Tuesday, November 23, 2010


tracey emin, 1998. 79 x 211 x 234 cm

so why am I showing you a picture of an unmade bed in all its pride and glory, with remnants of the night before strewn all round its feet? condoms? worn panties? empty booze bottles?
the stained sheets and fag butts are all evidences of the morning after a nervous breakdown. what happened last night? well, we can only guess. is she afraid of intimacy? perhaps not. maybe she just cannot help herself. 

My Bed was exhibited at the Tate, as well as shortlisted for the Turner Art Prize.

                               we've all had this bed at some point, as delicate and imperfect as we ever were.

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