This evening I went to a Wim Delvoye opening. The Wine was served in plastic cups and the gallery owner was distant and seemingly pretentious; I had bizarre company. A middle aged man from Buenos Aires who invited me, we spoke of Theaetetus and God. He seemed to be a lovely fellow however very odd and perhaps armoured by me which is confronting considering I obliged his invitation under the impression he was homosexualy inclined; the first thing he said when I met him at a cafe was ‘I love your bag, its super cute’…Idk man. He invited me to dinner with his cracked out christian best friend, the gallery owner and the Wim. I politely declined and left in a clatter-unsure of what I had just experienced. I don’t regret it however tempting a discussion of the ‘Cloaca’ with the artist himself might be. No sarcasm intended. Delvoye is fascinating, I’m just sick of guys I’m not actually interested in.
FYI-Some of Delvoye’s Tattooed Pigs ~gOoGL3 it~
(via emmabutton)