"Out on the deck I meet the designer Peter Saville. I am about to say something nice when a plunging bimbo with an orange buzz cut, in her rush to kiss the whip, nearly tips me in the pool. I retreat. Luckily, at dinner, I'm seated at a table with Barbara Gladstone—the Larry Bird of art-world trash talkers. We talk about Barbara's new gallery in Brussels and then we talk trash. We are still talking trash, standing by the table waiting for dessert, when a handsome young man comes up and gives Barbara a hug. Barbara says, "Oh, Dave, this is [room noise] Chapman," so I know it's one of the famous Chapman brothers but I don't know if it's Jake or the other one. Also, I am in my lighthearted, talking-trash-with-Barbara mode, so I stick out my hand and say, "Great to meet you! Didn't you used to play with Oasis?" I regard this as a gentle, laddish sort of tease and expect the same in return. Instead, Jake (or maybe the other one) turns on his heel and stalks away. Now I'll never get my 20 signed."
(Nov. 24, 2008, Dave Hickey)
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