What started as an innocent crush in the early days of spring fast became a full-on affair by the time the blossom was on the cherry trees across the city.

It was in turn joyful, sordid, uncontrollable, hand in hand through the park, licentious, every position tried, down back streets, against walls, in the bridal suites of five star hotels and of course under Spaghetti Junction.

But we knew from the off, that we were going to have to end it. It was finite.

We only had three months. No lifetime commitments. No time for passions to run cold.

In those three months, I never told you what I really felt. Why spoil it with such complications. And I did not meet your parents. There was no time for such formalities. Were my intentions honourable? I haven’t a clue. There was too much for us to get done to be thinking about things like honour and doing the right thing.

I have to admit there were times when I thought it was all too much and was tempted to steal away in the night, not even leaving a note on the pillow case.

Yesterday I planned to graffiti the outside wall of one of the bridges over the Aston Expressway with those three words I LOVE YOU. But you may have thought it to be one of those cheap stunts that a certain type of artist does to get media attention and not the heart-felt declaration that it would have been from me to you.

 

There is also the added fact that I am still being questioned by your local bobby, about a previous incident involving me acting fast and loose, expressing my opinions in public with pots of paint.

Anyway enough of the lovey-dovey stuff and down to the facts. Before making my grand entrance into Birmingham on a raft made from my bed with my 400 bunches of daffodils, I had a whole scroll of promises that I wanted to keep, events to be done, beds to be made, etc. These were all to be completed in these past three months.

Most of these promises I like to think I have kept. But there were some I have let slip. Even fall by the wayside. I have my excuses. The main excuse being: during these three months, there have been a number of projects born directly out of our union. Projects that excited me and I could not resist. Like the Knit & Natter group, like me interviewing strangers for 40 minutes, like the Birmingham White Van sculpture. All of these took time and took their toll on my other commitments. I have a tendency to over commit myself, to try and squeeze too much into the day, the year, the lifetime. And still I am not sated.

But there is one stand-out commitment that I made that I have not even vaguely addressed. This is the one where I was going to be knocking on 100 front doors in Birmingham. And when each of these doors were answered I was going to try and convince whoever answered it, as to why they should “invest” £1 per every person who lived in the house or flat, into the building of a permanent HQ and gallery for Eastside Projects. That I would attempt to convince them why having a place like Eastside Projects would be a great bonus to the city.

But I have been running scared.

The more time I spent in Birmingham the more I thought I would get those doors slammed in my face. The more that I felt that the people of Birmingham had no time for what I, at least, was offering via Eastside Projects. And anyway I had too many other things that I needed to get done. There was always next week to start this particular project. But now there are no next weeks. Only the days that remain of this week.

But I have my get-out clause.

My exhibition might be closing on Saturday night, but my commitment to getting my jobs done in the city will continue until the end of the year. So if a strange man comes knocking on your door on a windy October evening trying to convince you as to why you should be parting with a pound for every one that lives in your house, invite him in, make him a cup of tea, let him interview you for 40 minutes, discuss what art means to you, and what it could mean to your city, a city of the future, a city that will be known all over the world as The City A Thousand Art Works.

As for this Saturday, I hope you can make it to the last day of The 25 Paintings exhibitions, before it packs up and heads for Berlin.

Through the afternoon I will be serving my Birmingham Cream Teas, The Knit & Natter group will be sewing together all of the squares that have been knitted over the past months.

See all of Bill's articles for the Post here

Sadly, I have to report that my alter ego, Tenzing Scott Brown has done a runner and will not be doing his DJ set. I have to admit he is vain and unreliable wastrel at the best of times. Instead I will be stepping in and performing my score At The Age of 59. Basically this score requires me to play a piece of music from every year of my life up until a couple of years ago.

I first performed this score on the radio station Resonance FM in 2012. The performance will last well over four hours, but while performing it, I will also be making the last of my four Birmingham beds and chatting to anybody who fancies a chat. Or even ask me why I am playing whatever track is playing at the time.

As for snogging that will be later. There is always time for one last snog. I will make sure I have painted my head exactly like the photo that I hope appears with this column especially for the snogging.

* Bill Drummond will be ending his three month residency at Eastside Projects, Digbeth on Saturday. Read his previous columns about his work at www.birminghampost.co.uk/all-about/billdrummond

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