As art fairs go, so went COLLECT. Hours of endless chatter punctuated by moments of high hope crumbling into I’m-just-lookings, or I’ve-spent-a-fortune-alreadys, or call-me-when-you’ve-got-another-in-a-cooler/warmer/darker/ lighter-shade.
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I’m going to fast forward. We’re into our third day of the fair and still standing. Despite my incessant kvetching, we managed to get through set-up, get the lights focused, glass cleaned and all the clutter crammed into our tiny stand closet, before dashing back to the flat to change and return in time for Opening Night.

“Can you focus it 2.5 mm to the left and about 1.5mm up, Steve?” Loughlin obsessive? Yet another misunderstood personality.
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Last month I was rudely awakened by the shocking rumor of our corporate-ness.

I’ve been introspecting for the last few weeks, ruminating on this ill-fitting identity . But I do sort of get it. It’s a close cousin of that other curious piece of urban mythology surrounding Bullseye lately: that we’re “elitist”.

Dashing to present our glorious objects at the V & A. We must be just SO cool.
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Factory schmactory. I’m on my way to the Victoria and Albert Museum in London to set up Bullseye’s stand at COLLECT, the international art fair for contemporary objects.

Fifteen hours, three airports and a cultural canyon away from Garlic Gulch.
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