Im so sorry to write that Damien Abbott, friend to a handful ofSE London refugees in Tilling, died this morning. Hes been ill for
ever - first Chrones, then various cancers - all managed whilst
editing and finding the funding for Inventory, a remarkable arts
journal. Theres a lot to be said about his work but not right now.
The somewhat scratchy painting poorly reproduced here is called
The Apotheosis of St Damien. I did it in memory of the Psychic
Attack on the Arsenal Gates (12 years ago) organised by Damien,
Clive, Gracie and Dave - a roaring success in that the site no
longer makes weapons -though something of a failure in that it is
now a gated community for the rich.
Funnily enough the picture is the property of Greenwich Museum,
now re-sited as Greenwich Heritage Centre on the very site that was
being targeted that night.
Damien was a rare one. Intelligent and not a bullshitter. Indifferent
to personal prestige but willing to help others succeed in their
dreams. Clear thinking and uncompromising. Censored by both
the Courtauld AND the Royal Academy - both invited him to
create installations and then invited him to remove them, pronto.
Daniel Love Peacock has been in close touch with Damien at this time
and it was he who told me of his death at 8.30 am our time this
morning. He has written of the pain... there is comfort in knowing
Damien's suffering is ended.
3 comments:
Hi Nil
Lovely message for our friend
Love, Clive
oh Clive, thanks - when will someone do a decent obit? I dunno what it was about Damien but he really demands a good memorial. Im rather haunted by him, as Im sure we all are - a mix of his beautiful cheekbones and his calm insights. and how are you?? Come and visit? Life is a pleasure here - x
Well your perfect words were repeated at his service. Antony Iles, Clare Gasson and Adam from Inventory all stood up and shared his great spirit in a lovely spot in Epping Forest. The service began with his first choice of music droning out in the open air as the hearse pulled up. Bluebells are late here and they looked on as we all held back the tears. Saw some old friends, had a drink and trundled back into town thinking of a million memories. This friday (tomorrow) I'm screening a film I made with him and Grace is building a shrine for him, tethered to a lamp post outside the venue, he would have loved that! Take care honey, love, Clive
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