At a talk at Goldsmiths, University of London, I gave the auditorium audience pages of the newspaper and invited them to pick an object, location and verb while I talked about my work, then form them into sentences. The resulting list / poem is what they wrote. It is my alternative artist's statement.
Rolling vinyl alongside the river.
Staples of stress.
I welcomed 3200 year old bones to the opening of the London Marathon.
I'm not a depressive person: I sit on the bus and walk with my legs together on a table. I feel satisfied. I am very happy with my own progress.
Choreographed screen mounds.
Thrones gently hug in a digital world.
Universal phone-scrapping.
Television getting its foot in the door at a charity event.
Gossip builds Primrose Hill.
Yesterday came forward to revive the family.
Blocks discover Georgian townhouses.
Join the siege of alliance against the honey-trap.
Big night love doldrums.
She lives in fear of being sexually dry.
Nice tenants paint out glossy brochures besides the Thames.
The ugly Palace of Westminster is rapidly becoming smart.
To spare your teeth this weekend, best to go with the nurse from London with severe laser who puts legs together.
During the observations in Pyeongchang they would sell their souls for a lie rather than share their knowledge.
Set to sign a new deal, I tap up the wealth.
She hides in fear in her Chelsea megabasement.
Signs stop but a Swiss ski lodge doesn't sound so bad.
Spotlight on Thai restaurants buzzing in Brutalist Brunswick Centre.
Xerox salesman Beyoncé hoards knee-jerk contributions.
Taylor Swift undemocratically appointed to the Communist Party of China.
The ugly pink elephant, yours for £299,000 with stamp duty incentives.
Boarding-school savvy
Her triumphant relaunch of Father London.
Thousands of unrealistic creative forces are unmasked ducks.
Concierge lobby with cupboards become the norm on a really trendy street.
I have my contracts exchanged in Derry Street.
Charlotte announced on instagram that real wages had fallen.
Rusty barbecue. Full throttle.
The heart of kings cross is buzzing with a smart internal specification.
Astonished congresswoman Frederica Wilson left behind a deranged animal on October 4th.
Limbs present targets for eradication at the markets.
Of course this U.K-based network sashayed down the Great British Bakeoff.
Safari walking in Virginia.
Getting bored and hungry in Communist heartlands with a UK-wide network.
I live with my husband in the secret shop owned by landlords.
Duped by adventures in wonderland.
Indeterminate wrath formula in Paris.
The capital's most semi-pedestrianised emporium.
Rolling vinyl alongside the river.
Staples of stress.
I welcomed 3200 year old bones to the opening of the London Marathon.
I'm not a depressive person: I sit on the bus and walk with my legs together on a table. I feel satisfied. I am very happy with my own progress.
Choreographed screen mounds.
Thrones gently hug in a digital world.
Universal phone-scrapping.
Television getting its foot in the door at a charity event.
Gossip builds Primrose Hill.
Yesterday came forward to revive the family.
Blocks discover Georgian townhouses.
Join the siege of alliance against the honey-trap.
Big night love doldrums.
She lives in fear of being sexually dry.
Nice tenants paint out glossy brochures besides the Thames.
The ugly Palace of Westminster is rapidly becoming smart.
To spare your teeth this weekend, best to go with the nurse from London with severe laser who puts legs together.
During the observations in Pyeongchang they would sell their souls for a lie rather than share their knowledge.
Set to sign a new deal, I tap up the wealth.
She hides in fear in her Chelsea megabasement.
Signs stop but a Swiss ski lodge doesn't sound so bad.
Spotlight on Thai restaurants buzzing in Brutalist Brunswick Centre.
Xerox salesman Beyoncé hoards knee-jerk contributions.
Taylor Swift undemocratically appointed to the Communist Party of China.
The ugly pink elephant, yours for £299,000 with stamp duty incentives.
Boarding-school savvy
Her triumphant relaunch of Father London.
Thousands of unrealistic creative forces are unmasked ducks.
Concierge lobby with cupboards become the norm on a really trendy street.
I have my contracts exchanged in Derry Street.
Charlotte announced on instagram that real wages had fallen.
Rusty barbecue. Full throttle.
The heart of kings cross is buzzing with a smart internal specification.
Astonished congresswoman Frederica Wilson left behind a deranged animal on October 4th.
Limbs present targets for eradication at the markets.
Of course this U.K-based network sashayed down the Great British Bakeoff.
Safari walking in Virginia.
Getting bored and hungry in Communist heartlands with a UK-wide network.
I live with my husband in the secret shop owned by landlords.
Duped by adventures in wonderland.
Indeterminate wrath formula in Paris.
The capital's most semi-pedestrianised emporium.