Smoking is addictive

On Thursday I participated in Brian Fuata's "Wrong solo", a fortnight of performances based on one day workshops with invited artists. We spent the day talking and smoking, and devised a smoking performance where we literally sat and smoked. We'd discussed Andy Warhol's Screen Tests, and both loved the minimal content, so we lit the space and sat in front of an audience and did what we did. I had forgotten all about the nerves that relate to performance anxiety, and was rattled by the shakes, and the spotlights. I would have much preferred to perform to an empty room. Picture by John Douglas
I love the way light catches the smoke curls, and recall smoking in a dark room where the only light came through slats on the windows, and how that striated light would catch the whorls of my exhalations. A french film about smoking I'd seen many years ago spoke of the fact that many artists smoke because what we do is express our internal thoughts and feelings, and smoking gives a visual representation of the interior, temporarily exhaled and visible.
I thought maybe this will cure me of my addiction, as afterwards, the last thing I wanted was a cigarette...only time healed that thought, and I was back on the fags with a drink soon afterwards.
A sad week as I said goodbye to parents who returned to London. We had such a great visit, just wish they lived here full-time.