I still like to spend real money

Loyalty cards depress me because they are a reminder of a time when one counted coins and literally stored them in a jar under one’s bed. The plastic card is a frugal saving of sorts that really comes with a logo on a piece of plastic, instead of jingling around in a bottle.

Generally, the demise of money – that’s the actual paper stuff, as well as silver and brown coins — depresses me. The depression comes with a knowledge that official pictorial composition, with a national leader’s face and some beautiful wild animals, is almost no longer available or viable. Instead, a whole sense of value has been replaced by online forms during purchases, and little pieces of plastic that get swiped at speed points. The loyalty and rewards cards are like the sad, poor relations of the whole value chain and we shudder in fear lest we get judged when we use them.

For me, fumbling for plastic, and then more and more plastic somewhat nullifies the fun of shopping. It’s also a clue about my state of mind generally: I find contemporary convenience, with its short cuts, a sad departure from all our original means of production.

That’s why I still get a little thrill when I see art in a gallery. Of course, I can get excited about images on the social media, but I still think of artists as people who show something real to other real people. I know it’s archaic but it’s also eternal.

So, it’s the theatre of art that keeps me creating.