I forced myself out to attend the London Artists Bookfair, and the 'Bedsit Aesthetics' talk about zines and artists' books by the redoubtable Mark Pawson, which was slide-enriched and interesting. I couldn't get into Andrew Wilson's speil too much, (although he was supporting free Ukraine with his orange shirt-) as I wasn't all that familiar with the stuff he was discussing, and quite a few people snuck out.. I started coughing, of course, but it wasn't too bad, and there were others, hacking and snorting. Always nice to have company...
I had a desultory mooch around the tables, afterwards, but I don't really go that much for the 'art books'. Many of them are stunning, but like, what's the point? Nobody but rich people would ever buy them, and rich people usually aren't into such stuff... I couldn't even spare 2 quid to buy this (Mike Nicholson) guy's comic, and felt ashamed. It was difficult to browse properly, as people were hanging around jawing in front of their friends' tables, and it was really quite crowded. (The talk had a good audience, too-) I did spend a pound in the end, on a poster proclaiming "I WANT MORE LIFE FUCKER", featuring an angry-looking upright anteater.
I also checked out 100 Artists See God . Jesus, what a mess. Some of the pieces looked good, but everything was jammed onto one wall, in semi-darkness, with a rail in front, so that to had to refer to the guide to even see who did what, and it was just silly. Upstairs (wheeze-) were some rather feeble sculptures and video installations, once again, all squeezed on top of each other. There was a Tony Oursler, and he's always good value, but you couldn't hear, because of the exhibits in the big room drowning it out. Disgracefully badly presented, really.
After all that, I wimped out of carrying on to Malet St. for the Anarchist Book Fair, although some of the talks looked very interesting. Just couldn't be arsed sweating around in cliquey crowds, trying to see stuff I couldn't have, anyway, hobbling up lots of stairs, and I wasn't sure if you had to pay to get in, which I couldn't, so - maybe next year. (I am lame, yes.)