Turner prize 2006 - Tomma Abts

This picture shows Yoko Ono and here happy new boyfriend, he must be some spin-doctor, or is he the director of the Arts council, looks also like the line manager of the BBC canteen, sorry I do not have an idea who he is. In here short speech Ms.Lennon confirmed that London is hyper than New York, everyone was happy and relieved, to be in the right place at the right time. She also confessed later to me, that she had nothing to do with the split of Sir Paul from his wife, Heather, Ringo just made it up.

I really do not know where to start, such a high and tempting erotic dencity was blowing in the valleys and hills of vulgarity, but as professional AZINE art reporter, I stick to my rules. Do not touch a girl, does not matter how much staff devs you took, how high the attempt is, jo have to do jo job. Especially after todays, "Everyone should attend Disability Equality Duty because the new legislation kicks in in January".

Compared to the opening of Freeze art fair, this needed real diversity management. The level of high heels has been enormous, the shortness of skirts tight and impeccable, the conversations saucy and sleek, naughtiness spread in the dark corners of the good old Tate. I mean just the decision between too young, young, elder and old, between lesbian and married, between kinky and bossy, naive and intelligent, vintage and trashy, expensive and costly, no car no fridge to with butlers serving honey toast in the morning, either screaming, yelling and crying the day after. This spectrum made me overwhelmingly un-decisive. At the moment I have no passions for widening participation, please see the short clips with the Turner winner 2006 and Turner winner 2003.

I hade a very inspiring conversation with a strickt blond Lufthansa stewardess and secret employee of the German Embassy and a gorgeous dark haired lady from Scottishireland do not ask me. I stick to my duty and tried to interview the Turnerprizewinner 2006, Missis Tomma Abts. She, a very smart and clever girl in deed, in a beautiful dress, the soft aero cloth lying along the well-sculpted and trained surface of Tomma's proportional body, thoroughly nord German as it stays in the books.

Flash back to 2003 Grayson Perry, he got priced for a she, honestly I tried to be intelligent, which failed. I have been almost thrown out, because of my photo camera attitude, I was not properly press accredited, more like a tourist. A female guard commanded me to the cloakroom downstairs. Somehow, I must have mixed up the rooms and ended in a small party, a nice elderly lady and a gentleman with a moustache approached me, asking who I am (I did not said that I am Andy Warhol) I said I am from Ravensbourne. They said well this is the artist pre party; oh sorry I will press my SAS invisibility belt, immediately after finishing my glass of Champaign. The elderly lady then whispered gently in my ear this is the director, I forgot completely to say hello and was mentally so focused to find the cloakroom, that all socio felt of my chest. I jumped the long queue, saying the director was sending me, or maybe it would bean better to say, that I was on behalf of Andy Warhol here.

PS: Walking in the corridors of the Chelsea art college in search for my critical practice, made me a bid melancholically romantique ala déjà vu, jamais vu. The corridor had the smell of oil paint which generates particular feeling in me, of deep religious believe and trust, almost feeling at home.