tracey emin is a political artist. -by maria t.

…We stood on the bridge.  My father waved his hand over the sea.  ‘You see all this? You see all this, Tray?  This is the same sea that your great-great-great-granddaddy sailed across two hundred years ago.’

Weird, I thought.  Really fucking weird.

We were on a ship sailing from Turkey to Cyprus and a hell of a storm was brewing.  People were still boarding the boat, carrying TVs, hifis, live chickens and boxes of oranges…

pg. 76, Going Home, Strangeland, 2006.

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Filed under Could it be art?, Could it be nothing at all?, Could it be politics?, Could it be tradition?

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