#charizastory

[charizagallery-blog]

CHARIZA - A Story (written by Chariza / edited by Tommy Camerno / illustrations by Jack Randol)

Standing under the fluorescent strip lights of the gallery, conscious of it exposing every flaw. Everything and everyone looks so clean, a cleanliness that I feel I could never achieve. They glide across rooms to greet people they recognise; they gently brush cheeks “kiss-kiss”, their manicured hands gently holding each others shoulders.

“What do you think of the show?”

“Exquiste.”

Sometimes these spheres of possibility feel so close and I am in awe of them – stories of artists being given shows from their Instagram selfies or a top collector buying their work at their university show – that could be me I guess.

Walking past the security guards in leather hot-pants from the night before, its breakfast time. Our van will be outside in five minutes and we have to carry three totem poles outside to wait for them. When the driver finally gets here I can feel him staring at my fishnet legs, my sleep deprived paranoia heightens the uncomfortable feeling of his lecherous gaze. I'm craving a bloody mary and eggs.

I’m actually a professional artist taking part in a very professional exhibition.

Sometimes I go by a different name for work purposes but then people call me that name and I forget to respond.

Rows and rows of champagne glasses are lined up perfectly on a table, the waiter looks at me suspiciously as I take two.

“Oh, its for my friend.”

Why am I apologising? I tip one glass into the other and place the empty one back on the table.

Be on your best behaviour.

I sometimes feel like I want to be a part of those worlds – the worlds where you hop on a plane to an art fair every month, you're invited to collectors dinners and have a small fluffy dog tucked under your arm at all times. My spark dwindles at the idea of having to mould myself to be a part of the worlds that are deemed successful.

The engine and motion of the boat is overwhelming. Everyone is sat in groups chatting and making a buzz of noise. Looking out of the window there are huge spurts of water shooting up every time we crash through a wave. I can see the islands in the distance crammed with pale orange and yellow buildings that match the sunset. I’m sat with stolen canapés and a Bacardi breezer, frantically brushing the breadcrumbs off my skirt and trying to figure out where it is we are going. Everyone gets off and I follow.

“Where are you going?”

“To a hotel. It’s the official after party, aren’t you on the list?”

What list. “Yeah, course.” Not a clue actually.

A woman bent over a plant pot in an evening gown is puking.

Listening to Nicki Minaj on the treadmill makes me feel like I can do anything.

Everyone wants to go here.

I hear the name and immediately want to go, it sounds different to the other places.

I come up the station steps looking at the biro map on my arm to find out where to go.

I see a person in a floor length white dress going into a gate down the street they look amazing so I know that's where I'm headed.

I get to the door and the bouncers are big and intimidating, asking me why I'm here.

“Have you been here before?”

I feel tipsy already and therefore confident, I’ve never been here before but I've heard only amazing things.

I have a small bottle of vodka down my skirt that falls on the floor. We both look at each other. Please let me in. He speaks first.

“You better look after that.” Wink.

I know no one inside.

People are everywhere and everyone is touching each other.

Dancing, Lying, Chatting, Swimming, Kissing, Lounging, Hugging.

I see the person in white, I know them, not well. They introduce me to a group of people all sitting by the swimming pool. As time goes on I feel more free, I've never met so many people so accepting and un-phased. You can do what you like, and

its all consensual and respectful

I don't feel like I could be taken advantage of, I feel protected.

No one is interrogative or judgemental, they are just happy for another voice to join in. There are no barriers. People fucking in full view but there is no shame or need for privacy, everyone is on the same level.

“I saw Chariza online, is that you? is it a person or a space?”

“She hasn’t told me yet.”