Is there something essential about the condition of being an artist that naturally predisposes one to a state of manic depression? Of course, it could just be me, but I suspect that, knowing other artists as I do, it seems to me that there is something generic about this condition. I became really quite disappointed earlier in the year when my application to take part inn this year’s John Moores exhibition, in Liverpool, was turned down. This was followed by a notice from the Buxton civic gallery to say that a show there in which I had been planning to exhibit material had been abandoned because urgent structural work was required on the building, which had to close with immediate effect. This evening, however, I had a conversation with a person responsible for another venue, where my proposal for a solo exhibition was received with interest. It might possibly all come to nothing, of course, but my former state of doom and gloom has been changed into one of positive optimism. I wonder if it is at all possible for an artist to retain a condition of emotional stability and uniform, if muted, positive expectation.
Artists have not yet reached the condition of professional sportspeople, who these days appear to be accompanied by a train of support staff, including not only the obvious trainer but also a nutritional adviser. I can see how this state of affairs might come about, but you would have to be earning rather more from art than I am! I wonder what dietary advice one might give to an artist.