The initial spur that prompted the decision to give this lecture about veracity was my own deeply personal relationship with a liar. Please just hold that in your mind whilst I talk for a bit about what I understand of truth. Perhaps it’s something embarrassing, something even deviant, something darker still or just simply something a bit niche that you wouldn’t disclose readily. Let me leave that there for a moment and ask you all to think about yourself as an individual think of something about yourself that people wouldn’t know, or wouldn’t possibly perceive as an element of who you are. How many of you think that more than half are true?Īnd finally how many of you think that every potential fact is true? With a show of hands can I ask you all if you think that only a few are true? My father worked on the Extremely Large Telescope. I am thinking about having a child alone. Ron Hubbard with obscure science fiction books pre his creation of Scientology. I used to want to change the world but I’m now no longer sure that is feasible due to bulging population figures. I have been lied to, to the point of abuse. I still don’t know my left from my right. My mum had Quentin Crisp as a life model. My dad played support to David Bowie during his Ziggy Stardust tour. One of my sculptures helped to save my family during a serious crash with a lorry in 2010.Īll of the hyperbolic text version of my biography that accompanies the work ‘Hyper Bowl’ is based on fact. I cried at the Ariana Grande concert for Manchester. I ran a temperature and the doctor told us that I would have to come back if my temperature didn’t go down. When I was eleven I went into hospital to have my tonsils taken out. My grandfather was one of the first people to publish Arthur C. I had a five year love affair with a married comedian. My grandmother made Winston Churchill’s dress uniforms. When I lived in Budapest I spat at a guy’s crotch when he exposed himself on a bridge to myself and a friend to prevent his ‘happy ending’. ‘ 400 Women’ was a work that grew, in part, out of my own feelings of shame. I keep it as true even though I know it can’t be. My feet lifted off the ground and I hovered over a distance of six or so feet, to the swings. [ I have an implanted memory of flying as a child. Behind me is a list of possible facts about my life so far.
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