PORNO is still being talked about, still selling steadily. Many collectors have come back in the days after the opening to spend time examining the works of interest to them without distraction. Four black and white prints sold on Sunday in the space of an hour. The large watercolour displayed in the gallery window, Kelly, The First Time, No.6, sold before the show opened.
I joined two major collectors from Adelaide on a visit to the Melbourne Art Fair. With scores of unremarkable, partitioned cubicles hung with mainly dull, no-name or lower echelon brand-name art within the cavernous, over-heated halls of the Royal Exhibition Building, the fair had the grim, proletarian atmosphere of a tractor convention in rural Texas.
I said hello to the very few commercial gallerists with whom I maintain friendly relationships. A couple of the best-known even congratulated me on the success of the PORNO show. On the other hand, the proprietor of a gallery that used to represent me in Queensland actually ran away to avoid having to say hello and the managing director of one of Australia's biggest galleries wanted everyone to notice that he was ignoring me. I just smiled archly at him: it takes more than petty, old-school power ploys to spoil my day.
A lot of people I didn't know came up to tell me how much they enjoyed my work. I was even asked to autograph a PORNO t-shirt.
Later, I had dinner with my father, reclaiming a little more of what was lost between us during three silent years of estrangement. He told me he was proud of me, something of a first.
I'm pretty damn proud of me, too.