You raised me up on love and….
It was a sunny Sunday morning, the 9th of August at 9am, 2009. A JCB trundled toward the fourth Plinth in Trafalgar Square, London and I atop it spotted family and friends waving from the base of it. They had forgone their Sunday morning lie-ins to support me in my mission to bill and coo, blow kisses and deliver forth love proclamations from up high.
I was a Plinther; a randomly chosen applicant of the Anthony Gormley Plinth Project, One and Other, whereby over the course of 100 days, a different person would rise to the challenge and take to the plinth on every hour, for an hour.
With the help of cohorts, Robert Pereno and Lord Alexis George Hill, we aimed to make this occasion truly interactive as I would be transmitted live over the web cast and hit upon, ‘The Kiss Line’. What better way to communicate with the audience in the virtual realm of reality then by text? Thus missives were sent out, teasing videos made, appeals to the love struck to send in kiss dedications which I would then upon the plinth, wholeheartedly pronounce on their behalf.
Yet, the course of true love never did run smooth…
The evening prior to my ascension, I arrived in London late having come directly from The Big Chill music festival. Exhausted and with my voice near hoarse I discovered I had not registered the phone properly. There was no credit on the kiss line and for some technical reason we were having trouble in getting it to work. Rattling with adrenalin and the fear of doom, Miss Rachel Khoo came to my rescue and if I have learnt anything at all, it is that love can never be a one sided affair.
The next morning expected at the Square for 7.30 am, I experienced the most beguiling of life’s pleasures, empty London streets. I spent the ensuing time filling in requisite forms, a half hour interview and a jolt of caffeine. Then suddenly it was 9am, my turn and my eyes welled up overcome by the occasion. I recall thinking, I must not cry… it wouldn’t be cool, then again one couldn’t get more cheesy then the Kiss Line. Indeed, the whole conceit was drenched in romance, my dress a fuchsia chiffon with a hint of the bridesmaid about it, (alas, never the bride). Indeed, a Brontian faint, considering my fear of heights would not have been out of place.
The JCB came to a halt, the previous Plinther packed up and …
From that moment on all is a blur, a wonderful, glorious blur as the bells rang out and the beep, beep of incoming texts swiftly arrived one after another. It was working, this conceit; the Kiss Line. Romance was not dead and love was in the air. Texts poured in from as far away as New Zealand, Austria, France, Ibiza and then, then but soft… It was no longer I professing love but a love professed, as Romeo Pereno began his Shakespearian serenade. I was as Juliet likened to the rising sun, never have I been so publicly lauded.
And … beep, beep, beep, beep, I love you, I love you, I love you, one text followed after another, till in a blink, a most flirtatious wink, I glimpsed the returning JCB. All too soon over and my lips still a tremble.
back to confessions…