Pinky: Gee Brain, what do you want to do tonight?
The Brain: The same thing we do every night, Pinky – try to take over the world. My mind has begun to clear a little now I've tidied my studio spaces and made them functional again. A few years ago, everything I owned fitted easily into the back of a rented station-wagon. Now, I need three sizeable rooms in which to fit just my work-related stuff, all of which are filling quicker than I'd ever imagined possible. Of the three, I think of my office as my mind translated into a physical space. I organise my thoughts, memories, and ideas within it because there's way too much to keep inside my head now. If I try, it just confuses, overwhelms and, sometimes, depresses me. I don't have the personal pictures, decorative touches or books I see in other people's offices. I keep those sorts of things in my bedroom. Instead, the walls are lined with deep metal bookshelves. On each are sets of clear plastic drawers, labeled with Posca paint pen on a strip of masking tape. In these, I keep records of my works, exhibitions, research, ideas, and plans, as well as files of collectors, art delivery receipts, computer consumables, and the usual office stationary. Two shelves are stacked with material for press kits. I buy everything with moving in mind. The shelves can be dismantled and reassembled without my having to repack the contents. It's hard enough for me to organise my thoughts once. I don't want to do it every time I move. Three large yearly planners made of whiteboard, along with a noticeboard, and two white-board project planners take up what's left of the available wall space. On them I track commissions, exhibitions, projects, production, communication with collectors, as well as incoming and outgoing money. Few people come to my studio. None are allowed into my office – except my boyfriend. Even he only looks in from the doorway. I keep nothing from him but he senses the obvious vulnerability in having all my plans – and dreams – visible in so much detail.