Sunday, August 22, 2010

100 Things You Still Don't Know About Me, Part Three

51. The one item that's always in my medicine cabinet is Lucas' Paw Paw ointment. It's the only alternative remedy I use.
52. I love gorey, emotionally wrought Asian horror films.
53. All of my employees and suppliers sign confidentiality agreements. I have only one confidante. If someone says they know something about me that noone else does, they're either making it up or they're in breach of contract.
54. My emotions are unruly and unpredictable in all things – even business. I have to apologise often to those few I care about.
55. I'd rather make art than own it. But if I did own it, I'd like watercolours by Francesco Clemente, paintings by Jean-Michel Basquiat and Frida Kahlo, erotic line drawings by Picasso, pages from Peter Beard's diaries, an artist book by Billy Childish, Andy Warhol's Electric Chair, a set of bondaged-women-as-furniture by Allen Jones comprising a chair, table and hat stand, a massive steel scullpture by Richard Serra, and a garden full of soft sculptures by Claes Oldenburg which I could jump on like inflatable castles.
56. I'm really good at the limbo, even if I'm not as limber as I used to be.
57. I've never had sex with an art dealer or a gallerist – and I won't – but being arrogant, middle-aged and male, they always fancy their chances. I had sex with another artist once and he sucked at it (you know who you are).
58. My tattoos were inked by an ex-boyfriend who dismissed them as typically girlie. But he got a kick out of having my ass near his face while he worked.
59. Sometimes I pretend I'm La Femme Nikita, the original one played by Anne Parillaud, directed by Luc Besson. The one thing I would have loved to be more than an artist is a hired assassin.
60. The last time I got drunk was on cheap, sweet cocktails at a club on Walking Street in Pattaya, Thailand. Back at my hotel I fell asleep, fully clothed, with a tattooed, bouffant-haired, leather-jacketed bar girl named Poy.
61. I've never loved any of the women I've had sex with.
62. I told a boyfriend that I wanted to be a nudist and live by the sea. He turned my words into a song played in heavy rotation on MTV. Ten years later, I'd stopped talking to him but by then I actually did live by the sea and spent most of my time in the nude. Go figure.
63. The same boyfriend once suggested, good-naturedly, "How about you make dinner for us both?". "How does 'get fucked' sound?" I asked. "A little harsh," he replied.
64. I didn't taste lobster until I was 30 years old
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65. I fell in love with a woman at 18 but I was too uptight then to have sex with her. I was 28 when I finally fucked with a woman and love had nothing to do with it.
65. I finally got the hang of oral sex, to and from both genders, at age 30. I figured it out while bending backwards during the limbo (see no. 56).
66. I used to be neurotic about junk food. The first time I was invited to taste a burger from a suburban drive-thru I burst into tears and fled the car. (Several years later, I ate a burger and chips from the same drive-thru. It was one of the best meals I've ever had.)
67. My maternal grandmother committed suicide. Her body was found by a co-founder of the infamous counter-culture magazine, Oz – he now works with one of Australia's largest publishing houses.
68. The same publishing company turned down my first-ever book proposal.
69. I took Polaroid photos of myself as studies for my early paintings. I tossed them in a grubby plastic garbage bag and for a decade, stored them with my paints. Now, the original prints sell for between $US500-800 each in the secondary market.
70. The former premier of Victoria, Jeff Kennett, owns my early enamel painting Career Babe: The Policewoman. He once emailed me to tell me that a guy I'd dated had cornered him on an inter-state flight to regale him a pitiful story of how I'd broken his heart. I was too embarrassed to reply.
71. Dangerous Career Babe: The Trophy Wife was created for the cover of a prominent Australian literary quarterly. It was pulled because the editor thought my highly publicised PORNO show was pornographic and as a well-known academic, she didn't want to be associated with it. The promotional postcards she had printed and withdrew are now collectors' items.
72. The first serious essay I ever published was in the same literary magazine.
73. A frank account I wrote about the 2001 artists' expedition to Lake Eyre in which I took part was spiked. The publication's lawyer thought it defamatory. But every word was true.
74. Against all feminist rationales, I love Pamela Anderson. She might not be too bright but she's fearless, funny, and irreverent.
75. I often get intimate notes from women I've never met, with photographs of themselves naked. I love it.
(To be continued)

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