•December 6, 2010 •
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Okay. So my blog has so far not “gone viral” in the way that I had lazily hoped when I started it one cold November day last year. Fine. Perhaps I should have done more to promote my “work”.
But if Susan Philipszzszshzs can win the Turner Prize for recording herself singing a load of 16th century dirges and then inflicting them on innocent people going about their business in supermarkets or while crossing roads, surely I can win for producing work of equal quality (I defy anyone to disagree with me on THAT point) and having the decency to NOT inflict it on anyone save those who stumble across my blog while trawling the internet for Belinda Carlisle fan websites?
According to the judges, Philippszszxzzhsz’s work “provokes both intellectual and instinctive responses and reflects a series of decisions about the relationship between sound and sight”, providing “powerful sculptural experiences”.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/art/turner-prize/8185152/Susan-Philipsz-wins-Turner-Prize-for-sound-installation.html
Good-o.
My turn next year, please. Friends, I’ll let you know when nominations open, and I trust I can rely on your support.

Better than my "Belinda Carlisle" artwork, apparently.
Posted in Pronouncements, Sam for Turner Prize '11
•August 4, 2010 •
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Vesuvio Stromberg McKnickerslee stalked across the sun-scorched arid land, a menacing gleam in his eye, a fearsome axe in his right hand an a basket of angry vipers in his left. Never tiring, never pausing for water, never stopping to consult his coffee-stained map, by day and night he traversed the deadly plains of his ruined homeland with a relentlessly monotonous stride and but one objective in mind: to bring to justice the cowardly man who tricked him into leaving his guard post and ate his doughnuts whilst he was gone.
Posted in My Name Is...
•August 2, 2010 •
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My name is Sasparillo G. Dorgan and for twenty-six years I have entertained the populace of my small hometown in western Texas with my quirky radio show, a lively combination of tap dance, confused reminiscences about times past and long-winded descriptions of vintage ball gowns displayed in a Nevada museum. I live in a hollowed-out cactus of comical proportions in the arid scrubland on the outskirts of town, and count tumbleweeds and scorpions among my friends and companions.
Posted in My Name Is...
•July 28, 2010 •
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My name is Tamblin O’Rourke and I make a living by selling wooden toys to the young children of the city from my grotto in the park.
Posted in My Name Is...
•July 26, 2010 •
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My name is Zamboni Castrale and I live at the edge of the known universe.
Posted in My Name Is...
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