Tracey Emin released an autobiography last year. She has become famous for sharing too much of herself with the public (used beds, a list of everyone she has ever slept with, and the Cunt Vernacular film), so if her art is anything to go by, it’s probably quite a revealing book.
People are just generally interested in the confessional details of others. All my favorite artists seem to be people that that I know a lot about. Some share themselves with paintings, or diaries, or film, but they’re all very open with who they are and what they think. (Artist’s have also been known to create some of their own myths too, so learning about a famous artist is sometimes just entertainment). Look at the success of sites like Post Secret where people send in their anonymous confessions to share with the world. It has exploded in popularity by people sharing the address, because people are naturally sticky beaks! (Sticky Beak is Australian slang = to pry into the life of others.. being nosy).
Anyway, back to the Tracey Emin autobiography.. I am yet to read it, but hope to see it next time I head off to the book shop. Over at the Guardian there’s a review of the book..
“Those who do want more detail on all the best-known Emin myths won’t be disappointed by Strangeland. It follows her down the dark alley where she was raped, aged 13. It details with some relish her stinking flat, her alcoholism and her wanking habits. And it describes, movingly, how she was left holding a dead fetus in the back of a London taxi five days after her botched abortion.” Read the rest.
Has anyone read the book?
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