“I was pissed hey this is my spotlight, and he fucked up.
The whole reason i hit the guy, was I new if I didn’t react.
it might get out that this was some stunt, I had organised.
Everybody had to know how strongly I felt.
I had no idea who those people were.
I thought it was a scam.
I’ve always had a very unhealthy relationship with heels.
I think that beauty comes out of being unique in every way.”
Brian Dawn Chalkley draws, paints, makes films, dresses up, performs and writes monologues.
The stories she has to tell take place in seedy hotel rooms, lonely apartments, in bars and sex clubs and patches of woodland. Obsession, repression, sexual fantasy, secrets, solitude and a very bleak kind of humour are among the artist’s subjects. The work is full of character, and the character is the artist’s best invention.
The question is not so much who to be today, or what story to tell one-self, so much as whether to Hoover or to shoot oneself. The frock is on the hanger, and the revolver is on the table.
Looking at Brian Dawns work I ask myself who is the stalker, who is the stalked?