Tuesday, April 6, 1982
Andrew and I went to the Print Biennale at Hainsworth Hall, walking there through the woods and then down through Ashburn; living where we do, we take our proximity to countryside for granted.
The prints were very good and I deliberately spent time actually looking at them, but after a while we both realised they all shared a ‘sameness’. The prints from Japan, Australia, Switzerland, America, Yugoslavia etc., were all of a kind even though they were good on an individual level. Homogenized art. We liked the South African and Indian prints the best because they expressed their national and cultural traditions.
I saw Grant Riley and Nik in the café at the Biennale, two worlds, me and Andrew in a good mood at one table, Grant and Nik behind us at another, Grant’s voice deep and loud. Andrew said that he looked like the typical “Easterby trendy” with his old jacket, shabby flared jeans and short hair. He said his weirdness looked “forced.”
We went home in good spirits only to be stifled by the bad vibes at home. The tension and irritability gives me a headache, and Dad’s reactionary, conservative jingoism infuriates me!