led clock was getting extremely close to 7.30, showtime.

i had three choices.

quit and retreat home, foiled.

jump on stage and attempt to avoid the massive security guard with biceps the size of my thighs, wearing a black beret, i kid you not, and place my orange envelope on what i had a 50 percent chance of it being her chair.

that sounded almost worse than retreating, and definitely carrying more risk of arrest or broken sternum at the hands of mr t.

i opted dear blog reader for option three, beg.

i viewed what looked like two ‘in charge’ ladies.

they were my target.

i opened my rucksack, unzipped the black pocket, and located the tangy enveloped letter.

here we go

“excuse me ladies” i said as i headed toward the power brokers.

i smiled my best smile as they frisked me with their eyes.

mr t had seen me and was closing in.

my heart rate was triple digits.

“could you possibly give this to tracey please?”

i offered the envelope.

mr t had his hand ready to draw arms.

“i’m sorry we’re not delivering anything to tracey tonight”

gulp.

i must have looked crestfallen.

“it’s really important she gets this”

“i’m sorry we can’t”

no budging.

desperate times call for desperate measures.

“it’s really important, we’re a mental health charity, and we want her involved in a big project we’re doing.” i offered.

silence.

mr t looked puzzled.

“ok”

she offered her hand to take the envelope.

surprised, i smiled, “thank you” and i made my way back to my seat, very aware that my escapades had been viewed by all and sundry, and as i sat down, the lady to my left looked at me, lifted her hand and said,

“extra strong mint?”

i pondered.

“yes, that would be lovely”

normal service resumed.

mt t caught my eye, and winked at me.

or did i imagine that.

tracey emerged, to rapturous applause, and she carried us along with her stories of love, pain, david bowie, philosophers and teachers who believed in her, and at the end i wanted more, so much more, the measure of a great talk i think.

hopefully she gets the letter.

hopefully she reads the letter.

hopefully she calls me today.

what a cool story when she does.

take the risk or miss the chance.

blue skies,

jeff

c