By Susan Finlay

The more I think about it, art theory is no place for straights. And contrary to popular opinion you can’t be really poor—or poor without a safety net—and bohemian. Or live in a capital city and have a fun time all the time or even some of it. There was no good reason why Someone Else and I split up besides different senses of humour and views on economics - which are two no good major reasons...

'In Vasari’s soaring vision of art, the most-used adjective is ‘beautiful’. In Finlay’s tarmac-hugging account it is ‘posh’. This book is not an appraisal of perfection of an artist’s output, but a rummage through an improvised life full of so much besides art. What a wry, unsparing weave of formative episodes and structural ironies. What devil-may-care tilts at authority. No redemption or overcoming all odds here! This unvarnished world is marbled through with brilliance and shit.' — Sally O’Reilly

200 pp., 182 mm x 128 mm