10 Reasons: How I became a successful artist

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In my misspent youth (read delinquent layabout), success and I didn’t look like our paths were ever going to cross. More likely I looked set on a collision course involving many wall crunching moments. But all them doom and gloom soothsayers were proved wrong.

I. I got expelled from school. A year before I was due to sit for my A levels. Prior to that my school track record was actually quite impressive, until I discovered alcohol. That would have been when I was 9. Okay maybe 14. The expulsion followed a harmless misdemeanour- I roped in a co-conspirator and we raided the school’s chapel wine cellar. Granted, it was one of many harmless misdemeanours. Such as ending up drunk as a skunk (why do skunks have such a bad rep-do they have the Irish gene?) after I was delegated together with a classmate (probably the same co-conspirator in the chapel raid) to clean up tables after a very well attended Parents Day luncheon. We cleaned up allright, going around all the tables and chugging back leftover wine.

2. I quit art school. Yes, inconsiderate teenager that I was, I had been given my potential superstar art career on a platter by being granted unconditional acceptance to St.Martins School of Art in London (unconditional means, to the illiterati, that they accepted my attendance based on my potential regardless of the outcome of my A levels.) Hello. Convent boarding school pampered alcoholic in training soon to be unleashed on the streets of London. My name was lit up on billboards, above the flashing sign “Will Not End Well”.

True. When I bailed out (and went on what was to be the biggest bender of my life), my mother was all ready to serve me with a court order to demand I repay my parents all the money they’d spent on my education.)

3. I slept with Gallery owners. I’d heard it was the normal procedure for actresses if they wanted to speed up their career, so could work just as well for artists. This will explain why so many of my paintings from my first collection called “Rooms With a View” showed bedroom scenes.

5. I created an air of (intruiging) mystery to my self-image. To achieve this, I knew a distinctive and eccentric dress code was imperative. So I ensured I was always seen in public wearing black. However, this didnt quite give me the leading edge, given that almost all female locals in Bahrain wore black in public. So I switched to Plan B. Be hard to find. The list of my changes of address and country looks like it was pulled from a profiler’s report on a drug pusher.

6. I can’t remember the rest. I know I titled this blog “10 Reasons” but that’s only because a blog expert recommended using the list thing to attract readers. Is everyone out there having OCD issues? I mean seriously, lists are things I write in one of my many notebooks and then forget which one. Sorry I’ve decieved you. Oh wait, I’ve got Reason No.6…Be inconsistent and unreliable. I’m extremely adept at that. A dear friend who shall remain nameless never loses an opportunity to comment “oh its okay you’re just a Flaky Artist”. I might just add that Peter is one of the most eccentric and beautiful souls I have on my friends list. Gawd, I used that word again. I confess this is not, at least in my living memory, (which is short), a concerted effort. Its effortless. My long term memory is perfect; my short term memory makes therapists cry.

7. More Blank

8. Even more Blank

9. Blanketyblanck

10.Blacketyblanketyblanket

…Oh you actually scrolled down this far? (PM me for the number of my therapist).

To reward you for your effort, here’s another of my bedroom scene paintings for you (ref: no.3). It’s titled “The Bather”. We shall not mention any dry quips about getting wet.